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albatmobile · 5 months

Note

I need another fic where jayroy x reader is in the league for… reasons 🫣

I also now need this 😫

the other fic (x)

a conundrum of redheaded proportions

next: [2] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4k includes: misunderstandings, confessions, selectively mute!reader, blow jobs, vaginal sex, deep throating, praise kink, spitroasting, begging, lots of smut y'all ur welcome, voyeurism, jealousy, Justice league AU

𓅪 previous hookup fem!reader x jason todd, eventual fem!reader x roy harper, eventual fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

my Hero OC! Cardinal comes from this series: tumblr [1] [2] | ao3

It's a well-known fact amongst The League that you like redheads.

From your first fling with Wally, drunken kiss with Kori, to your summer romance with Kate and that one-time thing with Jason back when his locks were more fiery than his personality, you’ve always seemed to gravitate towards red.

Hell, he’d even heard rumors that you’d been in a threesome with Babs and Artemis on your mission to Themyscira a summer or so ago.

What Roy can’t figure out is why you’ve never even talked to him let alone looked at him.

Is he a defective redhead or something?

Just approach her, they said.

Just introduce yourself, they said.

Well, he’s fucking tried.

You aren’t one to talk in uniform and only the redheads in the league, excluding Roy, know what you look like underneath your infamous, skin-tight burgundy vinyl.

And then, there you are.

Right in front of him.

Roy doesn’t realize his breath’s stopped until his head begins to feel faint and he’s forced to gulp in air desperately like Spongebob in that one episode.

And then you’re walking toward him.

Jason shifts beside him, but Roy’s more focused on you.

Your hips sway hypnotically with each purposeful step you take closer, pulling Roy deeper into your unforgiving trance.

Your hand makes a tiny wave, so tiny Roy’s sure if he blinked he’d miss it, right at him.

No fucking way.

Roy’s hand shoots up with a nervous wave back that stills as soon as you shoot him a questioning head tilt. He hears the leather of Jason’s jacket shift from behind him and looks just in time to see his friend finish waving at you.

Roy isn’t salty.

“There’s no way she’s hot under that shit,” He mutters lowly to his friend once you’ve passed by.

Roy’s salty.

“I fucked her,” Jason says the statement like it’s an actual response and not just a blatant brag.

“Yeah,” Roy huffs, focusing back on packing up his gym bag, “so?”

“So,” Jason quirks a knowing brow. “You dissing my taste in women?”

“No!” Roy cries out, then slumps back against the locker room bench with a groan. “Is there something wrong with me, Jay? Am I the ugly one?”

“What does your mug being a mess have to do with her?”

Jason’s never had a quiet voice. His baritone growl always demanded attention whether he meant it to or not. Unfortunately for Roy, this time it seems to have attracted your attention because your usual confident gate stutters just slightly enough for Roy to take notice.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Roy smacks Jason in the arm, yelping slightly when he retaliates with full force.

“Jesus, dude. You tryin’ to kill me, or something?” Roy groans.

“You tryin’ to offend me, or something?” Jason mocks him.

Roy finishes zipping up his bag with a dramatic zip and huff. “Course not. Sorry, Jaybird.”

Another quick hit to Roy’s already undoubtedly bruised arm.

“Not here,” Jason’s nose wrinkles easily at the offending nickname.

Roy watches as he looks towards all the hidden cameras in the room, something they’d both mapped out within the first few days of being welcomed aboard the Watchtower.

“For sure,” Roy nods distractedly as he catches a glimpse of Barry’s outfit and briefly mistakes it for you. “Sorry, I‘m just out of it today.”

“So I see,” Jason raises an easy brow.

“Nothing gets passed you now, eh?” Roy tries to joke but Jason only returns him with a knowing, read: asshole-ish, look like he’s already figured Roy out and, hell, he probably has. He catches a whiff of his uniform and winces, picking distastefully at the fabric on the chest of his sweaty Arsenal getup. “Fuck off, man. Let’s just eat so we can get the fuck out of these monkey suits.”

𓅪𓅪

The cafeteria is nearly empty at this hour, Roy notes with a pleased hum. He quickly becomes distracted, however, by the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen.

Algie and Rita are behind the counter again tonight, so Roy knows the food’s going to be fire.

“Ladies,” Roy wriggles his brows at the elderly women playfully. As a result, they award him with an extra scoop of mashed potatoes.

Jason greets them politely before following behind Roy to the closest table.

It’s always quiet around this hour, though it doesn’t mean heroes are necessarily holed up asleep in their rooms. Mission stragglers, graveyard shift Watchtower workers and heroes zeta-tubing in for their debriefs are constantly ongoing.

In quiet moments like this, though, Roy really does feel like it’s just him and Jay in space.

“So, you going to tell me what’s been bugging you tonight?” Jason asks though Roy thinks he already knows.

Roy glances around the empty cafeteria, save for a single table taken in the way back, before leaning in to whisper anyway. “It’s that chick.”

He shoots Roy an unimpressed look, “Chick, seriously?”

Roy sighs, pushing around the mashed potatoes on his tray, “I’m not gonna say her name when you already know.”

Jason simply hums in response as he unlocks and removes his helmet to eat.

Roy has never been quiet when it comes to the people he’s interested in and, sure, that’s how it started off with you, but you’re different.

No, literally, you don’t speak.

Not that you can’t, per se, just selectively and never to Roy.

Except one time. Your first mission alone with him.

Roy was usually unable to understand your movements, signals and signs outside the costume (not that you were ever caught dead on the Watchtower out of costume). After all the years of battling side by side on missions, Roy knows your battlefield code like the back of his hand.

Slight shift of your head to the right: back you up, shift to the left: back up, all the way down to your cute little hand movements that call out battle strategy.

Quiet but mighty. Never one to mess with.

Roy knows firsthand.

The one thing he’d never known until that one time, though? Your voice.

It was during the midst of a battle with Enchantress and Gorilla Grodd. You and Roy had been put in charge of reconnaissance for team Alpha when a henchman strayed way too close to the tree Roy was stationed behind.

You’d clicked your comm button three times to alert Roy, but it was already too late.

The guard startled and went for his radio, forcing Roy to draw an arrow. Though the hit itself was quiet, the thud of the man’s armored body was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the general vicinity.

Cutely enough, you turned to Roy, watching as he drew his bow and nodded to you as you got into a defensive position.

He then proceeded to watch you take on tens of henchmen at a time, disarming their guns before they could even aim them. It was a shame that Roy’d been so preoccupied with your safety, no, namely distracted by the way the shiny material of your suit stretched across your huge ass, to focus on protecting himself.

Up until that point, everything had been going smoothly. That is, until-.

“ROY!”

You weren’t supposed to use names other than alias’ out of the field, but your slip-up had seemed so unintentional he didn’t need to see underneath the mask to know you were panicking. He could hear your regret in your loud silence for allowing your voice to slip through and leak into the chilly night air.

Your body crashed into his with such a ferocious force, that he had no choice but to shift out of the way. He hit the ground and you landed on top of him just in time for him to avoid the deadly ray of Enchantress’ incantation.

You, however? Not so much.

By jumping in front of Roy, you’d taken the brunt of the attack practically head-on.

The shock of hearing his name from you lasted mere milliseconds before you were on the ground, screaming bloody murder under the intense pain from the spell you’d just saved Roy from. He’d never thanked you for taking a proverbial bullet of kinds for him, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t at least tried. You’d been conveniently absent from the post-mission debrief and, after checking out the empty med bay, Roy hung around outside the women’s locker room long enough to get booted by a wary Supes.

Eventually, Roy gave up trying to catch you and, thus, his ‘thank you’ went unsaid.

And now, here you are. Again.

Seeing you twice in one night, Roy feels like he’s hit the jackpot.

Jason, being the asshole he is, waves you over as soon as his eyes catch yours.

Your thick thighs move languidly, shifting from side to side with each tantalizing sway of your perfect figure.

You’re stunning.

Roy clears his throat, coming back down to the present moment just in time for Jason to… introduce the two of you to each other. Huh?

Jason and Roy are the only ones in the cafeteria, Algie and Rita having reverted back to stirring pots in the back kitchen.

It’d be weird if they made you sit alone, right?

Right?

That has to be why Jason is doing all of this.

Your flashy red stops right in front of him before he has a chance to think further on the topic.

At this point, you’re close enough that your enchanting perfume has slowly started to invade his senses. Your scent quickly takes complete hold over him, making you the only thing he can focus on.

At Roy’s silent staring, Jason clears his throat, ”Roy, meet Cardinal. Cardinal, Roy.”

Even behind the security of his domino mask, Roy can practically see the mirth in the outlaw’s emerald eyes.

Roy’s completely lost for words.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem to be an issue with you very much being in the same boat.

He watches your every minute movement diligently so as not to miss this crucial moment. His eyes openly flick over your curves while your attention is diverted toward the raven-haired man next to you.

It’s been years since Roy’s been this close to you and he can’t help but greedily drink your hypnotizing presence down to the last drop like a fucking dog. If Elastic Man and Booster Gold hadn’t been occupying the only other table in the cafeteria, Roy would take you right here and now, Jason’s voyeur-ass be damned.

Roy watches as you huff slightly and shoulder his best friend’s arm lightly. Jason laughs easily at the cute contact, leaving Roy to wish he knew you well enough to be in on the joke too.

Well, to be honest, he just wishes he knew you period.

Roy clears his throat, going along with unnecessary niceties by extending his hand out to you with a false confidence he definitely wasn’t feeling. “What’s up, babe?”

Your head continues to face him head-on. He’s pretty sure if he could see anything under the mask you’d be wearing a deadpan stare.

You two have known of each other for years, working alongside each other the entire time- why are you being introduced to Roy and why is he acting like a douche?

He watches you turn to Jason and point at yourself then your head then Roy and Jason seems to understand immediately.

“Yeah, well I figured I’d just properly introduce you guys,” He runs a sheepish hand through his grey streak. “I don’t know,” He trails off with a sexy laugh that has even Roy fawning over him.

Roy really doesn’t stand a chance with Jason here.

Fuck.

Roy supposes you shoot him another deadpan glare because Jason, honest to god, giggles.

Fuck.

How is Roy supposed to compete with Jay’s rugged attractiveness when Roy’s shorter with half the game?

What happened to the awkward Jason Roy’d met all those years prior?

No, seriously-

Jason had always been an awkward fuck, but for some reason, it seemed to work for him. Roy, on the other hand, was spontaneous, loud, over-the-top and seemed to drive off every promising prospect in sight, namely you.

You give Roy a timid wave that has Jason raising a brow, but Roy just responds earnestly. “Big fan of your work, Cardinal.” Roy leans in across the table to get closer to you before he can stop himself, “Even bigger fan of that suit, beautiful.”

He watches as your arms subconsciously move to cover your stomach and instantly backs off when Jason pushes him back into his seat. “You’ll have to excuse my friend. He hasn’t gotten laid since he’s been sober.”

He hears your tiny ‘oh’ whispered into the quiet of the cafeteria and nearly loses it.

He wants you.

He needs you.

“It’s true. I’m pathetic.” Is what he ends up choking out.

Your head tilts at him with your hand floating to where your mouth is hidden under your vinyl confines. You look Jason’s way again before Roy hears your melodic giggle. He swears the gates of heaven have opened, he can practically hear the harps now, as he watches the little shakes in your shoulders move in time with the angelic noise.

Saint Peter, Roy pleads with whatever fuckers are out there, please call my fucking name. Preferably soon… No, preferably now while you’re still amused by his obnoxious, whore-like behavior.

“Would you want to sit?” Jason motions to the chair you’re standing behind which sits right between Jason and Roy. You glance down at your tray which has a grab-n-go sandwich on it from one of the fridges right next to the food counter then back up at Roy. “It’s cool if not. I know idiot over here can be a lot.”

“Hey, I resent that.”

“I’m sure you do, buddy,” Jason says, picking lightly at his chicken before finally taking a bite.

Jason always said the food here was good, but Roy knows it’s nothing compared to Alfred’s cooking back home.

Your giggling cuts off their old-married couple banter just like that. In fact, your laughter draws the attention of both men at the table so instantaneously, that neither has time to cover up their reactions to the unfamiliar sound they’ve been lucky enough to hear twice now tonight.

Jason’s fork freezes momentarily on the way to his mouth before he quickly moves as if it’d never happened. Roy, on the other hand, remains completely stupefied by your captivating, seemingly effortless charm.

He knows deep down that there’s no way you’ll actually stay, though it doesn’t stop him from fantasizing about you ripping off your mask for him to take in what’s been forbidden for all these years.

Part of him still holds out hope that, because it’s just him and Jason, you’ll actually do it, that you’ll actually give in and stay. Maybe the ripping off the mask is a bit too extreme, Roy mentally berates himself. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll lift the mask up past your nose and, at the very least, maybe you’ll just stay.

He watches with bated breath as you glance down at the seat only to have his stomach sink seconds later when you shake your head. You pick up your sandwich and motion with your head toward the exit.

Your continued lack of verbal response further proves there’s no way you’d ever even think about lifting up your mask to eat with Roy here.

He is defective.

“No worries,” Roy waves you off with a jerky, then overly casual nature.

Holy fuck, why can’t he just act normal around you?

“We’re usually in here around this hour if you ever do want to meet up,” Jason adds helpfully. Roy’ll be sure to thank him later for it. That is, right after he finishes kicking his ass for putting him through this embarrassment. “It’s usually just us down here at this hour anyway, it’d be nice to catch up.”

You nod eagerly at both of them, leaving Jason to laugh.

Roy watches you rub anxiously at your forearm only to spur into action when your tray nearly goes tumbling because of it. You catch the sandwich easily and Roy catches the tray before it can even get close to the ground, but that doesn’t stop you from bending down too.

At the sight of the tray safe in his hand, you, still bent over, look up, causing your noses to bump.

“I can take care of you,” Roy’s grave voice is nearly a whisper in the quiet of the large room. You gasp slightly and startle backward, causing Roy to backtrack in a slightly higher-pitched voice. “They tray, I mean.” He clears his throat until his voice reaches its normal timbre, “I can take care of the tray for you.”

You seem to be momentarily frozen much to Roy’s surprise, though it doesn’t last for long. Soon, you’re nodding distractedly, backing away from their table all the while.

With your wrapped sandwich in one hand, you use the other to give a hasty thumbs up.

Roy waves you off with a defeated smile, bidding you a cursory goodnight.

Then you’re turning on your heel, speeding for the exit at a pace even Wally wouldn’t be able to keep up with.

He fucked up.

Neither he nor Jason can pull their eyes off you as you saunter away.

Roy bites down harder on his chapped, bottom lip with each stomp of your heels as it jiggles your infamous cheeks in the process. Damn, what Roy wouldn’t do to get his hands on as much of your ass as he could manage. He knows there’s no way your ass would fit in the palms of his hands but, damn, if the thought alone doesn’t leave him drooling.

He doesn’t even notice the tent forming in his lap until Jason shoots him an unimpressed stare.

“You’ve got it bad, bro,” Jason mutters into his water glass.

𓅪𓅪

Roy does have it bad.

So bad that he makes his best friend take care of the raging boner you’d left him with.

Jason wasn’t lying when he said Roy hadn’t been laid since he’d sobered up around two years ago, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t jacking it almost every night. He’s found that the showers between the hours of four and five am are a safe haven for him to quickly get off, but tonight he needs something more.

Tonight’s different.

Roy presses Jason against the tiled wall and fucks into his tight ass all while imagining your wet pussy and fucked-out face. Roy comes embarrassingly fast, something Jason doesn’t let slide. He puts Roy to work, forcing his dick down his throat with a rough hand gripping his fiery hair until he comes all over Roy’s freckled face with a grunt.

It’s good and fine and whatever… Jason’s extremely attractive- that’s not the issue.

The issue is he’s not you.

Jason takes one look at Roy’s constipated face and sighs, wiping gently at the remaining beads of come on the tip of his cock with Roy’s discarded boxers.

“Just talk to her,“ He says before leaving Roy to drown under the stream of his post-nut misery.

𓅪𓅪

He’s rounding the corner to his dorm room in his towel when he runs right smack into you and you’re…

“Holy shit,” Roy can’t help the airy moan that escapes at the sight of you in a loosely tied silk robe- only a silk robe.

You’re breathtaking.

Your billowing hair, gleaming eyes and, overall, sinful features leave Roy’s mouth hanging open. Speaking of mouths, your supple, pouty lips are screaming at Roy to slip his dick between them and choke you with his length until he sees tears in the corners of your sex-doll eyes.

