#fucked up and over and sideways by literally everything and it sucks to read
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Ngh awake thinking about the way phantasmagorias author portrays the majima everywhere alert through prose like YOW the second before the door slams open you already feel ten thousand icy cold needles shooting into your skin so deep they pierce to the marrow, like youve walked into a spiderweb spun with threads of fate and theyre all wrapping around you and trying to converge inside your body and then the door opens and its him. Its really him and you have every reason to square your shoulders up and tell him get the FUCK out of my home
#Yakuza liveblog#like aoaoayooouuu i lovee this fic so much i consider it the Best One. i adore how utterly faithful it is to the games even if the author#despises the kiwamis LOL but whenever i read it i go EEK !!! and start kicking my feet like a girl#i linked chapter two which was the start of the encounter but chapter two has many many many MANY terrible scenes where kiryus just being#fucked up and over and sideways by literally everything and it sucks to read#and you can really tell how unhappy he is because instead of letting his fists talk first his confusion actually splits through his rage#beacause the sight of majima alone ... dangerous and a stranger to this new life hes destroying his back and hands to build... kiryu#recognoses him as not a ‘friend’ really but an Opportunity. hes shot back a year into the past where every songle day would be bloody#knuckles and split lips and hes comfortable in a body aching with bruises and pumping hot blood through his veins. he fucking hates#construction work he hates that he cant make enough to even buy haruka some new damn shoes he hates that his days are packed full with#below minumum wage hours he hates that people out there need help and hes forced to keep his head down and work work work himself to death#and back again just to make instant noodles for breakfast for his daughter and tap water for himself ... but he will do it. he will keep#doing it for as long as it takes if it means haruka can keep going to school and haruka will keep going to school even if she hates it#because her papas working so damn hard for her to have the shot at life that he didnt. haruka the same girl whos going to take on someone#elses dream and make it come true. not for herself because thats not what she wanted at all... someone told her papa that its every little#girls dream to be a star and he believed it .. so she believes it too. even if its not true. she kept believing it when she realised that#mireis dreams had landed squarely on her shoulders and she had to make it all come true just so she could come running back to do what she#actually wants !!! she wants her dad she wants her siblings she wants her family !!!! thats just how it is sometimes !! she inherited kiryus#tendency to be the big hero and yet kiryu is just a tad more selfish than she is because he saw majima in that doorway and kamurochos scent#flooded his shitty little apartment again and he wanted it badly so so badly that he couldnt help but let majima in#hello by the way hii :)#helioshellion is a fucking genius even if i cant spell their url ever
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im sorry for this one guys (may god help me repent for my sins)
stepbro! luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader
in which you'e living out a fucked-up fantasy
warnings: very taboo subject, porn without plot, please dont read if uncomfortable!!!, the guys are lowkey toxic (sorry again), penetration, doin' it raw (use protection plz), oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), derogatory, literally uses porn logic im sorry; MDNI (this is for the best i promise)
luffy:
"lu-luffy" the gasp turns into a choked moan as the man in front of you drills into you harder, his fingers digging into your cheek absentmindedly
his words are a whisper, as if he gives two shits about getting caught. liar, if he cared about getting caught fucking you he wouldn't have walked into your room at 2 in the morning when your parents are one room down the hall and practically kissed you till you were pulling his pants down and begging him to fuck you till you forgot about everything else
"what's wrong?" he pants, laughing out a bit, "gon' cum on my dick again, yn? am i doing that good huh?"
your words are an incohorent jamble, just a rough selection of pretty moans, groans and broken cries of his name
"j-just like that. ngh, fuck. fuckin' take it" he thrusts, his cock stretching your cunt as he slams hard against you again and again
your eyes are closing fast, teeth sinking down on your bottom lip as you feel your body convulse, being flooded by the oncoming orgasm
"eyes on me" he flashes you a cocky smile as his cock buries deeper within your cunt, filling every inch of your pussy with himself
and then he's moving faster, more erratically as if he's losing sanity by the second
"please, yn. please, please, pl-ease" he mumbles, "let me cum
inside."
zoro:
all of your concerns of your parents walking into the living room in the middle of the night and seeing you and your older step-brother tangled together had flew out the second you felt him against your cunt.
your hands pull at the familiar green locks, tugging and tugging as you feel kitten licks against your overstimulated clit. his tongue plays with your core, going up and down, sideways and in circles till your hips are bucking up and your hand is pushing him down harder against your cunt.
"zo-zoro, zoro fuck, imsofuc- fucking close"
as if on cue, his actions become harsher. he alternated cruelly between sucking and softly kissing, his hums and moans against your cunt deepening the coil in your stomach till its all you can feel. in your blood-stream, against your skin, in the back of your skull. and then, with another particularly harsh kiss against the bundle on nerves, you cum.
thighs shaking, eyes closed and back arching off his mattress. you cum hard.
but his tongue is still lapping up against your folds. stroking the nub up and down, tongue slipping into your leaking entrance with practiced ease, humming as you squirm and force his face away.
your fingers are pulling deftly against his scalp, tugging till it pains him enough to stop but as retaliation, he curls his biceps against your thigh, burying his face harder against your aching cunt.
"zo-zoro, no please please, no" you whine, arching into his touch as he continues his assault against your core, "it's too sen-sitive, please."
his head lifts for just a moment, lips drenched in your essence and a cocky grin plastered onto every inch of his face. his bottom lip juts out, "aww too much?"
you nod frantically and he smirked, "too bad im having the time of my life then." one of his arms reach upwards, putting two fingers in your mouth, "suck."
and he dived back in.
sanji:
"yn, love" he whines when your hands skim over his pants for the millionth time this evening, "we're supposed to do laundry, quit teasin'."
you were supposed to be doing laundry and he was supposed to be helping you out. but somehow, cramped inside that small room, behind those closed doors your lips had come to ghost over his and his hands fleetingly touched your waist.
"what?" you giggled, teasing him through his sweats again, "i thought i could repay you for the favor last night."
"really?" he corks up an eyebrow, his fingers finding peace against your cheeks, "get down on your knees then"
"but what if your mom walked in-"
"as if a whore like you fucking cares. knees, now."
you flashed him a light smile, getting down till you were face to face with his erection. your fingers swiftly pulled his sweats down and you looked up at him doe-eyed when his cock hit against your lips with a salty, lingering taste. his large palm against the back of your head guided you till you were taking in his dick, sucking intently on every inch.
"fuck, darlin', just like that. yn fuu-fuck", he moaned as you swirled your tongue on his tip, then tracing over the light vein imprints. when he bucked his hips into your mouth harder and pushed you in deeper, you hummed against him, choking at the sudden intrusion.
continuing your movements till you felt your jaw go slack, you heard his ragged breathing before he whispered a faint, "fuck i'm gunna cum, sh-shit"
with a bit of his essence dripping off your chin, you look up at your step-brother. his gaze intertwined with lust, he gives you a smirk, "good fuckin' girl"
a/n: supposed to be on hiatus but who cares at this point, hope you like it
#one piece#opla#roronoa zoro#vinsmoke sanji#op#monkey d luffy#luffy x reader#one piece zoro#sanji x reader#zoro x reader#zoro smut#sanji smut#luffy smut#luffy x reader smut#zoro x reader smut#sanji x reader smut#one piece x reader#one piece x reader smut#one piece smut
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seconds [five hargreeves x reader]
request: Hello, I saw that we could send in requests. I was wondering if u could do a 5 fic (with Same AU about them having worked in commission)Five realizing he has been/is in love with reader and decides to tell them but everything goes sideways. It can be around S2 remembering the times they spent together with the “One could fall in love in seconds” talk that he and Hargreeves had, or them physically older in commission in a case. U decide what goes, there r just ideas incase it was too general ☺️
a/n: sooo i tried my best to follow the request and i hope this turned out alright! it may not be my best work, but i guess i am pretty pleased with the way it turned out?? i suck at angst, btw- i am a sucker for fluff sorry >:(
summary: five realizes it is time to be honest about his feelings... but, it may not be the best time
“So much can change in a matter of seconds.” Reginald said, watching the boy before him carefully, “One could overthrow an empire.” He paused, reading into his next gestures, “One could fall in love.”
Five shifted into his seat, letting the advice sink in. He knew the old man was not that far off, he might have had a point, especially after his last example. I mean, he did fall in love with Y/N in just a matter of seconds the first time he saw her, didn’t he?
It always plays in the back of his head the moment he first laid eyes on you all those years ago on his first day working with the Commission. You had just returned from one of your missions, exhausted and overall a mess, but not once you dared to drop the small reassuring smile on your lips- you didn’t want your co-workers to know what was going on through your soul, you wanted to seem tough. You wanted to show them you still got it at your age.
Even now Five could recall that day perfectly. He was in the Handler’s office, waiting to be assigned his first official task, when you stumbled in, holding a small briefcase which, unbeknownst to him, contained the hand of your unfortunate victim- it was a personal business your boss had sent you on to take care of for her.
“Sorry to barge in like this, but you told me to hurry.” You told the Handler, putting on a small smile as you lifted the briefcase.
“Ah, Y/N!” The Handler grinned, taking a soft drag out of her cigarette, “You’re a doll, did you know that?”
“Well, I’ve been told before.” You answered her proudly, slightly shrugging your shoulders as she motioned you to leave the briefcase by the door.
Not even now he could not understand what was it about you. Maybe it was the way you spoke nonchalantly to the woman with the biggest power in your organization, or maybe the way you had a smile on your face, even if the collar of your white shirt had been stained with specks of blood.
Within a matter of seconds from just seeing you, he forgot he had lived a long life, he felt like a kid again. Your eyes gave away reassurance and life experience- he found them comforting. Spending all that time in solitude, that’s all he wanted to see from a person- comfort.
It was a matter of time until the Handler trusted you to show him around and take him under your wing, trusting you as one of her best agents. For the first few missions, you and Five were partners, you always treated him like an equal, even if you had more experience.
Spending all that time with you, he definitely fell deeper in love. He knew there was no way out, but he also knew there was no way in hell he could act on those feelings. He still wanted to go home to his siblings, back in time, to save the world.
So... he took you with him.
At first you thought he was insane- you didn’t have a reason to betray the Commission, it never wronged you.
However, you disagreed with Doomsday.
“Did I say something wrong?” Reginald asked Five, noticing it had been a few seconds since he last spoke, having his look fixated on his drink.
“Uh, no- I was just thinking.” Five quickly said, looking back at the man, “The acorn, right?”
Five had been through a lot of shit these past two weeks. He returned back to his siblings with the person he secretly loved, tried to stop the apocalypse in 2019, only to fail and have to go back in time to 1963, where another apocalypse was waiting on him as well.
He needed a break.
Really, all he wanted was to go home with the people he cared about and have everything be alright. Deep down, he yearned to be held in your arms, while his brothers and sisters were all safely scattered around their big house. He needed peace and quiet, just for once in his life.
After the light supper 1963 Reginald Hargreeves invited you and his... future-adoptive-children, things did not entirely go as planned... He was your only hope, but he was not much help, as he managed to break Diego with a psychology lesson, ignore Luther after he showed him his body, and quickly dismiss you, Allison and Vanya- well, you tried to behave yourselves as well as you could after Klaus had a literal convulsion at the table.
Reggie only told Five to stay a while, seeing that he was the only sane one. The rest of the Hargreeves just left in their business, but you decided to wait by the elevator, knowing that he might not be in the best state of mind after having spent time with his maniac of a father.
“Y/N?” Five raised a brow, as he was making his way towards the elevator with his hands casually rested in his pockets, “You... waited?”
“Of course.” You smiled, folding your arms over your chest, “I figured you shouldn’t be alone after... that... dinner.” You frowned, unsure of what to call the disastrous meeting.
Five fought back a smile, pressing the elevator button. He never understood how you, of all people, became an assassin. You were just too good, too sweet. He never thought you actually had it in you to take lives and be an agent of the Commission, not with that gentle smile and adorable spark in your eyes.
Well, he never understood either how he could fall in love that easily, but that was besides the point. What mattered to him was that the world was still gonna end in a couple of days, and now the only solution he had left was the deal with the Handler- big surprise, his father was not that much help.
“Hey, Y/N?” Five spoke up, as the two of you entered the elevator, “Thank you.”
“For... what?” You knitted your brows in confusion, pressing the button as the doors closed, taking you two down.
“For being there, I guess.” He shrugged- Five never was the sentimental guy, but he felt like you deserved some praise. You followed him, you trusted him, you left your job at the Commission.
But it never occurred to him why. He never spent much time thinking why in the world would you trust him? Sure, you’ve known each other a while and he knew you saw him as a dear friend... unless, you saw him as more.
Five widened his eyes in realization, as you let out a small chuckle at his sudden gratitude, not looking at him.
Holy shit, Five thought, as his mouth hung open, slowly looking to his right, watching as you smiled softly, looking at nothing in particular, This is a far fetch, but... could she actually...?
All this time, he buried his feelings deep within him. He figured you didn’t need that kind of thing on your mind- it never seemed to be the time for him to be honest about what he felt. But now that he thought about it...
All those missions the two of you have been on, how could he not see it earlier?
The way you blindly trusted your life in his hands, or the way you worried for him, cared for him. You always scolded him for not being to careful and letting himself get injured, but he never read into it too much. Or the way you accepted all his schemes and shenanigans and respected all his weird peeves.
“Are you okay?” You frowned, turning to Five once the elevator doors opened, noticing the shocked look on his face and the silence surrounding the two of you, “You look like you’ve seen Ben.”
Five quickly shook his head, stepping out of the elevator with you, trying to regain his train of thought. Maybe he was thinking too much into this... but what if he wasn’t? What if, for once in his life, something could actually go right?
Without another word, Five cupped your cheeks, pulling your face softly closer to his, capturing your lips into a kiss. You were taken aback in the beginning, freezing in your place with your eyes wide opened, trying to make sense of what was going on, but you realized you shouldn’t be wasting this opportunity.
It was about time, you thought, melting into his touch, finally responding to the kiss.
Pulling away after a couple of moments, Five looked at your face, trying to read your emotions. However, he was pleasantly surprised, watching as your lips curved into a smirk, taking his hands in yours, slowly swaying them as you looked at him;
“Took ya long enough.”
Five scoffed amused, shaking his head in disbelief, “Better late than never, right?”
“Are there any words to come with that gesture?” You perched a brow curiously, “Or am I supposed to try and deduce...?”
Before Five could properly confess his feelings, his face fell once he laid eyes on the round clock displayed on the wall behind you. Shit, he thought, reading the time.
“I gotta go.” He suddenly declared, making your frown, “Shit, I gotta go right now!”
“What?” You wondered, as Five took his hands away, running his fingers through his hair stressed out.
He completely forgot about his meeting with the Handler- his only option still standing to save the world and go back to your timeline.
“Y/N, I am so sorry.” He genuinely apologized, as you were still trying to make sense of what was going on, “I gotta go!”
“Five!” You yelled, watching as he ran out of the building, “Get your butt back he- and, he’s gone...”
What the fuck just happened?
#the umbrella academy#the umbrella academy imagine#the umbrella academy imagines#the umbrella academy x reader#number five#number five x reader#five hargreeves#five hargreeves imagine#five hargreeves imagines#five hargreeves x reader#number five imagine#number five imagines
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OKAY. how about "This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home…" with ur teacher alex/ambiguous office job jack? (or any version of jalex) (we just love jalex in this house)
well hello, she said casually, nine months later. thank you for the excellent prompt, sorry it took me so long to get to it, but you can thank yourself for that too considering going to ssf is what inspired me to finally write this one. bellawritess clumsyclifford pictures is proud to present: the tshirt jalex meet-cute :)
read here on ao3
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Later, Alex learns that the boy at the barricade who’d elbowed Alex in the face trying to snatch the thrown guitar pick out of the air is named Jack.
“I’m so sorry,” Jack says for the millionth time, even though Alex has laughed it off every other time. He laughs it off this time, too.
“Seriously, it’s fine. And hey, you caught it.”
Jack holds up the guitar pick, triumphant. “I did catch it,” he says. The blink-182 logo flashes its dead and frozen smile at Alex. Alex finds himself smiling back, though not so much at the pick.
The leaving crowd parts around the two of them. Headlights flood the night, filling the street before them with light and noise. There’s a line of cars backed up further than Alex cares to imagine. Those at the front must have left the show significantly before the set was over. Quitters.
“What I didn’t catch was your name,” Jack adds. His lips quirk, like he’s proud of such a smooth line.
“Alex,” says Alex. “We should probably get out of everyone’s way. Are you waiting for someone, or…?”
“No, no, I came alone.”
“Yeah, me too. Was supposed to have a friend but he bailed on me last-minute.”
“Seriously? Bailed on a blink concert?”
“I know, right?” Alex grins. “Eh, whatever. If he’d been here you probably never would have elbowed me in the face and then we’d never have met.”
“But I would’ve never elbowed you in the face,” Jack says. “Don’t you think you’d have preferred that?”
“Not if it means we’d have never met.”
Jack’s smile slowly grows. “Fair enough. Did you know there’s a 24-hour diner literally five minutes from here?”
“Oh, man, I like the way you think,” Alex says, shoving his hands into his pockets to protect them from the cool late-night breeze. “I didn’t want to sit in this traffic anyway.”
“And I don’t blame you.”
“Well, lead the way,” Alex says, nodding down the sidewalk, and he falls into step with Jack as they both start to walk.
-
The Tastee Diner is charmingly diner-y — neon lights, stools at the bar, the whole nine yards — and, more attractively, it’s mostly empty at this hour. It’s past midnight, later even than Alex’s usual bedtime, but between the buzz from the concert and Jack the attractive stranger across from him, he’s not really feeling tired. If he’s going to flush his sleep schedule down the drain, a post-concert Friday night seems like the best time to do it.
And Jack is really cute. So that helps.
“Breakfast,” Alex says reverently when they’re seated. “Oh my God, a fucking giant waffle.”
“Wow, everything you say makes me like you more,” Jack says, leaning his elbows on the table. Alex glances over the top of his menu but Jack’s eyes are focused on his own menu on the tabletop. He’s smiling a little. So is Alex.
“It’s a giant waffle, Jack! How the fuck do I say no to that?”
“You don’t. This table is pro-giant waffle. At the exclusion of anything else.”
“You’re damn right it is,” Alex says. “Do we also happen to be pro-chocolate milkshake?”
“We’re pro-vanilla milkshake.”
“Ew, seriously?”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know, how can I like vanilla when chocolate is right there—”
“Yeah, how can you?” Alex reaches over the table and covers Jack’s hand with his own. Their eyes meet. Very seriously, Alex says, “How do you look at yourself in the mirror, you monster?”
A beat. Jack chews his lip, clearly trying not to smile. “With great difficulty,” he says. He’s humoring Alex, but sincerity sparkles in his deep brown eyes. His earnest gaze holds Alex’s and he doesn’t pull his hand away. After a moment, Alex does.
“Well, if I looked like you I’d never stop looking in the mirror,” he says instead, and brings his gaze back to the menu. A laugh escapes Jack.
“You can’t turn it off, can you?”
“Turn what off?”
“Your flirty brain-to-mouth pipeline?”
“I could,” Alex says breezily. “I choose not to.” It feels like a subtle rejection, a quiet dig, but it’s hard to be sure. Jack’s smirk seems to suggest otherwise.
The waitress comes by to take their orders of two giant waffles and two milkshakes — chocolate for Alex, vanilla for Jack, though Alex is sure to give Jack a judgmental look as he’s ordering. When she goes, Jack laces his fingers together and leans back in the booth. “So,” he says. “Your name is Alex, you’ve got fantastic music taste, and you seem to be more or less my age, but that’s about all I know about you. Are you from around here? What do you do? Likes, dislikes?”
“Are you trying to build me a dating profile?”
“That wouldn’t be very opportunistic of me, would it?” Jack smiles innocently. Alex’s heart gives a little leap. “I’m trying to get to know you. You know, like any normal stranger would if they found themself at a diner with another stranger.”
That’s fair. They are effectively strangers, although Alex can think of a shorter word to describe what they’re doing right now. He glances around at the jukebox-esque machine bolted to the wall next to their booth, at the empty swivel stools at the bar, at the marble tabletop where Jack is absently tapping his fingers. The decor of the diner is very classic, and he and Jack, both dressed in blink merch and black jeans like the perpetual emo teens they’re no doubt trying to emulate, stick out like sore thumbs.
However unintentional, it sure as hell feels like a date to him.
“I’m from Baltimore,” he starts. Jack lights up.
“No shit! Me too.”
“Really? Whereabouts?”
“Well, I work by the harbor.”
“No shit, I work in Highlandtown,” Alex says excitedly. “Highlandtown Middle. I’m a teacher.”
Jack whistles lowly. “That’s fucking awesome. What do you teach?”
“Music,” Alex says, and Jack groans, although he’s smiling as his hands move to cover his face.
“Of course you do,” he says.
Alex tilts his head. “What, are you not a fan of music teachers? That’s insane.”
“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just.” Jack laughs. “Of course the hot guy I meet at a blink-182 concert is a middle school music teacher. I feel like God is punishing me for refusing to play anything but bad drums in middle school band.”
Alex also laughs. Being called a hot guy by a hot guy is making his stomach do gymnastics. He’s too old for his stomach to be doing things like that, but his stomach clearly doesn’t care. “Well, if I’d been your teacher, trust me, you’d have been playing solidly mediocre drums. But I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Jack’s hands fall to his lap. “I’m sure I’ll get over it,” he says with a slanted smile.
Alex swallows and grins. “So did you look up surrounding diners before you came, or are you just…inexplicably familiar with Silver Spring geography?”
“I come to a lot of concerts here,” Jack says, nodding in the general direction of the venue they’d just vacated. “Venue’s awesome.”
“Yeah, it really is. Honestly, I’m still amazed that you caught that pick.”
“I have a lot of practice. From aforementioned many concerts.”
“I can see that.”
“Trust me, it’s a very specific skill. I’ve got awful hand-eye coordination,” Jack says with a chuckle. “My dream of being the youngest Oriole inducted into the Hall of Fame was crushed at a young age.”
Fizzy champagne fills Alex’s chest. He can’t stop smiling. “Fuck yes, you’re an Orioles fan?”
“That’s my team,” Jack says, looking excited. Possibly at the prospect of meeting another person who’s equally interested in both music and baseball. That’s why Alex is excited, anyway.
“It’s my team,” he says enthusiastically. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they fucking suck—”
“Oh, no, yeah, they’re the worst—”
“But I’d take a bullet for them. I happily go down with ‘em every year.”
“Yeah, they’re my boys,” Jack agrees. “Here’s hoping this season is better than every single other one.”
“Yeah, all my fingers are crossed, but between you and me I don’t have a lot of faith.”
Jack shrugs and nods. “It’s good for my ego to be so loyal to such a bad team. Keeps me humble.”
“That’s the best attitude I’ve ever heard,” Alex says, and Jack’s smile is so radiant Alex could swear he can feel the glare off the shiny marble tabletop.
-
“Between ‘All The Small Things’ and ‘Going Away To College’ how the fuck am I going to choose ‘Small Things’?”
“Yeah, but it’s such a classic! ‘College’ is, like, emo and…emo.”
“No more emo than ‘I Miss You’ —”
“That one is a classic—”
“I’m not saying it’s not, I’m just saying ‘College’ is their best song and it deserves its spotlight.”
“That’s ‘Feeling This’ erasure and you know it.”
“Besides ‘Feeling This,’ but they always play ‘Feeling This.’ I stand by what I said. I’d swap ‘Small Things’ for ‘College.’ Deal with it.” Alex tongues his milkshake straw into his mouth. “Your turn.”
Jack glares at him for another long moment, like he has to properly make his point about it. “Fine,” he finally huffs. His gaze shifts sideways, off into the distance like he’s thinking, and he swirls his own straw around his milkshake cup. Alex can kind of see his reflection in it. While Jack is thinking, Alex quickly checks his phone.
(21:47) Rian Dawson: How’s the concert? Fuckin bummed I couldn’t make it :/
(21:48) Rian Dawson: Hope you’re having a good time anyway. Text me whenever you get home so I know you didn’t die or get trampled by a mosh pit or whatever the case may be.
Alex smiles and turns off his phone again.
“I feel like I can’t choose a song off Enema now that you did,” Jack mumbles.
“You can,” Alex says. “It would just be kind of a lot of Enema.”
“No, but Enema is a legendary album. I’d go to a show that was literally just all of Enema.”
“Why were you complaining about ‘College’ then!”
“I’m not complaining about ‘College’ itself, I just would never trade it for ‘Small Things’!”
Alex scoffs. “They play ‘Small Things’ all the time. I’ve never seen ‘College’ live. I’d literally kill.”
“Oh my God, I know what I’d do,” Jack says. “‘Shut Up’ instead of ‘Down.’ That’s the only thing that could make this set list more perfect.”
“Ohhh,” Alex says, “that would be fucking sick. Imagine two thousand people just shouting ‘shut the fuck up, she said’ at the top of their lungs.”
“I cannot think of anything cooler than that.”
Alex hums thoughtfully. “So you went with Take Off Your Pants instead of Enema in the end.”
“Alright, don’t get it twisted. If I could add the entirety of Enema to the set list, I would. But if I only get one song, it has to be ‘Shut Up.’ More Enema is never a bad thing.”
“Why wouldn’t you trade ‘College’ for ‘Down’ then?”
“Because that was your set list move, and this is mine,” Jack says. He slaps the table. “Yeah. This is the answer. Someone get Mark Hoppus on the line, stat. I have to tell him I’ve figured out the formula for the perfect set list.”
“‘Shut Up’ live would be awesome,” Alex concedes. “Good move.”
“What can I say, I have extremely good taste,” Jack says airily.
Alex snorts. “Okay, Vanilla Milkshake.”
“You’re just afraid to taste it because you know deep down that it will be better than your chocolate one,” Jack says, pointing his straw accusingly at Alex. Drops of milkshake fall onto the table. Alex sweeps a napkin over the mess.
“You had an advantage over me, though,” he observes. “You said your favorite blink song is ‘Feeling This,’ which was already on the set list. My favorite song wasn’t, so my hands were kind of tied.”
“It’s among my favorite blink songs,” Jack says. “I have many. Most of which are set list staples, yeah. But that’s on you for only having one favorite song.”
“Wait, what? You can’t have many favorites, that defeats the whole point of having a favorite.”
“I can have multiple favorites, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“No way, man. You only get to have one favorite. You can have second-favorites or close favorites but there’s always one that’s better than the rest.”
“Sorry to burst you bubble, Al, but I have more than one favorite blink song,” Jack says, shrugging. “I also have more than one favorite color and more than one favorite food and more than one favorite song.”
Alex shakes his head through Jack’s speech. “I reject this out of hand.”
“You can’t.”
“Well, Clearly Enema is your favorite blink album.”
“Tied with Take Off.”
“Seriously?” Alex narrows his eyes. “Come on, there must be one thing you have just one favorite of.”
“Yeah, there is,” Jack says. “My favorite movie is Home Alone. No other movie comes anywhere close.”
Of course it is. Alex grins and inclines his head in accordance. “That…is extremely good taste.”
“Thank you,” Jack says graciously, and slurps loudly from his milkshake.
-
The next time Alex checks his phone, his brain takes a moment to catch up. “Holy shit, it’s already one a.m.?”
“Oh shit,” Jack says, checking his phone as well. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
That adage has never felt more true. Slowly working through giant waffles and milkshakes while exchanging questions and random conversational topics with Jack has been the most fun Alex has had in a long time. Diners, he muses. There’s something about diners. Time feels frozen within these walls, and Alex kind of wants to stay in the time bubble forever, laughing with Jack until the sun comes up.
He could do it. Tomorrow’s a Saturday. Nobody works on Saturday, not even Jack at his “boring office job” (his words).
But he knows there’s a reason that nothing gold can stay. It wouldn’t be valuable if it lasted forever. The night will crystallize as something special in Alex’s memory, but it can’t do that until it ends. And it has to end eventually.
“We should probably go,” Alex says reluctantly. Jack nods once.
“Yeah,” he says. He signals for the check and looks back at Alex. “My treat.”
“Uh, no way. I’m paying.”
“Nope, not happening. I will elbow you in the face again if I have to. I’m paying this check.”
“Jack—” Alex wavers. Jack looks so insistent, eyebrows raised like he’s daring Alex to argue, and there’s nothing to do but smile. “Okay. If you insist. We’ll call it even for you assaulting me earlier.”
“Exactly,” Jack says, and he happily accepts the check when the waitress hands it to him.
“Did you guys get everything you need?” she asks the two of them.
Alex glances at Jack, but Jack’s scanning the check. “Pretty much, yeah,” he tells the waitress. She leaves them with the check, and they vacate their table to go pay it at the front.
Alex wonders what someone might think if they saw this table. Whether anyone could even begin to illustrate the story of the night using only two empty milkshake cups and two plates that formerly held waffles. It would be impossible. Not even Sherlock Holmes could work this one out.
Alex smiles. They’re a fossil in amber, preserved in memory. Even if it turns out not to be a date, Alex knows he’ll look back on tonight fondly, and he can count on this exact same smile every time he does.
Jack finishes paying and turns to face Alex. One arm outstretched, he says, “Shall we?”