Even in the fluorescent lights of the Watchtower hallways, your skin softly glows, radiating deep down into Roy’s bones.

He needs to get his hands on you.

Your features all meld together perfectly in a way that makes sense and he wonders how he ever could’ve imagined you to look any other way.

You tilt your head at him but don’t make to pass. It’s like you’re captivated by his captivation and, if anything, it only serves to captivate Roy further.

You seem somewhat startled, though it’s obvious you’re trying to hide it. Roy wishes he could control his reaction, he really does, but you don’t know what you’re doing to him. Your startled face steadily shifts, leaving Roy to wonder if maybe you do. Maybe you know exactly what kind of effect you’re having on him.

The teasing glint in your eyes seems to point to the latter and it’s making Roy weak in his already wobbly knees.

The sight of your costumed-self in the past has been enough to render him speechless. Now you’re here, standing in front of Roy’s rabid form with your robe steadily slipping from your silky shoulder and further down your bicep.

Needless to say, the one-on-one contact with you is dizzying. It’s as if he’s drowning in the thick syrup of your honey-sweet figure without you ever having uttered a word other than his name.

A succubus of sorts, for sure.

You’re hypnotizing and Roy knows he’s yet to pick his jaw up off the floor but can’t bring himself to stop.

A steady breeze tickles at his mid-drift and it’s then he realizes he’s also forgotten to pick up his fucking towel in the process.

While Roy’s been completely stupefied by your ethereal features, you’ve been staring at his half-mast cock with an unreadable look. Roy inwardly groans when he realizes that Jason would probably know what it meant, but erases the thought as soon as it pops into his head.

Roy looks down at his freckled, pink-tipped dick then back up at you; then back down again and back up.

“Jeez,” He scrambles to drop to the floor for the Justice League embroidered towels they supplied in the locker rooms. “Sorry,” His voice is thick with want as he squeezes his words out from behind a lump in his throat you’ve conveniently caused. “Didn’t see you there,” He says once he’s popped back up and secured his towel. “You alright?”

Your eyes flick down to his now completely erect cock that’s covered once again by his towel, then back up to his emerald eyes. He follows the motion self-consciously, eagerly awaiting your next move.

You’re a wild card to him. He can truly say you’re one of the few people he’s unable to read and one of the only people that he never knows what you’re going to do next.

You’re a captivating mystery; an enigma for Roy’s puzzle-loving brain to tirelessly work at. And here you are, revealing almost everything to him, while still revealing absolutely nothing.

You nod and he watches as a magnificent blush coats your cheeks, though not the ones he’s been carnally craving.

“Sorry,” Roy sputters again as you continue past him like nothing had even happened. Like Roy hadn’t been staring at you for two minutes straight.

You shake your head easily as if to say you don’t care, but Roy hopes you do.

You continue past him with your usual confident stride, leaving Roy to wonder how you can possibly expect him to move at all with the trance you’ve put on him. His wobbly knees struggle to remain upright as your silent padding grows more and more distant.

Your scent lingers in the air around him like a cruel reminder of what could’ve been.

When he’s finally able, he turns around to watch your ass jiggle further and further down the hall with a heavy heart and even heavier blue balls. His heart nearly stops when you actually turn around to see if he’s still there, only to blush and duck your head back around on account of his blatant staring.

And so, the chase continues.

A/N: i’ve fully fallen in love w my characterization of roy and i’m absolutely WRECKED about it ok? i hope u feel the same and let me know if u do! ALSO ok I wrote this back in March (before I broke my pinky lol) but I did edit recently, but if it sounds a bit off from my current stuff that’s why :,P

Important: Cardinal is not usually mute, I take a lot of her hero design from Black Bat and thought it would be cool to include another aspect of Cassandra's character, hence this!

[next] || ao3 || pinned || my ko-fi / tip jar

#answered #albatmobile prompts #albatmobile oc!cardinal #reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #x reader #my fic: redheaded conundrum

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Text

Pitching Tents

Summary: Ooof... *insert breathless spongebob meme here* Okay, so your co-stars Chris and Henry invite you along for a long weekend camping trip, and in the wilds of nature they let their inhibitions be set free.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader x Henry Cavill (MFM)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral Sex (female receiving), Oral Sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, threesome, spit roasts, fingering, grinding, handjobs, vaginal creampie, sloppy seconds, cockwarming, sex outdoors, anal sex, unprotected anal sex, anal creampie, anal sloppy seconds, degrading talk, zero inhibitions, no refractory period, aftercare, crack fic, utter filth, you. have. been. warned., and the worlds best camping table.

Only the finest free range, organic typos, allowed to run wild and free.

I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you will get an alert every time i post something new. Masterlist got too big for tumblr, so past works can also be found at angryschnauzerwrites or on my AO3.

A/N: Don’t @ me yelling about RPF. This is utter fantasy. You know that, i know that. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. However i do feel i have included enough of each actor to satisfy both sets of fans. Enjoy the filth you dirty sluts.

Pitching Tents

Sitting in the dressing room having your makeup removed you laughed and joked with Chris and Henry, your co-stars. Finally you were prosthetic free and your FX makeup artist left, leaving you to listen as the two men chatted away;

“So all set for our camping trip this weekend Chris?” Henry asked as he wiped off fake blood from his cheek

“Can’t fucking wait Henry, three whole days of beers, fishing, and doing fuck all” Chris turned to you and smiled; “So, whata’ you doin this weekend?”

Sighing you took a sip of water;

“Probably just bingeing Netflix with a family sized bag of chocolate”

“Why don’t you come camping with us?”

Henry suggested lightly, and at his suggestion your head snapped up;

“Really? I’ve never camped in my life! I’ll just cramp your style for your boys weekend. I’ve never even pitched a tent”

“Oh don’t worry, me and Hen have got all the equipment you could need for that” Chris assured you, but you missed the sly wink he shot to Henry.

The campsite was beautiful. On private land it was amazing what being one of Hollywoods biggest stars could get you into, and as Chris had pulled his truck over the gravel both you and Henry were impressed with the stunning location. You’d had little to do as they put the tent up, and as the sun had started to set the beers had been cracked open and the campfire glowed. Whether it was the fresh air, the beer, or the busy work schedule you all had, you were turning in just as the sun had fully set. Curling up underneath the pile of blankets and quilts that’d been thrown on the air mattress, you were quickly fast asleep before either of the men had climbed in beside you.

The bright morning sunlight shone in through the thin fabric of the tent waking you, and as you pulled yourself from sleep you smiled at the two men seemingly still fast asleep either side of you. As much as you wanted to stay in the warmth of the blankets you needed to pee, so carefully and silently you pulled yourself out of the cocoon and slipped a discarded flannel shirt on, unsure if it was Henry’s or Chris’s, either way it swamped you and covered your panties and cami you’d worn to sleep in.

As soon as they’d heard the zipper of the tent close Chris had cracked an eye open to glance at Henry, a smirk on his face as he was greeted with an identical grin.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Chris whispered

“Yeah, you’ve seen her eyeing each of us, i think she’ll be up for some fun”

“You ready?”

“Dude, i have woken up with the biggest morning wood” Henry grinned

“Me too… so how’re we gonna do this?”

“I’m thinking the sleepy roll and cuddlespoon method ”

“Yeah that’ll work” Chris paused as he heard your heavy footfalls approaching the tent, winking at Henry before the two of them feigned sleep.

With your teeth chattering from the chilly morning air you reluctantly pulled the flannel shirt off before silently sliding back under the blankets, shivering as your body attempted to warm up until suddenly a warm chest pressed to your back and a heavy arm was draped over your waist. Your eyes sprang open and breath caught in your throat as you processed Henry spooning behind you, quiet snores coming from his lips. Before you could think any more on what the man behind you was doing, Chris let out a sleepy sigh and rolled towards you, his face resting on your chest as his legs pressed against your own. With your lower limbs crushed between both mens you shifted a little, lifting one leg slightly only for Chris to hum in appreciation as his hand rested on your thigh and lifted your knee over his hip.

For just a few minutes as the shock and tension had subsided you relaxed into the warmth of being sandwiched between them, but as the temperature started to rise under the blankets you shifted and started to wriggle, and that’s when you felt the first one. The first nudge as Chris pressed himself to your core and you could feel what the internet had lost their collective minds for. A rush of breath left your body as you fought the dilemma between a friend unknowingly grinding against you with the feeling of just how good it felt. With just the thin cotton of your panties and his boxers separating your bodies, you screwed your eyes shut and ignored the guilty feelings for just a moment as Chris rubbed his impressive hard on the length of your slit. When one particular rub grazed against your clit you let out a gasp and without realising arched your back, pushing your ass into Henry and discovering he was having the same bodily issue Chris was. A sleepy murmur greeted you as Henry’s hot breath danced on your ear, before he pressed closer and you felt his fat dick rut into the crease of your ass.

Was either man aware of what the other was doing? Should you say something? As these thoughts plagued your mind they were interrupted as two pairs of lips started to find their way around your body, Henry softly kissing your neck as Chris hooked one finger into the neckline of your cami to allow him to gently suck a hardened nipple into his mouth.

“Oh fuck…”

Two sleepy ‘hmm’s replied, bodies starting to move in unison as they all sought friction, and when you felt Henry’s warm palm smooth over your thigh and ass you let out a groan as he dipped his hand between your legs from behind and his fingers found their way beneath the elastic of your underwear;

“Chris, she’s fucking soaked”

“Lemme feel…”

Suddenly another hand slid down your stomach and the front of your panties, an appreciative moan rumbling from the Bostonian’s chest as he used your slick juices to coat his finger before rubbing circles again your clit;

“So she is… that’s good, gonna need to be real wet for us Babe… Hen, how many fingers you got in her?”

“Two at the moment” the Brit said as he pumped those two thick digits into your velvet cavern; “She’s so fucking tight…”

“Give her another one, need to get her ready”

You felt Henry pull his hand out before adjusting his fingers, only to feel the delicious stretch and burn as he carefully inserted three of his thick digits into your tight entrance;

“You ready?” he asked Chris as he worked his fingers in and out of you, and with a fluid movement Henry had pulled his fingers from you and your panties down your thighs. Chris’s hands were on your hips, lifting you to straddle his waist before he pulled his boxers down and positioned his dripping cock at your entrance, waiting for you to take the final step.

With your fingers splayed against the hard plains of his chest you sank down on him, feeling the wide head of his cock split your walls apart, the stretch almost too much despite Henry’s fingers working you open just seconds before;

“Oh fuck… Chris…”

“That’s it Babe, ride me, let me feel you fuck yourself on my cock”

Letting your head fall back you closed your eyes as you started to ride Chris, lost in the moment until you heard the sound of Henry spitting on his hand. Looking over you saw how he had pushed the blankets back and was now fisting his angry red dick, watching you ride his friend. Whilst continuing to ride Chris you reached for Henry who wriggled close enough that you could wrap your hand around his hot shaft. He sat up and kissed you, his tongue pushing into your mouth and dancing against your own before he sat back with a contented sigh just as Chris started to fuck up into you;

“Feel so fucking good Babe”

“Chris… oh my god…”

“Gonna fill you up with my cum, wanna see it dripping out of you before it’s Henry’s turn”

At the mention of his name Henry grunted, licking his lips;

“Mmm sloppy seconds… gonna need it to fit me in that tight pussy”

As Chris’s thrusts started to get sloppy you rubbed at your clit, your orgasm washing over you before you felt Chris push his hips up and stutter, the twitching of his dick deep inside you prolonging your orgasm.

Only vaguely aware of Henry moving behind you, it was when his strong hands grasped your hips and lifted you off of Chris did you let out a squeal of surprise, before he set you down on your hands and knees and ran a thumb through your folds;

“Chris, you gotta see this”

With a groan Chris moved, looking at his thick white seed dripping from you before he settled back down beside you, arms behind his head.

Henry pressed his hand to your shoulders, pushing you down as he settled behind you, swiping the bulbous crown of his fat dick through your come soaked lips. You felt that notch as he lined himself up, and with a grunt he slowly pushed into you.

“Oh fuck…” Henry cursed; “From the way Chris fucked you i thought you’d be loose, but fucking hell you’re tight…”

You were panting with the overwhelming feeling of being stuffed full by Henry, your words punctuated by breaths;

“You’re… the… one… hung… like… a… fucking… horse… OH FUCKING HELL… SO GOOD”

Where Chris had length and an impressive curve, Henry had girth and a lot of it, the sucking sound of him plugging your pussy from behind filling the tent and audible over your yelps and moans.

“Love it when a girl is loud” Henry grunted from behind you, his hips digging roughly into your his as he punctuated each smooth thrust with a hard and deep halt, before doing it again. In front of you Chris moved, swinging one leg over your shoulders until your face was inches from his crotch and you felt his knuckle underneath your chin;

“Open up Babe”

Looking up you took in the sight of Chris sitting in front of you, his chest patterned with tattoos and coarse hair, his stomach firm yet soft now he no longer had to push his body to the limits of dehydration for Marvel. His dick was hardening as he watched Henry defile your body, and as he cupped your chin he guided your mouth open, gasping as your tongue and lips sucked on the mushroom head.

Just then Henry started to thrust in harder, his hips harsh as they snapped back and forth and you were reminded that even though he was 250lbs of solid muscle he had the grace of a ballet dancer with his agility. With each push it sent you forwards to take just a little more of Chris into your mouth, before both men were grunting as they spit roasted you like a spit roasted pig at a county fair.

Your senses were overwhelmed, from touch to taste to smell to sound, the atmosphere in the tent was overwhelming and your mind could barely process it through the pleasure that was coursing through your veins. Henry was pulling a fierce orgasm from you and fucking you straight through it, Chris getting close as he cupped his balls and with a groan unloaded thick streams of cum into your mouth. You swallowed what you could but there was so much some dripping down your chin with a steady trail of spit.

As Chris slipped out of your mouth Henry also pulled out, his strong arms flipping you over until he was on top of you, his mouth catching your own for a fierce kiss, no doubt able to taste Chris on your tongue but he was unbothered by that as he speared your body again. He widened his stance, his legs wide on the mattress as he ground his length into you, and you were completely surrounded by him as his teeth found your neck and he found your pressure points;

“That’s is Darling, let me feel you fall apart for me… felt so good squeezing my cock just a few moments ago, you can do it again, you feel so good…” he praised you as his hips worked serpent like magic between your thighs, the slow grind and push of his pelvic bone against your clit making you roar as your orgasm coursed through your body. You were thankful that the peak of your orgasm had passed when Henry finally reached his peak as to watch the man come undone was a sight of beauty; head thrown back, his mouth open as he let out a groan-come-howl, and you felt the violent spurts of him filling your womb with his cum.

When he was finally spent he bent down and kissed you, tongues and teeth before with a groan he pulled out and rolled to your side;

“You were amazing Darling”

“She was… and is” Chris added as he rolled towards you a kissed you softly, his beard tickling your face and making you smile; “I don’t know about you guys but i’m fucking starving now”

Having claimed the flannel shirt you’d worn earlier, that was all you wore as you curled up in a camping chair as Chris lit a campfire and started to make breakfast. Henry approached holding a steaming mug of coffee for you which you eagerly took, your teeth chattering as you started to regret not putting more clothing on;

“Cold? Scoot up and sit on my lap, i’ll keep you warm”

Quickly standing you let Henry take a seat in the camping chair before you sat on his lap, his body like a furnace even though he was just in sweats and a t-shirt. Sitting sideways on him he had one strong arm around your back, the other casually resting on your bare thigh as your legs were swung over the other side of the chair.

You sat and relished the warmth from his body, the three of you chatting about work when you felt Henry’s hand slide between your thighs. Glancing at his face his attention was trained on Chris, his poker face only cracking when you saw the corner of his mouth tug up in a tiny smirk, glancing at you as Chris turned away and cocking an eyebrow as his fingers found your slit.

“Shh” he quietly whispered as he slid two fingers into your soaked channel as his thumb found your clit, before he nonchalantly returned to the conversation with Chris. Soon you were writhing on his lap and you could feel the insistent nudge of his cock hard against your ass, so when Chris disappeared to the truck to grab stuff from the chiller Henry grinned at you;

“I need to be inside you… quickly…”

You stood and he pulled his sweats down just enough so his angry red cock sprang free, pulling you to sit on his lap, your legs closed as you stood between his outstretched thighs, and you slid down onto him, spearing your narrow channel with his girth. Chris wandered back holding the supplies;

“Eggs? Breakfast sausage?”

You heard Henry snort back a peel of laughter, and Chris paused, frowning;

“What are you two up to?”