Alex links their arms. “After you, good sir.”
They’re laughing as they leave in a glow of neon light.
-
“This is me,” Alex says, gesturing half-heartedly at his car. They both stop short behind it.
“Ah,” Jack says, nodding. “So I guess this is where I leave you.”
Alex swallows. “I’m glad you elbowed me in the face,” he admits, which sounds strange to say out of the blue. “I had a good time tonight.”
“What, at the concert?”
Jack is obviously teasing, but Alex doesn’t mind being more clear. “Actually, I think I had more fun after the concert,” he says, smiling a little. “You’re good company, JB.”
Jack smiles, and if Alex isn’t mistaken, he’s also blushing. “Same to you,” he says. “Despite your wrong opinions about the set list.”
“I hate sounding like a cliché,” Alex says, ruffling a hand through his hair. Jack cocks his head. “But, um, I’d like to see you again. If that’s okay.”
“So okay,” Jack says. “And totally plausible, considering we apparently live within twenty minutes of each other.”
“True,” Alex says. “The universe really wanted us to meet, I guess.”
“Thank you, Universe, for putting Alex in harm’s way,” Jack says solemnly, looking upwards. Alex laughs. “Can I have your number?”
“Yeah, yes, of course.”
Alex recites his phone number for Jack to enter into his contacts. “I promise I’ll call,” Jack says. His gaze flits around Alex’s face like it can’t find a good place to land. He drags his index finger diagonally over his chest. “Cross my heart and everything.”
“I have to ask,” Alex says, shifting on his feet. “Were you— was this supposed to be a date?” He hesitates; maybe that’s the wrong question. “Was it a date?”
“For the sake of anniversaries, let’s say yes,” Jack says. Immediately his face puckers in regret. “Pretend I didn’t say that. I’m— my brain gets ahead of me.”
“No, it’s all good.” It’s more than good; there’s a horde of butterflies in Alex’s ribcage that won’t fucking quit, not now that he knows Jack is thinking of anniversaries when this is only maybe their first date. A person who is not only anticipating a future for them but preparing to celebrate it. So far, so fucking good. “You’re a practical thinker. I can appreciate that.”
“And I appreciate that you aren’t deleting your number from my phone even after I just said that to you,” Jack says, grinning. His grin melts away when he sighs. “I should go. It’s late.”
“Yeah,” Alex echoes. “Late.”
“Please drive safe,” Jack says seriously. “If I’m the last person to see you before you die, that’ll make me look really bad.”
Alex laughs. He likes that Jack keeps making him laugh. His friends make him laugh, too, but Jack makes him laugh in a different way, like he can’t stop himself. Like the delight refuses to stay trapped.
“I promise to drive safe,” he vows. “I owe you a date. I would hate to lose the chance to impress you.”
“Oh, wait, that reminds me.” Jack reaches into his pocket and presses something into Alex’s hand. It’s the guitar pick, warm from Jack’s pocket. “You’ll probably use it more than me,” Jack explains, ducking his head. “You know, being a music teacher and all.”
“Oh,” Alex breathes, flipping the pick in his palm. “That’s, um…thank you. Thanks. I’m…”
“Yeah,” Jack says, licking his lips. “Of course. Um, okay, now I really should go. But like I said, I’ll call.”
Alex nods, still staring at the guitar pick in his hand. His head snaps up and he breaks from whatever trance he’d fallen into. “I’m counting on it,” he says, stepping closer to Jack. He hears Jack inhale as he leans closer, brushing his lips to Jack’s cheek.
When Jack speaks, it’s a hoarse whisper. “I had a good time too, you know.”
Alex leans away and starts walking backwards to the driver-side door. “Good,” he says, smiling warmly. He’s not really trying to smile so warmly but he can’t help it. “Get home safe, Jack.”
“Yeah,” Jack says. “You too, Alex.”
#jack barakat#alex gaskarth#jalex#jalex fic#all time low#atl fic#fic#my fic#guys the 2011 blink tour set list was fucking BOMB#i mean i dont know all the songs but of the ones i did........bangin#i feel like i should tag this with AP style because its so aggressively There#anyway#happy tshirt jalex backstory fic day everyone#im putting this in my drafts so i can maybe post it tomorrow#at a slightly more acceptable hour#because im making this draft at 3am lol#and whilst i recognize that 3am fic is kind of my brand#i also just kinda want to sleep#give it one more reread when i have a little more sleep under my belt. see about any last minute edits#you know#alrighty good afternoon everyone i have finished my final edits and now this fic is yours for the reading#enjoy
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The Neighbour [0.1]
Masterlist
Everything had played out like the rising action in a horror movie. And before the whole world's eyes, life on Earth had slowed to a snail-like crawl. Covid 19 was ravaging through cities and countries faster than a salmonella outbreak at a restaurant even Gordon Ramsay couldn't attempt to save. It was terrifying to watch, and even more terrifying to see work and interaction dry up so quickly. Especially for those who relied on social interaction to stay sane.
Luckily for Remington, he happened to be stuck with his brother when quarantine measures went into full effect.
It was no big deal living with Emerson, if anything, it was relatively more calm with two out of the three of them sharing a space. Sebastian and Larissa were staying well and safe in their own house, popping by now and again at the gate to check in on his little brothers. No doubt, it sucked. The album was pushed back, the tour called off, the only thing keeping the hype for 'The Bastards' release was social media.
At least Remington had comfort in the fact that he wouldn't have to endure this quarantine alone. Living in his own house all by himself, he'd probably drive himself up the wall and find himself hanging off the rafters (literally).
Tuesday morning was bright and warm, as they tended to be in LA. Emerson was sat comfortably at the kitchen table, drinking his usual cup of tea and reading the depressing headlines coming out of the news. Pepper was curled up at his feet, snoring softly and her little marshmallow body rising steadily. The neighbourhood was quiet, it always was, but it was especially tranquil these spring days in April. He simpered sardonically when he read the latest quote from the president, promising that the pandemic would pass come July.
His attention was gripped suddenly when he heard the low squeal of car tires. The youngest brother glanced outside the window, his dark eyes falling over the little blue Waivecar that had pulled up at the opposing apartment complex. Those cars had been coming back and forth for the last four days, with the same girl coming and going. And at night, the apartment facing the house would keep the lights on until two or three in the morning, but she wasn't partying. The most noise this girl made was the hum of her radio drifting out of an open window.
Clearly, whoever she was, she was still in the weeds of moving. Perhaps when she was settled, Emerson would go by and introduce himself, make her feel welcome. Considering how warm the climate was, this particular neighbourhood had a tendency to be quiet cold and private towards neighbours. No doubt many of them weren't a fan of the band and their at home antics.
Emerson was startled when his brother came bounding in, dressed in the same moppy grey sweats he had been practically living in for weeks. Thank goodness he wasn't wearing his heelys this time around; the other day he had crashed into the couch and flipped over onto the cushions, nearly smashing his head on the coffee table.
"The guys will be by in about half an hour," he said. Emerson narrowed his eyes at his older brother.
"He says as we're under strict orders from the state health officials to not see anybody," he murmured.
Remington pouted, running a hand through his evidently growing blonde hair. He pulled up a seat next to his brother, "Hey, you were the one who said it's getting too quiet around here. And besides, it's not like we're coming from opposite counties. Seb lives like four blocks down from us,"
"I'm just getting a little nervous, is all," Emerson shrugged, showing him the article on his tablet, "The numbers are still going up,"
"And they'll keep going up until they find a cure. And while they're doing that, we're going to be in the backyard playing soccer and eating pizza," Remington smiled.
"Who said we're having pizza?"
"I did. I just decided,"
"Maybe I want Mexican? Did you think about that?"
Across the street in the fresh red brick and black-trimmed apartment, three floors up from the ground and in direct line of the sun sat Eva. The twenty-four-year-old literary bachelor sat comfortably at her newly furnished desk, typing away at her laptop that was due for a battery change -- Eva just hadn't found the time to physically take it into the store. On her right she had a lukewarm cup of coffee, on the left her speaker which was softly blasting Tove Lo's new album. All the while, her bony fingers flew over the keyboard, her big stormy blue eyes skimming the words that sprinted across her document.
Eva got by as a writer, not a novelist or a poet, but as a ghost writer. She was hired to write materials for would-be authors and journalists, all of whom either didn't have the drive or commitment to write to the extent Eva did. Surprisingly, she made some pretty good money just off that. And while that work tended to be dry and bleak, Eva had spent her free time writing various fanfictions -- mostly for Hannibal and Criminal Minds. She happened to be quite prolific on Tumblr because of her literary fantasies.
And while her work was often isolating, Eva didn't live alone by any means. She had her pale tabby, Pluto, to keep her company. He was snoozing on the couch, despite how often Eva had trained him not to do that when he was a kitten.
She had just returned from an early morning run from the grocery store -- having learned the hard way that despite the pandemic, people will continue to flock to the stores in droves and it's almost impossible to social distance within them. As if moving out of her old apartment wasn't hard enough, now she had to deal with hastily late movers, jumbled lease agreements, and a pandemic.
In the throws of bittersweet silence, Eva's concentration was broke when a shrill alarm had her nearly jumping out of her seat. It was only her phone, the screen lighting up with a 'Blocked' ID. Eva smiled wickedly and declined the call.
The young writer pushed her rolley chair away from the desk and did a stretch, her head turning towards the house across the street. She figured a couple of frat boys shared the place, they had a few of their friends over from time to time but they were relatively quiet. The most she would hear out of them is some smack talk coming from the backyard.
Pluto's head popped up from the couch, then he leapt onto the floor and trotted over to the window sill, hopping up to spy on the unfamiliar car that was pulling up to the house. Eva could hardly care less. There was a statewide order to see only a small group of people as little as possible, and as long as the neighbours wouldn't bother her, she wouldn't bother them.
It was a shame, as if having to meet new people wasn't difficult enough for her...
A few hours passed and soon the silence in the Los Angeles neighbourhood was broken by the grunts and thwacks of a backyard game of pool basketball. The boys and a few of their friends were all the more engaged in their game while their girls sat aside on deck chairs under the beating sun. Under the shade of the pergola, their friend Andrew was grilling some sausages -- beef and tofu -- on the barbecue.
Remington was taking the piss out of Sebastian for being all over his girl, but who the hell could blame the kid? There was a new rush of life in the guitarist's face whenever the topic of Larissa came up. The same could be said for Emerson and Shy. Remington wouldn't dare admit he was a little jealous of his brothers' happiness, so he'd settle for loving his brothers but torturing them at every opportunity.
Breaking out from the cold water, Emerson gripped tightly to the rubber red ball in his hand. Just as Sebastian came to take a running dive into the pool, he reared the ball back and hucked it at his older brother, nailing him square in the chest. Instead of a graceful dive, Sebastian flailed sideways and crashed into the water. The ball ricocheted onto the deck and bounced away towards the front yard.
"Oh my God!"
"Emerson!" Shy scolded, a little horrified and yet not surprised at her boyfriend's actions. Sebastian broke out of the water and shook his hair out of his eyes. It was more his pride and the laughter of his friends that hurt than the fading sting of rubber against skin.
Emerson meanwhile just giggled happily as he high-fived Remington.
"You guys fucking suck!" Sebastian glowered at the younger boys.
At the same time, Eva had given up on work for the day. As random as it was, she decided she'd try to make bread: the apparent trend that was surging during this quarantine. She bought all the things she would need this morning.
Stepped a few feet into the kitchen, she pushed open the window a brisk breeze flooding in and freshening up the air. Her attention was skewed to the house across the street, hearing some mild echoes of conversation and the thrum of a radio in the air.
She went to gather her ingredients and tools, however, as she turned to fetch an apron she realized something was missing: the patter of feet behind her. Pluto was usually Eva's shadow whenever he was in the kitchen, always the opportunistic cat he was. However, he wasn't on the couch. He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't snooping around in her closet or hiding under the desk.
"Where'd the ball go?" Daniel called, clinging to the ledge of the pool.
"I'll get it" Remington swam to the ladder and pulled himself out of the water. He shook out his sopping blonde hair, unintentionally shaking his ass in his colorful swim trunks. Their friend, Michael, whistled from the pool. Remington only smirked on him.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, hunny," he sassed, waving his hand and ducked off to fetch the ball.
Puzzled, Eva grabbed Pluto's favorite bag of cat treats and shook it, the sound was always able to bring him out -- when he was within ten feet of the treats. The fact that he didn't appear told Eva that he must've gone out the window once again to wreak havoc.
With an irritated huff, she switched out her house slippers for her sandals and hightailed it out with the bag of treats.
The red rubber pool ball had rolled across the grass and lodged itself into a bush at the fence. Remington was awash in frigid goosebumps, not even the California heat could will away the pool's chill quick enough. Nevertheless, he crawled down and retrieved the ball from the brambles, swatting off what little dirt he could. However, his fixation swerved to the complex across the street when he heard a heavy slam.
"Pluto!" a young girl came charging out of the apartment complex, dressed in a slightly wrinkled white t-shirt and her jaw-length hair swivelled smoothly around her face as she frantically looked up and down the street, "Pluto!" she was shaking a little yellow bag.
Remington looked up and down the quiet street, almost expecting to see Pluto the Dog standing at the corner like Cartoon Cat. He glanced down quizzically at the ball, then back at the young woman.
Eva rubbed the stress lines on her forehead out of pure frustration. This wasn't the first time Pluto ran off, he always came back. However, the damn cat would always find ways to stir up trouble; rowling up dogs, plucking fish from little ponds, scratching at hanging laundry.
"Pluto!!" she shook the bag of treats.
"Hey!" Remington called, waving his hand to the stranger, "You alright?"
Eva glanced at the owner of that soft, yet scratchy voice. She hadn't even noticed the bleach blonde kid standing in the glint of the sun. Eva crossed the street and stood a few feet from the gate, keeping more than two meters distance.
"I'm sorry. Have you happen to see a cat running around? He's a pale tabby, couple black stripes, likes to chew shoes," she shrugged.
Remington only shook his head, "Sorry. I'm afraid not," he smiled sheepishly, "Did -- did you say he was a cat?"
"Yeah,"
"And you named your cat 'Pluto'? Like -- the dog?"
Eva smirked, but shook her head, unable to help but glance at the tattoos that crossed over this boy's torso, "He's named after The Black Cat," she said, "You ever read Edgar Allan Poe?"
Remington smiled sheepishly, "Oh right, right! I haven't read that in a while, actually. He named the cat after the Roman God for death,"
Eva smiled pleasantly, not having pegged this boy to know so much about EAP, "That's right. I wanted a black cat to fit with the theme but the damn tabby stole my heart,"
"He knew what he was doing, obviously," Remington grinned, "I'll keep an eye for him though, if I happen to --" he was cut short however when he heard Pepper start yapping from the backyard. The yapping was followed by the clanging of metal and a screeching yrowl.
"What the fuck?" Andrew suddenly shouted, “Where’d this cat come from!?”
Panic flooded over Eva's face and Remington didn't think twice to open the gate and let her in. Social distancing aside, they two of them rushed into the backyard to find a tray of sausages had crashed onto the floor, the meat had rolled everywhere. Shy clung to Pepper as the little pomeranien yapped and growled incessantly at the scruffy tabby on the patio table, back arched and hissing at the dog while he guarded his captured sausage.
Eva was understandably horrified.
"What the hell happened here?" Remington asked, just as in shock over the mess.
"Cat came out of nowhere and dive bombed our lunch!" Daniel replied, having just crawled out of the pool.
"Pluto!" Eva ran to the table and scooped up the snarling cat, Pepper was still yapping away, "What is the matter with you?" she scolded at Pluto before turning to Remington and Andrew, who still wielded the metal tongs in his hand, "I am so frickin' sorry!"
"No, no, it's okay," Andrew shook his head, glancing at the lost sausages longingly, "I was kind of craving sushi, anyways,"
"It's no big deal, honestly," Remington assured her, "Five second rule applies, I'm sure,"
"It's been about thirty-seven seconds," Sebastian spoke flatly.
"Since when were you counting?"
Larissa was the only one who didn't seem annoyed or surprised at the feline intruder. She smiled warmly at the young girl, "Is this your cat?"
"Unfortunately," Eva grinned sheepishly, "I should know better. He's in a new area and he tends to get into trouble. Also, if anyone happens to lose a shoe, he did it, and I'm apologizing in advance," she pointed a finger at the now calmed tabby.
Shy smiled, "Well, Pepper's no better. She tends to think she's a way bigger dog," she held up and coddled the fluffy pomeranian. Eva smiled awkwardly, only now noting that she forgot to grab a face mask. And here she was: in a backyard full of strangers in a pandemic.
"Wait, I recognize you," Emerson said, "You just moved across the street, right?"
"Yeah, that's me. Eva," she nodded, "Great first impression, right?"
"You couldn't do any worse than Curcio over here," Sebastian grinned, "Remember the split pants?"
"You're going to hang that over my head for the rest of my life, aren't you?" Daniel glowered.
"Maybe," Emerson turned back to Eva, "I'm Emerson, that's Sebastian, Daniel, Larissa, Michael, Shy, Andrew... and you've already met Remington, I see,"
"The best looking one," Remington grinned.
Eva nodded, "Well, it was very nice meeting you all, I should get going, though. And again, I'm so sorry about the cat,"
Remington shrugged, "It's just sausages. We can get more," he assured her, "Here, I'll walk you out,"
"Thanks," Eva smiled, keeping Pluto close to her chest as she passed Shy and Pepper. Pepper gave one last fleeting bark as the cat passed by. Pluto simply licked his lips.
Michael couldn't help but lean over as he caught one last glance at the new neighbour, then turning to Emerson, "How come you get the pretty neighbour?"
The drummer shrugged, reaching over to grab the rubber ball that Remington dropped at the end of the pool, "Dumb luck?"
#palaye royale#Palaye Royale imagine#Palaye Royale fic#remington leith#Remington Leith imagine#emerson barrett#sebastian danzig#boy bands#band imagines#band imagine blog#original story#original female character
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radiant ⤖ han jisung
❖ genre : college!au ; love-hate relationship!au ; frenemies to lovers!au ; fluff
❖ word count : 10k.
❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol
❖ summary : you've made a mental note to yourself never to make dumb bets with J.One again because who knows you'll fall for Han Jisung over two cups of boba?
one.
College.
That specific morifying seven-letter word can literally make someone jump off a cliff. Like straight up, Lucifer would rather drink and bathe himself in holy water than to join one of the world's most traumatizing systems. Where knowledge is being drilled into people's mind like a tattoo, and it's not even a cute one, one that you most likely will regret later.
Man, what a life.
After highschool, most people thought they were ready, physically and mentally. That's not true. Did you really think that you're ready for monotonous lectures, for back-to-back assignments with ridiculous deadlines, for cramming forty slides of the PowerPoint presentation from your professor the night before an exam just because your brain cells decided to say 'fuck it' in the middle of the lecture ?
No one's ever ready for living to torture themselves.
Not even Hwang Hyunjin. Hyunjin, the boy you grew up having him right by your window. Hyunjin, that one kid in class who would always hand people his homework whenever they asked for it. He's too kind for this world, for his own good, you often say that to yourself but Hyunjin isn't really all that great.
He too takes pain in turning in assignments to the T.A and dreads his 9am classes tremendously. But, since he's got a rich ass uncle who has some spare apartments lying somewhat near college ( as long as he preserves the place and invites someone over to help paying the bills ), he doesn't have to deal with the struggles of living on campus.
And you, just happen to have the honor to live with him. Well, more like temporarily to see how things will work out later. You despise living on campus anyway.
"What's with the long face ? Did Minho ramble about his cats again instead of working ?" Hyunjin walks into the living room before dropping his keys into the gold-accent bowl that he previously purchased from a garage sale. It's quite convenient, actually, the keys never end up under the couch or some random drawers again.
You look up from your laptop screen, sparing him a glare and focusing back on your assignment. Being a media major is equivalent to taking lots of notes and a shit ton of reading which is a pain in the ass. Meanwhile, a theatre kid like your roommate has his midterms and finals as setting up plays for school's events. Pfft, privileged people.
You don't hate-hate the idea of going to school like some people, in fact, you genuinely love learning, but you're in desperate need of another word for 'child labour' to be applied to this ... situation.
"Ohoho.. It's way worse, trust me, you don't wanna know." You lean your head sideways on one of the pillows, words slightly slurred with your cheek being pressed against the soft surface.
Hyunjin raises his voice from the kitchen area. "Did he confess his love for you or something ?"
"Jesus no ! You know he's not into me like that." You almost screech and sit straight up. "We were supposed to finish our project that's due this Friday. And guess who else was there ? Another chick showed up ! I swear that I wasn't hallucinating, he brought a new one home every other day. She said she was just 'a friend'." You make the quote-on-quote sign with your fingers to emphasize.
You pull on your own hair dramatically with all your might, hissing under your breath just by recalling it. "And whenever we had a twenty-minute break every hour and a half or so, she keeps brushing herself against him, acting all innocent about it. I was deadass pissed off—"
"Woah woah, I don't think it's that—"
You throw your hands in the air helplessly, suppressing the urge to throw a tantrum. "It is that bad, Hyunjin ! The chick doesn't know how to take a fucking hint !" Whatever, Hyunjin is probably too tired to wait for you to finish complaining about some random classmate drooling over Minho because they do that all the time anyway.
"Damn." He sips on his apple juice. "I should come over next time. Might be a not-so-shitty, watered-down version of 'Fifty Shades of Grey'."
You shoot him a glare, closing your laptop shut. "I instantly regret moving in with you."
"Why ?" Hyunjin pouts and plops himself next to you on the beige-colored couch. He reaches for the remote on the coffee table while obnoxiously sipping on the box of juice.
"Because apparently, you love weird, gross, mushy noises as much as Minho does." You answer flatly, burying yourself deeper into the white fuzzy blanket. Actually, no. Living with Hyunjin isn't as bad as you're trying to make it sound.
He might not cook, but he knows some decent restaurant with reasonable prices. He might be all over the place sometimes while panicking over an upcoming exam but at least he keeps his space organized ( unlike Han Jisung, whose closet is a perfect resemblance of World War III ).
Hyunjin throws his apple juice into the nearby bin while scrolling through the 'Romance' section briefly. And sharing the same Netflix account is probably the best decision you two have ever made. "What's worth-hating here ? No smelly kids, no not-having-enough-personal-space problem. There's good food, a cute, quirky roommate which naturally equals good company. You're living your best life right now. The only downside to this is that you have to deal with my questionable sleeping habits."
Fine. Hwang Hyunjin is cute, and a total heartthrob to the entire school. You won't be surprised if every single male student hates him with a passion ( which they do ). Not to mention, all of your female classmates would be more than happy to finish all of your assignments within two days as long as you hand over his number. Although they might want to reconsider due to the fact that this good-looking boy is also that person who records his alarm by yelling at the top of his lungs into his phone speaker.
But, a good friend wouldn't do that, because even God doesn't know what those creepy girls would do once they had their hands on his phone number. This is also why you always get dirty looks from everyone just because you just happen to be his plus-one for everything.
And Hwang Hyunjin only needs a plus-one when Seungmin decides to hate him on that day ( which is almost everyday ). So there goes your reputation. You're probably nothing but a mediocre girl who just doesn't know when not to be all over her hot best friend in the people's eyes.
Hyunjin snaps his head towards the front door when the bell rings then proceeds to turn back to his roommate, showing those ridiculously adorable puppy that naturally implies as 'Get the door for me, will ya ?'. And although all you want to do is to slap him with your laptop, you still stand up nonetheless. You undo the chains and slides the lock over before swinging the door open.
"Hyunjin, I was wondering if you wanna come see us perform this Saturday. You know, at the school's mini music festival. 8p.m. Got two tickets to spare. You can get yourself a plus-one or something." And before you - with an obnoxiously loud tone, the leather jacket and Balenciaga cap - is Changbin, who sassily brushes past you and makes a beeline towards the couch, where Hyunjin is man-spreading, wrapped up securely in his white fluffy blanket.
He lazily sits up from his previous position, receiving the tickets with half-open eyes. "I'll go. As long as 'Wow' is on schedule." 'Wow' is 3racha's first and most definitely last attempt of a love song but somehow, it's managed to get itself a special place in Hyunjin's heart. Well, more accurately, everyone's heart.
Changbin cocks an eyebrow. "It's first on the list actually." He then turns to you with a smirk spread across his lips. "Whatcha say, Y/N ? We all know your favorite line is 'Excuse me noona, do you have a boyfriend ?' from the lovely J.One." He refers to one of Jisung's lines in a love song which he wrote at the age of 16, Changbin wasn’t even 18 himself then. Good times. And now literally every girl is more than ready to throw themselves at him anytime, anywhere. Chan really didn't lie when he proclaimed 3racha as 'hot'.
You shake your head with a timid smile tugged on your lips. "I don't think so Bin, I'm having midterms on Monday, J.One can be saved later as my midnight snack whenever I wanna grill his ass for pestering me during the golden hour aka 3a.m."
Midterms sound good enough for an excuse because everyone would literally kill keep their A-s on those report cards. But unfortunately, you can't just play on the infamous SpearB that easily because apparently, being roommates with Hyunjin has absolutely nothing to do with improving your awful acting skills.
Just then, the most inappropriate, insufferable, infuriating, and other synonyms for 'annoying' clapback clicks inside Changbin's brain when an imaginary lightbulb pops up at the top of his head. "Man, you two are really out there banging each other in secret—"
And out the door he goes before you feel the need to personally stitch up his lips with your terrible sewing skills from elementary school. You close your eyes and takes in a deep breath, shutting the door behind your back while Hyunjin is too busy laughing his ass off on the couch.
This is getting to the point where you don't even need Han Jisung to be here to have the urge to strangle him, because his trash friends are no help at all.
two.
You step onto the bus with your earbuds on, right hand dropping the bus ticket into the glass box that's neatly placed right beside the driver's seat. Another day, another 4 hours of lectures and 2 continuous shifts which is another 5 hours at the café on campus, in which, sucks. But, what makes it even suckier comes right in three, two, one..
"Two people please !" A disturbingly obnoxious voice chirps right behind you. Just then, a figure dashes through the couple who are currently throwing daggers at him with their eyes. Not this again. You groans to yourself before sliding an extra ticket into the box because you definitely know better than to mess with a cranky bus driver. That boy over there really gotta pay for that shit.
Then, you take a seat beside the window, deciding to ignore the pest who just made you spend an extra ticket for his ride. You really should have taken another bus instead of the 325. Suddenly, a hand reaches towards one of your earbuds and pulls it out quickly. A puff of air hits your left eardrums like a rush of electricity, causing you to jump a bit.
"Can you stay still for a good span of 10 fucking seconds ?" You deadpan and and snap your head around. And before you - with slightly damp fringe covering his warm brown orbs, cute button nose and peachy lips ( gross ) - is Han Jisung. More accurately, the bane of your existence.
Jisung chuckles loudly at the big scowl on your face as he angles his head to take a proper look at you. You look like you just rolled out of bed, literally, not even metaphorically. Sweatpants, flannels and sneakers are the way to go if you're gonna be on your feet all day running around to serve sleep-deprived students and professors. Of course you look like a complete bum, it's 9a.m. What did he expect ?
"Aw." He pouts. "Where's the fun in that then, little cub ?"
And when Jisung reaches a hand out to pat your head, you frowns at his particularly ridiculous nickname for you and slaps his hand away. He watched the new remake of 'The Lion King' before the new semester started and cried like a total baby when Mufasa fell off the cliff, said Felix. Honestly, you wouldn't blame him because those devastating thirty seconds remain to be the most heartbreaking scene that Disney has ever invented. But still, the nickname is painfully unoriginal.
"Man, I hope you bombed your midterms or something." You speak up flatly, a slightly better retort lingering at the tip of your tongue but you're far too tired to argue with him anyway. And not to mention, your previous statement is completely useless because if Hwang Hyunjin is that kid who works his ass off to get good grades then Jisung is the complete opposite of that. He can sleep through ten lectures and still get a minimum of 90% on his exams. The perks of being a prodigy since newborn, can't relate.
Jisung feigns a painful expression, scrunching his nose up in fake agony. "How supportive of you, so incredibly validating." He cocks his head upwards carelessly, giving you a full view of his side profile.
Okay. Despite his annoying personality and questionable nicknames for everyone then Han Jisung is kinda attractive. You get it, you get it, Hwang Hyunjin is attractive but this prick is another kind of attractive.
Whenever he screams his heart out at the mic on stage, there are literal silver and gold specks floating in his eyes like an explosion of stardust scattered across the whole universe. And the way he conveys his emotions into his lyrics to perform an entire song on stage is just tremendously remarkable. No wonder all the girls always come rushing in when J.One is on stage.
Wait, were you thinking about Han Jisung or J.One ? But no, Han Jisung is J.One. It's just that J.One is slightly cooler than Jisung because he doesn't pester people until they have a cardiac arrest. Whatever, your brain is already yelling for retirement.
"You are coming to watch my performance right ?" Jisung suddenly leans over, your noses almost touching. Being the idiotic person that you are, your body immediately locks itself in place, hissing slightly at the current proximity. Great, now what ?
"Ooh." A low whistle escapes his lips. "You were too busy checking me out. It's okay, that's understandable. Not everyone can have a close-up of J.One's out-of-this-world visual." He flips his imaginary long hair and you make a gagging noise.
"I was not !" You exclaim upon embarrassment, cheeks turning into a bright shade of coral. "There's just something in your teeth."
"Uh huh, I doubt it." Yeah, he would never buy that. Jisung smiles at you cheekily and once again, Han Jisung has proved that he's the kind of guy who has the particular type of smile that makes you want to knock their teeth out. Although you can't help but fall for it nonetheless. Very typical of you. "So, are you coming or nah ?"
Your heart tingles a bit, and you feel like you can just pass out right here right now on this stupid bus in the middle of this stupid conversation with his stupid boy and his stupid smile. "No, I have my midterms on Monday. Guess who's pulling all nighters again ?" You push his face away because if not, you might as well just explode and make a fool of yourself.
"Ahhhh, why not ?" Jisung whines as if there's no tomorrow. "It's not like you enjoy drowning yourself in Kang's 40 slides of 'History of Media 101' anyway." Now, for once in a fairly long time, the bastard finally said something that wasn't complete bullshit. And you're starting to reconsider your decision because although Han Jisung is undeniably insufferable, J.One can make it up with his dope performances. But then again, you really just don't want to see his face on Saturdays.
Suddenly he rolls himself over again, his lips drawing a devilish smile. You can tell already from the dangerous look in his eyes, it's not going to end well.
"Are you in for a bet ? If I win, you'll have to go. But if you win, I'll do whatever you want me to, for an entire week. You're basically the privileged one here, don't even deny it."
three.
Changbin wakes up from his long nap to find Chan having his eyes glued to the laptop's screen as if his life depends on it. It makes him wonder how long his friend has been working on the rearrangement of all their songs for this Saturday's music festival.
"I see that you're making quite the progress." He grunts slightly before sitting up straight. The small faux leather couch that their school has in the band practice room isn't exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep on. But after what seems like an eternity in the lecture hall, tolerating the professor's rant then Changbin wouldn't even mind sleeping on the floor.
Chan slowly peels his eyes away from the screen and blinks numerous times so that he won't potentially go blind. He looks over at Changbin's slouch figure on the couch, tapping away on his phone and smiles dumbly at some memes that Minho just DM-ed to their group chat.
"Damn right, I just finished chopping up the bits of back-up vocals. I feel like my back is so fragile that it might break in half if I stand up." He runs a hand through his mop of black hair that's nowhere near the definition of 'doable' and yawns into his other palm.
He peeks over his shoulder to see Hyunjin and Felix sleeping while leaning against the mirror, Minho laying on top of Jeongin as he chuckles creepily at his phone. And Woojin is too busy singing his heart out with his guitar in the corner to notice Seungmin capturing everyone in their greatest glory, meaning when they're all a hot mess.
Changbin swings his legs over and slips into his black Adidas slides, walking over to Chan in a sluggish manner. He crouches down a bit while squinting his eyes to take a proper look at the laptop screen. Chan indeed has finished most of it, no wonder he looks ( and probably smells ) like trash. "I'll give you a hand, just send these over to me after when you got home." He says, giving his friend a pat on his back.
"Yeah sure," Chan puts a hand over his mouth to cover up another yawn. "By the way, where the fuck is Jisung ? He hasn't been answering my texts all morning."
Changbin gives him an indifferent shrug. "He said he would be on campus all day on Thursdays since he has classes and work right after- hold on he's texting me."
[ 5:23pm ]
piece of shit : where are you guys ?
baby changbin : band room, clearly you never listened.
[ 5:24pm ]
piece of shit : yeesh, I was busy you ass. texting y/n and all.
baby changbin : it was fucking 3a.m. !
[ 5:25pm ]
piece of shit : whatever, we'll be there in two.
He pauses for a while and lets the words sink in. Why "we" and not "I" ? Since when this was a plural thing ? Did all of those lectures and serving sleep-deprived students fuck up his brain cells ?
Wow, now Changbin feels bold to assume that Han Jisung even own brain cells. And before he can show the texts to the rest of his friends to make fun of Jisung while he's not here, the glass door swings open. Hyunjin and Felix jolt up in surprise at the same time, almost bumping their heads together at the creaking sound.
"We got you kids boba, wake up wake up hurry hurry SCHNELL !" Jisung screeches loudly when he pushes himself through the front door, accidentally making you bump your forehead into the dull glass surface.
You follows him inside with a big scowl on your face, quickly passing Changbin the plastic bags. Yes, you can hear the polar bears crying in the distance loud and clear but unluckily you only have two hands for ten cups of boba.
"Why boba all of a sudden ?" Minho looks up from his phone in boredom as Jeongin is utterly dying underneath, slapping his palm repeatedly against the floor in exhaustion.
Minho feels ( kinda ) bad for him and decides to roll himself over, setting Jeongin free from his miserable state. "Did you two go on a date or something ?" The youngest one's features morph into a frown, eyeing the two up and down in caution when he crosses his legs together.
You make an unimpressed face and glares at Jisung, who's currently hogging the entire black couch on his own. "Who the fuck would make their date carry everything then ? You tell me Jeongin."
Woojin stands up after craning his neck and shakes his head in disapproval. "My greatest disappointment, Han Jisung, would do that unfortunately." He walks over to Felix and Hyunjin to get himself a cup from the bag.
"Let's be honest, you'd still date him even if he does that anyway. I haven never seen any other girl who has the courage to personally rummage through his disastrous closet just to steal a hoodie." He takes a sip and smirks at the black hoodie that you're wearing. Woojin thinks you should definitely give yourself more credit because personally, he can't be bothered to step into Jisung's room, much less his closet.
You're still slightly confused for a moment there but quickly look down and almost gasp in realization. "I can explain—"
"Don't worry Y/N, if he ever mistreats you, you best believe that he's not gonna see tomorrow's daylight." Felix supplies unhelpfully over a mouthful of boba. Since when did he become such a nuisance ? But he's not entirely wrong because if no one volunteers to skin Jisung alive when he leaves you with a broken heart then Hyunjin will literally disown him. He doesn't care if it's legal or not because even a law student like Woojin would be on his side in this.
You hold up your hand defeatedly. "The jerk purposely left it on my couch back at the apartment. And Hyunjin didn't want to return nor wash it so I was obligated to do that myself. Eventually, the hoodie just ended up on a hanger right behind my bedroom door. Not to mention, I was running late earlier and had nothing to wear." You finish your sentence, realizing that your roommate has been giving you a 'wtf' face all his time.
"Out of reasons already ?" Chan chirps, raising a dark brow.
Okay.
In your defense, it's a goddamn good hoodie. The material is actually really nice that you might accidentally fall asleep if you wear this to class. You didn't mind the design on it either, kinda boyish but very funky, almost hippie looking. And last but not least, the smell of it is intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more. That's also equivalent to Jisung smells nice ( ew ) and your cheeks automatically heat up at the thought of feeling like he's hugging you whenever you wear it.
You frantically try to explain with expressive hands. "Look, guys—"
"You're going this Saturday !!" Jisung's voice suddenly booms behind your back as he declares loudly like it's the most worth-knowing thing in the whole wide world. The guys trade confused look with each other, not knowing what nonsense their friend is babbling about. Whatever, they don't have to either way. "You're going, you're going, you're going !"
You look over at Hyunjin's cup in disbelief, completely full and untouched. Meanwhile, Felix has already finished his drink in between the 15-minute conversation. You blinks and quickly comprehends the new amount of information, you lost the bet. Which means...
Screw midterms.
four.
Screw the music festival, you’re not going anywhere.
“How’s this ?” Hyunjin steps out from his room with a white dress shirt tucked inside his skinny jeans. And you hate him even more now because your roommate looks totally #boyfriendmaterial in every outfit that he’s been trying for the past half an hour. Really, Hyunjin should give himself more credit for his looks because you bet girls would still throw themselves at him even if he showed up to school looking homeless and all.
You look up from your phone in boredom. “Looks good to me.”
Upon your flat reply, Hyunjin shoots you a glare. “Good ? It only stops there at ‘good’ ? Then which item in my closet appeals to you as ‘spectacular’ or ‘breathtaking’ ? Should I just hire a personal stylist or something ?” He wants to snap at you but ends up whining like a elementary school kid that’s not allowed to drink his favorite soda from the vending machine.
“Dude, eat a chill pill.” You frown slightly at his particularly dramatic ass ( tsk, drama majors ) and decide to put your phone down. “You’re going to a music festival, at uni. Not attending some kind of award shows for celebrities.”
Hyunjin snickers before clicking his tongue. “And you’re planning on wearing that ?”
Your roommate is stressing himself over being overdressed for an event. You, on the other hand, haven’t even made up your mind about an outfit yet and your plus-one is picking you up in less than 30 minutes. And you’re still here, on the couch, in your pyjamas. Call it madness but personally, you wouldn’t mind wearing this to the music festival. Music is technically art in some kind of shape or form and only uncultured swines judge those who prefer being comfy over fashionable.
Come on, it’s art. Your pyjamas can express yourself in some sort of way right ?
“Stop shitting on my Mickey Mouse sweatpants as if it’s something straight out of the 1910s.” You protest, urging to throw the jar filled with gummy bear on the coffee table at his precious face. Mickey is definitely not going anywhere since you guys have been bonding since middle school.
Hyunjin pauses in the middle of his track going back into his room. Suddenly he turns around and smiles at you creepily. “It’s Jisung, isn’t it ?”
Yeah, no. Most definitely not. Still not him. Nuh uh. Okay… Maybe it’s because you don’t want to embarrass your plus-one because he’s also a total heartthrob. Maybe, it could be something about the fact that you’re afraid you’re not gonna look as good as your roommate. Or maybe it’s something inside the can of Redbull that you downed last night while rewatching the last episode of ‘Goblin’. You don’t even like Redbull.
Shit, you’re running out of excuses already.
“Actually, I was thinking that it’d be better if I didn’t show up.” You confess timidly, scared to meet Hyunjin’s confused expression.
When you gather enough courage to look up, he looks absolutely unimpressed and partially disappointed. “And you’re just gonna rain-check on Choi Yeonjun like that ? Changbin’s not letting this slide, I’ll tell you that.” He shakes his head in disapproval, this time turning on his heels to walk towards his bedroom door.
Something inside your stomach is tickling, as if it’s trying to tell you that you’re about to commit some kind of unforgivable sin if you don’t go to the festival. And just when you’re about to ignore it and wrap yourself up warmly on the L-shaped couch like the lazy bum that you are, your phone buzzes.
[ 4:24pm ]
yeonjun | I’ll be there in five.
five.
Only losers go to a music festival without a plus-one.
Hyunjin is one lucky bastard because Seungmin is tolerating his ass for the day. Meanwhile, Woojin is too busy pestering Felix to let him sneak into backstage looking for Changbin. And by now, everyone probably knows that Minho is secretly obsessed with Jeongin since he's decided to stick himself to the youngest like the spoiled parasite that he is. But that's not the point. Point is : you're terrible at navigation so you're obligated to get yourself a plus-one.
And he just happens to be Choi Yeonjun, that one business major who's secretly a dancer that left everyone's wig flying to Africa during last year's prom. You two have walked past each other before between periods and since he's an acquaintance of Changbin, he'd always wave back at you with the sweetest smile. You see him as a fun person to be around, kinda like a sunshine.
But what you didn't know is that, if your group of friend's chaotic energy is 3000, then Yeonjun alone is already on another level.
"Why the long face Y/N ? Enjoy the music, relax, let the night set you free !" Yeonjun chuckles at the frown on your face as he swings an arm over your shoulder. You can already tell that he's getting a bit tipsy from his tinted red cheeks and his breath smells like beer. Never knew the guy couldn't go heavy with his alcohol. Much like your roommate himself.
You peel the red plastic cup away from his hand to abandon it on some random table, dragging him away from the bar before his friend - Beomgyu, offers him some kind of sketchy looking drink. The kid is only a freshman and you feel like you should strangle the person who permitted him to be the bartender for the night.
"Alright, that's enough beer for you." You tell him mild-seriously, partially because you don't want him to end up knocked out in the middle of nowhere and partially because you can't contain someone who's drunk, not even yourself. "Let's find Soobin, I bet he's running around campus looking for your ass."
"What do you mean he's looking for my ass ? He's at home playing stupid boardgames with stupid Taehyun." Yeonjun slurs, shaking the haziness away furiously before fluttering his eyes upwards. "Look !" He squeals a little bit too loudly for anyone's liking. "It's your boyfriend !"
You abruptly put your index finger on his lips. "Shh shhh ! Han Jisung is not my boyfriend ! Watch your mouth, please, I beg." You hush him and glance around to look for any signs of Hyunjin or Felix popping out from a random bush to make fun of you. "We're barely friends, why would you think that we're dating ?!" You cry dramatically, cheeks burning with a bright shade of pink.
The blue haired boy makes a thinking face, which you think it's undeniably cute, before pointing towards the stage. "Because he's looking at you ?" He says cluelessly, giggling while clapping happily like a seal.
You unconsciously lift your head to eye the stage. Time seems to stop when you realize Jisung has been staring at you all this time. His expression is unfathomable. Your heart starts thundering loudly inside your rib cage, so loud that it overcomes the loud EDM music in the background, so loud that you're afraid he might hear it even when he's so far away.
In this light, in the middle of your chaos, there is Jisung. And he's absolutely otherworldly, radiant, dazzling, coruscating. Gosh, you can go on forever if your brain cells allow you to.
The moment he breaks eye contact, that's when you're pondering over who is it that your heart is beating for. Han Jisung ? Or is it just J.One ? Because you've seen Jisung as a total pest who never takes things seriously, who always makes you pay an extra ticket for his ride to uni, who spontaneously sends you derp pictures of him in the middle of a lecture. But no matter where you go, he would constantly pop up inside your mind out of nowhere. Like a phantom.
Suddenly, Chan's voice booms through the speaker, making you jump. "The performance of 3racha will be delayed due to technical errors. We apologize for this inconvenience." You stand there dumbly, blinking numerous times for his words to sink in. The question here isn't really 'what?' but 'why?'. 3racha take music very seriously and they're not the type to slack off any performances even if it's just for a school's small event.
You snap your head back to the stage, Chan and Changbin are talking to a technical staff, an apologetic smile blooming on their faces. But wait, where the fuck is Jisung ?
"Told ya !" Yeonjun hiccups into your ear. "What kind of non-boyfriend will cancel a performance just to come and see you like this ?" You should have gone with Hyunjin, you really should.. You bet he's not even half as drunk a Yeonjun right now since all Seungmin drinks is kombucha.
Unexpectedly, and also expectedly, you find yourself staring at Jisung, who's speed-walking towards your direction, like a complete dumbass. There's fire flickering at the back of his irises, burning intensely onto you. His brows are knitted together, his jacket hanging slightly over his shoulder, teasing you with a flash of his biceps. You also notice how the microphone is still there, in his hand.
Did he fucking leave the stage just to see you ?
Jisung breathes out a puff of smoke from the chilly air. "Y/N, got you."
Your heart actually feels like it’s hanging on the edges when your name rolls off his tongue so tenderly. "And you are ?" He looks over at Yeonjun with an almost disgusted expression, his hand instinctively reaching for yours. You don't blame him either way because Yeonjun looks like he just made it out of one of the world's most traumatizing lunatic asylum with shitty security. And Jisung wouldn't let you walk around with a crazy guy attached to you like a total creep. Not when he's monitoring.
“Y/N’s plus-one ?”
“Well that makes two of us.”
Yeonjun holds his hands up as if he's being held at gunpoint. "Easy, dude, I'm leaving. I'm leaving. She's all yours." He laughs, sounding almost too nervous to be true because Jisung is somewhat scary whenever someone gets on his bad side. Just ask Highschool Hyunjin.
"You're wasted as fuck, what makes you think that I'll let you go home alone like this ?" You say, flinching slightly when you feel Jisung tightens his grip on your hand. He cocks a brow as if he's testing you.
"Nah, I'm not going anywhere. Just gonna swing by the bar, Beomgyu probably came up with something to knock me out." Without a proper goodbye nor a hug like his normally playful self usually does, the blue haired boy turns on his heels to walk away from the scene. And you exhale deeply out of relief, not because you hated Yeonjun's company, you might actually hang out with him again. Just not where there's alcohol.
Jisung still hasn't let go of your hand yet, and surprisingly, you don't want him to. "I take that as you two aren't dating ?" He questions, studying your features more closely. You're really pretty, he thinks. Jisung has never once hesitant about using the word 'pretty' for you and he's not afraid to show it either. It's just that you never bothered to notice.
"No ? Hyunjin decided to ditch me for Seungmin and Yeonjun's a mutual friend through Changbin so we texted, and he picked me up after when Hyunjin left." You give him a weird look, confused by how pissed off he looks right now. "And I take that as you're jealous ?"
Jisung laughs humorously, his voice doused in dry sarcasm. "Huh, funny. Last time I checked, you were supposed to be backstage with me since you lost the bet, not clinging yourself onto some hot guy from Changbin's Biochem 101." Of course Jisung is pissed off. How could he not when you're all smiling and laughing with another guy, when he has an arm over your shoulder, holding you so lovingly, so tightly ? Another guy that's not him.
You widen your eyes at how ridiculous he sounds, almost in disbelief. "Excuse you ? Since when 'being backstage with you' was even a thing in our bet ?" Yeah, completely unheard of. "And I was not clinging onto him, I'll have you know that he chugged on a bottle of Hennie and ended up wobbling around like a fucking toddler !"
Your voice is getting louder and louder by the second, chest heaving up and down in anger because he is in fact, being extra insufferable tonight. You haven’t seen him acting like this since he officially declared cold war with Hyunjin back in junior year highschool.
"Oh yeah ? Then what ? You liked that ? It makes me sick to the stomach seeing you giggling at one of his stupid jokes. You seemed so fucking comfortable even when he's this close ?" Jisung tugs in your arm to pull you closer, his cool breath fanning your forehead. Your cheeks unknowingly feel hot, but you're not going to admit it to his face. "You're completely okay with this ?"
You grimace a stiff smile. "Of course I am." Oh boy were you wrong.
"Even now ?" He places his hands over your shoulder to bend down, angling his face so that the tip of his nose is brushing over yours. His gaze pierces right through you, leaving you completely stripped and vulnerable. And you hate every single part of this. You hate how you heart is swelling, how his touches burn like fire, how much effect he has on you with such minimal effort.
Jisung says with a devilish smirk blooming on his lips. "Hmm ? I don't know Y/N, you look pretty burnt up to me."
"It's because of the heat—" You instantly regret what you said when it starts to rain. Droplets of water repeatedly tap against your skin like clear champagne. A cloud shadows over you two and another splatter of rain comes along. Goosebumps rise on your skin at the cool sensation as your limbs lock themselves in place. Jisung has never broken eye contact with yours since then, specks of good and silver floating in his eyes like a brilliant explosion of a supernova.
Just when you thought your lips was gonna collide, something unexpected happens. Jisung takes off his jacket and swings it over your shoulders. He gently holds you by the waist as he hurries you inside, your gaze never once leaves his features. He's saying something but you can't quite catch it, it's hard to concentrate when he's being all affectionate and sweet to you like this.
You are far too busy telling your heart not to explode.
six.
Felix stomps over to your table and slams his tray of food down aggressively. Everyone peels their eyes off what they’re doing for the time being, throwing a weird look towards him. With a satisfied smile on his face, Felix drops his notebook onto the table. Changbin glances at him with an expressionless face, almost yawned in boredom. “And how did it go again ?” He drawls tiredly as if he has heard the same joke over and over for an entire week.
“You know that feeling when you feel like you’re completely detached from your own body and just stare at yourself from above ? I was up there, mind blank while my mouth couldn’t stop blabbering about what ever the fuck was on those slides. I ditched my Flashcards, completely untouched, 5 minutes has never flown by so quick. Boom, the professor didn’t even think twice about giving me an A.” Felix leans back on his chair comfortably after wrapping up his story.
Seungmin scrunches his nose at his friend. “Yeah sure, it’s an A. Big fucking deal.” Kim Seungmin basically has a full scholarship straight to college in the middle of his senior highschool year, you can say that he has the right to be unimpressed.
Minho shrugs indifferently, scrolling through his feed to kill some time. “It is for Yongbok apparently, give him a break. You know he hardly gets any when his brain only consists of Seo Changbin and Fortnite.”
Felix hisses at the older boy like a cat when you accidentally step on its tail, threatening to gouge out one of his eyes with the plastic fork on his hand. Minho being on his ass 24/7 just makes college that much more of a hellhole. He can’t help but roll his eyes in annoyance because no one is even trying to spare a ‘Good job’ or ‘Good for you’. He might actually need new friends, Felix ponders.
But wait, something’s missing.
Jisung didn’t even try to make fun of him. And he never missed a single chance to pester him or call him out every time he’s all giddy over good grades. In other words, his secret life as a potential nerd has been foiled thanks to Han Jisung. But apparently, girls find it hot when a nerd is secretly a dancer.
He looks over to his friend and frowns furiously. A hood thrown over his head, eyes glued to his laptop screen, Jisung looks extra antisocial today and Felix can feel something’s off because he would be jumping around, yelling into your ears by now, not making a PowerPoint presentation. “What’s wrong with you two ?” He asks, noticing how you’re also acting strange.
You’re mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, and stop abruptly at a new post from @j.one. It’s a picture of Jisung grinning while gripping on a microphone followed by a caption “Always have so much fun performing w/ my bros, @spearB & @cb97 - photo by @princehwang #SocialSaturday”.
You almost snickered, feeling the need to change it into “#TBT”. Not only because this photo was taken months ago for a summer music festival nearby Uni, but also because this bright side of Han Jisung no longer exists. He hardly talked to you since Saturday, ignored you when you made eye-contact with him on the hallways, didn’t even ask you to pay for his ride.
Basically, he’s making a fuss out of nothing. But you wouldn’t say that it feels good not having him call you ‘little cub’ 50 times a day or send you random messages during a lecture like ‘go out with me ?’. You never take them seriously anyway because he can’t like you just like that, right ? “Ask him, not me.” You raise a brow towards Jisung, earning a glare from him as a reply. “I’m not the one who’s being petty over me going to a music festival with Choi Yeonjun.”
Jisung sighs dramatically and shuts his laptop close. “Is that all you got ?” He inquires sarcastically as if he’s gonna set you on fire if you dare to try him.
“That’s what I said the first time we played Mario Kart together, isn’t it ? I totally kicked your ass, to the curb.” You protest as the blood running through your veins slowly boils. If it weren’t for Hyunjin to hold your shoulders in place, you would have thrown hands at Jisung.
Jisung slams his hands onto the surface of the table harshly, almost knocked the whole table over. “Yeah, that’s why Chan never lets you drive because you’re exactly the reason for all of our wild turbulence. Because you suck at driving !”
You feel like you’re being held in a chokehold, literally and metaphorically because you can’t even drag Jisung down to the very bottom of Hell when you’re fully capable of doing that. Not before you kill him with your bare hands.
“I mean one of us had to have the guts to drive everyone back after a party where y’all got fucking wasted. College parties are so lit, they say. Who the fuck does three keg stands in a row just to run around the neighborhood shirtless later on ?!” You clatter loudly, earning a ‘wtf’ look from the students at the opposite table.
“Who wants another milkshake ? It’s on me.” Woojin interrupts the two of you, already pulling out his wallet in a rush.
Jisung’s ears automatically turn red, and you smirk at the sight of his pink cheeks upon both embarrassment and anger. “What did you just say ?”
“Ten milkshakes it is.” Chan drags Woojin out of his seat and the two of them helplessly walk towards the canteen cashier from across your table. He’s already given up, you can tell. Because if not, he would just personally hang Jisung upside down on a tree ( his natural habitat ) so that he can cool down before he said something he’d definitely regret later.
You push Hyunjin away and stand up right, staring at Jisung dead in the eye. “What’s wrong ? Cat got your tongue ?” Are you finally getting back at him ? Is this how victory taste like ?
“Say that again and I’m gonna— ugh ! Christ, I hate you !” Jisung sounds like he’s on the verge of exploding and you’re absolutely enjoying every single moment of this.
You mock him in amusement. “You’re gonna what ?”
“I’m gonna fucking kiss—“
Before Jisung could finish his sentence, Minho pulls his friend backwards and Jisung once again lands on his bottom, onto the wooden bench. “Okay, I don’t wanna ruin the heat but at least spare some of your sanity for the sake of publicity, yeah ? You know, if you guys wanna make out that bad, there’s always a restroom.”
Sanity ? For the sake of publicity ? Well, that changes everything. “WE’RE NOT GONNA MAKE OUT LEE MINHO YOU FUCKING BASTARD ! DON’T MAKE ME KNOCK KNOCK UPSIDE YOUR HEAD, YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SH-“ You’ve come to a decision that if Han Jisung doesn’t end up somewhere six feet under the ground, then Lee Minho - aka his best friend - is taking his bullet for today.
“Woah woah, Y/N, easy girl, easy.” Hyunjin holds you back with both hands. Okay, he gets why Jeongin doesn’t want to come over whenever you and Jisung are breathing in the same room now.
Jeongin scrunches his nose as he obnoxiously chews on his tuna sandwich. “Yeah, you guys need to cool down a little bit. You know, just chill out. That’s enough for your ‘friendly banter’, let the others enjoy their lunch in peace, will you ?”
You and Jisung continuously give each other death stares for the rest of your lunch break. Even when Chan and Woojin come rushing back with five cups of milkshakes each, even when it’s your favorite flavor in the entire world, it can never put out the fire of wrath that’s burning furiously deep inside. All you want to do is to have Han Jisung down on his knees and beg you for his life like how King Stefan did to Maleficent. The only difference is that Jisung actually doesn’t have a daughter.
Is that too much to ask for ?
seven.
[ 2:35pm ]
yeonjun | hey, I need to talk to you…
yeonjun | nearby café after school ? I can just wait if you’re getting out late.
You read the message on your way out of the lecture hall and widen your eyes. The hour displayed on your screen reads ‘3:45pm’. You immediately push your way through the crowd of sweaty students and run down the hallway like a psychopath. God, Yeonjun has been sitting alone at the café like a complete fool just because of you. Now you feel like a terrible human being.
“Woah, where are you going in such a hurry ?” Hyunjin yells at you loudly when you brush past him and Jeongin.
You hastily shout back at him before continuing to run. “Don’t wait for me ! Just spare me some left over !”
When you arrive at the café, you feel like you should give yourself a pat on the shoulder because you don't think you’ve ever run that fast before in your entire life. Not even for the marathon competitions during middle school.
And the café looks somewhat different today, something smells weird too, you notice. Then you realize that they just repainted the whole thing, replacing the old teal blue color into a warmer brownish color. The walls and windows are decorated with fairy lights, like a cherry on a sundae, it’s perfect for the upcoming winter break. Because students aren’t just gonna come here for the caffeine, they’re gonna hog this place for themselves sooner or later to get at least one aesthetic photo for the holiday.
You quickly spot Yeonjun sitting alone in the color while having his headphones on, slowly dozing off to the music. His cup of iced macchiato remains untouched with water dipping on the sides. A pang of guilt hits you almost instantly when you start walking towards his direction. As you sit down on the opposite seat, Yeonjun suddenly startles and shakes his sleepiness away.
“Hey, I’m so sorry, my phone was off all day.” You say with an apologetic smile on your face, feeling the guilt keeps piling onto your shoulders. “You could just leave or something, I wouldn’t be mad.”
Yeonjun removes his headphones and laughs slightly, scratching the nape of his neck. “It’s fine,” He waves his hands at you to tell you that everything’s okay. “I really need that short nap after all. God, I was dreading my neuroscience assignment all day. But hey, I really need to talk to you, that’s why I was so determined to wait.”
“Don’t even, Yeonjun. You could have just gone home and rest.” You shake your head at him in defeat. You swear to God, he’s too kind. “What’s so important that you wanted to talk to me so badly ?” You ask while flipping through the menu. The weather has been pretty chilly lately, it might be nice to have a hot chocolate.
Yeonjun’s ears turn red at your words and he starts to dart his eyes around, scared to meet your eyes. “I— uhm, look, I just—“ He stammers with tinted pink cheeks, which you find ridiculously adorable. “I just wanted to say sorry for what happened on Saturday.” He manages to squeak out and you have to hold back the urge to laugh. “I shouldn't have drunk that much beer, right ? You should feel lucky that I left you with your boyfriend because I may or may not have thrown up all over Beomgyu. He almost kicked me off a cliff, I’m not overexaggerating, I swear.”
That’s not true. Yeonjun should be the one who needs to feel lucky because not only didn’t Beomgyu leave him on some random sidewalks, he personally called Taehyun to bring him extra clothes and had an Uber to get them three back home before midnight. He knows Beomgyu is too utterly soft for him to murder him in his sleep anyway.
You smile at him before waving the waiter boy over to punch in your order. “Choi Yeonjun, it’s fine, really. You’re so much fun to hang around. But next time, no more beer for you, get it ?” Upon your teasing, he lets out a nervous chuckle. And little did you know, he’s planning on telling you something much, much more horrendous. “And how many times do I need to tell you that Jisung is not my boyfriend ?”