“Chris, she’s already getting her breakfast sausage…” Henry lifted the shirt you wore and you parted your thighs, showing Chris what he was missing. The unmistakable twitch inside Chris’s sweats told you he was growing hard, and as you started to bound on Henry’s lap Chris simply leant and sat on the edge of the small camping table, squeezing himself through the fabric as Henry thrust up into you.

You let your cries and gasps drift on the wind as Henry slid one hand down your front and rubbed firm circles on your clit, his other hand cupping your chin and turning your head so he could kiss you, his stubble brushing against your cheek. He started to grunt and you could feel your orgasm sparking like electricity coursing through your veins, you were now so cock hungry you were begging for him to fill you up with another load of his cum as your body milked him.

With weary limbs you lay prone across Henry’s lap, a smile on your face as you glanced at Chris who’s eyes were dark with lust as his sweatpants were obscenely tented. Groaning as you pulled off of Henry, your legs wobbled as you closed the distance between you and Chris, kissing him fiercely as he held your body to his so you could feel his hardness pressing against your stomach;

“Betcha getting sore now…” he mused

“Kinda”

“Bend over the table, let me make you feel better…”

Stepping around the table you bent over it, pressing your chest to the smooth surface, grinning at Henry who was now sipping his coffee as he watched you and Chris with interest.

You heard the click of a bottle lid just as Chris flipped the shirt you still wore up so your naked ass was exposed completely, the cool trickle of oil over your buttocks followed by his warm palms smoothing the cooking condiment into your skin like a goddess at a Greek temple. His thumbs ran over the swollen lips between your thighs and the deep timbre of his voice resonated through you;

“Look at that, so much cum dripping out of you, our little fuck slut”

He slid two fingers into your pussy, before pulling them out and tracing them over your asshole, the oil helping the way as he breached your body and you let out a groan as he slid in easily. Moving his hand he managed to get his other two fingers into your pussy, stuffing both your holes before he grabbed the oil with his other hand and poured more onto your asshole, lubricating you for the inevitable.

You felt him pull his hand free and he quickly yanked his sweatpants down, the wide bulbous crown pressing against your oiled rose before with a grunt he pushed in and breached your body;

“So fucking good, gonna pump your ass full of cum then Henry can do the same… if he’s got another round in him” he shot a glance to Henry as did you, the Brit raising his coffee mug as he watched his friend plunder your asshole.

“Gonna finish my coffee, and if you’re not done by then Evans you’ll have missed your shot”

With the challenge set by Henry, Chris started to rail you hard, balls deep in your ass as the quiet sounds of nature seemed to come alive as it fed off the carnal energy in its presence, until finally with a scream you came, an intense anal orgasm making you squirt and cover Chris’s thighs, before with a guttural cry he pushed in balls deep and unloaded a thick stream of cum in your bowels.

You lay prone on the table, your body seemingly on fire as your mind was high on serotonin, watching through heavy lidded eyes as Henry stood and came round to stand behind you beside Chris.

Sucking in a breath Chris carefully pulled out, and the two men watched as a thigh glob of cum slowly slid from your gaping hole. Henry rubbed his thumb over your stretched ring as he pulled his sweats down;

“Gonna enjoy this… don’t normally get to fuck a girls ass, but if she’s already lubed and cum soaked i can just about squeeze in”

The blunt tip of his dick breached your body, and even though Chris wasn’t small, your body had to stretch even more to allow Henry’s girth into your dark passageway;

“So good… doing so well Darling…” Henry muttered as he smoothed his hands over your cheeks; “Fuck this is tight… not gonna last long…”

His powerful hips started to thrust into you, the suction of your body pulling him back in as he railed your asshole with you bent over the small table.

“C’mon Henry, fill that little slut up”

“Almost… fucking… there…” he replied through gritted teeth, before pushing forwards one last time, filling you with another load.

“Did you…”

“Nah, just getting to that…”

You were hanging on the precipice, your orgasm so close as Henry pulled out and flipped you over, getting to his knees as he buried his face in your pussy, sliding two fingers into each of your cum soaked holes as his wide tongue lapped at your clit and be brought you to one final mind blowing orgasm.

With everyone completely fucked out and sated, Henry wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you off the table and settled you on his lap, your body and mind overloaded from being fucked so well for so long. You quietly snoozed on his chest as Chris served breakfast, both men eating quietly as you slumbered, before an hour later you finally roused enough with your rumbling stomach to eat some toast.

Finally as they were clearing up you stood and stretched your limbs, before you quietly shed the now rather soiled borrowed shirt, and as naked as the day you were born you slowly walked into the lake, the cool waters lapping at your skin, soothing your muscles and washing away the evidence of your sin filled morning.

Floating and looking back at the two men as the finished up and started to undress, you smiled to yourself; for your first time camping it was certainly a trip to remember.

#chris evans x reader #henry cavill x reader #chris evans x reader x henry cavill #chris evans smut #henry cavill smut

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blissedoutphil · 3 years

Text

Tops Only Part 2

Dan’s favourite actor just opened a new bar right by the street near his apartment, and he couldn’t wait to check it out. One problem though, it was for Tops only, and Dan wasn’t one.

1389 words of Top!Phil, bottom!dan, AU where everyone’s born with a Type (top/bottom/switch)

There's a tiny part in here that was inspired by the Weenie Hut Jr episode of Spongebob. gotta love that classic

~Part 1~

or read on ao3!

“Thought you were gonna unstan him now.”

Dan rolled his eyes at Anthony’s remark, then went back to scrolling his tumblr. His post about how unfair Phil was with the bar had gained traction, and it was largely supported by his fellow Type. Though there were some Tops who grumbled about how people were taking things too seriously or tried to explain that it wasn’t unfair. Dan blocked those accounts. What do they know about unfair treatment?

Dan had asked Anthony to help with his plan B tonight: Perhaps they could let him in if he came with a Top. It would definitely irritate him if they allowed this, but at least he would be let in. Anthony easily agreed to try it out, so here they were waiting in line. He was a friend Dan didn’t deserve, always willing to indulge in Dan’s fanboying.

Dan had waited a couple of weeks, walking past the bar everyday but from across the road instead. He'd observed the different bouncers, trying to work out their schedules as he didn’t want to cross paths with the same one from his original attempt.

They stepped up to the new bouncer, who easily let Anthony through after they flashed their ID. But he held out a hand in front of Dan when Dan tried to quickly follow Anthony.

“Oh, I’m with him,” Dan reasoned.

“Still no can do buddy,” the bouncer stepped between him and Anthony.

“It’s okay I can take care of him,” Anthony spoke to the bouncer casually.

Inside, Dan hated the statement. He can take care of himself, thank you very much. But that’s just how the world worked and treated Types - Tops protect and care for their Bottoms. He understood where Anthony was playing at, so he played along and nodded with wide pleading eyes.

“Sorry,” the bouncer shook his head.

Dan frowned, but at least this bouncer was polite. Unfortunately though, he’d judged the guy too soon.

“I think you’d be better off in a Bottoms Only Bar,” the bouncer then suggested lightheartedly.

"Bottoms only?!" Dan repeated in surprise and seethed, “are you fucking kidding me?”

The bouncer shrugged unapologetically, swiftly moving on to the next person. Anthony shot Dan an apologetic look before he entered. Dan had prepared for this outcome, instructing Anthony to enter without him if he couldn’t so that he can bring back updates on what goes on inside that makes it so unacceptable for Dan to be let in.

Dan made his way back home begrudgingly, imagining himself opening a Bottoms Only Bar. See how Phil would like being excluded like this.

He sighed as he reached his door, shaking his head at his own thoughts. Why would Phil care about Dan’s made up Bottoms Only bar, he doesn’t even know who Dan is.

Dan entered his apartment and sprawled on his sofa, opting to scroll the internet while he waited for Anthony. The security at Phil’s bar was good, he read quite a number of fans’ posts on how they tried to sneak in not just through the bouncers but through any possible back doors. So far, nobody has had any luck still.

Anthony finally returned past 1am, startling Dan out of his accidental nap when he knocked on Dan’s door. Dan narrowed his eyes at Anthony when he opened the door.

“You didn’t need to be there that long,” Dan grumbled.

“Dude, it was...” Anthony was clearly very pumped up and tipsy after a good night out but he quietened, not wanting to make Dan feel bad about being unable to enter.

“Just tell me,” Dan groaned, slumping back on his sofa.

So Anthony related the events of his night. How there were Bottom waiters enticing the guests while serving their dessert and drinks. Giving them a show and dancing with the Tops, even getting sexual with those who gave extra tips.

“Did you like… get it on with a waiter or what?” Dan said judgmentally.

Anthony shrugged playfully, “The opportunity presented itself…”

Dan fake retched at Anthony’s confession, and got a playful punch on his shoulder in return.

It was clear from what Anthony told him that the bar really was catered for Tops only. That still didn’t satisfy Dan, though.

“He could’ve made an all-inclusive bar,” he pouted.

Anthony sighed empathically but he countered softly, “Well, it’s Phil’s way of finally expressing his Type I guess.”

“By capitalising on it and alienating a big part of his fanbase?” Dan spat.

“You really should unstan him if it bothers you, this is getting unhealthy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Dan stuck his tongue out at Anthony.

“I saw him there,” Anthony admitted in a small voice.

“What?” Dan perked up instantly, “What was he doing? Did you get any pictures?!”

“I didn’t, but I think he’s there most nights. He made a short appearance and thanked everyone for coming and supporting him. Played around with some of the Bottoms for a bit.”

Dan scoffed, but deep down he felt a bout of envy. He wondered how those Bottoms got the job.

“Trust me Dan, you wouldn’t enjoy it there anyway. You’re not missing out on anything,” Anthony tried to comfort him.

“I guess. Thanks for getting the inside scoop,” Dan joked half-heartedly, getting up from the couch.

“I’ve prepared the guest room,” he yawned as he headed towards his own room.

He’d heard enough. Maybe Anthony was right, there was no reason to let some celebrity affect him this much. He decided to sleep his negativity off, abruptly leaving Anthony in the lounge. His friend had stayed over enough times to know to make himself comfortable in Dan’s home anyway.

Of course, unstanning someone Dan had adored for years was easier said than done. A few days later, he was back on his bullshit. He’d tried searching for any information online on how to get a job in Phil’s bar, but there was nothing at all. He frowned, he of all people should’ve seen information about it. How the hell did he miss any job ads or casting calls or auditions or whatever?

Dan sighed as he walked past the bar from across the road after work again. He could’ve been working in there right now. Seeing Phil every night. Maybe dancing with him. Instead he was stuck in some boring office admin job.

The queue to enter never wavered despite it being almost a month since opening already. And despite knowing almost everything there was to know about the bar, Dan still longed to step inside and see it for himself.

He visited Anthony for lunch the next day. And to drop Plan C on his friend.

“Are you insane?!” Anthony said incredulously upon hearing Plan C.

“C’monnn, everyone says we look freakishly alike anyway!” Dan persuaded.

“And what happens if they find out you’re using my ID? Will you pay the fine for me? Bail me out of jail?” Anthony stared at him disbelievingly.

“Don’t be so dramatic!”

“Oh I’m the dramatic one here? It’s just a bar Dan, let it go.”

Dan fell silent. He knew Anthony was right, there was no point in arguing. He sagged against his chair in defeat.

Perhaps Anthony felt guilty for dismissing his idea like that because after their lunch, Anthony sat Dan down on his couch and turned on one of Dan’s favourite movies that Phil starred in. It was telling that Anthony was trying to cheer Dan up because he would never watch that movie on his own accord.

“How long are you gonna be all mopey like this?” Anthony sighed after the movie ended and Dan was still being quiet.

“How come... I didn’t at least know they were hiring waiters or something?" Dan spoke wistfully.

Anthony gave a long suffering sigh before saying, “Maybe that could be your Plan D if C doesn’t work out.”

Dan looked up at his friend in surprise, finding Anthony’s hand outstretched towards him with his ID in hand.

“Really?” Dan said in an unsure but hopeful tone.

“Take it before I change my mind,” Anthony huffed.

“Thank you!” Dan leapt up to land in Anthony’s lap and crush him in a tight hug, “I owe you one.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid to get yourself caught,” Anthony chuckled, returning the hug.

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

~Part 1~

This chapter's kinda short but dw next one's gonna be longer! Sorry no sign of Phil (yet) but hope yall enjoyed some danthony this chapter :) I'm enjoying projecting fan behaviour onto Dan lol

There will be either 4 or 5 parts for this fic, idk we'll see! lmk what you think so far~

#My fic #Tops Only #phan #Phanfic #phan fic #Dan and Phil #stereo

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p-artsypants · 4 years

Text

I’ll Handle This (3)

Ao3 | FF.net

The walk to the Principal's office wasn’t that long, but it felt like it with the dagger’s Adrien was staring at him.

“I know what you’re going to say—“

“You knocked him unconscious.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let him drag me all the way back to the mansion, making me escape again?”

“You’re doing this all wrong! Father doesn’t like disobedience! He’s just going to tighten the leash every time you act up! It’s better if you just apologize now and then follow his orders to a T.”

“Listen to yourself, Adrien.” Plagg paused one the hall. “Orders? Disobedience? You make him sound like a prison warden, and not a father! You always followed his rules and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

“I was better off then than I am now...”

“Yes, you were.” Plagg admitted. “Not going to lie, this is going to get way worse before it gets better. But I’ve already made my intentions known to him, so he’ll know that I’m not just being rebellious without due cause. I’ll just have to keep pushing until he cracks.”

“I hate this.”

“Cheer up kid. Just enjoy the ride. I’ll take care of everything.”

Adrien just groaned as they reached the Principal's office and he dove back into his pocket.

Plagg knocked.

“Yes yes, come in.”

Inside, Mr. Damocles only spared Plagg a glance. “Yes, Mr. Agreste, what do you need?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then can it wait until after school? I’m very busy.”

“Okay.” And he walked back outside.

“You were supposed to tell him about what happened in class, and he was going to punish you!” Adrien chastised.

“I don’t want to be punished.” Plagg shrugged.

Adrien just groaned again. “You will be the death of me.”

“Adrien, don’t be so dramatic.” Plagg impersonated his father. “Emotions are for peasants. We rich people have no need for feelings.”

“Damn, that’s really accurate.”

“I practice.”

Adrien floated out of the pocket. “By the way…why didn’t you tell me Marinette was Ladybug?”

Plagg halted and leaned against the railing. “How’d you figure that out?”

“Tikki.”

Plagg snorted. “I bet she felt pretty stupid for letting that slip.”

“She said you’re a cheater.”

He shrugged. “She has the same ability as me. She’s just too much of a goody-goody two shoes. Anyway, I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t supposed to.”

“You’re also not supposed to put cheese in my shoes, but that doesn’t stop you.”

“That’s different. The whole identity rule was put in place by the Guardians. Master Fu, the guardians before him, and now Marinette. That’s a little more binding.”

Adrien wilted, knowing he was beaten.

“But you’re on board with my plan now, right? Flirting with Marinette?”

“Sure, but Tikki said she’s already in love with me.”

“That’s true, but she doesn’t know you’re in love with her. And instead of just confessing, I’m going to slowly convince her that she’s the one you’re in love with.”

“Why do it slowly?”

“Two reasons.” Plagg held up his fingers. “One: I want to leave the mushy gushy confession stuff to you, and B: it’s more fun this way.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Yes. One worthy of the Louvre. I’m glad you’ve finally noticed.” He swiped Adrien out of the air and tucked him into his pocket. “Now, we must get back to class. While I certainly lived the Hundred Years War, you still need to know what’s going to be on the test.”

Plagg walked back into the classroom, completely unbothered.

Miss Bustier looked surprised to see his return. The Gorilla was propped up against the wall with a washcloth on his forehead. He was still unconscious. “Back already? What did Mr. Damocles have to say about your behavior?”

“He took away one of my good noodle stars.”

Someone in the back of the room snorted.

Miss Bustier sighed, as if she had been expecting this. “Alright, take your seat, Adrien. I better not hear a peep out of you for the rest of the day.”

“You got it, teach!”

—

At lunch, Plagg turned in his seat and addressed Nino. “Hey, you busy after school?”

“Uh...Alya and I had a date, but if you’re free I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I postponed!”

“It’s a little rude to cancel plans without consulting the person you made them with, don’t you think?” Alya snarked, leaning forward.

“Oh my apologies, madam.” Plagg bowed. “Dost thou mind if thine beloved joins me on an errand after school?”

“But Adrien,” interrupted Marinette. “Don’t you have fencing after school?”

“Hmm, you’re right. I have to keep up appearances.”

“What?”

“After fencing then.”