“Just not yet.” He corrects you, and you’re stuck between the ideas of strangling Han Jisung and throwing Choi Yeonjun off a cliff. Or maybe both. “You guys caused quite the scene during lunch break. You two bickered like an old married couple. Not to mention, you’ve probably ended up on everyone’s social medial by now.”
Your eyes widen in terror. A tape of you, and Han Jisung yelling at each other at the top of your lungs is on the Internet. Since a young age, you’ve come to realize that nothing on the internet ever really goes away. And that thought scares you shitless. Great, now everyone will think of you two as that one loud couple who always argue over stupid things. “I’m so fucking screwed— give me a sec, someone’s texting me.”
[ 4:12 pm ]
han | where are you ?
y/n | why would that matter ?
han | you’re on a date right ? with him.
y/n | han jisung are you watching me ? wtf you creep !?
[ 4:13pm ]
han | do you like him ?
han | just answer me honestly for once.
y/n | so you ARE jealous. hah, busted.
But wait, why would he be jealous ? That makes no sense.
[ 4:14pm ]
han | so what if i’m jealous ?
Your heart stops as a small ‘huh?’ escapes your lips. Yeonjun looks at you with a confused expression, almost develops a mild interest in what made you so flustered. But he guessed it either way because it’s too obvious who’s the only person that has this kind of effect on you.
han | i was the one who asked you out first, it’s not fair !
y/n | ...
y/n | hey, are you drunk ?
[ 4:15pm ]
han | i’m as sober as i can be, enjoy your pretty little date y/n.
When everything’s already a mess, when you’re at a loss for words, Hyunjin’s abrupt call is something else more than just fuel to the fire. “Y/N ! Have you seen Jisung ?” Your roommate sounds alarmed on the other end and your stomach automatically twists into a knot.
“No, I haven’t seen him since lunch… why ?” The uneasy feeling has been ghosting your gut since you received the questionable texts from Jisung, and you’re afraid to hear what Hyunjin’s gonna say next. “What’s wrong ? What happened to him ?” You bombard him with questions after questions, fiddling your fingers nervously in fear.
Yeonjun quickly senses something’s off and reaches his hand outwards. He places his hand over yours gently, rubbing little circles to remind you to calm down. There are a thousand bad scenarios running through your mind like lightning of what could have happened to Jisung. What if he’s about to do something stupid ? What if he’s hurting, and no one ever asked ? What if… it’s all because of you ?
“Hyunjin, just fucking answer me !” You almost snapped, finding the silence on the other line extremely disturbing.
He replies breathlessly, as if he’s already given up. “He’s gone.”
“What do you mean he’s gone ?” You can’t believe your own ears at this point.
Hyunjin sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. “Changbin said he hadn’t been home when his shift was supposed to end at 3. Chan said he wasn’t on campus either, nor the band room. We’ve checked everywhere, not his house, not the usual boba place, not even his favorite get-away spots. He ran away, Y/N, no one knows why. And I’m scared..” Your heart instantly drops to the pit of your stomach.
Not even his favorite get-away spots.. We’ve checked everywhere.
But Jisung would never tell them about all of his get-away spots.
eight.
Jisung unlocks his phone and sees several missed calls from his group of friends along with endless texts but his eyes only linger on some particular ones.
[ 7:23pm ]
y/n | can we just talk this out ?
y/n | this is so fucking childish of you.
y/n | I don’t care if you want to kick me out of your life.
y/n | I’m coming for you.
Jisung doesn’t know whether he should be crying or laughing. Basically, he’s emotionally restrained.
Because apparently, life is preposterous. One moment you’re laughing while being pissed off when he annoys the heck out of you. Then later you would ditch him to have yourself wrapped around another guy’s arms. Hours ago, you were on the edge of pushing his limits into the unknown and now you’re being all concerned and worried about him. He feels mildly exasperated partially because you’re playing with his heart, and partially because he allows you to do that.
He has been watching you from behind all this time. He always has so much on his mind that keeps him awake at nights but never really knows how to convey his feelings for you into words. Maybe that’s why J.One can only write love songs in vain. So being the genius person that he is, he thought ( and still think ) that the only way to approach you was to make fun of you. He can only call you questionable nicknames all day because he doesn’t have the heart to actually call you ‘babe’ in a genuine way. He would always end up spitting out something less than appropriate or stick his nose into your business because he can never fathom the courage to say a simple ‘I love you’. Yes, Jisung knows that he’s a coward for making such excuses but the thought of putting his heart into someone else’s hand scares him shitless. Not that he has never gone through a heartbreak before but the scars never really go away.
Honestly, Jisung has never thought that he would end up liking you this much. He still vividly remembers the day that you two met for the first time. It was freshman year highschool, he got signed up for a role in the drama club at the time being thanks to Hyunjin and suddenly he saw you sitting alone in a corner, struggling over a piece of prop for the set.
Even when it’s the awkward phase, you took his breath right away like ‘whoosh’, leaving him utterly speechless when your eyes collide. From then on, you’re the ‘nothing’ that people ask him about whenever he looks like he’s spacing out. You’re the only thing that keeps lingering in his mind, impossible to forget. He finally understands why people are always so giddy about their crush because once you like someone, everything changes. Like how your smile seems to be even brighter than the Sun, how your goofy laugh feels like music to his ears, or how every little thing that you do affects him way too damn much. Woah, he understands why his group of friends said that he’s so whipped for you now.
Jisung doesn’t know what to think or what to feel anymore. He really doesn’t. He hates how you keep switching between ‘the Y/N who hates Jisung with passion’ and ‘the Y/N who genuinely worries about Jisung’. It drives him nuts not knowing how you really feel about him. Jisung swipes his index finger upwards and presses the ‘Airplane Mode’ button from the Control Center settings. He can’t afford having Chan or Minho screaming directly at his ears after when he ran away like that. Maybe he is childish after all.
“Han Jisung !”
Jisung snaps his head backwards to find you standing there, disheveled hair, hands supporting on your knees with a glint of fierceness in your eyes. With the dim source of light from the Moon, you’re glowing under all of the sentimental glory that leaves him completely flustered. He’s really predictable, he thinks. Of course you’d know that he would end up choosing the park where he used to hang out with Seungmin since kindergarten. It’s also where he bawled his eyes out after his first breakup, having you rub little circles on his back and tell him that everything’s gonna be alright.
“What are you doing here ?” He asks soullessly although his heart his yelling at him to fall into your embrace.
“I told you, didn’t I ?” You say, breaths growing more even by the seconds. “I’m coming for you, I don’t care if you’re gonna kick me out of your life because I’m not allowing that.”
Jisung snickers, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “You rain-checked on Choi Yeonjun just like that ? Aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna break up with you tomorrow after finding you that you’re rummaging through the entire city to look for me, an absolute bastard who never leaves well enough alone ?”
You shoot him a stern look, brows slightly furrowed. “You didn’t let me finish, how rude. I’m trying to prove a point, don’t you see ? If I really didn’t give two fucks about you then why would I be here ? If I was really dating Choi Yeonjun then I could have just stayed at home and cuddled with him until Hyunjin kicked him out of our apartment. It’s been almost three hours, Jisung. Three fucking hours. I was running from place to place like a psychopath, got lost on some random streets, just to find you. Yes, just for you.”
He squints his eyes at you skeptically. “And your point is ?”
“I care about you.” You don’t even need to consider anything at this point and that has Jisung’s jaw dropped to the ground. “I could never hate you, even if I do, I can’t hate you for the rest of my life for my own good. Even when you call me ‘little cub’ fifty times a day, even when you make me pay for your ride, even when we almost threw hands at each other during lunch break, my feelings for you never change. Not even one bit.” You state confidently, taking long strides towards him.
Jisung looks at you with a blank expression, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know Y/N. You’re a fucking hot mess. For all I know, you second-guessed most of your decisions in life. What if you decided to pull—“ That’s it, you’re not enduring his ‘what if’-s bullshit any longer.
Without a word, you grab Jisung by the collar and pull him flush against you. When your lips collide with his, it feels like you’re being sent to the Moon and back continuously. Sparks of joy, lust, and mixed emotions ignite inside his heart when you trace your tongue over his then it explodes like a firework that lights up the eerie darkness effortlessly. Jisung slowly gives in and melts into the kiss, his hands snaking around your waist to hold you closer, feeling your warmth radiating off on his flannels. You’re the first one to pull away, hands trailing behind the nape of his neck. “I can say that giving away my first kiss is enough to prove that the only thing I’ve never second-guessed was liking you.” You say breathlessly, trying to ignore the rouge on your cheeks.
“I am your first kiss ?” He widens his eyes slightly.
You scoff at him while trying to act casual. “Be grateful at least you brat.” Jisung chuckles softly at you, slightly taken aback at your bold action as the feeling of your lips on his chills him to the bones. “Point taken.” At that moment, you quickly realize how his warm brown eyes hold their own galaxy with the stars shining so brightly that makes your heart swell. At that moment, you also realize that Jisung is your Sun because his smile alone can light up the whole celestial sphere. Meanwhile you’re his Moon because no matter what happens, you’ll always be here to brighten him up on the darkest of days.
And you both know that as long as you have each other, you will forever be radiant.
#stayshub#stray kids ot9#stray kids scenarios#stray kids au#han fic#stray kids fanfic#stay#han jisung#bang chan#seo changbin#lee minho#hwang hyunjin#kim seungmin#lee felix#kim woojin#yang jeongin#han jisung fanfic#han jisung fluff#skzinc#skz jisung#jypnation#txt#choi yeonjun#college au
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Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction
Read it from the beginning
Chapter 7.5
Bev and Richie were sitting alone. It was long past midnight now, the moon high and mighty in the great big sky, and the two were the only ones still left in the clearing of Back Cove Park; Stanley had been the first to go, dragging a rapidly tiring (yet still reluctant to leave) Eddie and Bill behind him. Mike had excused himself next, and Ben had gone with him- the two of them had taken the flashlight, leaving Beverly and her friend in near-total darkness, though they really didn't mind. That was just over an hour ago now, and since the departure of the others neither Bev nor Richie had spoken a word. There was an odd tension in the air, waves of some negative feeling rolling off of Richie so subtly that she hardly noticed them. For a good 30 minutes or so she'd been debating asking him what was wrong, why he was so off, but she had been wondering whether that was really a good idea. There were a few different paths she could take here, and each had their own obvious pros and cons; the first option was to let Richie sit in his silence, to let him have his privacy because she knows how much that privacy meant to him. The next option was to, well, wrap up the evening and leave. Beverly was tired and she was certain that he was too, so maybe it was a good idea to get the both of them home safely to sleep on the struggles. The last option, most likely to best one, was to ask Richie about what was bothering him.
Just be forward Bevvie, she told herself, wringing her hands together and picking out the best words she could. Sucking in a silent breath through her teeth, Beverly let her eyes fall momentarily shut, psyching herself up and trying to scrape together enough confidence to speak. Richie and her were seated nearly back-to-back, nothing but one of the stones/stools between them. Richie had pulled his knees up to his chest, his head leaned back to rest on the rock, eyes upturned towards the sky. From her place cross-legged just behind him, she let her own head fall backwards, bumping gently against his own.
"So," She started, her voice gentle and soft and already warning Richie of her upcoming question, "Are you okay telling me what's wrong?" She rolled her head to the side, regarding him out of the very corner of her eye, and could see the way his shoulders tensed, the way he pulled his knees just a little closer, lifting his head upright. It was as if he were curling into himself, tucking himself away into a metaphorical shell as if he were a turtle.
"Nothing's wrong," Richie said, shrugging, "I'm all god, Bev. Don't worry." Uttering a sigh, Beverly sat up and shifted halfway around the rock so that her shoulder pressed against Richie's in as comforting a way as possible.
"I... I know you don't like it when I press but..." Beverly mirrored Richie's position. going silent for a moment as phrases of comfort and coaxing danced around in her mind. She was good at talking to people, good at becoming an impromptu therapist with nearly anyone who's ever come to her- anyone except for Richie. Something about seeing Richie, esteemed Trashmouth and Man of 1000 Jokes and 6000 Riddles, sad or scared or just bummed out threw her rational brain askew, tossing her to flounder into some ocean of unease and unfamiliarity. "I'm here for you, you know. You can tell me anything. We've been through hell together, Rich, and you'll always be stuck with me." A silence stretched between them, the tension pulled taut and threatening to snap any moment now. Those waves of negativity grew stronger, nearly moving in a pulsing tandem with the distant sound of the ocean; why, Beverly was unsure. It could be both because she was upsetting him even further, or because he was letting his walls down one brick at a time. For a moment, Beverly thought Richie was going to stay silent, to decline her invitation to vent- and then, he let his head fall sideways, resting gently upon her shoulder. He scooted a little closer, arm pressed against arm, and shrugged again, dejected and unsure.
"I..." for once in his life Richie Tozier was whispering. "I'm so gay, Bev. Like, so, so gay." Beverly couldn't help but bark out a quick laugh, resting her own head on top of Richie's and rolling her eyes though he wouldn't be able to see it.
"I know that much, Tozier. I also know that's not all that's bothering you, so what's up? What's the problem?"
"The problem is that stupid, jackass, lovely little guy named Eddie. Jesus, Bev, I didn't think I'd ever like another guy again after-" Richie paused for a moment, letting the silence spell out the name he wouldn't allow himself to say, "But here I fucking am and I just- It's scary, you know? It's goddamn terrifying." Beverly nodded her head, a frown scrawling itself over her face.
"What's the scary part?"
"Remembering. I'm... I'm afraid that I'll fall in love and just get fucked up all over again. It's stupid but I can't shake the feeling that-"
"It's not stupid, Richie!" Bev's tone took on something almost scolding, and she reached for one of Richie's hands to counter the harshness, "Jesus, it's not stupid at all. Nathan," Richie stiffened, "was a dick, he hurt you. It's entirely natural to be afraid of that happening again. I promise, I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't," Beverly wrapped her arm around Richie's shoulders, pulling him closer and planting a kiss into his hair, "Eddie's an angel, Rich, you know that he'd never hurt you, right? And if he did," Bev smiled, "I'd break his stupid, jackass, lovely little neck." Richie chuckled, still weak, and shook his head. For another few beats the two fell back into a lapse of silence. Beverly's thumb, which was rested on the top of Richie's shoulder, began to skate back and forth slowly, comfortingly, rhythmic circles that helped to soothe his mind just a little bit. Sadly, with that soothing came weakening.
"No, you don't have to... you don't have to say that. I dunno," He sighed, and lifted his free hand to peel of his glasses. With the heel of his hand he scrubbed at his eyes, and Bev was dumbfounded to discover that his eyes must have been watering. Seeing Richie cry when he wasn't playing a character was a rare occurrence. She hugged him tighter, laying her legs down and pulling Richie right against her chest, cradling him as if he were a baby. "I don't think I'll ever really make any moves on Eddie. I can't risk it." Beverly opened her mouth to speak again, to repeat that Eddie was a good guy, that he wouldn't do the same things as Richie's ex, but he spoke first, "I know, I know what you're gonna say, but that's not what I mean. What I mean is that I can't risk him hating me for it or something, because then Stan and Bill will probably hate me, too- and... And that means they'll hate all of us." Richie's voice had begun to waver. Never ever has Bev felt so utterly horrible, so guilty even though this isn't her fault. "I don't want them to hate me, and I couldn't stand watching them hate you and Ben and Mike because of me,"
"Richie..." Bev tucked Richie's face against her shoulder, placing one hand on the back of his head to run her fingers through his hair, "If they hated you because you were gay then I wouldn't want anything to do with them, okay? I don't want to know them if you can't be yourself around them." As she spoke, Richie's let out a hitching breath, his battle against his own tears clearly coming closer and closer to an end. She pulled him tighter against him, other arm wrapping securely around his shoulders, and felt him hug her right back with a certain desperation, a certain starvation, clinging to her shirt as if he'd never hugged anyone in his life. It was as if she was going to slip away. He shuddered, fighting back a wail rising in his throat, trying not to sob like a child. Even though Richie was so much bigger than Bev he felt like her arms were hiding him from the world. A wave of sudden vulnerability choked his throat.
"I'm just-" Richie's voice broke and that was it for him. He melted into Beverly, the tears finally flowing free, his glasses discarded somewhere nearby and his face pressed into her shoulder, her hair, smelling her lavender shampoo. He began to tremble lightly, gasping for breath between his tears, hating how quickly he'd broken and loving that Beverly was here to cling to because she was probably the person he trusted most on this fucked up planet. "I just- I'm so scared, Bev, I'm so fucking scared and-" He was interrupted by a racking sob, and his tears strengthened tenfold, "Everything- it's all so f-fucking hard and I- I can't- Why the hell am I like this? Why the fuck can't I just- why can't I just be normal?"
"Richard Wentworth Tozier, you are not allowed to speak like that!" Beverly held him tighter, afraid that she might literally be crushing him but feeling the way he hugged her back, "Being normal fucking sucks, dude! What, you want to be some stupid pencil-pushing white boy? Get a desk job, some lame-ass wife? You can have three kids and hate your life until old age finally takes you away?" Richie nodded into her shoulder and she shook her head furiously, grabbing fistfuls of his gross arcade-carpet button up and turning her head so that her face was pressed into the crown of his head, her voice muffled, "Fuck that, Richie. You're awesome. You are literally the single greatest person that I have ever known in my entire life. You're gonna be the best comedian on the planet, and you're going to find and marry the guy of your dreams. I'm not letting you make yourself miserable just because society wants you to be, okay?" Again, with hesitance, Richie nodded. That wasn't good enough for Bev. "You got it?"
"Y-Yes, yes I-"
"Good," The firmness in her voice leaked away, replaced by that Beverly Marsh tenderness that was always hidden deep down below her spitfire, "Because I don't know what I'd do with myself if you stopped making jokes and got all old and gross." Richie was still crying, his shoulders jumping with each attempted-to-stifle sob that he just couldn't hold in. Feeling rather than seeing the misery in Richie's soul, Bev knew she had to do something to bring back his flame of humor, of idiocy, of downright stupidity. He was a fool, and she loved him for it, so she would make a fool of herself if she had to. Beverly screwed up her face, trying to get her voice to change just like Richie's always do- it didn't come as easy to her, not in the slightest, and she mostly sounded like Beverly Marsh but also sounded just a teeny tiny bit like Richie Void Of Soul. "Oh, sorry Bevvie, I can't come and make you laugh because I have a work potluck," Her voice dragged out, taking on a false-tired, lifeless drawl, and it managed to get a shaky little snicker out of Richie that was wet and sad and overtaken by another shaking sob, "Oh, by the way, do you have a recipe for some coleslaw? Usually Karen in accounting brings coleslaw but she died of boredom right at her desk," Again, Richie let out a shaky little giggle, his voice hitching for breath, little hiccups slipping past his lips as he did. The character Beverly was going for was Richie If He Followed Social Norms. It seems the joke landed at least enough to brighten the usually unshakeable mood of Richie Tozier.
"You can drop that recipe off any time after five o'clock tonight," His voice was strained, tiny and Richie pitched it up an octave and tried his best to mimic the depressing lifelessness Bev had adopted, "Any earlier than that and I might be at my sweet angel Joseph's ballgame." Beverly was laughing now too, rocking gently back and forth with Richie still held tightly in her arms.
"What are you, a soccer mom?"
"O-Only if you take Joseph and the team out for pizza after, because I'm just so proud of them. Who cares if they lost!" Richie wiped his damp eyes on Bev's shirt and leaned away, his shoulders, which were hunched, leaning back just gently as he straightened up again. He was grinning in a way that almost looked frightening, tear-stricken and all tooth and self-loathing and relief to have cried out all the sadness.
"Everyone is a winner in my book! Saddle up gang, to the Pizza Hut we go!" Beverly pumped a fist into the air, wiping at her own damp eyes and wearing a grin not dissimilar to Richie's own. Reduced to sad, scared, giggling children in one another's arms, Richie began to feel just a little better. If he tried really hard and had his friends at his side then maybe he really would fine his soulmate or his dream guy or whatever other silly name existed for 'the one'. Maybe he would fulfill his dreams and become a real standup guy, or maybe he'd pursue ventriloquism or he'd become a Rockstar or a radio host or something like that. With a few more minutes together, Richie nearly squashing Bev under his weight, he began to feel good enough to function again. Richie leaned in one more time, wrapping his arms tightly around Beverly's shoulders and crushing the soul out of her in a bear hug. After a moment of near-suffocation he pulled away, his smile more natural than it had been moments later. The two began to untangle themselves from one another like some finicky Christmas lights, and then Richie sat heavily at her side still sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.
"Thanks, Bev." Richie clasped his hands, letting them rest in his lap. Beverly's smile shrunk into something serene and loving, and the two let minutes tick by in silence as Richie picked up his last stray pieces and clicked them back into place. Once Bev was certain he was A-Okay once more she let her head shift to look at him, watching him replace his glasses and piping up with a cheeky question and a cheekier grin. Humor and teasing always was the best way to get Rich's spirits up again.
"So Eddie, huh? I didn't take him as your type." Richie let out an incredulous sound, staring at her in disbelief. The way his eyebrows had shot up said 'What the hell are you talking about? Have you seen him?'.
"He's such a- such a little bastard, it's adorable. How can you not be into that?" At this, Beverly nodded her head, letting out a sound that meant 'you have a point' and accenting it with a half-shrug that clearly didn't suffice for Richie believing that she was convinced, "And he's smart and annoying and- well, he's cute, too. So cute with his freckles and his eyes and his hair- not to mention he's way shorter than me- and... uh..." Richie cut himself off, seeing the way that Bev was looking at him. Suddenly, his face went red, flushing with heat, and he lifted one hand to scratch at the back of his neck. He smiled sheepishly. "I... I like him, I think."
"Yeah, Rich," Beverly grinned, her heart swelling with endearment, "I think you probably do."
#reddie#reddie fanfiction#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#beverly marsh#ben hanscom#bill denbrough#stan uris#stanley uris#mike hanlon#the losers club#it#it movie#it chapter 1#it chapter one#it chapter 2#it chapter two#it 2017#it 2019
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Love Game
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Drama
Warnings: NSFW, Alcohol, Swearing
Updates: M/W/F
A/N: I would advise NOT READING if you do not like NSFW: This chapter do be steamy.
MASTERLIST
1: THE FIRST MEETING| THE AFTERMATH|AFTERMATH 2
The first meeting:
Y/N didn’t know how long she had been standing there, but she knew she hated it. As much as she loved modeling and being Cleo she hated how incredibly lonely it felt. Scanning her eyes across the room she let out the breath she was holding. So far, everything was going perfectly and if she survived this it would be the last even Cleo would need to make an appearance at for a while.
Across the room Atsumu stood rooted in his spot. He had been watching her for most of the night. He honestly couldn’t believe that she was actually here. “You gonna go talk to her, or are you pulling out pussy?” Suna asked, tipping his tumbler of whiskey. He had no plans of getting shit-faced. His favorite cam girl was going to be on later and there was no way he was going to miss it. “I’m going to ask her, just..fuck just get me another drink first.” Atsumu answered nervously, eyes scanning the room.
One drink turned into several drinks. By the time Atsumu was comfortable Y/N had a pretty good buzz going herself. Between drinks he had made himself comfortable flirting with all the women who flocked to him. Why wouldn’t they? He was Atsumu Miya, best setter in Japan. Y/N turned towards the bar waving down the bartender for another drink. As she looked out across the floor, she found her eyes continued to peruse one particular spot full of women. Whoever was over there had to be interesting. Especially if they were surrounded by all those pretty women. Knocking her drink back she waved for yet another one and watched the scene unfold in front of her.
Women were arguing with each other. Throwing elbows and shoving hands into faces, just to get a look at this guy in the middle. Y/N rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh. Who on earth would be able to draw that kind of attention? As far as she knew only one other person had that effect on women...and last time she checked he was thankfully not in Japan. Picking up her glass Y/N made her way towards the floor. Hips swaying she smiled sweetly, nods of acknowledgement to fans who were too nervous to actually approach her. Out of her peripherals she watched the circle of women hoping to get a glimpse of whoever was garning all the attention. Y/N stopped in front of Akaashi and Bokuto and bowed lowly. “Holy shit!” Bokuto exclaimed, his voice loud and resounding. “Bokuto, please use your inside voice.” Akaashi mumbled harshley. “Sorry, It’s just...you’re a huge deal at my house. I mean you’re Cleo!” he exclaimed, taking her hand. “My friend Atsumu has the biggest crush on you! He’s going to be so jealous when he finds out I met you!” With a soft giggle she spoke. “I didn’t know someone as famous as Atsumu Miya would be a fan of someone like me.” Y/N knew who Atsumu Miya was. Anyone with eyes knew who he was.
The man looked like he was literally carved from marble. His face chiseled and his jaw strong. His legs were thick with muscles roping up his thighs to an ass she wanted to take a nice long grab of. Y/N wasn’t blind and she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him somewhat attractive. She had seen pictures of the jackals when they did beach promos and modeled for their sponsors. She had even bought a copy of Men's Health when he was featured on the cover. Back muscles bulged as he had squared his shoulders for the picture. Head canted sideways a hint of a smirk on his face. And the spread in the middle. She couldn’t look at the magazine for weeks after.
Atsumu had been positioned in the middle of the stadium with nothing but a volleyball for his modesty. Y/N had traced over the lines of his biceps countless times. Mouth salivating as she imagined what those thick ropes of muscle would feel like under her touch. She had taken note of the flex of his thighs and knew that his ass was clenched tight. Eyes closed she had imagined what he would taste like. What he would sound like if she had dragged her tongue down his chest, over those delicious abdominals; dipping into the defined V before reaching the promised land.
Atsumu was every woman’s wet dream. Sexy, confident, and charismatic. Too bad his personality was actually shitty and his dirty laundry was plastered all over the media. Shaking her head she huffed out a laugh. With a wave to Bokuto Y/N made her way back to the bar, dropped off her glass, and turned towards the exit. She needed to get out of here, lest she do something she would regret.
If anyone asked Y/N how she went from leaving the party to her back pressed against the elevator wall, hands tangled into the thick locks of the best setter in Japan, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you. When she made towards the door she had heard a commotion behind her. Scrambling to his feet, she watched Atsumu Miya stumble towards her. “Cleo, I’m...I’m a huge fan and I just...I wanted your autograph.” He slurred. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but I don’t have a pen.” she told him, rubbing his cheek. With the biggest shit eating grin he could muster, he spoke. “That’s alright baby, I’ve got one in my hotel room.” and with that one liner Y/N found herself back pressed against an elevator wall, hands tangled in Atsumu’s hair as he trailed wet kisses from her jaw down towards her breasts. One hand slid the strap of her dress down just enough for him to take one in his hand. He groaned at the fullness of it before giving it a harsh squeeze. Y/N moaned as his other hand worked its way under her dress. She tugged his hair harshly trying to bring his face towards hers for a kiss but he had other plans. Those plans involved flicking her sensitive nipple with his tongue before wrapping his teeth around it. Tugging her forward she groaned when he bit down harshly. “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking sexy Cleo. God I’ve dreamed of this for so long.” he cooed against her breast. His fingers lightly grazed the hem of her thong before dipping in and ghosting over her clit. She hitched her breath as she waited for him to glide them over her slit.
A loud ding of the elevator halted all movement in the cart. Sliding the strap up, Atsumu helped Y/N fix herself before pulling her out when the doors opened. With brisk steps they walked the hallway to his hotel room. Turning towards her he peered down at her questioningly. “You can back out now, if you still want to.” he mumbled. With a grin she pushed the door open swaying past him. Walking towards the living room she began unzipping her dress. Sliding out of it she threw it on the floor, turning towards him in nothing but black heels and a matching thong. “Come make me yours Atsumu.” she whispered with a sultry wink.
Divested of his clothes, Atsumu pulled Y/N’s body flush against his. Peering up at him she took her bottom lip between her teeth. Bending down he nipped her lip between his teeth and slid his tongue across it. She wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer, lips crashing together. Atsumu groaned at the taste of whiskey and coke coating her tongue. Tapping her thighs she jumped wrapping her legs around his waist. His hands found purchase gripping her supple ass cheeks as he walked her towards the floor to ceiling window behind her. Tongues battling she shivered as she felt the cool window against her skin. Atsumu growled when he realized that her juices were practically leaking out of her sopping heat.
Y/N tugged him down for another kiss loosening her legs just enough to coat the tip of his cock with her pussy juices. Atsumu moaned at the feeling of her essence coating his tip and pressed her fully against the window. “Don’t even think about moving baby, or I’m going to stop.” he snarls. Dropping to his knees Atsumu secures Y/N’s thighs over each shoulder blowing a breath over her dripping heat. He tentatively flicks his tongue over her pearl and smirks at the shriek she releases. He continues his teasing until she’s practically a sobbing mess above him.