“Hmm, how about this,” suggested Alya. “What if we come watch your fencing practice, and then we all go together.”

Plagg blanched. “Eh, I don’t really want to be a third wheel.”

“You wouldn’t. Marinette’s coming too!”

“Oh!” He hopped up on his knees, eagerly getting into her space. “Like a double date? That sounds like fun!”

“Date?!” Stuttered Marinette, “Uh, yeah! Sure!” Then her face pulled into a wince. “That is, if you don’t want to go with Kagami instead...”

“Nah, this is an errand meant for the OG crew. Wouldn’t want anyone else! So what are we doing for lunch?”

“You don’t have to go home?”

“Sure, I have to, but I don’t want to. Let’s see...” he took out his wallet. Inside, there were several credit cards, but only one in Gabriel’s name.

“I’ll cover lunch, let's hit the most expensive restaurant there is! Daddy’s paying!”

—

After lunch, the group walked back to school, with the boys taking the lead while the girls hung back a few steps.

“Okay, as much as I love new Adrien,” Alya whispered. “There’s definitely something up with him.”

“Yeah. I noticed the minute I saw him this morning. I’m really worried about him.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t be worried about him. I’d be worried about everyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean...he’s gotten a taste of power somewhere, and it’s bound to explode outward. I’m sure that triple digit bill at lunch is not going to go over well with his father. If he’s messing with his dad and with Lila...when is it going to stop?”

“No. Adrien’s not like that. I think he’s acting out for attention.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“I...I don’t know. But I think it’s closer to what’s happening. Adrien is good and kind, he’s not snotty like Chloe. I think this is just honest to goodness rebellion.”

Plagg turned around and called back to the girls. “Do you think a tattoo would suit me?” Then he grabbed his leg in pain. “Ouch! Cramp!”

“Definitely rebellion.”

—

After school, Nino, Alya, and Marinette took a seat under the shady courtyard stairs so they could work on homework and watch Adrien’s practice at the same time.

Nino spread out his books and then leaned back on his elbows.

“You guys noticed how frickin weird Adrien’s been acting today?”

“Yes!” The girls said unanimously.

“We were just talking about that at lunch!” Said Alya. “Marinette says it's a rebellion. I say he’s tasting the rich boy power.”

Nino screwed up his lips. “I think you’re both wrong. I think he’s magically switched bodies with someone...or something...”

“Dude, what the hell are you talking about?” Alya stared at him, blank-faced.

“Come on, you can’t seriously rule that out! What if there’s a body swapping Akuma out and about that we don’t know about yet?”

“You think Adrien’s an Akuma?”

“Or under the effects of one.” Nino clarified. “Maybe someone out to ruin his reputation...or something more sinister...”

“If that’s the case, we should grill him. Ask him questions only the real Adrien would know.”

“Yeah!” Nino stood. “Like that one episode of Spongebob!”

“We should definitely not take advice from a children’s show.”

“Or…we should.”

Adrien emerged from the locker room, foil in hand and dressed in his gear. There was still something off about him. Were his pants on backwards?

“Hey Adrien!” Nino called.

Like an excited puppy, Adrien trotted over. “Sup homes?”

“What’s your favorite vine?”

He rubbed his chin. “Odd question. But I suppose it’d be a trumpet, or perhaps a Honeysuckle.”

“Uhh…” Nino raised a brow at him, suspicion rising.

“Oh, you mean one of your silly little internet videos.” Immediately, Adrien dropped into a fighting stance. “DON’T EFF WITH ME! I’VE GOT THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE! AHHHHHH!”

“Yep, that’s Adrien.”

—

While Alya and Nino got to work on their homework, Marinette was constantly distracted by Adrien. Nothing new, of course, but it wasn’t all ‘grace’ and ‘elegance’.

It was ‘sneaky’ and ‘unlawful’.

Whenever Adrien’s partner was turned away, Adrien grabbed the tip of his saber, and bent it, only to release it a second later to snap on his opponent’s rear end.

“Hey!”

“You had a fly.”

“Mr. Agreste!” The coach called. “I don’t tolerate unsportsmanlike conduct! One more goof, and you’re out of practice!”

“Just one more?”

“One more!”

*TWACK*

“Out you go!”

“Thanks!” And Adrien walked right off the mat and over to the locker room. He came out a few minutes later, looking even more disheveled than he was this morning. His hair was a sweaty rat’s nest.

“Now that I’ve been kicked out of fencing, who wants to run some errands!?”

Alya slammed her book shut. “Me is ready. Me can't read anymore!”

“Well, me is hungry,” said Nino. “Can we get food first?”

“Snacks it is!”

But before they could even go anywhere, Kagami appeared, looking rightfully confused. “You’re skipping fencing today?”

“Correction, was kicked out of fencing today!”

Her eyes widened in horror, before she frowned hard. “That’s not something to joke about Adrien.”

“I’m not joking, I was goofing around and Coach kicked me out of practice.”

She shook her head. “That’s disappointing, Adrien. I expected better from you.”

In Plagg’s pocket, Adrien gave a little gasp of pain. Hearing his father’s disappointment was one thing, but hearing that from Kagami was horribly painful.

But Plagg rolled with it easily. “Kagami, let’s talk.” He turned to his friends. “I’ll be back in a little bit, think about where you want to eat.” Then Plagg led Kagami over to a secluded corner so they could speak privately.��

In the pocket, Adrien prayed that Plagg would be nice to her.

Once they were a distance away, Kagami crossed her arms and levelled a glare at him. “If you are going to tell me to loosen up, I am. But you know how important fencing is for me. I want you to have friends, but I don’t like you blowing off responsibilities.”

“Kagami,” Plagg folded his hands in front of him. “This is bigger than us.”

Her face paled. “What? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, you and I are leading different lives—“

“You’re breaking up with me?” She sniffed.

“Ah ah, technically, we were never really dating in the first place.”

“But—“

“I’m going to explain something to you, and I want you to listen and hear it objectively, as much as it will hurt. Don’t take it personally, alright?”

She nodded sadly.

“You think you’re in love with me, because you think you should be. I’m the only male friend you have that’s our age, and because of the affection you have for me, you’re assuming that it’s infatuation, when really, it’s just a connection.”

She blinked, frowning, but her eyes weren’t tearing up anymore.

“I’m in a similar boat to you, where I started to like my first female friend on instinct. It was only until I made other female friends that I realized what I felt for her was really love, and not just the thrill of having a friend that’s a girl.”

“Then…how do you know I don’t feel the same? I get what you’re saying, but I think I really love you.”

“Do you? Or do you love the idea of me? Do you love the idea of having a male companion that you can bond with?”

“I do like that…”

“Can you imagine it being someone other than me?”

“I don’t know who else it would be…”

“Make up a person. Pretend you’re talking to someone else, getting ice cream with someone else. Do you feel like you could get the same thing you want from me from someone else? Or is it something only I can give? Is it companionship? Or is it my sense of humor, my topics, my interests, my opinions?”

Kagami crossed her arms, now deep in thought.

“Kagami, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I do care a lot about you, and I really enjoy fencing with you. But…I can’t see myself spending the rest of my life with you. We’re too alike, and yet too different. Our discussions are shallow, and I don’t think you want the same things from life as I do. But I think you want a boyfriend, and I was the closest boy available.”

Kagami unfolded her arms, and raised her head to look at him levelly. “Yes, I suppose that is an accurate assessment. You do do things that irritate me, like fooling around in serious moments. Every time I brought up the future, you clammed up. I can see you live for the now and not for tomorrow, which is difficult to build a relationship on.”

Both Plagg and Adrien sighed. She was taking this extremely well, given her track record for akumatizations.

“I suppose I do need to make more male friends. I think that would be smart to learn more about what I want in a partner. And we can always revisit our relationship in the future, right?”

“Umm, maybe…?”

She frowned again. “Oh, yes, you said earlier that you are in love with someone else. It’s Marinette, isn’t it?”

Plagg grinned. “Pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“I was in disbelief when you called her a ‘really good friend’. I saw it a mile away, but since neither of you were making a move, I decided to ‘shoot my shot’ as they say.”

Plagg figured that’s how it was, but Adrien was gawking at her from inside the pocket. She knew?? And she didn’t tell him?!

“I suppose I should have expected this conversation as well. But I appreciate your insight. I think you’re right. I just want a boyfriend.” She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t have to be you.”

Plagg sighed again. “Thank you, Kagami.”

“No, thank you, Adrien. Thank you for breaking this off before I got too invested. You know how much I hate wasting time.” And with that, she walked off.

Once she was out of earshot, Plagg whistled lowly. “Whoa, burn. Dodged a bullet there, pal.”

“The time we spent together was not a waste!” Adrien protested. “Anytime spent with friends should be cherished!”

Plagg cupped him in his hand, rubbing right between the ears. “Hey, come on kid. She didn’t mean it like that. She can be as cool and calm as she wanted, but she’s still hurt. But I swear, it’s better for both of you this way, especially since you’re in love with Marinette.”

“I know…it just…sucks.”

“Sure it does. But it won’t forever.” Then he popped him back inside the pocket. “Come on! Let’s meet up with the others! We have some shopping to do!”

“What are we shopping for, exactly?”

“Tools to use to piss off your old man.”

“Uh, been there, done that?”

“Oh no, my teeny tiny friend, we have much left to do. Much left.”

—

“Touching me…”

“Touching you…”

“SWEET CAMEMBERT! BAH BAH BAH—“

“Now,” Nino interrupted their little impromptu karaoke down the sidewalk, “my English might not be very good, but I’m pretty sure it’s ‘Sweet Caroline’ not ‘Sweet Camembert.’”

“Aw,” Plagg waved his hand. “It’s not important what the lyrics are, it’s just important that you feel the song.”

Nino, as a DJ, looked aghast. “Of course it’s important to know the lyrics! Why do you think they’re written that way?”

“Relax, I love making cheese parodies of songs. I’m not going to go to Jagged Stone and argue that my lyrics are better.”

“Um…since when do you make cheese parodies? And aren’t you like, low key lactose intolerant?”

“Allergies can’t stop the cheese, my friend. Why do you think I take so many bathroom breaks?”

Adrien pinched him from inside the pocket, but Plagg just swatted him back. Did he not see the opportunity he was just given? A perfect cover for when he had to go fight akumas!

All he had to do was become the weird cheese kid. Such were the sacrifices of being a hero.

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed as they walked past a boutique. “That is adorable!” She stared at a dress in the window.

Plagg’s ears metaphorically perked up and he swooped in to make a move. He laid an arm on her shoulder. “Oh, yes Marinette, that’s extremely cute. I think it would look nice on you! Can I buy it for you?” He gave her a smooth smile.

Adrien facepalmed in his pocket.

“What! You want to—for me? No! No…I can certainly make it on my own!” She snapped a picture of the dress. “I think I could find a print I like better too.”

Plagg was not deterred. “Oh, then perhaps I could buy the fabric for you? It’s not often that I get to buy things for my friends!”

“Dude, you bought us lunch today.” Said Nino, with some concern. “You okay? Like…you’re not going to start giving away your personal belongings, are you?”

“No, unless I have something you want? A video game perhaps?”

“Stop it. You’re freaking me out.”

This actually did give Plagg pause. In all his experience of human history, supplementing friendships with presents was the easiest way to manipulate people. What was he doing wrong? Was Adrien not generous enough?

“You know…” Nino scratched the back of his head, “they say when your friends start being super nice and giving stuff away and talking about personal things…it’s a sign of them being suicidal.”

Adrien’s bite was sorely deserved, Plagg decided as he flinched. “No! No no, gods no!” He laughed awkwardly. “I just…decided to be a little more…generous?”

Marinette laid a hand on his arm. “Adrien, never feel like you have to buy our friendship. We like spending time with you, no matter how we get it.”

Plagg tightened his jaw. He knew what he had to do, but mushy-ness and feelings were his least favorite thing in the world.

He took her hand and held it. “Thank you Marinette. I love you, all of you. It’s so important to me that I get to spend time with you too, and I’m happiest when I’m with my friends. I just wanted to show my appreciation.”

Nino sniffled and wiped his eyes. “We love you too man.”

Slam dunk.

—

The shopping trip went splendidly. His target was horribly gaudy clothes that would offend his father. He used Marinette as a litmus test. If she gaped in shock, it was perfect.

Most of his purchases ended up being cheap tourist shirts, ‘Hawaiian’ shirts as they were often referred to.

After the initial shock of Plagg subjecting them to the eye sores, it started to turn into a game.

“Look Adrien! This one’s got little croissants on it!” Marinette said with glee.

“I love it,” Plagg stated, holding it up to Adrien’s body in the mirror. “But, all of these shirts are still just a little too normal. I think it’ll piss my dad off, but it’s not enough to push him into absolutely indignant.”

Marinette shrugged. “I mean, we are in Paris, the fashion capital of the world.”

Nino was the one that held up two shirts together. “I mean, you could wear these two at the same time.” One was a sunset orange, and the other was a vibrant Microsoft Blue Screen of death blue. It was painful to look at them next to each other.

Marinette made a loud, gasp, it almost sounded like a honk. “Nino.”

“What? I thought we were going for gaudy?”

“We are, we are, you’re a genius!”

“I mean, of course I am, but what did I do?”

She took the two shirts and examined the seams. “I might doom myself, but I can separate these shirts and re-sew them. Basically, making two new shirts!”

Plagg laughed maniacally. “Oh Marinette, my dear, that’s downright diabolical!”

Marinette blushed, but she smiled proudly. “I can probably do a couple of these shirts, as long as they’re the same style. It might take me a few days—“

Plagg hugged her from the side and kissed her cheek loudly and obnoxiously. “That would be amazing! Thank you Marinette!”

Gauging by the way the girl melted into the floor, Plagg assumed he had scored a few points.

—

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #plagg #adrien and plagg #marinette dupain cheng #body swap #adrienette #fanfiction #I'll handle this

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ragnarachael · 4 years

Text

Joyride

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You're heading back to your apartment after a game night at a friend's place when you encounter Loki for the first time since his invasion in 2012.

Author’s Ramblings: hi!! this is my entry for @gingerwritess writing challenge! congrats on 4k!!! 💖 (i hope it’s okay i’m only like 100 and some odd words past 2k,, apparently i couldn’t make it less than that for the life of me)

Warnings: talks of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus! (it’s nothing too graphic, if i’m being honest. and yes, blame National Theatre Live for this), reader is kinda hesitant in the beginning about Loki bc of the whole “take over NYC” thing. that’s really all i can think of for warnings!

LOKI TAGLIST: @sadwaywardkid

MASTERLIST ! FEEDBACK ! AO3 LINK !

You saw him on the A Train. You noticed his lithe form when you took a minute to glance up from your book.

Him as in the one who took New York in his clutches momentarily back in 2012 while you were in the middle of a shift at the coffee shop you used to work at that was just near the main spot of action. Loki.

It was only the two of you on this train at this time of night. You were heading back home to your apartment where your dog would most likely be sleeping on her assigned side of the bed, passed out after trying to wait up for you. Your friends hosted a game night and insisted you had come.

And you kicked ass in Scrabble, Life—Spongebob Edition, you remembered picking Squidward as your token to play the game—and even Cluedo.

And you never won Cluedo.

You were proud of yourself. Three wins on one game night is better than nothing. Usually, you’re a sore loser every time you’re invited over.

It seemed like everything was going your way tonight.

Until you caught Loki studying the cover of your book as you read.

After you finished your last book on the train on the way to work, you decided to shove your worn copy of Coriolanus in place and never bothered to take it out. So naturally, that was your reading material of choice tonight as you waited for the final stop.

“May I help you?” You questioned, glancing up at the God that sat across from you. When he didn’t reply, you tried to direct your attention back to the book pages, rereading the huge section you had just skipped over

You heard him shift, which made you look up at him again. However this time, you maintained eye contact.

What do you say when a murderer is looking at your book late at night on your train back home? You didn’t want to end up dead by the end of this interaction. You had a life to carry on with. Manuscripts to finish, your dog to take care of, your parents to mildly ignore when they tell you how you should be living.

Not dead on the A Train after being slain by Loki, the God of Mischief.

He seemed like he was in a trance when he apologized quietly.

That was... odd.

“I.. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice the author’s name on the cover of your book,” he spoke up, finally leaning back on the seat as the train started to go in the direction of the third to last stop for the night. “Shakespeare, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes,” you said hesitantly, fighting the urge to look at the cover yourself to make sure that it was Shakespeare, even though you knew exactly what it was. “Another tragedy.”

“May I ask which? The title seems to be scratched off.”

You could feel your face heating up at his words. He noticed that? Now that you thought about it, it made sense that he was staring so long for the title.