“Please baby, I promise I’ll be good.” she begged hands gripping his hair tighter. “I need your mouth on my pussy tsumu.” she begged eyes pooling with tears. With a grin he brings his lips to her clit and sucks harshly. Y/N screams as her back arches off the window. He grips her hips hard and groans deeply as he pushes his tongue inside her throbbing hole. As he continues his ministrations all Y/N can do is squeeze her eyes shut. Her breathing harsh and ragged as she feels the pleasure building. She’s so close she can feel it. Opening her eyes she looks down to see his tongue pushing in and out of her pussy and she moans at just how lewd it looks. Atsumu flicks his eyes up towards her and pushes his tongue even deeper pulling a throaty sigh past her lips. Closer, and closer he brings her to orgasm. Atsumu listen’s as her moans get louder and her movements grow sloppier.
She’s so close she can feel it. Her walls are pulsating, her eyes are growing heavy, she’s almost there. She can feel the coil in her belly tighten, and tighten until finally it sn- but it never comes…
With a dejected cry Y/N opened her eyes to the sight of Atsumu looking up at her through half lidded eyes. “Why did you stop baby...Fuck I was so close.” she whined. With a grin he stood thick cock throbbing. She watched as it twitched against his abdomen. Tip swollen and dribbling pre-cum. Before she can continue her appraisal she finds herself lifted higher and his fat dick slammed up and deep inside her clenching pussy. Y/N’s had snapped back eyes blown wide as he pulled out and snapped his hips back into her. Atsumu watched with sick satisfaction as he rammed his dick at a punishing pace. He fucked her deep and he fucked her hard enjoying the sight of her eyes spilling tears and her voice cracking as she screamed his name over and over. In one motion he pulled his dick out, turned her over and crushed her chest against the window sill. In one single beat his cock was back inside her tight hole rearranging her insides. Y/N could only clench her fists as he rammed himself inside her again and again. Her pussy ached, her throat was hoarse, and her legs were shaking. But she didn’t care. All she cared about was the greek god behind her. “I’m so close to coming angel face, and if you want me to fuck you again tonight you’re going to come right now.” he demanded hand tight around her throat Y/N came. Cream milking his fat cock as her pussy gushed out her liquids. With one deep thrust Atsumu was spilling his seed as deep inside her as it could get. Pumping once, and then twice he pulled out spreading the rest all over her plump ass cheeks. With a huff Y/N made an attempt to move around him when her legs gave out. Laying on the floor she let out a throaty giggle. Atsumu laughed too and it helped ease some of the tension. “Come on Angel face, I’ll carry you to the bedroom.”
The next morning Atsumu woke up to an empty bed and a surprisingly heavy heart. Usually, he was the one who did the leaving. He didn’t know what he was supposed to expect, but this feeling of emptiness was not it.
@dabilove27 @elianetsantana @a-applepi @exosehun-94 @peteunderoos @bewwybun @kyomihann @nightstar165 @aizawasthotty
#atsumu x reader#atsumu miya#atsumu imagines#atsumu scenarios#haikyuu#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu smau#smau
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VI. In for Life*
Summary: The final installment of his enormous dumpster fire :’)
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes
A/N: NSFW! It has arrived along with a short epilogue at the end. Thanks everyone for all your love for these three bastards (and Buckeye, too!)
Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost
It’s hot.
It’s so damn hot and your back is slick with sweat.
Your eyes fly open to the stifling humidity of the dark room. A heavy hand is on your hip, lazily draped over and brushing against the soft skin of your tummy. A back is pressed against your chest, heavy breaths drawing in and out, slightly wheezing. Even atop of your feet, there is a weight.
Jesus (Steve), Mary (Bucky), and Joseph (Buckeye).
You are completely smothered by all of them. When any of you fell asleep—and when Buckeye found it appropriate to flop himself on top of it all is bewildering.
There’s not even a sheet or comforter on top anymore, both things piled on the floor like a lumpy mountain. Buckeye stirs the same time you do, opening his mouth in a squelching yawn and tipping his head back. You glare at him in the dark and uselessly wiggle your toes. “Get off!”
“Buck!” You hiss. He lolls his head sideways and flops his tongue out at you before nuzzling back down onto your ankles, setting his chin on what is probably Bucky. His butt wiggles around, trying to find a new comfortable position, legs kicking yours.
“Your fucking goblin nails! Ouch, Buck!”
Steve stirs with a moan, turning over and throwing his heavy arm over your shoulder, pressing his face into your chest with a contented sigh. It could be sexy, you think, but you’re sure that your boob-sweat is being inhaled right now straight into his lungs.
Bucky grumbles into your back, shuffling until he’s squeezing you too tightly between him and Steve.
“Are you guys awake?” You whisper, “Are you doing this on purpose?”
You release a long-suffering groan when all that responds is another one of Buckeye’s squealing yawns. You slowly pick up Steve’s arm to move it back, but it’s heavy as hell and he keeps grunting into your chest. Somnambulist pervert.
Bucky’s arm moves down, fingers slowly coming to rest on your hip and then slowly—oh hell.
“Dude.” You mutter. His fingers dig into your ass as his shoulders begin to shake behind you. This motherfucker had been awake this whole time, just watching you suffer in-between two human and one canine heater. You swat him away, but he shoves his face deeper into your neck until his breath begins to tickle. Your hands slap harder and faster, “Fuck! Stop! I’m gonna scream!”
“What time is it?” Bucky asks, pulling away with a pant, blowing his hair from his face.
“Way past when we were supposed to wake up. Steve is out, Buck.”
“Yeah he doesn’t really have a middle ground. He’s either awake or he’s dead.”
A silence passes before Bucky’s hand finds the waistband of your romper again.
“You wanna fuck?”
You slap him away with what a shriek might be if someone could do it with their mouth closed. He’s awfully bold and unfiltered now that you’ve shown him your hand and you think he’s probably not bluffing. Bucky laughs again behind you, pulling on the back of your outfit, tugging it a few times and letting it flap. You realize, with a little bit of fondness, that he’s trying to cool you off.
“C’mon.” He slips his legs out from under Buckeye, who whines in betrayal, but watches him with interest anyway. Bucky tugs you out of bed, moving Steve’s arm and pushing his face away from your chest. “Kid’s always been a tits guy.”
“Yeah. Yours are like a B-cup, huh?”
Bucky ignores you, “I like ass. You’re a pain in my ass sometimes… but I bet one of these days, I’ll be a pain in yours. Literally.”
You turn red as a beet, sputter a few times, and then just shut up for your own damn good.
“Just kidding.” Bucky continues, leading you out of the room, “It’ll be mostly pleasure. We’ll find a good balance, sweetheart.”
He traipses into the kitchen, entirely content to strut around as you close your eyes and count to a million because Bucky Barnes has just one-upped your comment so hard you have absolutely nothing else to fire back at him. You think you might swoon; you’re both proud and devastated.
It’s the middle of the night and Bucky is preparing to brew a pot of coffee. You tap him on the shoulder to suggest that it would be a bad idea, but he bites your pointer and snarls like a wild dog.
“God. Once you crack the surface, there’s so much of…this…” You gesture vaguely up and down, “Wha—wait a minute.” Your eyes narrow, “Did you just snarl at me? You don’t snarl at me; I snarl at you!”
He spends another few minutes repeating the same noise, just to get on your nerves because he knows there’s not much you can do but give him lip. Frankly, the tables have turned, and Bucky is giving you quite a run for your money when it comes to sass.
It’s kind of hot.
You watch the way his arm flexes when he reaches forward to turn the knob on the stove top. The other one rests loosely on his hip where the band of his sweatpants hang, string untied. His shirt is crumpled unevenly, one hem lower than the other as his metal fingers play with the edge absentmindedly. It’s a bit of a shock for you to realize that Bucky Barnes putting the kettle on is what gets you going.
You’ll take it, though.
You grab a glass of water and down it in three seconds flat before you do anything stupid, but when you turn around you catch him staring at your ass. So, you stare blatantly back at his tush, eyes comically wide.
“Those your bedroom eyes?” He asks, grinding the coffee beans and dumping them into the press. When the kettle begins to screech, he takes it off and fills up the carafe, tapping out five minutes on the microwave timer.
“Buck,” you call seriously, hopping up to sit on the counter, “It’s almost three—neither of us should be drinking coffee.”
“No.” He corrects, “You shouldn’t be drinking coffee. It doesn’t affect me. I just like the taste.”
“I’m gonna drink some if you drink some.”
“What are you, a lemming?”
“Yes. If you jump, I jump. If you sip the chocolate bean juice, I sip the chocolate bean juice.”
He laughs, and you do too, finding the sound of it more charming each time you hear it. God, he’s so stupidly handsome. You kick your foot out, poking his side with your toe until he shifts and slyly nestles himself in between your legs. “Stevie’s gonna get jealous.”
You seriously doubt there is any merit to that statement. If anything, you think, Steve is probably creeping around in the shadows with your dog, cheering Bucky on silently. He’s a motherfucker like that, orchestrating all of this like a horny puppeteer.
But no, really, he’s very sweet. They both are.
Leaning in, you tug Bucky forward by the collar of his shirt, wrapping your legs around his torso and pulling him in for a kiss. He smiles against your lips, and you’re half tempted to pull away just to get another look at it on his face; it’s something you’ll never get enough of.
His cold hand runs up the length of your spine while the other slips beneath the opening of your romper, tugging playfully on the fabric of your underwear. “You---mmmf—pervy old fuck.” He keeps on, slipping his tongue into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip when you try to pull away for air. He could smother you, and you’d let him. He’s acting like it’s his intention, anyway.
A part of you feels alleviated, as if the new intimacy has stripped everything else away. You move naturally with Bucky, running your hand through his hair, trailing your fingers over his shoulder and arm—something you were previously concerned about even bringing up. Another part of you is a bit more grounded, too.
The questions you have for them keep getting brushed off. Some things aren’t as easy as they make them seem. Certainly, this relationship won’t be?
“Don’t start this again.” Bucky murmurs, as if reading your thoughts.
“I can’t help it!” You whine. “I’ve never done this before! Nor will it ever happen again—the two of you aren’t exactly regular people, you know?”
“It better never happen again.” Bucky places both his hands on your waist, “Once you’re in, you’re in for life, kid.”
Your eyes widen when you look at him, jaw set firmly, eyes searing into yours. “We’re serious about you. So, what’s it gonna be?”
The timer beeps and he turns around to carefully push the plunger into the press, leaving you staring at the dark tresses of his head. Your heart beats in your chest like a collapsing drum, crashing down and falling apart at Bucky’s bare feet.
He pours two mugs and empties the rest into a thermos for later.
Behind the thin cover of the steam, you avert your eyes. “Y-yeah.” You mutter.
“Yeah?” Bucky takes a sip. You’re not made of super soldier, so you wait for the coffee to cool.
“Yeah. Yes.”
Bucky licks his lips and tilts his chin at you, smiling, “Drink your coffee, sweetheart. Let’s go fuck.”
--
It’s … you can’t even. That’s what being with Bucky is like.
In the cool chamber of the guest room you’ve been sleeping in, he lays you down on the mattress and taps his fingers up and down your arms until your skin crawls with goosebumps. His touches are feather-light, deliberately gentle, teasing and tugging on every last one of your stretched nerves.
No, you would have never guessed upon meeting him that he could be capable of this kind of tenderness. He was joking when he said fuck, because you are certain no part of what he will do to you is as indelicate as that word. Fuck can be reserved for another time— but this, this feels remarkably close to love.
He’s stripped down and sitting up, letting you see him as he is under the soft lamplight glow. Bucky tucks his hair behind his left ear and waits for you.
“Yeah?” He asks quietly, timid smile forming on his lips.
You sit up too, face him, and pull the straps of your outfit down until it pools around your waist. Then you lift yourself up out of it and crawl into his lap, pressing your body flush onto his.
“Yeah.” You sigh, “Yes, Bucky.” And then you can’t help but laugh just a little as you bury your face into his neck. It’s silly. “God—who would have thought?” You ask, “Us? Right now?”
He grins too, kissing your shoulder, “Thought I was going to murder you that night.”
“Yeah. I would have been fine with it as long as you took care of my dog.”
He bites the same place he just kissed. “Don’t ever. Again. Never.” The finality of his statement shuts you right up with a quick yelp with his teeth clamped down on you.
“Okay, sorry.”
“Shit sucks, but now you got us.”
“Okay.”
He nips at your neck, hand rearranging your legs until they lock in behind him. He is warm and hard, your own hands travel over the plane of his chest and around to trace the muscles of his back.
The door squeaks open slightly. Both of you turn to see Steve entering with a lazy smile, flushed pink and shirtless.
“You sleep good?” Bucky asks before he returns to your collarbone, making a trail down to your sternum.
“Mhm. See you got started without me.”
“Sorry.” Bucky responds, not sounding like it at all, “Couldn’t get ya to wake up.”
He rocks his hips up, pushing against your underwear, and you let out what sounds like a balloon on its last squeak of deflation. Steve chuckles and finds a seat behind you, flattening his palm on your lower back, urging you forward.
You should probably be nervous, but for some reason you aren’t. Steve’s hand anchors you, holds you against Bucky carefully. The three of you balance on this tightrope wire, looking over the edge down into shadows.
But there’s a net there. And when you all fall together the love will catch you.
It’s all love.
Steve kisses your back and scoots forward until his chest is pressing into your spine. His other hand pulls your panties to the side and Bucky takes the opportunity to slowly press in.
You arch forward into him, your breasts to his mouth. They’re one and the same, guiding each other, murmuring in low tones and whispers. Slowly, as they move and touch and consume you, you become the same, too, until all three of you melt into the darkness.
--
Morning arrives and pulls you awake in a jarring grip. Your back is sweaty again, completely drenched and slippery as you wiggle your way out from two naked bodies.
Steve stirs slightly, nuzzling his nose into your cheek. “Mm-uh. Stay.” He tries to convince you by pressing his torso to your side, rubbing himself against your thigh. “We can do it right here.”
Your face burns hot as Bucky groans on the other side.
“I gotta get up and do some work, Steve.” You run your hand through his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp, “I’ll be back to wake you two. We gotta go to King’s Island today.”
He kisses the top of your head sweetly, but you have to get up or else the work will be so piled on you’ll never resurface from it.
You slip from them, leaving Steve’s grumbling behind.
Furious clicking finds Bucky and Steve when they rise an hour later. You sit in the living room with your tablet balanced in your lap, the thermos from last night empty. They watch proudly as you flip through an enormous journal full of notes and then turn to another binder full of print-outs.
“Hey.” You say distractedly, “Pancakes and sausages’re in the oven keeping warm, I got three more exams and then we can get started.”
Buckeye is faithfully by your knee, tail tapping against the cushion at the two men in the hallway.
When they don’t move, you turn and look at them, “What’s up?”
Steve’s arms are crossed as he leans against Bucky. They share silly smiles because you’re crosslegged again and surrounded by paper and books and your fingers are moving even too fast for super soldiers to keep up with.
“Lookit her, Stevie.” Bucky grins, “Smart girl.”
You make another charming ppppffftptbbblblbppttt and roll your eyes. You know he means it but the compliment is so strange escaping his lips. It’s still new, his affection. Steve’s too, you suppose. Your cheeks flare anyway as they pad into the kitchen for breakfast.
You were sure to make precisely a bajillion blueberry pancakes this morning and a tray full of sausage links, saving just a few of each for yourself. Between reading a book and taking notes, cooking on a giant griddle and sticking sausages in an oven made the tasks relatively simple. You’ll also read and grade on the way to the park.
In the corner of your eye, Steve pokes at a fluffy stack with his fork. Bucky bites into a sausage and waggles his eyebrows. They both snort and start flicking each other off. You have to focus, but damn if they don’t make it hard to stay on track.
Spending the last two months in their presence has made little changes to your routine that you’re now thankful for. Before them, it was nothing but school and Buckeye. Hardly any time to cook or to enjoy yourself. There was nothing but monotony and the proclamation of your dog being the only tether to this world.
Your poor therapist, worrying her lip each time you came by in a rush between your classes, words tumbling so fast she had to make you stop and literally breathe each time.
Now, there’s so much laughter. So much silliness.
Your cheeks continue to burn.
There is so much love.
Steve plants a syrupy kiss to your lips. Bucky presses a berry onto your tongue soon afterwards.
The tablet is pulled away, books too. Even Buckeye is picked up and placed onto another chair. Your disagreeing voice is smothered by two mouths, taking turns overwhelming yours.
“I gotta--”
“Nope,” Bucky hushes.
“Not right now.” Steve confirms. “Gonna do you on the couch.”
“It’s a nice couch,” Bucky states plainly, “Real nice. Soft leather.”
“Your parents’ couch.” Steve adds.
Bucky laughs in your ear, pressing your chest down until your back hits the soft cushion, “That’s direct action, baby.”
--
“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no-ohnonononono…” And then finally, “FUCK NO!”
The shriek flings itself back behind your shoulder as the rollercoaster drops down and takes your stomach right out of your throat along with your words.
Bucky is cackling madly to your left, Steve on the other side of him whooping. He’s yelling something that is making Bucky laugh harder, but you can’t hear it for the whips of wind tearing through your ears.
“Technically!” You yell, “King’s Island is an expansion of Coney— but no one really remembers—- Ah FUCK!”
The loop slams your head into the cushioned rest, and you bite down on your cheek. You’re going to vomit. You scream again when the next drop throws your stomach up into your diaphragm.
As the ride slows, you blink the tears away and sniffle.
“Aw, baby. It wasn’t that bad.”
“It’s the wind you jerk! I’m not actually crying!”
“Are you gonna throw up?” Steve wonders, thinking on the memory of the Cyclone.
“No! Don’t get your hopes up, Rogers. You’re the only one here who’s a bitch.”
Bucky laughs and tugs you against his side. The three of you trek onward to the next destination, caps pulled low on your heads so that neither of them are recognized. Luckily, it’s overcast again so Bucky wearing a long sleeve isn’t so strange.
The only strange thing is that three of you are full grown adults at the park without any children. Either way, there are occasional stares.
A frozen banana is shared and devoured in three bites from three different mouths. Five more rides are taken and when you take them into the line for Flight of Fear, Steve peers around curiously at the very X-Files décor. Real Roswell, you share, pretending to be that guy from the History Channel, Aliens!
At the loading station, Steve bristles and you’re not sure why until you see the cryotube props. Bucky pats him on the shoulder, “Don’t get offended for my sake.” He climbs into the seat behind you and Steve and plays with your hair when the shuttle clatters forward into the dark.
“I didn’t realize.” You whisper in Steve’s ear.
“I can hear you.” Bucky replies.
When the rain hits as you’re buying your second frozen banana, Steve is ready to go home. He’s not spending another day sopping wet on an outdoor excursion. The white of his shirt turns peach like his skin.
-
You take them to a bar, instead, even though you promised that you were just showing them the scenic route before heading home. In the car, Bucky grew suspicious when you began to drive in the opposite direction, but you distracted Steve with more threats of Skyline, and he was quick to reel Bucky to his side.
It’s still somewhat early, only around eight or so, and the bar is barely half-full, mostly couples who are at the end of their day-drinking and want to relax with video games.
“Knock yourself out. All arcade games are free.” You grin happily, “This place is awesome. And the drinks are--” You kiss your fingertips and blow it into the air, “Be back in a sec.”
They watch you prance over to the bar and wait in line, bouncing on your feet. Steve shrugs and begins to wander while Bucky lingers by the table, eyes fixed on you. When you arrive at the bar, you smile cheerily at the bartender and show him your ID.
You’re much nicer to strangers than you are to… Bucky scoffs inwardly, superheroes, apparently. The more Bucky watches, the bigger his smile grows. You’re leaned forward, listening intently as the guy points to each item on the menu. It’s cute how your nose scrunches up at something you don’t like, or the way you nod enthusiastically when something catches your fancy.
Then, suddenly, Bucky begins to grow apprehensive because why are you spending so long at the bar? And why are you leaning forward so far and smiling so much? You have never smiled for that prolonged of a time at anything other than your dog.
You catch his eye a few seconds later and wink at his scowl. Upon returning with three drinks in your hands and a wrapper of something in your mouth, he understands now.
“That dude gave me free drinks and a popsy.”
You slide one glass to him and keep the others. Then, you tear open the plain package and reveal a bomb pop—red white and blue. “Popsicle!” Then you stick it in your mouth and swirl the ice around until it turns a muted purple, staining your tongue.
Distractedly, you look around for Steve who is standing at a pinball machine, tapping furiously on the paddles.
Bucky sends you a withering look.
“Don’t be a wet blanket. I got the drink for you. It only cost me five minutes and a smile.” Then you dunk the popsicle in his cocktail and give him a cold kiss on the cheek. He shakes his head, glares back at the bar where the guy is looking over and stands up so that he’s blocking the view to your back.
Next to Steve, Bucky tattles.
“Oh, be quiet!” You cry, hand coming up to cover his face, “Mom and Daaaaad!” You whine nasally, “Can I go out to plaaaaaay?”
“You were flirting for a free drink!” Bucky rolls his eyes.
“Excuse me, there are three?” You steal the popsicle back and crunch through it.
Steve huffs, crosses his arms, and lets his pinball fall straight in-between the immobile paddles. The machine warbles sadly before honking out game over sirens. Lights flash around the rectangle of its frame.
“Well—” Steve pauses, “Well, good for you, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.” You smile. Two girls to your side giggle at the conversation and you turn and curtsy to them. “Jonathan with the eyes is a sucker, ladies.”
Bucky grumbles and throws his drink down, snaps the wooden stick in half with his teeth. Everyone has fucking eyes, he thinks.
An hour later and all arcade games exhausted, Bucky drives home in silence, fuming. He’s still not over the fact that you saddled up next to some guy, but he just has to get over it. It’s really not a big deal. Steve winks at you from the front seat, catching your eye in the mirror.
-
“Funny movie?” You ask, kicking your feet onto the top of the coffee table, remote in hand and clicking mindlessly.
“Rom-com.” Steve requests, pointing to a title above two generic white actors giving each other enamored glances. Lame.
“Zombies.” Bucky deadpans.
They both turn to look at each other, shaking their heads in disappointment at what’s been thrown out. You sigh, trying to find something that fits all three.
“Tucker and Dale, it is.”
-
When another college kid gets impaled, Steve pauses the movie.
He is not a fan. “I don’t get it!” He keeps saying, “Just call the cops!”
You throw your head back, “It’s bumfuck nowhere!”
He picks the next one.
-
“I hate this.” You stab the red button on the remote and shut off another mistletoe kiss. How does he even find Christmas Lifetime movies in the middle of the summer?
Bucky snatches it from the couch and clicks the screen back on.
“Zombies.” He proclaims again.
“It’s just not logical!” Steve cries, “They’re dead!” His voice rises until you think it could crack the chandelier in the living room, “What—why would they even be eating anything? They’re dead!”
“Zombies!” Bucky shouts.
“No!” You scream in reply, stomping your foot. In the background, Steve continues his rant—something about Banner finding a cure, something else about the sun, another thing about regardless of how the world is terribly messed up, God will not blight the Earth with zombies, of all creatures.
“Zom-bies.” Bucky hisses, glaring at you, as if you are the point of origin for his ire.
Buckeye hops off the couch and plods over under the coffee table. He snorts and shuffles around and scratches the rug before lying down and staring at the three of you like you all share one single braincell.
When Bucky hollers ZOMBIES for the final time, you lock eyes with your dog, who whines pathetically and turns away, as if he is embarrassed by the humans.
-
Cillian Murphy is twenty-something and gorgeous. You are obviously drooling over those enormous blue eyes and pouty, swollen lips, even if he is wind-chafed and underweight, running around in a flapping hospital gown.
Steve gets an idea when you lick your lips distractedly, reaching over the back of Bucky’s neck to twist a lock of your hair in his finger. Bucky shrugs him off, but he continues. 28 Days Later or not, Steve’s on a mission; fuck the zombies.
Obviously, you have a type.
But if he voices it, Bucky might go slash Jonathan’s tires and find Cillian Murphy somewhere in Ireland and do the same thing to him, too. New love, Steve muses, such a delicate thing.
He gets up and sits on your other side, pulling until you are resting on his chest. “Is it scary?” He asks.
“Ooooh, so scary,” you squeal, and then suddenly jump when one of the undead shrieks and tears down the road, “Fuck! These are runners!?”
“Eat him.” Bucky goads, “Eat him, goddamn it.”
Steve pulls your chin away from pointing at the screen and kisses you slowly, tugging you back each time you continue to turn, fixed on the scene. “Mmm, baby.” He sighs, “C’mere.”
“Dude, Steve, I— he’s mmmhm.. okay, wait…would you—- mm!” His tongue slides into your mouth as one hand grips your head. Okay, this fucker knows what he’s doing. “Buck,” you gasp, “fill me in on the deets because—”
“Because you have a crush on this guy, too?” Bucky glares, crossing his arms. You pull away from Steve and weave each attempt he makes at devouring your face.
“Are you serious?” You ask, “You are sipping hella dumbass juice right now.”
“Jealous juice.” Steve corrects, and you smirk at him because the two of you combined are a lethal dose of one-hundred-percent pure bastard straight into the bloodstream. Leaning over, still strapped in on Steve, you clasp your hand over Bucky’s jaw, pinching his cheeks together with a glare.
“You said in for life, you brat.” You mutter, “I’m in a relationship—not dead. Not ungrateful or unfaithful, either. Handle the fact that I’m a person, or get out.”
His eyes widen the same time Steve’s does because you’ve never been this serious with them before. Your tone is grave and your stare is fiery. In the middle of four-hundred solid pounds of serum-injected mass, you are a stark contrast, but somehow holding all the cards.
Something prods your inner thigh and you narrow your eyes, turning to Steve. “Really, Stevie? This is what does it for you?”
He only grins back, licking the corner of his mouth, “Can you blame me? Guess I’ve got a type too. Bossy. Mouthy.”
Bucky groans and smacks the back of his head into the cushion. “I guess I do too. Fuck.”
It’s as close to an apology as you’ll get, and you love that stupid, stubborn boy so you’ll take it. Steve smiles at him and then at you before pulling you closer by your hip bones, letting the heat of him burn past the layers of your clothes.
Bucky is content to watch, waiting for your permission.
Linking your fingers through his, you place both entwined hands on his thigh and kiss Steve, letting your tongue touch his in a slow, teasing lick. He chuckles into your mouth, grips the back of your head in a blistering passion and pushes his chest into yours until it feels like he’s crushing your rib cage. If this is how you die, flattened between two searing-hot (literally and otherwise) men who—Christ, love you for whatever reason—it’d be a death you look forward to.
Steve pulls away suddenly, eyes twinkling with some secret knowledge.
“What?”
“You called me Stevie.”
“Did I?”
Bucky grins, “Ooooh, Stevie…” he doesn’t know how to squeal so he says it in a low, husky tone instead and you swear Steve moans a little before he breaks out into a wide smile, so bright you have to squint. Jesus, Captain America should be on T.V.--- wait, he already is. You are so completely lost in that look he’s got on, like you’ve presented him with a puppy or something that you hardly notice Bucky to your side, humming a low throaty tune.
“So…” he sings, gesturing to the space where you have leaned away from Steve and then down to the tent in Steve’s jeans, “You guys fuckin’ or what?”
____________
The end of summer break nears and you’re ready for two years of writing your dissertation before you can fuck off out of the program with a diploma and a J-O-B. It’s both exciting and terrifying at the same time, but if you’re good at anything, it’s putting on a front. This semester you are working as a TA for one of your favorite professors and juggling an off-campus job at the local coffee shop.
Three more days left until the start of the semester and you’ve already met early with your professor and created your email list.
Buckeye is well, drooling all over the place, flopping down and staring out the window. Same as ever. Manhattan assholes still glare at him when you walk him down the street but it sure helps when Steve or Bucky are by your side and glare right back.
It’s cute.
Two boyfriends.
Who the heckin’ would have thought that the night your life flashed before your eyes twice (unnamed goon and Bucky Barnes’ fist nearly in your face) that you’d come out of it with two semi-retired Avengers attached to your hip?
Three days left and you’ve convinced them to jet off on a tiny mini-cation. You wrestled the wheel from Bucky and drove an hour east from the DFW airport with Steve singing along to Sad n’ Sexy Santa while Bucky kicks his seat repeatedly. It makes your heart swell because damn, how’d you get so lucky?
The interstate reaches cropped green plains as the metroplex skyscrapers sink further away into the horizon behind you. From the backseat, Bucky sits up, leaning on Steve’s chair as he stares out the front windshield at a cartoonish yellow sign.
“What… is… it?”
You smirk. “It’s why we’re here. That, and brisket.”
“It’s a gas station?” Steve is confused, too. You’ve been tight-lipped about the entire thing. But his eyes widen before fearfully glancing back and forth across the colossal parking lot and the stretch of what looks like fifty gas-pumps. “Or is it an airport…?”
You lead them in and it’s like their whole world has turned upside down. Steve and Bucky stare at the expanse of seemingly never-ending aisles. People rush about, enormous bags of popcorn under their arms. Chips, candy, kolaches, bear claws, stuffed animals, clothing, Texas-shaped cutting boards, and blinged out purses. There is even an aisle dedicated to pebbles. What does it mean?
“It’s a Buc-ees.” You state, waving your hand in a wide circle, palm flat. “Whatdya think, Bucky?”
The pun is not lost on him and he grumbles.
“You dragged me all the way out here for this?”
“And brisket.”