“It’s uh, Coriolanus. Roman soldiers and stuff. Right up your alley if you think about it,” you said, your eyes darting back to the pages you were permanently stuck on. You didn’t want to see his reaction when he figured out you knew him.

Loki seemed stunned at your reply for assuming such. It’s not like you had been wrong. You did some research on Asgard a while after 2012 and learned a thing or two about their politics.

Quite Roman-esque in your unprofessional opinion.

He seemed to mull it over for a moment before letting a chuckle out. “It appears you may be right, darling.”

Darling.

That made chills run up your spine. Not... not in a bad way, though. You wouldn’t mind him calling you that again, as a matter of fact.

The conversation was cut by the screeching breaks of the train. You both braced yourselves in your seats so you didn’t slide with gravity as the train finally got to a stop, reaching the third to last station.

The doors opened for no one, and waited.

There was some sort of silence you couldn’t decipher as the doors waited for no one to arrive. You turned the page to your book, pretending to be reading. Your mind was still replaying the words Loki said.

Mainly darling, but that's besides the point.

Eventually, the doors closed and the train was back to moving. Loki was back to looking at your book cover, and you actually got pulled back into the script.

Until you were interrupted again.

“Why is your copy in such poor quality?”

Loki’s voice was like velvet as he started to take interest in you again.

“I’ve had it for a long, long time.”

That answer seemed enough for him. You started to reread a line of Volumnia’s when he continued speaking.

“Could you tell me more about it?”

You wanted to hold yourself back, you really did. Maybe he had some kind of motive to do something bad? You don’t know if he’s turned good. He could still be the same man he was in 2012. Regardless of your thoughts running wild, you awkwardly scooted a bit subconsciously to make more room for Loki to sit next to you. That’s when you knew it was game over.

You told him about the plot in deep, deep detail. You spoke about each character as if you had written this play yourself. It was, after all, one of your favorites that you’ve been reading since your senior year of high school.

Loki sat and listened intently, drinking in your unabashed excitement as you recounted everything that happens in this play; it was as if you had actually been in Rome when the play was set.

He found it endearing. Most mortals were not passionate like you were about literature—or anything period. But, on the other hand, Loki hadn’t talked to many mortals since his deal with the Avengers granted him his freedom.

Another thing he found interesting, he could listen to you talk about Shakespeare for hours.

Loki had only read some of the cliché plays that were written. Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Twelfth Night. They all grasped his attention and he read them thoroughly when he had the time. But there seemed that in this moment, there was nothing quite like Shakespeare’s Coriolanus.

The train ride was less excruciating once you were talking. You found that Loki was actually well educated and not as much of an asshole as he seemed. Loki found you even more attractive than he had when he stepped into the train car.

You were in the middle of passionately explaining Volumnia’s relationship with her son when the train came to a stop again, announcing the last stop.

Neither you or Loki wanted this to end.

“I—I’d love to keep going,” you started, suddenly realizing you spent so much time speaking, “but this is my stop.”

The usual dialogue came from the speakers as the doors wheezed open. Loki stood up from his seat with you as you gathered your things, your book in hand.

“I fear this may be too forward,” he started, suddenly feeling nervous. “But may I walk you home?”

Never in your years of living did you expect to be asked by the man who took New York in his clutches to be walked home in the dead of night.

And never did you think you’d say yes.

The two of you fell in step as you walked out of the subway car, silent as you took in the emptiness of the subway station.

It was peaceful. A small part of the city that somewhat slept. You realized that you were less tense than when you started this journey, and smiled small as both you and Loki took the steps two at a time to reach the surface.

Both of you made it onto the sidewalk before you realized something.

“You know,” you started carefully once your bag was secured on your back, “you don’t need to walk me back. I’m sure you have a curfew or... or something—“

“Darling, I assure you, I’m not needed back at the tower.” Loki gripped your hand gently to pull you to a full stop on the sidewalk now. “I’d much rather hear your passion for this work than hear my brother drone on about his lover.”

For some reason, that confession combined with his touch made your breath hitch. His hand felt as if it wasn’t warm, but not cold either. It was like the perfect temperature.

Suddenly your mind wondered what it would feel like to be held in his arms. You were quick to wipe away that thought by blinking up at Loki, furrowing your brows together.

“Are you sure? Sounds much more invigorating, hearing about someone’s dating life rather than being told about a Roman soldier in depth.”

“I am positive,” Loki chuckled in reply. “Your knowledge on this play is far better than any mortal’s. Almost as if you had studied with the Bard himself.”

You felt your face heat up from the compliment, and decided to keep your hand locked in his as you started to walk down the sidewalk again.

“Flattering gets you nowhere, Loki.”

“I’m merely speaking the truth!” His voice sounded like he was accused of something like a child. This made you laugh. You just shook your head to dismiss the subject

“So, back to Volumnia and how she’d rather her son die in battle than live a life of shame?”

“Please. I’m all ears.”

The walk back to your apartment was quicker than you expected as you broke down the rest of the play. And for once, you didn’t want to sleep. You wanted to stay up and keep talking to Loki. You didn’t care about the time or the place, you wanted to keep talking.

Even if you’ve exhausted your extensive knowledge on this play.

You and Loki stood in front of your apartment building, laughing at a small joke you had made about Caius Marcius yearning to fight Aufidius during an important meeting.

The blanket of silence between you two was comfortable. You noticed Loki’s gaze seemed soft. Almost... loving. You tried to ignore it, but he seemed so smitten in this moment. The moonlight hit his face just right which made you swoon internally when you saw just how handsome he could be in the different lighting of the night.

“I really should get going,” you sighed, letting the heel of your hand gently rub at your eye. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Loki shifted his weight on his feet, seeming just as dejected as you. It was nice knowing you both didn’t want this night to end.

“I’d like to see you again, if that—“

“Yes,” you cut him off instantly, looking up into his eyes. It was like a trance. You admittedly loved every second of it.

He chuckled at your sudden response. Minutes, maybe even hours ago, you two had wanted nothing to do with each other.

And yet here you both stood, smitten in conversation, dancing around the harsh reality that you’d have to carry on with your lives after you stopped talking.

You licked your dry lips slowly, a smile settling across your features before repeating yourself again. “Yes please.”

Loki smiled back at you before nodding. Neither of you knew what to do from here. It seemed as though goodbyes weren’t your forte.

You fumbled for a moment, almost as if you were getting your keys from your bag.

Which you were doing, Loki realized. Getting your keys. And a pen, it seemed. You were quick to bite the plastic cap off before opening to the first page in your copy of Coriolanus and writing.

Loki tried to see what you had written, but you were far too fast. By the time he tried to get a closer look, you were done writing and capped the pen before closing the book and passing it over to him.

“A reason to see me again.”

You sounded breathless, as if you had just ran into him on the street and dropped everything onto the ground. Loki felt his heart speed up momentarily before taking the book carefully.

“I already had a reason, darling.” Loki’s smile knocked the breath right out of you before he stepped a little closer to get in your personal space, reaching for one of your hands. You weren’t sure as to what he was doing until his long, gentle fingers were grabbing your own and lifted it up to press a kiss to your knuckles.

You were blushing. You were certain of it.

You said your final goodnights for the night, Loki patiently waiting until you were in the lobby of the building to actually take his leave with your book.

#gingers4kwc #loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson #loki odinson imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel #marvel writer #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #rachael writes #mcu imagine #mcu x reader

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starlocked01 · 4 years

Text

I’ll Stay Awake (because the dark’s not taking prisoners tonight)

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Virgil doesn't get to meet his soulmates each night. No, he has nightmares. His roommate decides to stage an intervention.

A/N: I’m not even going to pretend I was close to representing actual therapy. I really probably should have done more research and I’m sorry v-v

Content Warnings: Cussing, Nightmares, Self-harm, Depictions of drowning, Panic, Paralysis, Anxiety Medications

Day 12 Anxceitmus (background Logicality)- You meet your soulmates each night in your dreams

"You can run, but you can't hide, bitch!"

Virgil tore through the broken landscape, avoiding holes in the floor and checking around every corner. The demon with glowing green eyes pursued relentlessly, cackling laughter peeling off the rusted metal surfaces and echoing so that he couldn’t tell where the source was coming from. All Virgil could do was keep running.

He rounded a corner and found himself face to face with a half-man half-snake, the face grotesquely split between each form. The human hand raised up toward him. Virgil backpedaled to escape its grasp.

"Sssstop!" the creature hissed. Virgil pulled his hoodie around his face and screamed.

He bolted upright in bed, still screaming. His roommate groaned and rolled over, turning on a lamp on his nightstand.

"Another nightmare, kiddo?" Patton looked a lot less caring than he sounded.

"Sorry," Virgil whimpered, fidgeting with his bed covers.

"Logan and I are pretty used to being interrupted by now. I just wish you could meet your soulmate instead of having these awful, scary nightmares," Patton yawned, "I'll leave the light on for you, maybe that will help." Patton rolled back over and was snoring in minutes.

Virgil sat in bed, unable and unwilling to fall back asleep. To keep himself awake he blasted music through his headphones and scratched at his skin.

When the morning alarm rang out, Patton yawned and stretched out of the bed only to find Virgil up and working on homework. The dark bags under his eyes gave him away. Patton frowned and walked over, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. Virgil jerked back, breathing hard, shaking off Patton's hand and tipping the chair dangerously close to falling back.

"Hey kiddo, how'd you sleep?" Patton smiled but Virgil only growled in response, flipping up his hood to hide his face. "Aww, I'm sorry."

"I'll be fine," Virgil glared at Patton and opened his desk drawer. Inside was filled with energy drinks. He grabbed three, stuffing two in his backpack and cracking open the third.

"Virgil, I'm worried about you."

"Well, don't."

Patton sighed and started getting ready for his day.

Virgil finished his drink before his 8 am calc class. By 8:15 he was already cracking open the second one.

Virgil sat with Logan and Patton during his lunch break, picking at a bowl of soup that was nearly unidentifiable.

"Virgil, Patton told me you didn't sleep again last night," Logan stated matter-of-factly.

"What do you care, wonder nerd?" Virgil bit back.

"We're your friends and we're worried about you, Virge," Patton smiled sadly.

"Honestly you might need professional help. You should look into a therapist to talk with about the nightmares. You can't live on sugary caffeinated drinks forever," Logan reprimanded him. Virgil glared at Logan.

"I know a guy who's really easy to talk to. At least try?" Patton tried to make eye contact but Virgil emphatically ignored him. Patton sighed, "whatever, we just want you to be able to take care of yourself and not scratch yourself raw every night. If you decide to try, here's Dr. Picani's number." Patton slid a slip of paper across the table to a stunned Virgil.

"How did you know?" he asked quietly.

"I just know what I'm looking for when it comes to that kind of stuff," Patton looked uncomfortable and Logan placed a comforting hand on his back.

"Okay.. thanks," Virgil didn’t look up as he gathered his stuff to leave the cafeteria.

Virgil felt locked in his car. All he had to do was get out and walk inside the office building, but he felt paralyzed in the driver's seat. This was such a bad idea. There was no way this would help. He needed to get out of there go home and pack up and get on the next flight out of the country and hope that no one ever tried to talk to him agai-

His phone rang. He didn't recognize the number but answered on autopilot.

"Hello, Virgil Strike speaking."

"Hello, Virgil! This is Dr. Picani. I'm just calling because our session was scheduled to start at 4 but you're still sitting out in your car-" Virgil looked up and could see a man in the building window on the phone waving to him, "-are you okay? Do you need to reschedule?"

"No, I'm sorry, I-. I'll be in in a minute," Virgil waved back and disconnected the call. After a herculean effort, he made his way inside and was greeted by Dr. Picani who led him back to his office.

"Now, Virgil, I think I'll spare you my normal introduction," Picani grinned at the inside joke with himself, "this is a safe place for you to say anything. Nothing you tell me leaves this room unless you talk with someone else about it. Understand?" Virgil nodded. His pulse was spiking but Picani's calm demeanor helped immensely.

"Alright, so let's get to know each other a little bit! What's your favorite cartoon?" the doctor grinned widely as though this were a completely normal question to ask.

"Uhhh does anime count? If not I'd have to say 'Happy Tree Friends'," Virgil stared the doctor in the eye as he jotted down the answer.

"Edgy! What about Spongebob?" The smile on his face never broke. They continued to talk until Dr. Picani worked the conversation around to why Virgil decided to come to therapy.

"My roommate and his soulmate think my lifestyle is pretty unhealthy, and it only really got bad when I started having nightmares instead of dreams after my birthday," Virgil scratched the back of his neck. It was hard to admit that he hadn't had a soulmate dream like everyone else did after their 18th birthday. To his surprise, the therapist didn't laugh or scoff.

"And how are the nightmares affecting you?"

"Well, I usually wake up screaming in the middle of the night and can't let myself go back to sleep. I'm lucky if I get 3 hours a night. Which means I'm falling asleep in Calc almost every day, not that I'm behind in class, and I drink a lot of coffee and energy drinks," Virgil paused and took a huge breath, "and this has become kinda a problem." He pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie to show the therapist the scratches and scars on his arm. "It's not like cutting! I just kinda scratch to keep myself from falling back asleep after the nightmares."

"Oh my, your friends were right, Virgil. This is very unhealthy. I'm glad you took their advice and came in," Dr. Picani smiled warmly to reassure Virgil. They spoke for the rest of the hour and just before Virgil left the doctor spoke up again, "Virgil, I'd like you to try an over the counter anxiety medication. We may need to get you a prescription for something that's stronger but I'd like you to try something over the counter first to see if you feel better. I think your anxieties are affecting your dreams. Maybe we can take that edge off so you can get some more sleep, which will have a domino effect on everything else. Maybe with better sleep, you can work on using less caffeine, which will help you feel calmer. Let me know how it works when you come in next week."

Virgil nodded hesitantly but stopped at a pharmacy on the way home anyway. He was ready to try anything at this point.

Patton was waiting when he got back to the dorm.

"How'd it go?" he asked with a bright smile.

"Doc's weird… but I think it's going to help," Virgil smiled back, setting his bottle of pills on his desk.

Virgil popped two of the pills. Patton had gone to sleep already and was happily dreaming. Probably talking with Logan too. Virgil settled into bed, uncertain of what the night would bring.

Virgil’s legs and feet were bound together with a thick tentacle that pulled him beneath the water before he could cry for help. Dragged underneath, Virgil found his lungs filling with water, but then discovered he could breathe the water without his body screaming for air. The tentacle dragged him deeper and deeper into the murky water.

After what felt like an eternity, Virgil could see a giant pair of green eyes reflecting in the formless dark. He kicked and struggled against the creature.

"I've got you now! Stop struggling, you emo nightmare!" a voice growled from the darkness.

"Let me GO!" Virgil cried out, tearing at the tentacle with his hands. The grip on his legs loosened and he kicked free, swimming towards the surface.

Rising to the surface, Virgil was tossed by the waves onto a sandy beach. He coughed up the seawater and laid on his back, sun burning down on him. Too hot. He couldn't move as the sand baked around him.

A cool, smooth sensation crept up his foot and leg. Virgil couldn't move to see what it was as it moved up his torso. He heard a soft hissing and opened his eyes to find a yellow snake staring back at him. He tried to scream but had no voice, tried to throw the snake off but couldn't move.

The snake… shook its head?

"Honessstly, why do you keep avoiding usss?" the snake spoke with a lisping voice.

Virgil found his and replied, "what the hell do you want with me?" His eyes were wide with fear.

"You haven't figured it out? We're your sssoulmatesss."

Virgil sat up in bed in a cold sweat. The bedside clock showed it was much later than he normally woke up in terror. Patton slept undisturbed. Virgil felt almost calm enough to go back to sleep. Not that he wanted to if his soulmates were monsters.

Over the next few weeks, Virgil used over the counter anxiety medication regularly. He felt a lot calmer in class and the nightmares were a lot less terrifying.

After a few sessions with Dr. Picani, Virgil picked up prescription medication and felt immensely more relaxed.

The landscape was still hellish and broken. Virgil didn’t feel like running. Instead of a demon, a boy his age with gorgeous green eyes and a streak of silver in his brown hair rounded the corner, ready for the chase.

"Alright let's fucking do- wait you aren't running," the boy looked confused and a little disappointed.

"You aren't a demon so why would I run?" Virgil shrugged.

"Oh my god, finally! Let's go find Double D," the boy grabbed Virgil by the wrist and started dragging him down the hall.

"What's your name?" Virgil asked, catching up to the other and twisting his hand so they were holding hands.

"Ooh you're fresh!" he chuckled, "just wait until we find Double D."

"Who's Double D?"

"Our other soulmate."

"Woah two soulmates?"

"Yeah, neat huh?"

"Sure, why 'Double D'?"

The boy stopped walking and turned to face Virgil, "we were waiting for you to tell each other our names and you took your sweet time so we gave each other nicknames. That's why you're Emo Nightmare and he's Double D."

"So what are you called?"

The boy grinned manically, "Fucker."

They continued walking through the twisted halls until they found another boy with one golden brown eye and one dark brown eye smiling at them as they rounded the corner.

"There you are. Did you finally catch him?" He asked in a silky smooth voice.

"Nah, for once the emo didn't want to run," the green-eyed boy grinned.

"Well maybe you two shouldn't have acted like monsters," Virgil smirked, "so, who are you guys?"

The green-eyed boy was practically bouncing out of his shoes, "I'm Remus!" he blurted out.

"My name is Janus," Janus held out a hand to Virgil, "and you are?"

"Not telling you," Virgil laughed at the scowls each of them gave them, "I'm kidding. My name is Virgil. It's good to meet you guys."

"Likewise," Janus grinned as Virgil took his hand.

Remus picked them both up in a strong vise-like hug and twirled them around. They continued to talk the rest of the night, agreeing just before they woke up to not exchange direct addresses or phone numbers until they all met in person.

Virgil woke up more refreshed than ever, excited to find his soulmates in real life. Occasionally the dreams still started as nightmares but he was able to recognize Janus and Remus in the terrors and they could help talk him down from the fear. Each night they got to know each other better, talking about school and work and hobbies and everything else they could think of.

One day when a stranger with two different colored eyes sat down across from Virgil in the cafeteria, it felt as though Virgil had known him his whole life.

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #Soulmate September 2020 #dream sharing #soulmate au #nightmares #drowning tw #tw drowning #paralysis tw #tw paralysis #self harm tw #tw self harm #cursing #anxcietmus #logicality

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princesscas · 4 years

Note

As someone who does a little bit ship wincest, I completely agree, the J2 conspiracy clan are fucking nuts.

The only way I have found to avoid unexpected cas or misha hate on my dash while following other people who ship wincest is to only follow wincestiel shippers (that’s all three of them, for anyone who doesn’t see that ship name floating around).

I don’t ever really feel comfortable being around other wincest shippers either, because chances are really high that at some point they’ll have some bullshit take like “actually, J2 hate misha”, or “actually cas is abusive” or “actually, Sam has literally never done anything wrong in his life” and they aren’t joking.

Good fics? That’s almost a joke, too. I was mostly introduced to the spn fandom through J2 and wincest, and the reason I stopped reading those fics is because they tend to throw misha and/or cas under a bus and I actually like misha and cas, so...

Well, the door was wide open to be a destiel convert. At least destiel shippers like Sam.

First up, how do you send asks with formatting lol? This is the first time I’ve seen such a thing :O

Legit, they’re pretty much a cult. Yeah, I can see that working. I browse the fanfic subreddit and a lot of OT3 shippers of any sort are like, band together haha. Going to cons (lol remember when we could?) and meeting people is nerve wrecking too because you never know if they’ll say the stuff you said above D:

UGH that sucks. It’s like they don’t realize stories needs supporting characters because that’ll make it so much better. Could you imagine if Squidward wasn’t in Spongebob? (best example I can think of lol) The show wouldn’t have the same magic.

Haha yeah, unlike the conspiracy clan who thinks we don’t. It’s the total opposite. You know, I’m obsessed with fandom stats. I went on AO3 and looked up some universal popular tags. (Friends/Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn) How many were there? 30 for all but one, being a little over a hundred. Maybe that’s because a lot of fics were originally on the LJ and FFnet days but that’s still sad. Another thing to consider: age. I feel like younger fans use those sort of tagging while older...probably doesn’t? Eh nahh, that isn’t true, I’ve seen tons of fics written by people who were in fandom way before the LJ days.

I feel you though :( If any of my fav ships were like that I...would be heartbroken.

#mandy answers anon #fandom things #drama for ts #Anonymous

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wichols · 4 years

Photo

This is my first time ever doing any type of fan prompted writing event for myself and let me tell you I have some thoughts!!

But before thoughts let’s talk numbers.

Start Date: 1/8/2020

End Date: 1/24/2020

Total Fics Created: 9

Total Word Count Posted: 11,935

Prompts Received Anonymously: 5

Prompts Received By Users: 4

Longest Fic: Burning Intentions (2,203)

Shortest Fic: Attorney First, Wife Second (754)

Thoughts:

It was interesting to see which pairs and couples my general audience was requesting. By far the two most popular requests where anything to deal with Kyoya (my OTP) and Mori. You wanted my two favorite boys to get some comfort and happy endings and I was happy to supply them. Now that I step back and look at them, I will give you little fun facts or interesting thoughts I had while writing each one (mostly because I think it is interesting how writers explain their process of writing or their opinions on their own writings). The list starts chronologically from first to last fic posted.

1. Bland Cereal & Pregnancy Brain (Mori x Haruhi)

I imagine that of all the hosts these two will have the closest thing to what Haruhi would deem a normal life. They will make time for each other and always try to check in on each other. If Haruhi wants normal life filled with a steady stream of love then Mori is her guy. I giggled my way through this prompt at Haruhi and her oblivious nature (my favorite quality about her). This prompt took two sittings to complete. The first to write it and second to edit. Overall one of the quicker ones I wrote in this batch.

2. Attorney First, Wife Second (Kyoya x Haruhi)

This fic is one of my favorites that I have written. It is also the first posted fic where stuff gets steamy. I was gasping and eeping the whole time writing their steamy elevator interactions. This story took 1 sitting to write, edit, and post.

3. Solemn Tears (Kyoya x Mori)

As stated in the original post this is the first-ever M/M fic I have written. IT WAS SO HARD. Not because it was M/M but because both characters don’t really ever let their guards down long enough for them to cry. Not only that, I really had to dig and analyze what would really push them to the point that they would cry. Have you ever seen two brick walls cry? Cause I sure haven’t! Their dynamic is interesting and I am glad that I got this prompt to stretch my writing skills. Multiple sittings required because I had no idea how I was going to write it.

4. Shrouded Kiss (Kyoya x Haruhi x Tamaki)

Oh, the angst! Out of all the fics posted this one felt the most OOC. My first thought when I received the prompt was, “Kyoya never does anything by accident.” Haruhi was a little OOC in my opinion but that’s because of how Kyoya proposed the idea of finding love. Do I believe what he says about only knowing once you have tried things with different people? No, but there is merit to say that each relationship and person you are with is going to feel different. Some people are just naturally passionate people while others are more subtle with their love. From what I recall this was a pretty easy write and edit.

5. Obliviously Pregnant (Kyoya x Haruhi)

Haruhi probably couldn’t even surprise Kyoya with a pregnancy even if she tried. She might not have married a doctor but when you marry into a family who is a leader in the medical business nothing will stay a secret for long. On top of that, I am sure that Haruhi is so focused on work that she would actually just convince herself that she is sick rather than being pregnant. Now reader, I know you are curious as to why I decided to bless them with twins. Well, you see…..plot device. That’s really it. Plus, after I asked Google about multiples and pregnancy I was plagued with diaper ads. Note to self, use incognito more often when asking questionable questions.

6. Salmon Side Effects (Tamaki x Haruhi)

This was the first “Free Space” prompt. And I was in the thick of writing and posting. By the time I got to this prompt, I was tired. Not long after I got this prompt I experienced a depressive episode and spent the week slowly crawling out of the pit. I just couldn’t bring myself to work on this fic. I knew I would have to write Tamaki super excited and all I could think about was trying to make it throughout the day without crying. But I got out of the pit and finished it. Multiple sittings needed for completion.

7. Unyielding Devotion (Mori x Haruhi)

I am not sure when it comes to other writers but I cannot read and write fic at the same time. And after binge writing the last few fics I needed a break. I needed to read some fic! One night I was scrolling through FF.Net and decided it was time to start working through my 70+ fics waiting to be read. Picked a fic and I was off to the races (Something Honorable This Way Comes by ilovemori9). It was sweet and wonderful and totally the opposite of a break-up prompt. I think with the break up he was trying to do right by her, wanting her to not be held back by what was required of him. When I first started brainstorming this prompt I was going to have Kyoya lurking in the shadows waiting to take Haruhi as his own but the story wrote itself and it wrote Kyoya out of the story. I think it is better that way.

8. Broken Banner (Mori x Haruhi)

TINY HAMMER! Running joke between @ohshcscenerios and myself. This was such a fun story to write! Once I started I just had to finish. I don’t normally lean towards cute and innocent so it was a nice change of pace. Mori is held in high regard but he is, after all, a high school 3rd year. And he has a soft spot for Haruhi. Also, did you know that Mori is 6’2” while Haruhi is 5’1”? How do you accidentally kiss someone who is a foot taller than you?? So part of the issue in creating this story was how to get their mouths close enough to bump lips. I think the outcome suited the prompt. This was a two sitting story.

9. Burning Intentions (All Characters)

The final prompt….this prompt I tell you what. I will be honest I loathed this prompt in the beginning. I was utterly at a loss as to how I was going to write this. I opened the doc, stared at the prompt and closed the doc multiple times over the span of a week. It was like that episode of Spongebob where he had to write an essay and he felt like he was doing so much work but all he did was the fancy-looking “The”. I almost gave up on it. I almost posted an apology instead of actually trying to write something. In a last-ditch effort, I pulled up Pinterest and searched the word ‘fire’. And then an idea hit me! I wrote part of it one night and finished it up the next day. This story quickly became a favorite because of the witty banter between the hosts. I was laughing at my own writing. I am now very proud of this story!

Final Thoughts & What’s Next?

Throughout the last 16 days, I have accomplished many things when it comes to writing! I went from only having posted 4 fics to now having 13 fics. Today (1/24/2020) on FF.Net Boundless Opportunities (Kyoya x Haruhi) reached 200+ views. On top of the 11,935 words I have posted I have also written an additional 9,124 words for other projects I am currently working on. That is a grand total of 21,059 words written from January 1-24! In my free time, I also finished The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins and am 13 chapters deep with The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. On top of everything else, I created a beta profile! I have done so much this month and I want to thank everyone for their support and kind words! They really do me so much to me!

January has been busy! So I am looking forward to celebrating Freedom February!! I am giving myself permission to do whatever I want in February. I still have 11 more paper books to finish as well as 100+ fanfiction stories waiting patiently waiting to be shown attention. Basically what I am saying is I want to spend more time doing other hobbies as well as work on some of my wips that I have been neglecting since I started this project.

Speaking of wips I will be spending February obviously working on my Kasanoda x Haruhi fic but also an idea that sprung up into my head this past week produced a very interesting idea for an AU bad boy fic with Hikaru x Haruhi that has some potential to become another multi-chapter story. Too soon to say if anything will come of it but I want to keep my options open!

TL;DR: January was crazy. Lots of writing. Background information for each fic posted from the bingo prompts. A list of January achievements. Don’t expect me to post anything prolific in February. Using my free time to explore hobbies other than writing. Diving headfirst into digital and paperback stories. Hopefully, make progress on my two main unposted projects. Stay tuned for updates and questions regarding my wips. Thanks!

Special shout out to @ohshcscenerios for helping me out so much! Half of my stories wouldn’t be nearly as good without your help!! Thanks for pushing me to write some fluff instead of just sad angsty fics! Go check out the blog for all your burning host club asks.

If you would like to read any of these fics you can find them on Tumblr, AO3, or FF.Net.

#100 hits bingo #OHSHC #ohshc fanfiction #haruhi fujioka #tamaki suoh #Kyoya Ootori #takashi morinozuka #mitskuni haninozuka #hikaru hitachiin #kaoru hitachiin

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averagemarvelbitch · 5 years

Text

The (Wedding) Cake Is A Lie / PART 1

Summary: Steve and Bucky get drunk and invite Tony Stark to their fake wedding, thanks to something they saw on the internet. Best case scenario, Tony’s PA sends a gift without even wondering who the hell they are. Worst case scenario, the PA doesn’t send shit. However, they didn’t actually believe for a second that billionaire Tony Stark would call them up to RSVP to the freaking party!

Well, time to plan a wedding, I guess!

Stony / Mentions of Bucky/Natasha / Fluff / No Angst / AU - No Powers

Based on this / Read it on AO3

—

There were many types of “drunk” in the world. The depressed drunks, like Bruce; the loose all my inhibitions drunk, like Thor ― which was how Bruce and Thor got together in the first place, when the latter decided to drink an entire bottle of vodka and recited a Scandinavian love poem to the scientist, who wept during the entire thing thinking Thor was professing his love to someone else. There were the happy drunks, like Sam and Clint who transformed any party into a karaoke party after a few drinks, and the “you can’t even tell I’m drunk” type, like Natasha. Then, there was the worst kind of drunk: the “let’s do something stupid that sounds really funny and ingenious now that we’re super drunk but will definitely come bite us in the ass later” kind of drunk, which was precisely the type of drunk Steve and Bucky were.

Throughout the years, the Brooklyn boys had lived many adventures, from the time they had gotten matching SpongeBob tattoos to the time when they woke up in the middle of a cornfield in Kansas, with Bucky wearing a very small Hello Kitty t-shirt that said “Fairy Princess” and Steve wearing, well, nothing but his underwear. How they had ended up in Kansas of all places was still a mystery to this day. So, really, after seeing the boys do so many dumb things over the years, Natasha didn’t think they could ever surprise her anymore. She was obviously wrong.

“You did what now?”

Steve and Bucky had the decency to look sheepish.

“Well, we were drunk…”

“Of course you were”, Natasha replied, rolling her eyes.

“We were drunk”, Bucky continued, “and we saw this thing on the internet, right, about how these billionaire have personal assistants who probably go through their mail, right, and how it would be incredibly easy to like send a wedding invitation to a billionaire and the assistant would probably send a dope gift even if they don’t know you because they probably wouldn’t even bother to try and find out who you were, right”.

“That is the stupidest thing I ever heard, but I do understand the math behind it”.

“Right, so, we made a wedding invitation using this weird website we found and sent it to Tony Stark and he kind of called today to invite us over for brunch at this stupid expensive hotel and to RSVP to the wedding”.

Natasha just stared at them, arms crossed in front of her chest. “So tell him it was a joke and that you two turn into the stupidest people in the entire universe when you drink”.

“We can’t do that”, Steve complained loudly, “he could send us to jail or something”.

“Tony Stark is not going to send you to jail for sending him a fake wedding invitation, you morons”.

“Okay, okay, we’ll tell him the truth”, Bucky agreed, “over brunch”.

Natasha rolled her eyes again, defeated.

“Fine, have brunch with him, but if you kiss my boyfriend, Rogers, I promise you I’ll rip off your balls”.

Steve just threw his hands in the air, in a clear gesture of surrender.

—

The hotel was huge. Bigger than any other place they had ever been in and fancier than anything they had ever seen. When they got there, a very polite man came over immediately and, upon hearing their names, asked them to accompany him to the restaurant where Mr. Stark was waiting for them.

Steve knew he was in trouble as soon as he walked inside and saw Tony in his Armani suit, looking positively delectable. He actually stopped walking and just stared at the billionaire, his mouth hanging open, until Bucky cleared his throat to call for his attention. Embarrassed, he murmured a sorry and followed his best friend to the table.

Tony’s smile was even more beautiful in person than it was in the magazines.

“Gentlemen! I’m glad you came, I know how busy you must be planning that wedding, huh? Please, sit down”.

Bucky and Steve sat down while Tony ordered them all something to drink.

“Can I get you anything? How about some champagne to celebrate?”

“We’re trying to cut the drinking for a while, Mr. Stark, so just water is fine if you don’t mind”.

Tony served both their glasses. “So, when is the wedding?”

“Yes, about that…” Bucky started, looking at Steve for help.

“We… We actually had to cancel the wedding, Mr. Stark. Too expensive, you know how it is. We’ll probably just wait a few more years and try them. Sorry for wasting your time, but thank you for being so nice to a couple of strangers”.

“Cancel? Nonsense! I’ll pay for the whole thing”.

Bucky choked on the brioche he was eating, prompting Steve to give him a very hard slap on the back.

“You what?” Bucky asked with tears in his eyes ― and most likely a couple of broken ribs.

“I’ll pay for the whole thing”.

“We couldn’t possibly…”

“Don’t worry about it”, Tony interrupted Steve with a smile, “I’m an eccentric billionaire, it’s what we do. Now, why don’t we have the wedding here? The place is absolutely beautiful, my PA got married here. I’m sure she would love to organize the whole thing for you”.