“There’s brisket in Manhattan, baby.” Steve suggests, but you whip around and hiss at him, “Don’t you dare. Heathen. Ain’t no beef like Texas beef. Grade A, one-hundred-percent beef.” Then you pause and with an exaggerated raise of your eyebrow, pinch his bottom. “And you too, I guess.”
Steve yelps with a slight jump, turning redder than Buc-ee Beaver’s cap as the eyes of strangers find him.
Your Bucky doesn’t notice, only staring on mesmerized by the bustle of foot traffic and the smells of jerky, candy, and the fresh, burning scent of Pine-Sol cleaner. Ahhhh… a perfect combination.
“What is this.” Bucky mutters, “It looks like hell.”
With a clap on his arm and a proud puffing of your chest, you pick up a nearby orange shirt with the slogan You can go to hell. I’m going to Texas.
“Welcome to Texas, baby. Everything’s bigger.” With a perverted leering at his groin, you wink. "You’ll fit right in.”
#marvel#mcu#steve rogers#bucky barnes#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#stucky#Stucky x Reader#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes#reader insert#fanfiction#stucky x you#FiMS
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i know that the audacity of what im about to ask is off the charts bc you're already too good to us, writing fic left and right and updating a lot soon but im SO weak over the parenting group!AU that im right here to beg for a snippet of it, if you feel like sharing!
Haha, the audacity is not off the charts at all! I can give you a snippet! Sorry it’s coming a little later – when you sent this to me this morning, I was like ‘oh god, everything I have is too ugly to post’ haha, so it gave me an excuse to tidy up a scene I’d drafted already which is fun!
I will say as just a heads up, I’m operating now on a one-out-one-in system for multi-chaptered WIPs. So when I finish CYF (which is basically done, just got to post the epilogue!), I’ll be starting to post the pirate au, and when I finish See You in the Light, I’ll be starting to post this parents group au, and then finally when I finish If It Wasn’t for All the Lights, I’ll start to post the BDSM au! It’s probably a deeply flawed system, but it’s the one I’m going ahead with, haha.
Anyway!
A snippet of the parents group au!
“C’mon, pop,” Rio grunts, trying to get the tabs free on the side of the diaper as Marcus kicks out his legs, squirming up the back of the change mat like he’s trying to slip up on out of the thing, and shit, the last thing he needs is the kid to smear Rhea’s Earth Mama Angel Bottom Balm up the back of his new hoodie.
“I have spare diapers if you need to borrow one,” Beth says at the change table beside him, having apparently gotten Jane into her new one in record speed, and Rio lets his gaze stick for a second, watching as she makes even easier work of getting Jane’s thrashing legs back into her pink polka dot leggings, like it’s nothing at all. It’s enough to make his jaw rock, his attention twisting back to Marcus, trying to get the tab unstuck again, but his fingers are still oily with the diaper rash cream, and Marcus’ face is gettin’ redder, and he just can’t get his grip.
He tugs Marcus back towards him, dropping a hand to his son’s belly, tickling a little to try and calm him down, even as he levels Beth with an irritated look.
“Yeah, what part of this looks like the diaper’s the issue?”
Somewhere outside, he hears her friend laughing, the sound loud and warm over the pinging arcade machines and the banging of the bowling balls hitting the polished floor of the lanes, the crack of one hitting pins, and - - and he ain’t being fair.
Knows that.
It’s not her fault he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.
Still, when he glances sideways at her again, she’s unbothered by his tone – not pissed like Rhea would be, or wounded like his ma – and something about that bothers him more than it should. Instead, Beth shrugs, fixing her gaze back down on her daughter.
“It just looks like it’s one of those organic ones, right?” she says, gently lifting Jane to put her onto her belly for a few minutes of tummy time – just like Nance had told ‘em to in class – before turning to better look at Rio, her eyes tired as she watches him yank again on the tab of Marcus’ diaper. “I tried those with Kenny, and I just find the tabs always - -”
Riiiiiiiip.
He can feel his pulse in his throat as his cream-covered fingers clench around a handful of torn diaper, can feel it even harder behind his eyes, his blood thrumming hot beneath his skin and damn, it ain’t anger, it’s just - -
Fuckin’ exhaustion.
He pulls the diaper out from underneath Marcus’ bare, wet-with-diaper-cream ass and stamps his foot hard down on the peddle of the bin beside the change table, tossing the whole damn thing in with more force than necessary, and he’s expecting Elizabeth to have that look on her face again – that one that’s some mix of pity and judgement or even worry at seein’ a guy like him snap – but it ain’t even really a look at all. She’s just magicked up one of her kids’ diapers from that Mary Poppins bag of hers, and holds it out to him.
“If you loosen the tabs and open it up a bit before you get it under him it’ll be easier too,” she offers, and Rio grunts, plucking it from her hand and fixing his attention back on Marcus’ flailing legs, sucking in a breath to calm his frayed nerves, before gently lifting his son again to get the diaper up underneath him, adjusting it to get it in the right spot, trying to avoid Marcus’ kicking feet, and it’s just - - sudden.
That’s the thing.
Because Marcus’ legs calm down right in time with Beth’s arm suddenly pressing into Rio’s, and Rio blinks up to see Beth reached over and her finger is curled in Marcus’ tiny fish, and Rio tears his confused gaze away from Beth to look up and see his son smiling, that one that makes him look like the whole damn sun, and he keeps smiling, even when he shoves his fist – still clutchin’ Beth’s finger – right up into his mouth.
And he’s gonna stop it – ain’t like he loves other people’s kids chewing on his knuckles – but he finally gets Marcus properly into the clean diaper, and before he can do anything else, Beth’s just started talking.
“That is a strong grip,” she whispers, so quiet it’s almost like she doesn’t want Rio to hear, and her voice is light and bright in a way he ain’t really used to hearing. “And very warm slobber, which is what you want from slobber. I mean, can you even imagine cold slobber? Like a ghost. I will say Billy from class has some weirdly cold slobber, so you stay away from him, mister.”
Rio just - - blinks, his brow furrows, his lips parting, but when he opens them all the way, no words come out. Instead he just stands there like a dumbass, watching this woman half-bent over her kid and his at the change table of a bowling alley, her strawberry blonde hair falling down, concealing her face so all Rio can see is his son’s, and how whatever it is she’s doing makes his son happy, and he can’t really explain any of it, but he just - -
“Oh my god, Paulie! Twins!”
“Amber, don’t - -”
Whatever Paulie was about to say is lost to the rest of the parents’ room as Rio spins to see a skinny, leggy blonde thrust a toddler with milkshake-vomit down his shirt at some guy with frosted tips like this is the fuckin’ 90s, and dart towards them in a wave of too-sweet perfume. She’s so fuckin’ quick (or maybe just - - y’know - - awake given her kid’s old enough to vomit milkshake instead of formula), instantly peering over at Marcus and Jane on the change tables, an easier feat now that Beth’s standing up again, her finger reclaimed, rolling Jane back onto her back on the mat.
Amber’s cooing is instant, and Rio sighs, grabbing Marcus’ pants from where he’d slung them over his shoulder and starting to shake them out.
“Oh my goooodddd, they’re like those ones you see on TV! Paulie!! Look!! Like, one’s just like mommy, and one’s just like daddy.”
Which - - Rio blinks, looking sideways at Beth, who just seems to be watching Amber with that same neutral, Stepford Wife-look she gets in class. Rio sets his jaw, shaking his head, as he starts to bunch the pants up in his hands, ready to put them on Marcus, opening his mouth to correct the other woman.
“Nah, they ain’t - -”
“You think so?”
The words are offered so suddenly, so sharply, that Rio’s head spins back around to look at Beth again, his eyebrows raised at her interruption, but she doesn’t look back at him, just keeps her gaze fixed on Amber. She wrinkles her nose a little, purses her lips, before dropping a hand back to the change table while leaning forwards a little, almost conspiratorially.
“We’ve been thinking about signing them up for auditions, but I don’t know,” she waves a hand suddenly at Rio, who only blinks at her. “James here thinks it might not be the best idea.”
And okay, for starters, fuckin’ James? She really wants to play him like that? But also - - just - - y’know. What the fuck? Rio stares at her, taking in her widening eyes and her baggy mama sweater that does exactly zero to hide the fact that she’s stacked, but also the fact that she’s holdin’ herself kinda different all of a sudden. Like she’s caught him looking, her gaze darts towards him, and it’s so quick he almost misses it, the way she just sort of - -
Shrugs.
Rio scoffs a little – a sound Amber clearly reads as about the audition and not about this whole damn show – and turns around, putting on a smile for Marcus as he finishes bunching up the pants and pushing them up over his tiny feet.
“Men are always weird about this stuff, but you guys should totally be auditioning them! Like, I could literally see them in commercials for formula. You know they always put the cutest ones in them, because they want to trick regular people into thinking that their product’s gonna like, magic you a better-looking baby.”
Which - - look, Rio can’t exactly say it’s a surprise. He’s pretty sure his sister changed her kids’ brand of juice because one of the ads had one of the little girl’s playin’ Daisy Doctor instead of Holly Housewife. His thoughts are interrupted though when Marcus sneezes, and Rio leans over enough to grab a tissue from Beth’s diaper bag, vaguely aware of Paulie rounding the change tables for the sink, and tugging off his own kids’ shirt and it’s really only then that Rio realises he hasn’t even blinked at the smell of vomit, which - -
Okay, actually, that could be the fifteen years working in a bar.
“You know, I think I’ve heard that,” Beth says, and the girl makes a humming noise, her bowling shoes tapping a little on the tiled floor.
“Well, that’s an insider secret for you. I lived in LA for like, ever. It was almost two years. I mean, closer to one, but that’s basically 40 Hollywood years. I even once auditioned to play a mom in a Baby’s Only commercial. I mean I didn’t get it, but I think it was because I was like, too in shape, y’know?”
Which - - shit, Rio coughs a little to cover a sound he doesn’t even know, a laugh? A scoff? Why the hell is she even talkin’ to this woman?
“Wow,” Beth says though, her voice loaded with concern. “That’s gotta be discrimination.”
“I know right?”
And it’s Jane who wobbles at least, her bottom lip quivering, her legs kicking, and Beth turns around instantly, humming softly back down at her daughter, and before Rio can help it, his gaze darts over to her, watching as her face softens, her eyes glaze over, like they do sometimes, and he thinks of saying somethin’ to her, but shit, what? He doesn’t know jack about her.
A wave of perfume hits them again, and the second he finishes getting Marcus’ pants on, picks him up, turns around at the same time Beth does with Jane, Amber’s right in front of them, her gaze darting between Jane and Marcus, like she’s not sure which one to look at first.
Finally, she just sighs, clutching a hand forlornly to her chest.
“Like, I’m not even kidding. You made two really nice babies. Like, Paulie, tell them I’m not kidding.”
Over at the sink, Paulie grunts again, holding the toddler’s shirt under a furious stream of water, and Rio stares for a minute, watching the guy morosely clean up toddler vomit while the kid licks the rim of the sink. Rio resists the urge to gag as he bounces Marcus a little on his hip.
“How’d you two even meet anyway?”
And at least that much he should’ve expected. Rio shakes his head, gaze fixing back on Amber, the words ready on his tongue, but before he can say a damn thing, Beth’s cut him off again.
“It sounds so weird, but it was actually at an underwater research center.”
Which - - okay - - what?
His gaze flicks back to Beth, but she ain’t looking back at him. She’s just got Jane curled into her chest, nestling her face into her breast, while Beth hums a little, just - - blatantly fuckin’ lying.
“I was studying - - ” outside, a bowling ball hits the floor hard. “How sound affects - -“ she fingers her pearl necklace with the hand not clutching Jane, “Oysters, because I am a scientist, and James here was researching - - ” Beth’s gaze darts around, fixing on Marcus in Rio’s arms. “Marco Polo.”
Before Rio’s even had time to catch up to that, Paulie blinks up, confused, from his spot at the sink.
“In Detroit?”
It’s enough to make Beth stutter, her eyes blinking rapidly, and he really should just leave her to fix this herself, should leave her there gaping like a fish, scrambling for the tail-end of her own lie, and get back out to the group, but - - Rio sucks in a breath - - Marcus would be bare-assed right now if it wasn’t for her.
“Nah, man, west coast. We just moved back here to be close to family with the twins,” he drawls with a shrug, and maybe that makes it worth it – how quickly Beth reels around to look at him, and - - shit, have her eyes always been that blue? Rio blinks, jerks his head back around to Amber, rolling his shoulders back to undo the sudden knot in them. “One of those things, yeah? We met workin’ out there, but turned out we were both from here.”
He means to leave it at that. Should, really, but all he can think about is her in class – prim and proper and that look again, like she’s judging him, and she got them into this, right? Before he can think twice, he drops his free hand to her lower back, smoothing it around to hold the soft hip furthest from him, smiling toothlessly as Beth stiffens and then pointedly, deliberately, relaxes, while Amber holds her hand to her chest again, hums an: “Aww, that’s how you know it’s meant to be!”
“That’s right,” Rio replies, and he watches Beth turn her face up to meet him, her gaze darting across his face like she’s trying to figure something out, and shit, he’s just trying to match what she’s laying down. After a moment, Beth spins into him, her free arm dipping around his back, and something in him sparks hot and he just - - he hadn’t known how fucking small her hands were until one squeezes at his waist.
“Right, honey,” she says, voice high and too-sweet. “I was just so lucky. And speaking of our families, we should really get back to them.”
After that, it’s easy enough to pack up the last of the diaper bags, for Amber to dip down to help Paulie and the kid, and for them to slip out again under the distraction, and it’s just fuckin’ weird, he thinks, to watch that little character Beth had invented – all ease and charm – slip off her shoulders like a cloak, and he means to let it go, because what skin is it off his nose if she’s some sort of pathological liar? But as they duck between the groups of sprawling teenagers and middle America families ordering fries and picking bowling ball weights, guys shoving each other at arcade games, and kids feeding quarters into claw machines, he just - - itches.
So maybe he steps a little slower, matching her pace, maybe he looks at her, amused, a little goading as he says: “So you in some secret, new mama improv group, or what?”
And Beth just - -
Shrugs, and shit, she doesn’t even look at him when she says:
“You don’t ever get bored of just being you?”
Rio blinks, his step slowing all over again, taking in her tired look, the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, that shirt she’s wearing, stained with grubby children’s fingers and milk, that damn new mama smell that’s always up his nose with her, and he just thinks - - nah, not really, but before he has the chance to say it, it’s like she’s read it on his face. She hoists a snuffling Jane up a little higher and moves faster than she has any right to. Back across the bowling alley, back into their lane, nestled in the shelter between her friend and her sister, away from him.
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Just One Drink (Hazbin Hotel Fanfic)
(Hi! It’s been literally forever since I’ve posted a fic to my Tumblr account, but I wrote this one just for fun about a week ago. Yay, distancing.
Angel Dust x Husk, one-shot, takes place the same night as the pilot. Angel and Husk share some bonding time at the bar, and they talk about serious subjects. Alastor makes an appearance. Abuse mention. Rated M mostly for language and sexual references, normal for Hazbin. Threw a couple of personal headcanons in here, but I tried my best to be accurate to the characters. Enjoy!)
“Oh, bartender!” a familiar voice sang in a thick New York accent.
Don’t look at him.
“Huskie?”
No acknowledgement, and he’ll go away.
“HUSK!”
Silence.
“Ay, I’m talkin’ to you, pussycat!”
Husk whirled around, slamming his paws on the bar counter and baring his teeth aggressively at the spider demon who taunted him. “What?? What the fuck do you want?”
Angel Dust blinked in surprise at the cat demon’s outburst, but his shocked expression was quickly replaced by a coy smile. “Um, a drink, obviously. This is a bar, remember.” It wasn’t a question. He hoisted himself up on the counter, sprawling out into a relaxed position before speaking up again. “You’re gonna need a test subject for your first drink, right?”
Husk rolled his eyes. “Look, I just got here. And I’m really not in the mood for your shit. Now get your ass off the counter.”
Angel shrugged, ignoring the request. “It’s been a few hours. You had dinner with us and everything. Can’t you settle in, for me?” Angel batted his eyelashes in a flirtatious manner, which made Husk snort in disgust.
“Why should I? I’m already being forced to work here against my fuckin’ will.” He glared across the room at Alastor, who was wandering around, sizing the place up. The Radio Demon caught Husk’s eye and grinned wider before wiggling his fingers in a condescending wave. Husk replied by flipping the bird.
Angel sighed. “Look, let me finish one drink, and I’m outta your hair for the night. Demon’s honor.” He raised two sets of right hands.
With a bitter laugh, Husk stated plainly, “Demons have no honor.”
“Hey, I’m tryin’ to reform here. Give a guy the benefit of the doubt, babe.”
Husk glared at Angel Dust for a moment, arms folded, then asked, “What’ll it be?”
“Sex on the Beach, thank ya much. I’m feelin’ something fruity tonight.”
Husk gathered the ingredients and started to make the drink. “Yeah, well, that’s fitting, because you look fruity, too.”
Angel chuckled lightly. “Clever. But if that was meant to insult me, you’re gonna have to try harder. I’ve heard ‘em all, doll.” He folded his arms and smirked at the bartender.
Nodding in acknowledgement, Husk replied, “Yeah, I know. You’re a sex worker. Biggest porn star in all of hell.”
Angel pushed up his chest fluff and grinned, his gold fang gleaming in the bar’s lighting. “Ah, a man of taste. Familiar with my work?”
“No comment.” Husk poured the drink into a glass, and garnished it with a maraschino cherry. “Order up.” He held the drink out to Angel, and grabbed a bottle of cheap booze for himself.
“Thanks!” Angel swung his legs around to Husk’s side of the counter and took the drink from his paw. “Hey, you can be honest with me. I don’t judge. I mean, my early work was a little rough, but if that’s how you li-”
“Enough sex jokes!” Husk snarled. “I made your drink! Now fuck off!”
Angel blew air out of the side of his mouth and rolled his eyes, not intimidated in the slightest. “Ya can’t get rid of me that easily. I said I’d leave after I finished my drink, remember? A deal’s a deal.” He took a sip and winked at Husk over the rim of the glass.
Husk just shook his head in defeat. “I’m not in the mood to argue with you, so stay if you want to. I don’t really give two shits anymore.” He sighed and sipped more of his booze. “Why do you wanna talk to me, anyway?”
“Aside from the fact that you’re hot as fuck, you fascinate me, Huskie.” Angel paused to sip his cocktail, then threw Husk a curveball. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”
Husk hopped up on the counter beside Angel, keeping a safe distance away. “Today? Yeah, I’ll say. I love being fucked with by that antlered asshole.”
“Nah, not with Alastor. I mean, like, entirely. When you get around like I do, ya get pretty good at reading other demons. You’re a drinker. And when you’re a drinker, there’s usually a reason behind it.”
Husk didn’t reply.
“Listen, I didn’t have the best life, and my afterlife ain’t so hot, either. I mean, look at me. I came from an abusive family, died, and I’m still gettin’ abused.” He paused again to take a sip of his drink. “It gets exhausting, never being good enough. Y’know?” Angel inched just the tiniest bit closer to Husk, who couldn’t tell whether or not it was intentional.
“Sure.” Husk scooted away and took another swig of his drink. God, when is this asshole going to leave me alone for the night?
Angel smoothed back his fluffy white hair. “Anyway, that’s partly why I’m here. I’ve been through a lotta shit, like you, and I feel like helpin’ Charlie is a step in the right direction. Just cuz my afterlife sucks doesn’t mean hers should, too. Guess I’m a people-pleaser.”
“With a job like yours, you have to be.”
“No shit.” He plucked a cherry from his glass and started munching on it. “I’m doing a crappy job of it, though. Got into a huge turf war today with my best friend. It was a blast. Literally! I blasted so many of those little egg fuckers!” He chuckled, then popped the cherry stem into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue.
“Yeah, I saw it on the news. That whole thing was a fiasco. At least Pentious got fucked sideways today, thanks to Alastor.” He cringed as soon as the words came out of his mouth. “Never thought I’d thank him for anything.”
Angel halted his stem-tying to state loudly, “I wanna thank him for being a sexy motherfucker!” He raised his glass in a make-believe toast to the Radio Demon, who was currently nowhere to be found.
“Speak for yourself!”
“Mmmmhm!” Angel hummed in agreement, then stuck his tongue out, the expertly-tied cherry stem resting near the tip. “Ta-Da! A perfectly tied thhhtem! Imprethhhhed yet, Huthhhhker?” Spit flew with every “S” he attempted to enunciate.
Husk wiped the spit from his face and growled at the spider demon. “I’ll be more impressed if you stop spitting all over me, slut!”
“Okay, buthhhhkill.” Angel carefully removed the stem from his tongue, chuckling at the fact that he’d gotten one final word in. “Just think! With a tongue like this, imagine what I can do to your dick, old timer!” He held the stem out to Husk, as if presenting a valuable gift. “For you!”
Husk smacked it out of his hands. “Get that shit away from me! And wipe your mouth, you’ve got drool all over your lips.”
“You’re zero fun!” Angel grabbed a cocktail napkin and wiped his mouth, then took another sip of his drink.
The pair shared another silent moment before Angel asked, “So what do you think of this place? And rehabilitation and all?”
Husk shrugged. “Too early to say.”
“Eh, fair enough. Who knows, though? This hotel just may be our ticket outta this shithole!” Angel flopped on his back and tipped his head backwards over the side of the counter, giving him an upside-down view of the lobby. He was closer to Husk than ever, but the cat demon didn’t bother to scoot away from him this time. “And wouldn’t that be somethin’?”
“Don’t push your luck.” Husk placed his empty bottle on the counter.
“Hey, you’re a gamblin’ man! You know all about luck-pushing!” Angel looked up at him and smiled. “Don’t ya?”
“I have my moments.” The hint of tenderness between the two demons came to an abrupt end when Husk snapped, “Finish your fucking drink so I can close this place up.”
“With pleasure!” Angel responded, sitting in an upright position, picking up his glass, and downing the rest of the cocktail in one swift gulp. “Ahhh. Not bad. Ever bartend before?”
“None of your concern!”
“Yeesh, so aggressive. And mysterious. Sexy, if you ask me,” Angel purred seductively, walking two fingers toward the cat demon’s crotch.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Husk grabbed Angel’s hand and twisted his arm around, causing him to nearly fall off the counter.
“OW! OW! OW! Alright, alright!” Husk let go, and Angel’s arm throbbed painfully. “Damn, who pissed in your cereal?” he asked with a smirk. Aggressive or not, he was still intrigued by the new bartender.
“You, currently. Now get lost, will ya?”
“Fine!” Angel pouted for a moment, then hopped off the counter and glanced over his shoulder cheekily. “So, same time tomorrow?” He blew Husk a kiss, reminiscent of the one he had blown him earlier after Pentious’s defeat.
Husk growled playfully, hopped off the counter, grabbed his empty bottle, and chased after Angel with his arm raised, threatening to throw it at him.
Angel yelped and ran back to his room, laughing. “G’night, hot stuff!”
“Yeah, get fucked!” Husk yelled after him, then chuckled lightly to himself. He had to admit, if Angel hadn’t stopped by for a drink, the night wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting. He turned to walk back to the bar, only to see Alastor standing there, grinning at him.
Husk’s faint smile quickly turned into a scowl. “And what the hell do you want?”
Alastor’s voice crackled to life in its usual static, showy and flamboyant. “My little Husker is already making friends, on his first evening on the job!” Al mocked, faux tears pooling in his eyes, his trademark smile staying put. “Ohh, they grow up so fast!” He whipped out a red pinstriped handkerchief and blew his nose with a trumpet-esque blare.
Husk wrinkled his nose in disgust. “For your information, I’m not making friends. And even if I were, why the fuck do you care?”
“Forgive me for expressing interest in the well-being of one of my favorite demons in this godforsaken cesspool,” Alastor replied snarkily, tucking away the handkerchief and wrapping up the act.
Husk scoffed, not buying it in the slightest, and went back behind the bar to work. He bent to pick up Angel’s abandoned cherry stem, staring at it for a moment before making the decision to throw it in the trash.
The Radio Demon manifested his cane and casually leaned against it for support, looking Husk up and down as the cat demon made the bar area look more presentable. “So, my friend, you seem to be adjusting well, despite your initial refusal to help.”
Husk mopped the counter off with a rag, not making eye contact. “Not that it’s your business.”
Alastor’s ever-present smile widened and he replied with, “I suppose not. But as an official employee, your business is now the business of the business! Ahahaha!”
“Ah, shove it up your ass.”
Al chuckled, unfazed. “I’d rather not! Ah, I missed that charming, friendly voice. It’s wonderful that you decided to join the Princess’s little passion project. The more the merrier, I always say.” He reached a hand over the counter and teasingly pinched one of Husk’s fuzzy, white cheeks.
Husk swatted Al’s hand away and raised one of his long eyebrows. “That reminds me… why the hell are YOU here? You never-”
A long finger was delicately placed against the cat’s lips, interrupting him mid-sentence. “Ah-ah-ah, Husker,” Al replied, his voice dropping to a charming-yet-threatening lower pitch. “You know better than to question my motives.” He turned to walk away, hands behind his back, his cheerful tone returning. “Besides, you know that I would never turn down an opportunity to be entertained.”
Husk flicked his tail in annoyance. “I have better things to do than run a bar for a bunch of namby-pamby demons who would rather be up in heaven, sucking up.”
Alastor was silent for a moment, then he glanced over his shoulder and asked in an eerie voice, “Do you, though?”
Husk found himself pondering this unexpected question as Alastor said brightly, “Well, sleep well, treasured bartender!” and snapped himself away for the night.
Suddenly finding himself alone at the hotel bar, Husk decided it was bedtime for him, too. Working at the Happy Hotel would be a change, for better or worse. And one thing was certain: Angel Dust was here to stay.
(Thanks for reading! ^_^ Okay to reblog or comment)
#hazbin hotel#angel dust#husk#alastor#huskerdust#drunk dust#angel x husk#fanfic#fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfic
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Once Bitten Twice Stupid Prt.75 prt.1
Keith felt lucky. He felt lucky enough to have the friends he did. Pidge and Hunk would be heading back to Garrison today, so Lance had prepared a surprise for them all with Keith’s help. A picnic in the park. Not the same park they’d gone to last time, but another one... where less murders had happened as long as you avoided the lake according to Lance. Keith finally felt confident to show off his photography skills to someone other than Shiro and Lance. Matt and Rieva couldn’t be there. Matt coming home drunk hadn’t gone over well with Pidge’s mum according to Hunk who’d shivered as he’d told them, but Allura had joined them again, as had Blue and Kosmo. Blue wasn’t like Kosmo, Kosmo was running around with Hunk and Lance, who’d finally replaced his fake glasses with a new pair. Keith took it to be the way they needed to work through their issues, having not missed the way Hunk was nervous around Lance.
With Blue in his lap, Keith was fiddling with his camera. Shiro and Curtis were making disgusting faces at each other, also known as “being totally smitten but having not kissed yet”. Allura was reading a thick book as she sun bathed on the over cast day. Rather than bringing his best camera, he’d brought the one Lance had bought him. Pidge at his side as he’d stumbled through explaining the specs and she’d be surprisingly knowledgeable about cameras in general
“So. I have to ask. If you were there to kill Lance, why didn’t you?”
Keith blushed. Telling Pidge would lead to a lifetime of teasing. Shiro laughed too hard, knowing exactly what the blush was for
“Lance actually saved Keith’s life before he got the chance to kill him. There was a while there we were Lance had changed him”
“Lance saved you?”
“Yeah. I... uh, got injected with something bad and he sucked it out my system before I died from it”
“Keith!”
What was Pidge yelling his name for? He knew he was an idiot. He didn’t need her harping on about it.
“It’s not a terribly romantic story. Lance was sick for days recovering”
Allura snapped her book closed, choosing now to join in the conversation
“Vampires get sick?”
Allura nodded, before explaining
“They do when exposed to the wrong things. Bad blood can leave them near death. Fresh tends to be best. Though each individual vampire does have their preferences”
“Lance doesn’t like my blood”
There was huff of annoyance in Keith’s tone, despite having accepted that it really wasn’t anything personal. Pidge snickered
“Oh damn. Your boyfriend’s a sucker, but he’s not a sucker for you”
Shiro reached out, ruffling Pidge’s hair
“Leave him alone. You’ll break him if you tease him too much”
Curtis’s curse got the better of him
“Keith injected himself with mercury. Lance sucked the mercury from his system and was forced to have his blood purged”
Suddenly he was having his arm smacked by Pidge. Blue jumping off his lap, trying to walk off the picnic rug in a huff, only her lead was clipped to Keith so she couldn’t
“You idiot! How could you do that?!”
“It wasn’t my fault I got the needles wrong!”
“You could have died!”
Honestly he’d been more scared about being a vampire than dying thanks to mercury
“I know... Thanks a lot, Curtis”
“That reminds me, Curtis. I don’t understand completely where you fit in. You didn’t fit when we were trying to work things out”
It was Keith’s chance at revenge
“Curtis and Shiro like each other. They’re practically boyfriends but they won’t ask each other out. Curtis used to work in Rome with Shiro”
Both Shiro and Curtis flushed, looking away from each other. Pidge instantly on them instead of him
“Ooooh! But if you’re a hunter, why were you living with Lance?”