Bucky and Steve just looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Tony, probably thinking they were speechless out of gratitude for the gesture, got up from his chair, phone in hand.

“Well, it’s settled then. Let me call my PA and she will be here in a second. Then, we can discuss dates! Excuse me”.

He turned towards the patio, shouting “Pepper, love of my life” as he walked. Steve and Bucky, still silent, just stared at his back. Well, Bucky stared at his back. Steve was staring a little bit more south of there.

Bucky groaned. “Natasha is going to kill us”.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #superhusbands fic #stony fic #stevetony fic #no powers au

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blush-meyers · 5 years

Text

You Shouldn’t Be Alone on a Holiday

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Blush

Warnings: Mentions of a car crash

Words: 1583

Notes: Mush is Jewish! This is eventually gonna be part of a bigger Blush work, I think, but for now it’s just this. AO3 link

“C’mon, Blink, it’ll be fun!” Mush insisted, jiggling his leg from where he sat on the bus stop’s bench. “It’s not like there’s anything to be scared of. It’s just me and my parents, and you know they love you. I mean, they’ve practically adopted you at this point. So please?”

Blink sighed, his breath coming out in a sharp puff of vapor in the cold air. “I dunno, Mush. Wouldn’t it be kinda… invasive?” He murmured, furrowing his eyebrows and glancing over at Mush.

“Invasive? Are you kidding? You’ve been coming over to my house for, like, a thousand years. You have a key. Nothing you could do would be invasive.” Blink stayed quiet for a few moments, nervously mulling his thoughts over.

“Okay, but… this is, like, a religious thing, and I’m not Jewish. I don’t wanna make it weird. Or… uncomfortable. Something like that.”

“You won’t. I promise. My parents would love to have you there.” Mush paused, his tone shifting to something more careful. “Look. I know you and your mom haven’t celebrated anything since…”

“Since Dad died.” Blink finished for him.

“Yeah. Since that. So I figured you’d miss it. And my Dad makes really good latkes. Oh- and there’s gonna be chocolate. Like, shitty gelt chocolate, but chocolate.” Mush finished his thought with a hopeful grin, cocking his head as he looked up at Blink.

Blink frowned for a few moments, but his resolve quickly crumbled under Mush’s gaze. In truth, he couldn’t deny anything his best friend asked of him, so he knew it really wasn’t worth pushing it further. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll come.”

Mush beamed at him as they stepped onto the bus, clapping Blink on the shoulder as soon as they sat down. “Great! I’ll walk over and get you before dinner, okay? Oh, man, it’s gonna be so much fun, we never have people over for Hanukkah. All my Mom’s family lives way far away, and, you know, we don’t talk to Dad’s family, so…”

Mush rambled on as the bus pulled back into the street, and Blink couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Mush only stopped talking when they were back home, and the two boys split off at the elevator of their apartment building, each heading opposite ways down the hall.

“I’ll see you later tonight!” Mush called with a grin and a wave, before disappearing through his front door. Blink raised his hand in return, and took a slow breath before stepping into his own home.

As usual, the apartment was quiet and dark. Blink couldn’t hear the TV, so his mom wasn’t home; as such, Blink opted to do his homework in the kitchen, so he could fix himself a snack beforehand.

These days, the apartment was silent nearly all the time, save for the sound of the TV. Blink’s mom wasn’t a cruel person; not by any means; but since his dad’s death, she’d grown distant, and cold, and paid much less attention to Blink than she had in his younger days.

Absently, Blink reached under his patch and traced the scar there as he thought of his dad. Vague images flashed through his mind; a rainy day, heavy traffic flow, loud music blaring from the radio, bursts of laughter, squealing tires, crunching metal, a sharp pain in his eye, a crushing pain in his chest- Blink forcefully shook his head to clear his thoughts, and sat down to start on his Algebra work.

A few hours passed and Blink had finished all his work. He was stretched out on the couch, watching SpongeBob on the TV at a low volume. He wasn’t paying attention; his mind had drifted back to the accident and his dad, and eventually to the holidays his family used to celebrate together. He was lost in a memory about Christmas morning, years ago, when he was jolted out of it by a knock and a voice at the door.

“Blink? I’m coming in!” Mush called from the other side, stepping through the door a moment later. Blink shut the TV off and pushed himself off the couch, straightening his shirt up as he stood. “Hey, Mushy. Time for dinner already?”

“Yup! Mom told me to come grab ya. You ready to come over?”

“Yeah. Just gotta make sure the lights and TV and shit are off, and everything’s locked.”

“Word. Hurry, though, a bitch wants latkes.”

Both Mush’s parents greeted Blink with tight hugs, and he was immediately passed a plate so full of food he almost didn’t know what to do with it. Blink’s initial anxiety quickly wore off as the Meyers joked and laughed around the dinner table, and eventually, he joined in.

The Hanukkah celebrations themselves filled him with a soft, warm type of feeling that Blink hadn’t felt since his last Christmas. Watching Mush’s dad light the candles, hearing Mush’s family recite prayers and songs (which, kindly, Mush’s mom taught Blink the words to), and, especially, the joyful, sparkling light in Mush’s eyes all made Blink’s heart feel full and light.

Afterwards, Mush’s parents went to cuddle in the living room (which Mush teasingly insisted was gross, cause you guys are old,), Blink and Mush ended up back at the kitchen table, playing dreidel.

“Shoot, man, I don’t know how you keep winning so much! You’re gonna take all my gelt!” Mush exclaimed, as Blink spun his fourth gimel and dragged the chocolate coins on the table towards himself.

Blink shot him a lazy grin, unwrapping one of the coins and popping it into his mouth. “Guess I’m just better at this than you, Mushy man.”

“Nah. Beginner’s luck.” Mush gently kicked Blink’s shin under the table, still grinning.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, smiling warmly at each other. Slowly, Mush reached over the table, and his fingertips grazed over Blink’s knuckles. Blink let them linger there for a while, before stretching his own fingers out and wordlessly threading them into the spaces between Mush’s. Mush blinked slowly, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as Blink rubbed his thumb back and forth along Mush’s hand.

And then Mush’s mom walked in, and the boys jerked their hands apart, Blink shoving his under the table and Mush fiddling with the dreidel. If his mom noticed the sudden change in energy, she didn’t say anything.

Instead, she fixed Blink with a gentle smile. “Your mom just called. She wants you to head back home before too long. School night and all.” She reached out and ruffled Blink’s hair before continuing. “Feel free to come over again tomorrow night if you want to, okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Meyers.” Blink smiled with a quick nod. “I’ll… think about that.”

“Please do. Goodnight, Louis.” She turned to look at Mush before she left, and added, “You should head to bed soon too, Nick. I don’t want you staying up past midnight again.”

Blink stood up and shoved the rest of the gelt in his pocket, and Mush groaned a little, idly spinning the dreidel on the table. “You really gotta go home now?”

“‘Fraid so.” Blink responded, loosely crossing his arms. “You know how she gets when I get home later than she expects.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Mush hopped up from the table, dropping the dreidel down in the middle of it. “I’ll walk you over.”

Blink said a quick goodbye to Mush’s dad as they left, along with another promise that he’d think about coming over again the next night. As soon as they were in the hall of the apartment building, Mush silently hooked their pinkies together, and the boys stayed like that as they walked towards Blink’s apartment. Their shoulders occasionally brushed together as they went, and neither one spoke until they stood in front of Blink’s door, and turned to face each other.

Mush was the first one to break the silence. “That was fun. Thanks for letting me drag you over.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Blink fell silent again for a moment, before reluctantly unhooking his pinky from Mush’s. “So, uh… tomorrow, too? You want me to come over at the same time?”

“Yeah. I’d really like that.” Mush smiled.

Neither boy made a move to increase the distance between them. They stood close enough that Mush swore he could count every freckle on Blink’s face, even in the shitty fluorescent lighting. He reached out and slowly ran a hand up Blink’s arm, stopping to rest it on his shoulder. Blink responded by gingerly, almost hesitantly, placing a hand on Mush’s waist, and both boys stilled again. The silence grew heavy, and finally Blink stepped backwards. “So- yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow. Meet you out front for the bus.”

“Yeah.” Mush breathed, stepping back and jamming his hands in his pockets. “I’ll… yeah.” He bit his lip, furrowing his brows for a moment before breaking into a small, nervous-looking smile. “Night, Blink.”

“Night, Mush.”

Late that night, both boys lay in bed, the weight of all the unspoken things between them weighing heavily in their chests. Separately, they both rolled over and picked their phones up, sending texts to each other at the same time;

��I really hope u come back over tomorrow night”

“i think im gonna come back over tomorrow”

Both boys laughed to themselves, and sent back a final reply before rolling over and going to sleep.

“Okay, good. Gn for real now”

“gn mush”

#blush #newsies blush #kid blink #mush meyers #my writing

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hiyo-silver · 6 years

Text

Apple Cider

Summary: The losers always do the same thing. Every fall is the same: apple cider, brownies, and The Nightmare Before Christmas.

ao3 + my masterlist

Taglist: @fuckboykaspbrak @thesquidliesthuman @cozystan @rachi0964 @beepbeep-losers @bigbilliamdenbro @jalenrose1122 @sleepygaybrough @itandstrangerthingsfanfic @boopboopbichie @peachywyatt @aizeninlefox @sockwantstodie @ahoybyeler @vampbyler

This a little birthday present for Hannah! @reddiesetrichie I hope you had a lovely birthday and I hope you enjoy the fic!!!!

The crisp fall air flows effortlessly in through the front door as Stan struggles to shut the door behind him.”I’m home, nobody set the house on fire, yeah?” he calls in question, the question would sound comedic to anyone outside of their life, but it’s a valid assumption seeing as he’d left them baking brownies when he’d gone to get groceries.

The seven of them have always been chaotic and messy and loud, but that’s often how they like it. The date is October 28th and it’s one of their last quiet days at home together before the holiday season truly ramps up. Stan unravels his scarf from his neck and hangs it carefully on his rack on the wall, adding his coat atop it afterwards.

He runs his hands through his dark hair and looks himself in the hall mirror before going to join the others in the kitchen. His nose is tinted pink from the cool air, as well as the olive skin on his cheeks, his green eyes shine with the wateryness of the outdoors. He’d be embarrassed if he was to see anyone but the six loves of his life.

He finally steps into the warm kitchen, his boots clomping against the wood floor, completely ruining his effort to step up behind Beverly and hug her around the waist, which he does anyways. Since he couldn’t surprise her, her decides to tickle her sides instead; this results in a high shriek from her, turning quickly to give him an expression of false anger.

“How was shopping, did you get the apple cider?” she asks with a grin that makes her freckles crinkle up in her smile. He loves the little wrinkles around her eyes when she smiles, the familiar green shine is another favorite of his, he has a habit of thoroughly studying each of their faces when he can; simply a part of the pure warmth he feels whenever he sees them. If he can memorize every piece, maybe he can imagine them detailed enough to enjoy that warmth all the time.

“Yup, and the marshmallows Mike wanted,” he says as he pulls away just enough to survey the kitchen for anything they may have done in the process of baking, only seeing the mess they’d left of flour and box of eggs on the counter. “No scorch marks this time, I’m proud.”

“Hey, we can be successful sometimes,” Ben quips, sticking his tongue out at the other boy. Stan simply walks over and considers wiping the chocolate off Ben’s lip but instead presses his own lips to them, warm and soft.

“You taste good,” Stan teases, wiping another mark off Ben’s cheek with a teasing grin that his lovers have all learned to love. They may not always understand his humor, but they do enjoy it even when they’re confused. At least him being humorous means he’s happy, and having them all happy is the best they can do.

“You do too, new chapstick?” Ben asks with a little grin, he licks his lips for a moment of processing. “Peppermint,” he says surely, looking Stan in the eye with a menacing grim merely in the spirit of feeling successful.

“Yup,” Stan returns with his own grin, looking over to Bill and Eddie, both sitting on the marble counter and swinging their legs back and forth. One of Bill’s hands is in Eddie’s and one is holding onto a chocolatey spoon from making the brownies. Eddie only lays his head on Bill’s shoulder breathing evenly and generally looking content despite being zoned out.

“Hey, you awake?” Richie asks as he pops into the kitchen, immediately noticing Eddie leaning on Bill’s shoulder with his brown eyes covered by his thin eyelids. Eddie jumps slightly and Bill glances over as well, both of them emerging from their own little worlds.

Eddie nods, “Just getting some rest before you came back, you know how much it takes to keep up with you?” he teases with his own sleepy smile as the fire returns to his eyes, the brown becoming even deeper as the fog clears up. His eyes and hair rival the shade of the chocolate spoon that Bill is finally getting off the counter to clean it off.

Richie blows a raspberry in Eddie’s direction, slapping Bill on the left asscheek as he walks to the sink, causing Bill to whip around to wink at him, which Mike notices over at the sink himself. Mike grins back, chewing his lip to avoid chewing them out, though it definitely can be a contest with them sometimes.

“Hey Bill, giving me a hand now?” he asks warmly, taking the sticky spoon from Bill’s hands to put it in the warm water to soak with the other baking utensils. Bill nods with a small smile, “Can you help me load these into the dishwasher? It’s probably too much to hand wash,” Mike says with his own nod.

“Gotcha, Mikey,” Bill agrees, rolling his thick sleeves up to his elbows to keep his flannel dry. He pulls the measuring cup from the water with a grimace at the feeling of the water on his skin. He turns the sink up to a warm setting to rinse it out one final time. Both he and Mike get droplets of water redirected at them.

“Ah, careful,” Mike chuckles warmly, turing the sink off for Bill as Bill goes to place the cup on the top row of the dishwasher, “You should work more on the plates, less splatter,” he jokes, ruffling his big hand into Bill’s ginger hair.

“Actually I think I’m going to go get ready, you good with this?” Bill asks, his wide blue eyes meeting Mike’s deep coffee colored ones. He gives an innocent smile, really just one to avoid responsibility at all costs, though they usually let him off the hook, knowing the responsibility he took over them so many years ago in Derry, Maine.

Mike nods with a small sigh, smiling slightly. It’s almost funny to him how Bill can turn on the puppy dog face so easily and so quickly. “Only because you’re cute,” he says, drying his hand quickly on the towel and brushing his thumb on Bill’s cheekbone.

Bill smiles back, a happy hum escaping his throat as Mike touches his cheek, a hot blush rising to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Why thank you, Michael Hanlon,” Bill says, making an attempt to be smooth but his voice shakes with a giggle that wills itself to escape.

Bill jogs himself up to the shared room they have, their bed unmade. It makes him chuckle, they’d spent so much to get it custom built to be long enough for them all to fit but they never make their bed in the morning, the sheets always wrinkled and the blankets all strewn about. They all like different levels of heat in their sleep, leaving it all a mess of blankets and sweaty skin. They’d have it no other way.

He opens one of his drawers, pulling out the fleece yellow fabric. He shakes it out so it’s unfolded properly. He grins to himself. It’s Halloween soon enough, costumes can start now if he so pleases. He undresses, frowning slightly at the fact that he did in fact get his flannel sleeve wet, but only at the edge of the fold so it isn’t so bad, he’s changing anyways.

He pulls on the onesie, pulling the hood up even before zipping it all the way up with the satisfying hum of the zipper on plastic. He looks himself in the mirror, smiling at the face on the hood, that of Pikachu from Pokemon. He, Richie, Eddie, and Stan used to watch it together on the worn couch in the Denbrough basement. Of course it’s meant to spark memories, but also looked at the coziest one at Target, and the most like something that would make the others chuckle.

He starts to leave the room and just as he is about to open the door when the door opens before he has the chance to open it. Before him stands Richie, he should have known. Richie is the only other person in the house who can be as lazy as Bill.

Richie suppresses a laugh at Bill’s appearance. “Nice look,” he chuckles out. “Can you say pika-pika?” he teases with a smug expression. Bill pouts back at him, sticking his tongue out for a moment.

“No, but I can kiss you,” Bill says equally as smugly, leaning in to peck Richie on the tip of his nose, leaving the boy giggling at the ticklish feeling of Bill’s chapped lips.

“You need to use more chapstick, dickweed,” Richie smirks, “I was about to get ready in comfy clothes too,” he admits, punching Bill playfully in the shoulder. “We’ll probably all nap together on the couch with a movie tonight, it’ll be nice,” he says, already setting the expectation in his head.