“I may have be slightly cursed by werewolves trying magic”
More than bad luck. Fucking wolves. Great. He sounded like Lance
“Holy shit! That’s like some bad luck right there, dude. Still doesn’t explain why you were living with Lance so long”
“Lance has fits of illness that Coran was worried about”
Allura’s explanation didn’t help things
“Is that why he had to leave yesterday so suddenly?”
Shiro laughed at Pidge’s perfectly innocent question
“No. That was a case of Keith not being able to handle his alcohol. He was feeling Lance up under the table”
Fuck Shiro
“Fucking dobber”
“Drunk Keith gets a bit handsy”
Pidge laughed hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Keith wasn’t impressed with his brother dobbing him in
“Really? I was under the impression Lance left due to his heat”
And fucking Allura
“His heat? Like an animal?”
And fucking Pidge. Everyone but Pidge knew not to discuss it, Keith trying to stick up for his boyfriend who was probably listening to everything
“Lance isn’t a fucking animal. He’s special”
“I don’t mean it like that. I’m trying to understand”
“Yeah. Well. This is something Lance doesn’t want to talk about and I don’t want to talk about it either”
Pidge immediately sobered. Keith felt he might have been a little harsh
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Does Matt have heats?”
Allura gently explained
“He’s a male werewolf so he has ruts. Rieva is a female werewolf so she has heats. Lance is a vampire who has heats, but not all vampires have heats, just as not all vampires turn into bats. It is difficult for Lance to talk about it. I know how special you are to him, he’s often talked about you”
“He has?”
Pidge should know how often Lance bragged. He often did it in front of her
“Very fondly. Honestly, I’m most happy we can talk like this. I feel like practically know you already”
“How long have you known Lance?”
Allura got a dreamy look on her face, as if she wasn’t seeing the present
“Nearly as long as Coran has. He was the sweetest child you could imagine. He and Coran are exceptionally close. Lance is like a son to him. Keith, can you take Lance to his car...”
Allura shook her head, the look disappearing from her face
“...Sorry. I don’t know what that was. What was I saying again? Oh, yes. Lance was the sweetest boy”
“He’s a dork... like... how is he a vampire. What’s with the glasses?”
Allura shook her head
“I don’t really know. He’s seemed to prefer them for some time now. I had thought fashion, but he’s worn them for so long now, despite having perfect vision”
“He wears them because he sees too much. He says he can’t cope with how much he sees and hears, so they help make his world smaller”
“But isn’t that a good thing? Being able to see and hear if someone’s coming for you?”
You’d think. But Keith got it now
“Not really. He can’t not hear things and see things. Imagine hearing Matt having sex at the other end of the park. That’s what it’s like”
Pidge wrinkled her face up
“No fucking thanks. Nope. I can’t forget that, Keith”
Keith shrugged
“You’re the one who asked”
“Yeah, well, I regret it now, obviously”
Coming running up to their group, Hunk was panting hard. Hands on his knees for support as he talked between pants. Kosmo wagging his tail happily as he sat beside Hunk
“G-guys... Lance... just... ran... off...”
Keith got up so fast his precious camera fell the few centimetres from his leg to the group as he did. Turning a full circle, he couldn’t see Lance
“What do you mean he ran off?
Hunk raised a hand, pointing towards the cafe strip across from the park parking bay
“I don’t know... He kind of paused, then ran off”
Keith looked to Shiro, who’d also gotten to his feet
“Keep everyone together. He might have heard something or seen someone. I’ll go check”
“Got your phone?”
“Yep. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Shit... Hold on, Blue”
Blue didn’t appreciate being pulled by her lead shorting. Keith unclipping her and handing her lead to Pidge. He’s nearly strangled Lance’s perfect princess. His boyfriend would literally kill him if he’d hurt Blue
“Stay there. I’ll be right back”
*
Keith jogged across the park, catching sight of Lance standing near the dumpster alley between a cafe and a florist. Not watching for traffic, he was beeped at when he stepped out in front of a car, barely stepping in back in time as the driver flipped him off. Checking for cars, he had to wait for three more to pass before he could jog across the road and over to where Lance was standing
“Babe?”
Lance’s voice shook
“Stay back, Keith”
Keith stepped into the alley. A figure clad in black leather with a helmet on was holding a gun towards Lance. Keith went to go for his gun, but he hadn’t worn in it so long he’d kind of forgotten about the fact he actually needed to carry one. Seeing Keith, the figure moved the gun towards him, Lance stepping between them. A bullet could kill Lance depending where it hit him
“I don’t know what you want, but don’t hurt him”
Lance turned his head to gawk at him
“Really?”
“Look, I’ve got money. Just don’t hurt him”
The figure moved the gun downwards, pointing to Keith’s pocket... well, Lance’s pocket seeing his boyfriend was trying to shield him. Raising one hand, Lance digging into his pocket with the other. Pulling out his wallet, the slowly started to bend. The next thing Keith knew, Lance had tackled him to the ground as the gun went off. Dazed for a moment, Keith came too pretty quick as Lance tried to prop himself up
“Lance!”
“You okay, babe?”
“Am I okay? You got fucking shot!”
Behind him, the figured walked up so they were staring down at the pair of them through the helmet visor
“Don’t hurt him! Take my wallet and go!”
What kind of idiot yelled that when they’d been shot?!”
From within the helmet came a muffled laugh. Keith feeling murderous that the bastard was laughing at them. Raising their hands, the pulled the helmet off, Keith’s eyes going wide as he recognised the figure inside
“Mum?!”
“Hey, Keith. This must be the infamous Lance I keep hearing about. Nice to meet ya, I’m Krolia. Keith’s mother”
Lance looked from Keith to Krolia, then back to Keith again. His boyfriend slumping sideways as he fainted. Angry with his mother, Keith pulled his legs out from under Lance, gathering him up as he shot his mother a glare
“What the fuck?! Lance?! Hey, Lance? It’s Keith...”
Tapping Lance on the face, his boyfriend was out cold... in more ways than one
“Mum! You shot him! What the fuck!”
“Calm down. It was a rubber bullet. I wanted to know the kind of man dating my son!”
“Mum! You can’t... Lance, babe. Hey, come on”
Tapping Lance’s face again, his boyfriend groaned, big blue eyes confused. It didn’t matter that it was a rubber bullet, it’d still fucking hurt
“Babe?”
“Thank fuck. You fainted”
“I think your mum tried to kill me”
Calmly Krolia defended herself
“If I was trying, you’d be dead”
That was true. If Krolia wanted to kill, she would have killed him before he’d known what was happening. If Krolia had been one Lance’scale from the beginning his boyfriend would long dead and disposed of.
Gazing up at Krolia, Lance was so confused. Keith explaining because his mother wouldn’t
“It was a rubber bullet. Apparently she saw now to be give a fuck about my life and test my fucking boyfriend. Are you okay?”
“My shoulder fucking hurts”
“That’s because rubber bullets hurt... hang on”
Feeling his phone vibrating, Keith turned his back towards his mother as he pulled the device out. Sliding his thumb across the screen, he started helping Lance to stand at the same time
“Keith?! What was that shot?! Are you okay? Did something happen?!”
Now Krolia was upsetting Shiro too...
“Krolia. She finally decided to say hello. Take the others back, I’ll drive Lance home myself”
“Are you two going to be okay?”
No. Yes. Ugh. He was. Lance on the other hand had been shot
“We’re fine. Rubber bullet. Let the others know Lance is fine. I’ve got to go”
Keith slid his phone back in his pocket. Lance had his arm around the hunter’s waist as he tried not cry. His boyfriend was being very brave
“Why would you do that?!”
“I wanted to see what kind of man my son is dating. He’s made a good first impression. He’ll heal right up with a bit of blood”
Keith sent Krolia a scathing glare
“Why couldn’t you greet us like a normal person! Babe, I’m so sorry. Let’s get you home and get some ice on that shoulder”
And chocolate. Chocolate and some cuddles... How did he even apologise for this
“You’re headed to VOLTRON? Good. I’ll follow you”
“Like I want to see you after this sick joke”
Krolia let him lead Lance to the street corner before calling out
“You forgot his wallet”
Turning back, Keith snatched the wallet from his mother as soon as he was close enough
“Don’t follow us”
The hunter knew what a rubber bullet felt like. And it fucking hurt. Krolia was always pulling dumb stunts. Apparently she’d pulled a blade on Shiro when Shiro first joined the Blades, “testing his loyalties”, as she put it. Him she’d watched for days, before pulling the “I’m your mum speech”. How Shiro could talk to her was beyond him. And, worst of all, the Blades seemed to think this normal. Coran was weird, but the Blades were a bunch of Grade-A nut jobs. Grade-A Vatican approved nut jobs.
*
Lance was quite on the drive home, holding his shoulder as stared out the window. Keith wished he’d talk. Anything was better than the glam rock on the radio and his boyfriend not talking. It felt as if he’d opened his mouth he would have been apologising all over again. Leaving before the others meant they got home before them, but Shiro must have called ahead to warn Coran as he met them at stairwell for parking
“Shiro told me there was some kind of attack”
That was one way of putting it. Lance sighed heavily
“I’m fine. Just a sore shoulder. And I met Keith’s mum. I’m not completely sure she likes me, but I seem to have passed the parental dating test”
“She fucking shot you!”
Lance didn’t sound particularly mad. That was good. Keith was easily mad enough for the both of them
“Yeah. I noticed. I heard her call my name... and I just... went. I didn’t think she’d pull a gun on me”
“Wait?! You knew it was her?!”
“No. I just heard someone call my name and say yours... Yeah, I know. Dumb move”
Idiotic move more like it
“Oh dear. I was so hoping you’d have a nice time at the park. Come upstairs and let’s take a look”
Lance sat on Coran’s examination table, Keith helping him get his jacket and shirt undone so Coran could see. Sliding it down, the bruising was horrible from what Keith could see over Lance’s shoulder. Turning, his boyfriend showed him properly
“How bad does it look?”
The site was purple black, angry redness swollen in the middle of Lance’s shoulder blade
“It looks like I should have shot her and seen how she liked it”
“Babe”
“Don’t “babe” me. She shot you”
“She was testing me”
“She had no fucking right”
“You do realise her only son is dating a vampire?”
“That doesn’t matter! Seriously, what were you thinking?!”
“That if you were going to be shot, I’d never recover”
Keith floundered. Opening his mouth and closing it, before crossing his arms
“That’s beside the point”
“Not really. I’d rather be the one shot. At least I’ll heal from a shot that could kill you”
Coran fetched an icepack out his small fridge
“Now, now, boys. I’m sure Krolia had her reasons. Like Lance said, you are her only son”
“Not when she pulls shit like this”
Putting the icepack to Lance’s shoulder, Lance hissed. Coran wincing in sympathy
“I know. It’ll help the swelling”
“Yeah. It’s still damn cold though”
Lance and Coran were taking this too well. Some kind of buzzer went off over their heads
“That’ll be front reception letting me know we have a visitor. Keith, can you grab Lance a bag of blood. He seems to have gotten sunburnt on top of things”
So that’s how Coran knew they were there. That was one mystery solved. Lance placed his hand over his shoulder to hold the icepack in place
“I’ve got him”
Coran gave him a warm smile
“He’s in excellent hands”
Keith opened the fridge to find all kinds of things in there
“Does blood type matter?”
“I’ll take an A+ if there’s one in there”
There were two. Like Coran kept the fridge stocked just for Lance. Grabbing a bag out, he brought it over to his boyfriend, holding it out for him to take
“Here. Fuck. I can’t believe she shot you”
“Keith...”
“Don’t defend her”
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Triwizard Champion
A/N HELLO this is a bit of a random one tbh, it’s based on HP second task of finding the one you value most, but a lil different in set up, also Sirius x reader cause lel ENJOY xx
"Four turns should do it" said a familiar deep voice. Y/N blinked herself more awake, focusing in on Dumbledore who was currently speaking.
She was standing in the Great Hall surrounded by the two other champions, Ministry officials and Dumbledore who was smiling widely. He handed out time turners to each champion, the gold necklace cold in Y/N’s hand.
"Someone of value has been taken from each of you and it is your task to go and rescue them from where-ever they may be. You will have four hours to find them and take them back here, but beware- there will be traps set up everywhere and remember, the only person who can see you in this time is your person of value"
Y/N grimaced, He couldn't have just told everyone in the castle we were doing a challenge?
"Your person could be anywhere in the castle excluding common rooms and our precious teachers’ offices. You will also be given a small clue to try and help you find them." Dumbledore gave a sweeping glance to the champions to see if they had understood. "Fantastic, now let's get started, shall we? Now if everyone would line up over here"
Dumbledore guided them over to three brightly marked spots in the ground, each the colour of the three schools.
Y/N ran her hand over the cool surface of the time turner, careful not to turn it. One of the officers handed out some white slip of paper to each contestant. Y/N opened it curiously and read the small riddle printed on it.
'In the castle where everything is hidden.
If you have to ask you will never know, if you know, you need only ask'
"There is one minute left until the cannon sounds, at that time you will turn your time turners 4 times and remember when you are done, come back here to your original spots" he smiled widely, " and Good l-"
But he was cut off by the loud 'Bang!' from the cannon. Y/N quickly turned the time turner back four times and felt the world spinning around me.
Y/N shut her eyes, feeling dizzy and only reopened them when her feet stable the cold, hard ground. Y/N stumbled backwards in surprise before composing herself.
Y/N slipped quickly through the door to the Great Hall, closing it slowly to stop it from making any noise. The corridor was pitch black and as much as Y/N loved the idea of tripping on something and dying or getting seen, Y/N cast 'Lumos'.
A soft light shone from her wand, forcing her to walk slowly, paranoid that someone was going to swing around the every corner she reached.
Y/N crept up towards her, failing miserably at concealing the sound of her footsteps hitting the cold floor. The moon was shining in lightly from the window above, creating an eerie glow on the corridor. Y/N automatically checked it for a full moon- it was only half. She paused momentarily, realising the hadn’t actually given any thought to her clue.
Where is everything hidden? Was it one of the secret passageways? But Sirius said only they knew most of them. if you know, you need only ask… only ask.
“Fuck, of course,” Y/N swore a little too loudly, sprinting down the corridor. She slid too fast around a corner, hitting her shoulder against the cold bricks but continued on, swearing internally as sharp pain shot down her arm. Finally she reached it, taking in a hurried breath before standing in front the large wall.
Y/N closed her eyes for a second before pacing up and down in front of it, thinking the same thing over and over.
'I am looking for the one I value most, I am looking for the one I value most'
There was suddenly a breaking sound coming from the wall in front of her and a door appeared, pushing through the walls barriers, twisting into a large black gated door. Y/N sighed in relief, pushing it open with some effort, struggling to close it quietly.
The moon light trickled in from the windows, lighting up portions of the room and making large ominous shadows across the rest.
Y/N moved slowly across the concrete floors. The room was covered in an array of things; forgotten toys, books, a large ornamental chandelier and even a few plants, forming a maze across the huge room. Her footsteps became louder as she moved faster, wondering how on earth she was meant to find anything in here.
"Y/N...?" Y/N heard a slightly scared and amazingly familiar voice call out, "is that you?"
Y/N’s heart sunk. She hadn’t thought it would be him. Lily maybe, or Remus, possibly James… but… fuck.
"I'm over by the stack of fairy tale books and the small tree... like... thing..."
“I’m coming!” Y/N called back, moving through the maze towards the sound of his voice.
Y/N saw the small tree and started jogging towards it, Sirius slowly coming into sight as she turned a corner.
"Well hello there" he attempted to grin but was clearly still groggy from whatever spell they had put on him. His eyes were tired, ropes tying up his hands and legs to a metal pole sticking up from the ground. Y/N reached over to his hands and untied them from the pole before crouching down and untying his ankles. He stepped forwards just before Y/N came up came tumbling down towards her, arms out too break his fall.
“Shit, sorry Y/N,” Sirius gasped, breathing out a sigh of relief when they landed with nothing sounding like a break. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how close his face was from her own, his breath sending a small shiver across her shoulders. His hands were placed either side of her head, legs were on top of her own. Y/N stared back at him, looking at how his grey eyes showed mixes of blues and greens hinted through the light.
"Um... would you mind getting up?" Y/N said pointedly, clearing her throat as he rolled off.
He stuttered an apology before helping Y/N up.
"So, I was your person of value, huh?" He raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk curling on his lip.
"We-" Y/N started but cut herself off, staring suddenly past Sirius and at their surroundings. Sirius noticed her looking and he turned, only to jump back slightly and gasp.
In the time that it took for them to get off each other, the entire room had grown, literally. From the books to the plants and toys, everything loomed above us, blocking all the exits to the maze.
"Well, shit" Y/N muttered.
Y/N stood silently, eyes wide at the unfortunate scene in front of her.
“Let’s destroy the Room of Requirement shall we?” Sirius turned to Y/N and grinned.
“Sounds good.” Y/N pulled out her wand, holding it out and nodding for Sirius to follow behind her, ignoring his slight giggle.
The moon was blocked from the items surrounding them, and even the small burst of light from Y/N’s wand was merely creating more ominous shadows that seemed to almost dance around them.
There was a small path between the lost things, but Y/N could already see the end of it being blocked by a giant wooden box. It was a dark mahogany and seemingly somewhat chewed apart by something.
Y/N stopped suddenly, making Sirius crash into her back.
"What th-" but she glared and shushed Sirius quickly.
"I swear on merlin's grave that the box just moved," Y/N said cautiously, her voice wavering slightly.
"So... what do you think is in there?"
"I have no idea," Sirius replied. The box gave a definite jolt and both Y/N and Sirius jumped back in surprise.
"Something big," Sirius said on second thought, looking for a way around it. Y/N, however, stepped forward, wand out and smoothly unlocked the box.
The door creaked open very slowly. There was a whirl of wind in front of them and Y/N heard Sirius gasp as they both realised what was inside.
Sirius, being the heroic idiot, jumped in front of Y/N, swinging his arms in front of her like a barricade. The woman suddenly became that whirlwind once more, reshaping and becoming closer to the floor as it did so.
Sirius audibly gulped when it changed. A duplicate Y/N had appeared covered in scars and wounds, distorting her, making it almost impossible to recognise. Her clothes were stained in blood and both arms pushed awkwardly up and above her head.
Y/N felt her breathing hitch when she saw what it was. Sirius had frozen, and Y/N was sure she could hear his heart beat clanging from his back.
“Ridiculous!” Sirius yelled suddenly, grabbing Y/N’s wand from her hand and pointing it aggressively at the boggart.
There was another whirlwind and without giving it a second thought Sirius whipped Y/N’s wand again, this time yelling Bombarda.
The box exploded, the boggart getting sucked into the explosion along with it, though Y/N was very unsure if that was exactly the best way to get rid of a boggart. Or, if it was still there.
“Shit,” Sirius swore. The objects around the room had begun to grow larger, closing in around them. Obviously exploding their way out wasn’t the answer. A large set of books landed on the back Y/N’s leg, a cry coming out from her as she fell forwards, landing hard on her foot.
Sirius pulled her up and was about to ask if she was ok but she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the pathway.
"Let’s go!” Y/N yelled, desperate to make distance between them and whatever remnants of the boggart they’d left. a little.
Y/N suddenly stopped, Sirius slamming into her back. She rolled her eyes at his frustrated expression.
"Don't you ever pay attention to your surroundings?" She pointed sideways towards a giant cabinet. Leaning against it were 4 broomsticks.
Y/N kicked off the floor, narrowly avoiding a large double bed crashing into them, the edge scraping into Y/N’s face. It was almost as much of a maze in the air as it was on the floor. They seemed to be dodging objects every second, Y/N could see blood dripping from multiple points of Sirius’ body and was sure there was the same on her.
Y/N swerved past a tennis racket that had just been flung at her face as Sirius nearly did a 360 on his broom to avoid a small bedside table trying to tousle his hair.
Sirius jerked upwards suddenly as two pillows came crashing towards either side of him, causing them to crash into each other and Y/N to swerve sideways dangerously.
Suddenly, Y/N spotted the grey, spiralling concrete double doors that would lead them back into the castle and away from this mess.
"Sirius!" She shouted over to him, his expression more focused than she’d ever seen it. "This way!"
He followed her gaze and nodded. They sped off towards the door, speeding up as fast as the brooms could take them.
'Alohomora!' Y/N pointed her wand at the door, sighing in relief as the doors swung open and the two of them fell through them, pushing the doors shut as quick as they possibly could.
We sat there for a few minutes just breathing heavily. Y/N clothes were torn, her heart pounding into her throat.
"So... Do you have a place to be or something?" Sirius wondered out loud, turning towards Y/N, also panting heavily.
"Shit,” Y/N gasped out a breath, checking her watch and swearing loudly, the sound echoing across the corridor. She was ten minutes late.
"We may need to hurry," Y/N groaned, picking herself up and grabbing the broomstick and pulling her leg over it once more. “Ready to dive?”
Sirius nodded, his lip curling into a mischievous smile. At least the one thing Y/N could count on was Sirius’ always being willing to do the stupidest of ideas. They pushed off the ground, Y/N’s foot giving a very uncomfortable twinge as she put her weight on it, and began zooming down the corridor and towards the staircase.
“Here we go!” Sirius called out as they saw the dive. Y/N steeled herself, taking in a deep breath and dipping her broom. The staircases were moving constantly, Y/N moving her broom alongside them, dodging the bannisters as they moved close and closer to the ground floor. Sirius flicked his wand and the front doors to the castle boomed open with enough room for them to slip through and zoom into the grounds.
There was a large tent standing in the middle of the grounds, large groups of people cheering loudly in a set of stands beside it. They flew towards the tent, braking suddenly as they reached it, wanting to avoid potentially injuring anyone. Y/N saw the circle she started in and moved over towards it, placing a hand in it. It shone brightly as she put it there and she heaved a sigh of relief.
Only Simon, from Beauxbatons was there already, sitting on his bed and chatting intensely to his headmistress. Y/N realised she had gripped a tight hand around Sirius’ and quickly let go, her cheeks blushing furiously.
Thankfully Dumbledore arrived seconds after, clasping his hands together when he saw them.
"Well, well! Our second champion has arrived!" He smiled broadly at me, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Firstly, you need to get checked out by the nurse- yes you too Mr Black- and then come back here before we announce the scores to the rest of the school."
Sirius and Y/N nodded once before retreating back to where they came from and heading over to Madame Pomfrey’s tent about fifty metres away.
Y/N smiled when she walked in and Pomfrey gave a tight smile in return before giving her a once over and tutting softly. She then turned to Sirius and did the same thing.
"Ah Miss, I know I look perfect" he smirked, his dirty face saying otherwise.
"Mr Black, I would appreciate it if you let me do my job as I will not hesitate to take away one of your arms. And Y/N, come over here, you've just got a few cuts and bruises, your ankle looks a little swollen..."
Y/N let Madame Pomfrey lead her over to a bed and began to feel the adrenaline that was coursing through her began to fade and the aches across her body began to pound. Madame Pomfrey dabbed at her face and bandage legs as Y/N counted the number of bars across the ceiling.
"Y/N, we can go," Y/N jolted up suddenly and Sirius chuckled at her shocked expression. She swung her legs over the bed to stand up.
"Holy mother of Me-" Y/N started, grasping onto the edge of the bed as sharp pain shot up the side of her right leg. Y/N took a deep breath and took all of her weight off it, feeling like she was about to hop.
"Yeah, Madame Pomfrey mentioned something about your ankle... I think the tendon has torn she put some cream on it so it isn't swollen but she said something about one of the champions having a gash in the side of their stomach..." he trailed off, smiling sheepishly at Y/N’s glare.
"And you couldn't have told me that about a second before I got up!?" Y/N hissed at him, causing the few people that were in the tent look over at them curiously.
“I was about too but you were too fast... look just use these, we have to get back to the champions tent." He handed Y/N a pair of crutches and she silently cursed Madame Pomfrey for not just healing the damn thing as she leaned over them and felt her back hunch uncomfortably.
Y/N followed Sirius out of the medical tent and into the champions. There was now a small crowd, including the four other champions and hostages, the judges and teachers from the different schools. Dumbledore greeted them when they returned.
"Good to see our Hogwarts champion in good form. We are just about to announce results!" Dumbledore smiled at her, clapping her on the back a little hard.
"Yeah, ok," Y/N replied half-heartedly, her heart starting to race again. Y/N wasn't sure if she really wanted to hear the results.
"You'll do fine" Sirius whispered to her, following behind as they started the short trek up to the castle. Y/N gave him a small smile.
"Hey Sirius, a question?"
"Anything,” He kept his eyes forward, walking slowly alongside her awkward crutching.
"What are you most scared of?" Y/N questioned him. He looked at her with an odd expression, his deep grey eyes staring into hers.
"The ones I love dying," he replied, suddenly looking down. Her heart skipped a beat.
Y/N’s brain flashed back to the fresh memory of Sirius tensing at the sight of what the boggart had taken form.
Y/N’s blood-soaked body.
Without giving it another thought, Y/N grabbed Sirius’ wrist and spun him towards her, kissing him square on the mouth, her crutches falling to the side and making her lift her leg awkwardly. He seemed to freeze momentarily before kissing her back, pulling her in towards him with such fervour Y/N forgot she was standing in front of many teachers.
They pulled apart, breathless and grinning at each other, Y/N leaning on his side. He sniggered as she jumped sideways, but picked up her crutches for her, slipping them under her arms softly. He stayed close to Y/N momentarily, watching her.
“Glad to know it’s not just my boggart.” He said finally, standing upright.
“Oh, mine is actually a giant snake.” Y/N teased, grinning at him as the call for the results came through the speakers surrounding them.
“Shut up, Y/L/N.” Sirius rolled his eyes but went back to her side, helping her up to the judges. He slipped a hand along Y/N’s waist and held it against the small in her back.
Taglist: @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi
@blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan
@thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511
@imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco
@sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad
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@gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527
#rainandhotchocolate#sirius x reader#sirius x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius imagine#sirius black imagine
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In your mind, how is Wayne Industries structured?
wow this took like six months and ended up a lot longer than i intended and i’m not even sure if i answered the question you were asking
i am ignoring literally everything from canon because canon says that every single company owned by wayne enterprises is called Wayne Insert-Industry-Name-Here and that’s dumb as all hell and i hate it. also i made the company founding contemporary with famous olde rich people like the rockefellers and whatnot because Old Money. i’ll put dates on some of these but on some of them (like when we’re getting real granular) i just cannot be fucked to bother. let’s also agree that there are a bunch of things that are technically subsidiaries but which are actually the exact same goddamn thing just slightly altered because it’s in a different state or something, which i don’t need to list.
i am assuming for these purposes that wayne enterprises is a privately held conglomerate with control having been ceded to a board of directors during thomas wayne’s tenure as ceo-in-name-mostly as well as while the company was in a trust; the board was subsequently dissolved once bruce was old enough to make that decision. privately held companies aren’t obligated to disclose financials or maintain a board, which is great if you’re planning to be batman and also make a lot of theoretically financially unwise decisions like setting a minimum wage of $15 throughout the organization and implementing a cash profit sharing plan.
anti-trust and monopoly laws aren’t an issue because they’re way too diversified and none of their business units dominate their chosen industry. there are probably conspiracy theories that the reason for the immense diversity of interests is actually to keep different markets competitive and protect other businesses from anti-trust suits, which would be pretty compelling if every wayne from the start weren’t fueled by spite and pettiness.
anyone who wants to has blanket permission to use this for whatever because canon is for suckers but so is figuring out corporate structures yourself
tumblr is probably going to completely fuck the formatting so you might want to read this on my other blog instead
Wayne Enterprises (1864)
Wayne Capital (1864)
Technically speaking Wayne Capital was Wayne Enterprises before they diversified but I didn’t want to clutter up the big header so here we are. Ostensibly started as an investment firm, actually started as a ponzi scheme that went sideways and turned into a legitimate business. There was a war going on, things were confusing, people were dying or else just skipping town because it seemed like a good time for that kind of thing. Next thing you know you’ve got a lot of extra cash and you’re actually making a decent amount of interest on that small loan you made to that guy with the boat. One thing leads to another and now you’re a shipping tycoon who also owns some banks. These things happen.
Wayne Capital Bank (1865)
It’s a bank, you know what a bank is.
Coinsure (2006)
Bruce hangs out with a lot of pornstars who have a lot to say about how PayPal sucks and also isn’t regulated at all because they’re not technically a bank even though they hold your money so what the fuck.
Created as a secure payment processor originally only usable by members of their bank but it eventually expanded outward.
Coinsure: Unlike Some People We Could Name, We’re Regulated Like A Bank, Because We Are One
Eventually expanded into allowing user profiles, donations, recurring donations, and crowdfunding.
Does not yet offer a platform for posting exclusive content so in that regard it doesn’t quite suit as a Patreon or Kickstarter alternative but they’re debating adding those kinds of functionality.
Totally works as a Ko-Fi or GoFundMe alternative tho.
Arkenity Financial (1947)
Large-scale industrial loans in particular are handled under this banner.
Coine Realty (merger 1982)
They bought Cobblepot Real Estate Services for cheap when the parent company was having financial trouble and then merged it with existing real estate services that were previously part of Wayne Capital.
Previously Cobblepot Real Estate Services actually just owned a lot of property for slumlording purposes.
Guess who’s still bitter.
Wakewater Insurance Services (1885)
No one wants to insure my boats? Fuck this, I’ll insure my own goddamn boats, is what I’ll do. Does anyone else want in on this? Okay, cool.
Property and other insurances through Wakewater are some of the only policies to fully cover acts of supervillainy and/or heroism.
This division bleeds cash under Bruce but who cares.
Wakewater Life Insurance Company (1885)
Fuck this, I’ll insure my own goddamn self.
Wakewater Health (1983)
The fact that they didn’t have this until Thomas was in charge is depressing, I think we can all agree.
Thomas was in charge so all their plans are extremely generous.
Wakewater Mutual Automobile Insurance Company (1931)
Fuck this, I’ll insure my own goddamn cars.
Wakewater Home and Renters Insurance Company (1908)
Renters got added later, probably when Gotham got more apartments.
Tropos Energy (Formerly Wayne Oil and Gas, 1896)
When they were planning to change the name of this division, Thomas Wayne lobbied for Waynergy, and would have given up fairly quickly if someone had not pointed out that this sounded too much like Weinergy. Thomas insisted on referring to this branch of the company as ‘Weinergy’ for the remainder of his life, and no one could stop him, because he owned it. Imagine working your whole life to become one of the top energy researchers in the world just to have the guy who owns your whole company, a philanthropic brain surgeon, introduce you as ‘one of the Weiner Boys from over at Weinergy’.
Nor'easter Co (merger 2009)
Wind energy tech
Did they buy the company just because Bruce liked the name better than the old one? No one is sure.
Gotham Solar (1987)
Associating Gotham with the sun in any capacity is hilarious.
If It Works In Gotham It’s Gotta Be Good (unofficial motto)
Great Lakes HydroElectric (1904)
It’s two years younger than the hydroelectric plant near my house because I said so.
Galactomics (1954)
Nuclear power plants
This name seemed like a really good idea in the 50s.
Galactomics Lifestyle (2004)
Furniture and decor
There was a huge market for their secondhand custom kitschy office furniture so they rolled with it and made a furniture division.
Most people are not aware that they also run nuclear power plants.
GaleTek (Formerly Wayne Rail Company, 1871)
They were the Wayne Rail Company, and then the Gotham Rail Company, and then Gotham Land and Sea, then GLS which they pretended didn’t stand for anything or possibly stood for a variety of charming slogans, then they merged with about three different aviation companies to swallow them into their aviation division and the combined name they came up with was GaleTek. Welcome to corporate naming conventions, it’s a goddamn nightmare.
Hart Aviation (1927)
They used to have a lot of defense contracts but that all went down the tubes in the 80s because Bruce’s parents weren’t down with that. Now they just make cool shit for commercial use.
They also make zeppelins because it’s a comic book, someone has to make the fucking zeppelins and it might as well be Batman.
Gotham Rail Company (1871)
They’re actually a railroad so they got to keep the original name.
Well, sir, there’s nothing on Earth like a genuine, bona fide, electrified, six-car monorail.
Superior Freighters Inc. (1874)
I’m on a boat.
They’re classified as ships but generally lake freighters are referred to as boats, that’s a fun fact, enjoy.
Wayne Motors (1914)
Founded because one of Bruce’s ancestors really hated Henry Ford. You’d think it would be because of the unabashed antisemitism but it was actually the pacifism. In an ocean of good reasons to hate Henry Ford he found the bad one.
These were almost all notoriously-shitty also-ran semi-bootlegs until the turn of the century.
They also made racecars but those weren’t available for retail sale so the good racecars weren’t enough to offset the reputation of the horrible cars people could actually buy.
The racecars were good because Bruce’s great-grandpa had a liquor-smuggling operation.
Fox finally had the bright idea to just get weird with it so they brought back really old models of car with the exact same body but with electric engines. They’re extremely popular.
They have a contract with the city of Gotham to produce really nice city buses at a loss.
Gotham City Broadcasting Network Company (acquired 1972)
Patrick Wayne bought a broadcasting company just so they’d stop talking about Watergate. He was a big Nixon fan. The networks have gotten better since then. Thomas Wayne set a lot of strict advertising guidelines that continue to this day. It’s become an umbrella for Wayne Enterprise’s entire entertainment division, which is a bitch to map out because entertainment companies are structural nightmares. I did this to myself but I’m still mad about it.
Birch & White Publications (acquired 1953)
Acquired before the rest of the entertainment division because they didn’t originally have an entertainment division, just this one shitty book publisher.
Founded in 1866 by what was probably a secret gay couple who liked magazines about men being manly and fighting weasels, or whatever it is men did in 1866. I’m imagining the homoerotic covers on these magazines and they’re great. Do you think they were former cowboys? I’m going to say they were former cowboys.
I just looked it up and Patrick’s dad was named Kenneth. Kenneth Wayne. I can’t believe this. Anyway he was really into these books as a kid so when the publisher started going defunct he just straight-up bought it.
Birch & White owned shares of GCBN as part of their deal with the radio station to produce radio shows of their more popular characters, which was why patrick bought this one instead of NBC probably.
These days they publish all sorts of stuff but they also republish their huge backlog of old weird shit. Also they brought back the pulp magazine and the homoerotic covers. I’m going to say that was Thomas. He insisted.
GCBN (1931)
If you think I’m listing individual national network affiliates you can go straight to hell.
GCBN News
GCBN.com
TheGackbin.com
They use this one for entertainment news.
Did they name their website after what Thomas insisted on calling the main network? Yes.
“Can’t we put it in the Gackbin or something?” - Thomas Wayne, to the board of directors that actually runs his company for him, about a show that he wants to watch that doesn’t exist yet.
Sure, Tommy, we’ll get right on that.
The joke’s on them, Dog Surgeon had an enormously popular primetime run.
The dog surgeon had a dogtorate.
GCBN Sports
GCBN Radio (1931)
The original and still the champion
GothamRadio.com (2003)
They spotlight a lot of local and indie bands, it’s pretty great actually.
Gotham Television Company (1986)
This is all the cable channels. There’s a lot of them.
Clue TV (1986)
We’ve got your Columbo, your Poirot, your… other things. Also a lot of Forensic Files-esque true crime.
Martha loved true crime but hated reenactments and victim-blaming and bad science. So she didn’t actually like most true crime. Then she married a billionaire!
This was basically The Martha Wayne Background Noise Channel.
Now it’s The Bruce Wayne Background Noise Channel.
FunnyBones (1986)
It’s comedy but also shlocky b-movie science fiction and horror.
Experimented briefly with a Z instead of an S and everyone hated it.
In this universe they picked up MST3K because I said so and no one can stop me.
Civil History (2003)
A history channel that focuses on civil rights instead of wars and aliens and war with aliens.
Curiousities (1989)
Science news but also informative documentaries.
Bubbly (1986)
It’s a soap opera channel and lemme tell ya they’ve got some weird ones.
They import soaps and dramas from around the world but their original content is notorious for the depth of the lore. Why is there so much lore.
Rolling Stone (1992)
They gave Rolling Stone a channel because why the fuck not.
Really good political news coverage, actually.
Vaudevision (founded 1914, acquired 2003)
Pretty comparable to RKO except it lived. You can probably guess their schtick.
Vaudevision Animation (1941)
The weird cartoons that they only show on cartoon network at 2am probably.
VVA Classics (2001)
Old-ass Vaudevision cartoons on perpetual reruns
Vaudevision Home Network (1983)
Pretty standard movie channel.
Vodevista (1995)
Spanish language television.
Kale Studios (2017)
World of Kale from Kale Studios, brought to you by Vaudevision.
Bruce debated over whether this would be more of a tech/software company or an entertainment company and decided on entertainment. They’re not here for revolutionary gameplay. They’re here for artistically rendered kale.
Also “brought to you by Vaudevision” rendered across the bottom of a video game loading screen was too funny to pass up so here we are.
Northern Hospitality (acquired 1936)
I’m starting to lose steam, here. Figuring out GCBN was exhausting. Why did I do this to myself. Anyway Wayne Enterprises owns some hotels because reasons.
Red Oak Hotels (1936)
Pretty nice hotels, lots of conference centers.
Art Deco as a motherfucker and they will never update their aesthetic, ever.
They keep stained glass artisans across the country in business.
Lakeshore Motel (1962)
So skeevy
Can’t argue with the prices tho
Efforts have been made to get them less skeevy but they’ve still got a pretty skeevy vibe.
Amberview Hotels (acquired 2005)
Midrange hotels, extraordinarily generic.
Bruce bought these just to put another layer of separation between himself and the inns he wanted to open because the Lakeshore Motels were too skeevy.
Amberview Inn (2006)
Cheap like a motel with hourly rates but actually about as nice as the hotels.
Cops keep trying to set up stings because of the reputation as a favorite for sex workers but they have very good lawyers telling them to fuck off.
They hire a lot of women with large gaps in their employment history.
Grand Lighthouse Resort (1906, acquired 1940)
It’s on its own island. Maximum fanciness.
They replaced the golf course with a small farm in the 90s and now all the fancy food is grown on their fancy farm.
Wayne Health (1908)
So many supervillains used to work under the Wayne Health umbrella. Mostly because when people do evil shit they get fired. It’s not supervillainy if you’re gainfully employed doing it. If you’re unemployed and experimenting on animal brains, you have a problem.
Wayne Health (1908)
Originally Wayne Ray Tech. They made X-Rays. The name was meant to imply that they had other, even better rays. It was 1908. It seemed plausible.
Started making centrifuges and pH meters in the 30s, then expanded into spectrophotometers… why am I telling you specific devices? They gradually added more and more lab and medical technologies, that’s good enough.
Anyone who tries to make anything brain-related gets the side-eye these days. They’ve been burned too many times before.
“And it’s definitely not supposed to be used to read or control minds?” any engineer working on a brain-related project will be asked, repeatedly, forever.
Wayne Care Network (1966)
Patrick bought some hospitals. I don’t know why. Why does anyone do anything? Why am I doing this? The world is filled with mysteries. They probably own a lot of hospitals and clinics that I don’t feel like exploring.
Gotham Central Hospital System (1966)
Patrick probably wanted special treatment at the hospital. Maybe a doctor tried to start shit. Honestly that would explain a lot about why Thomas became a doctor.
St. Rita’s Hospital (1984)
Thomas Wayne’s baby and where he did most of his work as a surgeon. Ask him about the guy with the brain maggots! Just kidding, you don’t have to ask. He tells everyone that story. He’s great at parties.
ChemiCare (1975)
Pharmaceutical development.
Pretty standard pharma company until Thomas got his hands on it. Insulin! Insulin for everyone! They’re practically giving it away!
I’m making myself sad so let’s move on.
Asclepius Digital (2006)
Health software, digitization of file systems, etc
It’s boring but vital, okay?
Gotham Department Stores, Inc. (1898)
Owning a department store: all the cool tycoons are doing it. Right? Right. Started as Wayne Co, eventually diversified and Wayne Co became a subsidiary of a larger company.
Wayne Co. (1898)
Started specifically to get in on the whole 'mail order catalog’ craze.
Even more specifically, the ones full of snake oil. Just, pages and pages of horseshit potions and elixirs.
We wrapped this tapeworm in some cocaine for ultimate weight loss! Order today!
They also sold other things, eventually. But mostly weird bottles of nonsense.
Actually did a lot better in the Great Depression when they sold cheap shit by mail, only some of which still had tapeworms and cocaine in it.
These days it’s very Sharper Image. Lots of toys and airplane catalogs.
Gotham Department Store (1916)
What if we sold things in stores? Wacky idea, I know.
They didn’t stick with the Wayne Co. name because Wayne Co. had… a reputation. On account of all the coked-up tapeworms.
They tried to go for a high fashion demographic, which worked out for about ten years and then went all to hell for another ten years.
Spent many years as the store Grandma would take you to for back-to-school clothes shopping.
Saw a resurgence in the modern day with the advent of such exclusive product lines as the infamous “It Has Pockets” line of women’s fashion.
Green Market (1995)
Thomas to his board of directors: “What if we opened a grocery store that sold nothing but food produced ethically enough and of high enough quality that I would be willing to buy it for my family?”
“Mr. Wayne are you asking this just because you’re sick of not being able to make impulse food purchases while shopping”
Thomas Wayne fingerguns aggressively while backing out of the boardroom.
They really need to work on their marketing because everyone assumes it’s all pricey organic stuff instead of reasonably-priced locally-sourced products.
SuperModern Foods Company (1962)
This name seemed like a good idea in the 60s. I was going to list all the things here but have you ever looked at what Nestle owns? Or Unilever? You think I’m making a list like that? No. Fuck that. They probably used to own a lot more companies and then got rid of a bunch of them because they sucked.
Space Cakes (1962)
They should have changed the name but they didn’t and they get bought by a lot of confused stoners.
A fixture at Gotham gas stations.
Havermann Dairy (acquired 1967)
Space Cakes had a disagreement with a dairy supplier so they bought them. As one does.
Alberici Meats (acquired 1974)
They had to do something with all the extra cows.
Tucker’s Old-Fashioned Soda (acquired 2015)
“Why did Bruce Wayne acquire an obscure small-town Kansas soda company?”
“Who can possibly understand the whims of the idle rich,” says local reporter.
Saraniti Pickles (acquired 2017)
Walmart nearly destroyed their perfectly-acceptable business with shady practices.
Spite: A Valid Way To Run A Business Since 1864
GRC (1924)
I have put off finishing this for like two months because I was so deeply disinterested in figuring out the technology subsidiary, but now I’m putting off finishing something else so here we are. Originally the Gotham Radio Company, now it’s just GRC because video killed the radio star and also they mostly make weird shit that isn’t radios. In close competition with Wayne Health to see whose former employees are most likely to become supervillains.
GRC (1924)
Technically speaking they still make radios and turntables and whatnot, but mostly it’s, like. Cables. Circuit boards. The kind of shit that only gets used by other companies and also people who have to make a road trip to Fry’s because all the other stores just sell phones now. Have you ever tried to replace a fucked-up molex connector without having to order something online? It’s hell. They stock GRC products in a special section of the Gotham Department Store, I decided this just now while thinking about molex connectors and getting mad.
Did you know RCA’s vacuum tubes were called Radiotron?? Why are all the names for things so shitty now when we used to name things stuff like Radiotron. This has nothing to do with anything, except I guess for the fact that GRC probably still manufactures weird vacuum tubes that would otherwise be impossible to find.
GRC is a godsend for vintage radio enthusiasts.
Maelstromatic (1929)
I’m not saying they picked their name based on the fact that a maelstrom is theoretically a more powerful whirlpool but also that’s exactly what I’m saying.
These appliances will fuck you up and that’s a guarantee.
They’re safe now but for a long time they had a reputation of being extremely powerful and dangerous.
“If you forgot to empty your pockets the Maelstromatic washer would turn all your bills blank… those were the days.”
Old people complain about how the new energy-efficient Maelstromatic appliances just aren’t as good as the ones that would trip the breaker most of the time and regularly burn their clothes.
GRC Labs (1938)
Someone’s gotta make that weird shit!! This universe has superior grappling hook technology and they have GRC Labs to thank. I’m gonna say it was developed for the military to infiltrate Nazi castles? That seems plausible. They had a scientist thinking outside the box, and inside the grappling hook.
So many supervillains…
They’re on such high alert now but it’s really hard to tell a mad scientist from a regular scientist. You’d think it would be obvious but the guy who’s obsessed with jetpacks is just a regular ol’ nerd. He monologues about jetpacks on the reg but he’s never tried to rob a bank or become a jetpack cyborg. He just loves jetpacks. Meanwhile that guy with the robot cat for the elderly nearly killed like thirty people. Shit’s unpredictable.
Computronic Machines (1965)
It was the sixties and everyone was making computers.
The Computronic Program-o-Mat was deeply unpopular despite having what was clearly a better name than any other home computer ever made.
Nerds these days lust after original Program-o-Mat cases to put new computers inside them and then make them run Doom.
They make decent consumer tech now. Desktops, laptops, phones. Boring stuff.
Computronic Machine Programs (1972)
They made decent niche technical software and that kept the whole division afloat quite frankly.
Contemporarily they produce a lot of security software and apps, and have even released specialized forks of certain operating systems.
These days the most well-known software to come out of this division is CB Chat, a hyper-secure and super-encrypted chat program because Bruce wanted one. It is popularly assumed that this was because he did not trust Snapchat with his nudes. He has never disputed this.
They will never change their name. Never.
Telelectroscope (2003)
Internet and cable service provider.
Keeps getting sued by other ISPs for making their prices so low. It’s not fair!! They’re trying to put us out of business!! Wah!!!
This was pretty much the first thing Bruce did when he became CEO because his internet at the mansion was garbage and he was mad about it.
Spite: A Valid Way To Run A Business Since 1864
… i can’t think of anything else to add to this list. am i… am i done? am i free?
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The DIRTY DIRTY Tea 🍵👀
I did the preface to this post as there are thousands here on the blog. Many are avid participants and then there are hundreds that are watching and reading. I am going to say this now and heed my words: If you are here because you are in love with Zak, feel he is something you idolize or just are blind to how actual humans are then stop now. This blog was not easy to create for me. Why do I keep going? The more girls that see this blog and run the other direction from Zak is worth it. There are those girls (to many to count) that want to hook up with Zak cause he is a celebrity crush. They get flown in by Zak for a weekend then are on a plane home. They move on with that memory. However, there are many girls that believe they are the one and only dating him. Its a web of manipulation and verbally abusive behavior that impedes their mental health. They get “screwed” over literally and sideways from him. As for Holly, she is almost 40 so IMO if Zak wants to screw her over till the end of time I really don’t care! Why? She has 20 years at least on Zak’s preferred flavor of girls. She has sniffed, sucked, fucked, blown, and done probably everything sexually and for money. So here we go...again...do not read if you are going to freak out. I will put my commentary in ( ).
1. So the girl that contacted me gave me all the receipts you could want: photos, plane ticket, phone number, etc...she was on point. She did ask NOT to show them as she does want to maintain her privacy. As always this is verified and you all that have been here a long time know my credibility (<--Bad GA pun). We here at the blog did catch her in a Zak IG story and I will leave it at that.
2. She @ him on social media and he slid right into her DM’s. He right away asked how old she was and where she was from. (I never can get out of my mind the “U in Vegas” line that he does often- TDB). Quickly it went to phone and text conversations. She is under the age of 21 and really pretty with a rockin’ body.
3. A few weeks later she was on a plane to see Zak for the weekend. He bought her the plane ticket and Bacon picked her up from the airport in the Rolls. She knew going into the situation that it was going to be a hook up so no illusion of a relationship. She was transported to the house and she stayed in the guest room (the infamous room where the girls always stay except Rosie was in the master-TDB) She also confirmed that he does not sleep in the master bedroom and never got to see his actual room he sleeps in. (We all know it is the one room with no windows-TDB) She felt odd in the house like she wasn’t allowed to roam around but did find it weird that Zak was in the master bedroom in the morning with all the windows open just looking out to the pool. She also did mention that she had to shut the door to her room so that Gracie wouldn’t shit or pee in the room since she will do that. (We all know here that it was confirmed Zak let Gracie shit and pee all over his master bedroom bed after the Rosie debacle. He has now turned that bedroom into a gym.-TDB)
4. Right when she got to the house it was right to having sex. He put NOOOOoooo effort into it, she was on top the whole time, and he didn’t take off his clothes. So yeah his glasses were on and he laid there like a slug while she did all the work. He did “direct” her to “get on top of him” or “suck on it.” She never got to choose what to do and always on top doing the work. Did she “get off?” HELL NO. He didn’t even try. Gracie was in the room the entire time watching and whining.
5. He did not use protection. (She did get tested when she got home and she is fine-TDB) He never asked her about her life or showed any interest in getting to know her at all.
6. The butt of the story. Yes, Zak loves butt and wanted to do anal really bad but she said no she wouldn’t do that butttttttttttttttt he did eat out her butt. (que those spitting out their tea right now-TDB)
7. They went to the museum a lot but he never introduced her to anyone. She had to do that herself since it felt like she was one of many that he brought there so she introduced herself to those there. She felt like they were giving her looks like “oh here is another young girl that Zak brought to work today” Kinda like show and not tell.
8. He talked badly about exes including Tay (the fitness girl) stating she was really into herself and he couldn’t take it anymore so he eventually ended it. (Now we know it went on a little longer than we thought so definitely Ashley/Tay were cross overs for a while. Sorry Ash if you are ready this. -TDB) He did mention about Tana and showed her IG page to the girl, but didn’t speak badly of her. (That is freakin’ odd-TDB)
9. The timing of her Zak weekend is a possible crossover with him “dating” Holly. He did proposition the girl recently while he did his last trip so yeah Zak is still out there “prowling” while “dating” Holly. (Sucks to be almost 40 and Zak is boinking those 18-22 eating their butts like a hungry wolf -TDB)
10. The weekend in her opinion was not fun and they barely hooked up more than a couple of times. Zak kept saying he “didn’t feel good” or was tired and that is why he didn’t put effort into it. (We all know Zak never makes an effort so he gives that line - TDB) However, when Zak wanted to have sex he was demanding and of course directing her on what he wanted her to do. (annoying- TDB)
11. He did mention Detroit and how horrible his life was there and if he hadn’t moved then he would be in jail or caught up in other bad things. (We all know he did spend time briefly in jail. - TDB) He mentioned that he doesn’t drink or do drugs since he had a problem with it in the past. She did think it was weird he had a full bar though! Other than that he talked about himself, the show, and the museum. BORING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
12. She stated that he IS a huge GERMAPHOBIC (Yeah but eats butts who knew? - TDB) and it was super annoying. He also is a huge HYPOCHONDRIAC and he wouldn’t even walk into certain places in the museum if under construction without freaking out that he was ingesting glue fumes. (I know this is so true. He freaks out if anyone sneezes around him and will ask you a zillion times if you are sick - TDB) The feeling that she got as well is Zak is afraid to age or have an aging body.
Overall, she had the weekend and moved on from it but she cringes thinking about the Holly crossover, his proposition while recently on the trip while dating Holly, the boring weekend, lackluster sex and that who Zak is in real life.
EDIT: CLARIFICATION
Just to clarify something as I am getting flooded with DM’s asking me my insight about why he doesn’t use protection. Zak does use protection (condoms) but I have noticed its with the older generation of women. My theory is based on hundreds under 25 that have stated no protection and those over that age that said he did use condoms. In his warped mind they are young and haven’t been “around the block” so more likely safe from diseases. That is just my take on it all! - TDB
#zakbagans#dirtyblog#zak bagans#ghostadventures#ghost adventures#submission#thedirtyblog#dirty blog#the dirty blog#[email protected]
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Six Sentence Sunday
Thank you for the tag, @thehoneyedhufflepuff! I actually have some stuff to post today.
Way more than six sentences...
Quarantine (This is the beginning, there’s more written but it’s not finished yet...)
SIMON
Baz comes into the room and slams the door with such force, the photo of his family falls off the wall. He glares at it like it insulted him and leaves it lying on the floor. He storms into the bathroom without looking at me and slams that door, too.
I sigh. It’s going to be a long indefinite time.
Indefinite time. That’s what they told us about this. We’d be stuck in our rooms, with only our roommates, for indefinite time. A “quarantine,” they’re calling it, to stop the spread of some heinous virus that is making half of England sick. Half the world sick, even. We’d heard about it, mainly from family members writing worried letters, but the Mage kept saying it wouldn’t touch us here. Then a few kids tested positive, and suddenly he changed his tune and implemented a quarantine. Now we’re supposed to stay shut in here, starting, well, now. Our meals will be magically delivered outside our doors. We aren’t supposed to leave our rooms. Some of the students who don’t have a private bathroom like Baz and me can only go to the bathroom at scheduled times. That seems terrible.
But not as terrible as being shut up in here with an angry nemesis. It will be a miracle if the anathema doesn’t get us, because I’m sure he’s already cooked up a scheme to get rid of me and blame the virus. Or an accident. Or a natural disaster. Who knows what his diabolical mind has come up with.
And if not, I’m not sure I can put up with his drama.
I settle onto my bed and try to read my textbook. He comes out of the bathroom after a while, smelling like cedar and bergamot. I roll my eyes and stare at the book, though I think I’ve been reading the same paragraph for the last ten minutes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him sit heavily on his bed. He sighs deeply, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, then flops down on his back, throwing an arm over his eyes.
That’s what I’m talking about. Drama.
I’m bored as fuck. We’re only a day and half into the quarantine-of-indefinite-time, and I’m losing my mind. For one thing, these “magical meals” never have more than one scone per person, which is sheer madness. And Baz doesn’t even eat his. He throws it away. It drives me insane. How can he throw away perfectly delicious scones?
To be honest, I haven’t seen him eat at all yet. He seems to wait until I’m in the shower, or asleep, to consume food. But I’ve seen the scones in the trash. Last night, while he was in the shower (we’re showering a lot. We’re bored), I took one of them out of the trash and ate it. It was still perfectly good, and it’s foolish to waste food. Being in the care home taught me that.
I still really hope he doesn’t notice, though. He’ll never let me live it down.
Also (back to the quarantine), I don’t really like reading all that much, and since the Mage has his no-technology rule, there’s literally nothing else to do. The teachers sent up some homework, which Baz immediately dove into, but I just can’t get interested. I find myself wishing on the regular that Baz and I were on cordial enough terms to play a card game, or at least have a civil conversation, but neither of us has spoken for at least 24 hours, unless you count all the times he’s sucked his teeth or told me to fuck off for making any noise. I think he’s trying as hard as he can to forget I’m here. Several times I’ve been so bored, I’ve intentionally started to make noise just to rile him up. Once I started humming. He told me to fuck off. Once I started clicking a pen. He threw his pen at me. Once I yawned loudly, not even trying to annoy him, and he snarled so fiercely it made me jump.
“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” I’d muttered. He hadn’t deigned to reply.
Finally I can’t take any more. I leap out of bed - Baz looks up involuntarily and then tries to pretend like he didn’t - and head over to the CD player. We never use it, probably because we both know that any music either of us puts on will just cause a row. But whatever. Let Baz kill me. Let the anathema take us both. I don’t even care anymore. I’m so bored.
I look through our dusty stack of CDs. They magically appear every so often, probably so the students don’t completely mutiny because of the whole no-technology-thing. Except I suspect they’re not actually very up to date. We’ve got Kanye. We’ve got the Chainsmokers. We’ve got Lil Nas X and Billie Eilish and Ed Sheeran. I have no idea when any of them were released. I find one I’ve never heard of (I’ve never heard of a lot of them, since the CDs are the only way to keep up with music trends, and Baz and I don’t use them). Odesza. Screw it, I think, and I put it on.
Baz is clearly pretending none of this is happening. He stares at his textbook and writes in his notebook all the more vehemently. I turn my back on him and let the music take over. It’s got a nice beat, and it’s both sensual and dancy at the same time. Without meaning to, I’m letting my body pick it up. I start moving.
I don’t know how long I dance. I forget Baz is there (which is rather incredible, because I never forget Baz). I forget we’re in quarantine. I forget everything and just let the music course through me, moving however I feel inspired to.
I remember everything when I finally turn around with my eyes open. (I realize then that I’ve been dancing with my eyes closed for a while. I also realize that I’m sweating a little, and apparently I took off my jumper a while ago, and am just wearing my school trousers and a white t-shirt that I outgrew at least a year ago. I don’t know when I took off the jumper.)
Baz is staring at me.
I wonder if he’s been staring at me for a while, because his book has fallen sideways on his lap, and his pen is hanging slack in his hand.
I feel myself blush, because there’s nothing worse than dancing like no one’s watching when, in reality, one’s nemesis is watching. But then I decide not to let him spoil my good time. I hold his gaze and start moving again.
And here are a few sentences from my upcoming installment to “Rain,” which is a bunch of ficlets about Ari and Dante which I’ve been updating frequently since being stuck in the house!
ARI
Dante is shaking and sobbing. I hold him close, wrapping myself around him as thoroughly and carefully as I can. I hate that his ribs are broken, and that his whole body is in so much pain.
I hate that his heart is in so much pain. And I hate the boys that did this.
He’s crying so hard, I know it must hurt his ribs. But he can’t seem to stop. I keep stroking his back, his hair. I let one hand slide down his arm and weave my fingers with his. I’m not even thinking about what I’m doing right now. I’m too overwhelmed.
“Ari?” he manages to choke out.
“What, Dante?” I breathe. My heart feels like it’s going to explode, and I’m feeling so many conflicting things I can’t even know what emotion it is that’s threatening to destroy it.
“I want you to stop.” He pulls away weakly. I don’t want to let him, but I do.
“Stop what?”
He won’t look at me. Since when does Dante Quintana look away? He’s not himself. They broke more than his ribs. I feel like screaming.
“Stop touching me,” he whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him.
I feel like everyone I follow for fanfic has been tagged! @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @sharkmartini @angelsfalling16 I don’t even know who else...if you haven’t and you want to participate don’t be shy!
#snowbaz#can you tell i love dancing#aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe#aaddtsotu
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