“Definitely,” Bill hums with a soft smile, walking back and plopping back onto the bed, pulling the blanket over himself childishly with a sweet sigh. “I’m tired,” he hums out, watching Richie’s back as he pulls off his shirt. He chews his lip at the slight muscles moving against his pale skin, the freckles that dot his back looking like constellations in Bill’s happily biased eyes.

“You can nap when we all get settled, promise,” Richie teases in his shirtless state, kissing the top of Bill’s head happily, “We’re probably watching The Nightmare Before Christmas,” Richie grins, one of his absolute favorites for the Halloween season.

Bill sits himself up, just continuing to wait for Richie to change so they can go down together. Richie finally pulls up some Spongebob pajama pants and a plain gray v-neck. He finally turns around and puts his hands out to help Bill into a standing position. “The brownies are gonna be really good, ya’think?” he asks with an excited grin, Richie’s sweet tooth has always been the largest, he can’t help but guzzle candy and sugary drinks.

“They will be, I would know, I licked the spoon,” Bill says with his own chuckle, clasping his fingers contently with Richie’s so they could walk downstairs together in their respective silly and childish pajamas.

It’s easy to see that nearly all seven of the losers let their childishness and immaturity bleed into their adulthood together. Bill’s psychologist doesn’t seem to understand him being the way he is as an adult, even nearly nonverbal around anyone but his partners. They’d been deeply traumatized, but time together helps heal the wounds of their pasts.

Richie and Bill finally find themselves in the living room, plopping on the couch to find the places they often claim, it’s always a race to the loveseats for these guys. They follow the three c’s in their relationships. Communication, care, and lots and lots of cuddling.

Ben comes in next with a silver bowl of popcorn, placing it on the coffee table. He spots Bill’s onesie apparel even under the snuggly blanket he and Richie had chosen, “You went straight for the nostalgia, huh?” he asks just as teasingly as Richie had been, all of them clearly remember the Pokemon series from their childhoods in vivid detail.

“Yup,” Bill hums, obviously quite proud of himself in his appearance despite the fact that he’s already overheating, but at least he is cozy. “I like remembering. At least the happy stuff,” he says, the second part coming out in a smaller and more shy voice. He doesn’t like remembering the difficult parts. Even though Pennywise has escaped his mindscape finally, Georgie still haunts his nightmares on occasion.

Ben settles himself on the very end of the loveseat, snuggling up to Bill’s side to leech off his warmth and keep close, hopefully in a comforting way. He’s been trying his best to be better at noticing when Bill is upset about something, he hopes to be better at comfort but he generally sees himself as mostly socially socially inept through adulthood, but the losers would never judge him. It’s just one of many millions of reasons he loves them.

Mike comes in next, the brownies they made as a group all stacked neatly onto a serving plate, making all of their mouths water as soon as they see them and the rich smell fills the room. “Gimme, gimme, gimme,” Richie begs with a pleading smile in Mikes direction.

Mike chuckles at his tone, setting the plate close to the loveseat (bursting already with three people on it) before going to sit on the other loveseat and already messing with the remotes to find his way to Netflix and look through the Halloween movies, only to remember Richie’s insistence on The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Bev trails in next, plopping herself happily in the lap of Mike, pulling the nearby blanket over the two of them with a satisfied sound of her own. “Same movie that we watch every year?” she asks, nibbling at a piece of popcorn, obviously content with the situation her statement is meant to reference. They watch the same movies every year. None of them are any too fond of change, and it’s just fine for all seven of them.

Eddie comes in draped around Stan’s shoulders sleepily, the two of them settling on the other couch with Mike as he looks around their circle to make sure all have settled. Bill is laying with his head in Richie’s lap, already probably drifting off to sleep, understandably so due to how he’d been up early working on stuff for his class the next day. Richie is happily knawing on his brownie, looking expectantly at Mike to start the movie. Stan cuddles up to Bev who is already snuggled into Mike’s lap. Eddie leans his head on Stan’s shoulder and breathes out in comfort. Bill only stirs slightly as the opening song plays, Eddie not at all.

It’s the same every year, and they would never dare have it any different. They can imagine themselves deep into their sixties all on the couch watching The Nightmare Before Christmas with brownies and popcorn, several cats probably settled at their feet.

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birdiethebibliophile · 6 years

Text

{fic} All They Were And Something More

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Commitment Rating: G Warnings: ABSOLUTELY NONE, this fic is nothing but fluff!!! Word Count: 1,368

Here on AO3.

For @halleluland. The promised movie night fic. The pure fluff I said would come sooner or later.

Technically takes place in the universe of That Old Sweet Feeling, but can be read on its own - you just won’t understand some, um, inside jokes.

Title from The Beautiful Not Yet by Carrie Newcomber.

Summary: Every Thursday night, the Wonder Triplets plus Mary get together for a movie night. It goes the same way every time.

__________________

The first one to movie night was always Irene, of course, whether she was hosting or not. She had keys to all their apartments, so she’d walk on in, immediately vacuum the living room, and start setting out any snacks she’d brought. Nadiya and Mary Sage would get there next, bearing hot chocolate fixings and the fluffiest blankets they owned. The last to arrive was always Remy, who would appear at the door clutching the chosen DVD and a sheepish grin.

They would spend half an hour squabbling over places on the couches and/or chairs, and inevitably end up all squashed together on one couch, Mary Sage half in Nadiya’s lap, Remy perched on an arm because he couldn’t sit still, and Irene with her legs cross-legged under her in a way that seemed to take up way too much space for someone as small as she was. Nadiya would criticize any scientific impossibility, Mary Sage would loudly complain about the lack of explosions, and Remy would cry at the sad bits. It would end with them saying they should head home until they all fell asleep one by one, using the others for armrests and pillows and blankets. The next morning, Irene would make blueberry pancakes and Nadiya would make the coffee and Mary Sage would scramble the eggs and Remy would wash the dishes afterwards.

It was a routine Nadiya loved beyond reason or logic, and she hoped it would continue every Thursday night from now until eternity.

“Nadiya, here’s yours,” Remy said, handing Nadiya her mug of hot chocolate with marshmallow fluff and caramel drizzled on top. “Irene.” Irene liked hers with chocolate syrup and peppermint. “Here, Mary –” Hers was topped with what looked like half a can of whipped cream. Remy finally settled down on the couch, squeezed in between Mary Sage and Nadiya. His cup was overflowing with mini marshmallows. “Okay, captions on? Sliders stacked? Sewer granola within easy reach?”

“That was one time, Remy, we were on the run, and they were Power Bars, not granola bars –”

“Yep, we’re all good!” Remy said cheerily, derailing Nadiya’s rant before it could go too far. Irene, always in charge of the controller, started the movie.

“Is there kissing in this one?” Mary Sage asked. “I don’t like kissing.”

“Liar,” Nadiya said.

Mary Sage scowled. She had whipped cream on her nose already. “In movies!”

“Yeah, there’s kissing, but it’s not a kissing movie,” Remy said, already bounced up to the back of the couch and perched there with his legs dangling towards the cushions. “I knew better than to bring one after Titanic.” Nadiya remembered that movie night clearly – it had resulted in all four of them agreeing on how good-looking Kate Winslet was and disagreeing, loudly, on whether there really had been room on the door for Jack. (Kardala made an appearance to decisively say that there was absolutely not. They tried to shout her down, but shouting down a thunder goddess was an exercise in futility.)

“Ugh, fine,” Mary Sage said. “I get to pick next week, though.”

“You always pick Die Hard ,” Remy protested. “Or a Veggie Tales movie.”

“Not always,” Mary Sage said. “One time I picked Die Hard 2. At least I don’t pick Flubber every time.”

“Wasn’t every time. It was just the first five,” Remy said.

“We still haven’t gotten around to watching my favorite movie,” Nadiya put in.

“The Fly is horror, Nad!” Remy said, nudging her with one Spongebob-socked foot. “No horror except for on Halloween. That’s my rule.”

“It’s barely horror! It’s a classic!” Nadiya said. “Plus, Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis, come on –”

“Three things,” Irene said in her small voice. “One, we also haven’t watched The Royal Tenebaums, which is my favorite movie, if you’ll remember. I haven’t been able to find a copy on DVD. Second, we’re missing the intro.” (“As if we ever don’t,” Nadiya mumbled.) “And third,” Irene continued, standing up from the couch and nearly doubling in size, her voice dropping an octave and a half, “I want popcorn,” Kardala finished. “Did anyone bring any?”

“We have some in the cabinets,” Nadiya said. “The ones above the microwave.”

Kardala headed into the kitchen. They heard the cabinets open and close, the popping of popcorn, and twelve minutes later, Kardala returned with what appeared to be five bags of popcorn, all poured into the biggest mixing bowl Nadiya and Mary Sage owned.

“Thank you, Nadiya Jones!” Kardala said loudly. She sat down on the couch, effectively taking up ninety percent of the cushion space and nearly toppling Remy, who steadied his hot chocolate and himself with a yelp.

“What, you think we’re gonna host movie night and not have popcorn for you?” Mary Sage said with a grin, and Kardala smiled back and held up her bowl so Mary Sage could set her mug on the coffee table and fling herself across both Nadiya’s and Kardala’s laps. Kardala, unperturbed, set her bowl back down on Mary Sage’s stomach.

“They’re as sacred to movie night as sliders and hot chocolate,” Remy said. “Maybe more so.”

“But not as sacred as the sewer granola?” Mary Sage said slyly.

“For the LAST TIME, MARY –” Nadiya started, even as Mary Sage burst into laughter. Nadiya couldn’t help laughing along with her. Mary Sage just had that kind of laugh.

“It’s good granola,” Kardala said, though it was unclear whether she was defending Nadiya or Irene. “Irene’s mothers taught her the recipe.”

“No thanks, Irene’s kind has unshelled pistachios in it,” Nadiya said. “Ick.”

“No, that’s her pgorp,” Kardala said, eating a handful of popcorn that could easily have comprised an entire bag. “Her granola is much better. It has chocolate chips. The mini kind.” Suddenly, Kardala got a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Sometimes Irene eats it for breakfast.”

“Hell yeah, chocolate for breakfast!” Remy said. He high fived Mary Sage in Kardala’s place, since Kardala’s hands were full of popcorn.

Nadiya finished her hot chocolate, set the mug down, and pulled one of the fluffy blankets up and wrapped it around her shoulders. Mary Sage promptly sat up, nearly knocking the popcorn bowl from Kardala’s hands in the process, positioned herself squarely in Nadiya’s lap, and wrapped herself in both the blanket and her girlfriend’s arms. “No blanket without me,” she mumbled, rubbing the soft edge across her mouth.

“You’re a holy terror,” Nadiya said, half-squished under a rather heavy double armful of Mary Sage. “I’m dating a holy terror. A wild child. An enfant terrible , if you will.”

“Mmhmm,” Mary Sage agreed, making herself comfortable on top of Nadiya. “Comfy girlfriend.”

Remy made a gagging noise from above them. “PDA alert, girlfriends too cute, call the cute lesbian cops!”

“There are no cute lesbian cops,” Mary Sage responded immediately. “Only cute lesbian communists.”

“Are you a communist?” Remy asked curiously.

“Probably,” Mary Sage said. “Statistically speaking.” Then, before he or Nadiya could incredulously question her about what statistics, exactly, she was referring to, she added, “Also, if cute lesbians aren’t allowed, Irene’s gotta leave, so tough beans.”

Kardala beamed. “Irene says to thank you for the compliment,” she says.

“She’s welcome,” Mary Sage said. “Kardala can stay, though.”

“Am I not cute?” Kardala asked.

Mary Sage turned and squinted at her, then leaned back and tilted her head. Kardala was wearing Irene’s favorite Hello Kitty pajamas, and, as always, looked vaguely like she’d just stuck her finger in an electrical socket. “Sure,” Mary Sage said finally. “But are you a lesbian?”

“Probably,” Kardala said agreeably, and went back to her popcorn.

Predictable , Nadiya thought, rubbing her hand through Mary Sage’s curly hair. Routine, she thought as the kissing scene came up on the screen and Mary Sage made retching noises and Remy kicked her and Kardala threatened to throw them both across the room. Ordinary, she thought as Remy dozed off like a cat spread over the top of the couch, and Kardala shrunk back into Irene as her eyes started to droop, and Mary Sage began snoring loudly from Nadiya’s lap, where her legs had fallen asleep.

Nadiya couldn’t remember ever being happier.

#taz #taz commitment #taz fanfiction #nadiya jones #irene baker #kardala #christopher rembrandt #remy #mary sage #space cadet #fluff #the adventure zone #the adventure zone commitment #taz: c #that old sweet feeling #tosf #this will rot your teeth it is so fluffy #mine

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bi-bi-richie · 6 years

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12 Flavors (3 / 12)

Richie takes Eddie on a date to a special ice cream parlor every month. He spends the dates reminding Eddie of milestones they’ve shared throughout their relationship, all the while falling even deeper in love.

Ao3

chapter 1 , chapter 2

March 1st, 2017, Chocolate:

When Eddie woke up that morning he wondered if Richie was gonna take them back to the ice cream parlor. Hell, he wondered it the night before, and the week before, actually the day after the second date. He can’t connect the dots, these dates are obviously apart of something and Eddie was struggling to even get a clue. Anything that he thought of was either too plain or too insane even for Richie. There was one idea that sat in the back of his mind, it was more like an image because he didn’t dare actually think out the whole thing in words. He pushes it away as Richie comes up to him with chocolate ice cream in hand.

Richie, on the other hand, is thrilled this is working out. It’s already the third date and his plan is working perfectly. Richie isn’t dumb, he knows Eddie is onto something but he also knows that Eddie can’t figure it out. It’s good for Richie, he wants it that way.

Eddie doesn’t ask any questions when he was handed his ice cream, he just smiled and kissed Richie’s nose.

“Chocolate?” Eddie started looking down at his cone. “Richie, you know you get stomach aches when you eat chocolate.”

Richie nodded in agreeance and huffed out a single chuckle. “You sounded like that SpongeBob meme.”

Eddie snorted and gave Richie a light shove. “God, memes have ruined your life.”

“Oh please,” Richie said with a mouth full of ice cream. “Memes make this relationship work. They’ve contributed since day one.”

…

Richie sat on his couch looking at the long mirror he had set up a few hours ago. Why he set up the mirror? He was making sure his outfits didn’t look too dorky for his date, he was sitting down in casual positions for almost a half hour making sure it looks okay enough for Eddie. He honestly lost track of time as he did this, he was about to try on another outfit when he heard a knock at his door. Richie felt his whole body freeze, he wasn’t wearing what he considered to be his best outfit. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black pants. Around that white t-shirt was a white Hawaiian shirt with green printed palm trees and red flowers. Admittedly, he didn’t think it looked all that bad for a casual look but this was a date. A date he was looking forward to.

He didn’t have time to change though, he took a deep breath and accepted that he was wearing that to his date with Eddie. Fuck, his date with Eddie Kaspbrak. Maybe he should change-

Another knock. Nope, this is it, he thought, this is it. He went to open the door.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for what he was gonna see when he opened that door, nothing, and nobody. Eddie was standing there in white overall shorts and a white shirt with black spots. As if that wasn’t enough, he was wearing very natural makeup, Richie almost didn’t notice. Not that he looked at them or anything, but Richie wanted Eddie to crush him with his thighs because they were hot. In Eddie’s hands was a small bouquet of white carnations.

“Hi, Rich.” Eddie said softly, his voice made Richie melt on the spot, Eddie was gonna end up taking a puddle of flustered bi goo to the movies. Richie, of course, couldn’t melt. He needed this to be perfect so he could do this again and again.

“Holy shit, you make me gayer.” He blurted out, y’know, instead of a simple hello.

Eddie giggled, thoroughly increasing his chances of taking goo on a date. “Here, I got you flowers.”

Richie tore his gaze off the beautiful boy in front of him and looked down at the flowers he was being handed. Beautiful white carnations, they must’ve coasted a pretty penny to get so many and in such great condition. That wasn’t what Richie was thinking of though. “You… you remembered…” His favorite flower.

Eddie nodded enthusiastically with a wide, proud smile. A smile Richie sees kids give when they know they did something right, though, there’s something about seeing it on Eddie that makes him burn up inside.

Richie pulls Eddie into a hug, “thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie wraps both his arms around Richie and hugs him tightly. “I knew you’d like them.”

After the surprisingly not awkward emotional scene, they walked down to the lobby of Richie’s apartment complex only to see that in the time Eddie spent picking Richie up it started pouring rain. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem for someone prepared, but they’re gay so. Eddie looked up at Richie and nervously chuckled knowing that since neither of them had an umbrella or a car, they couldn’t really go to the theatre.

“You don’t happen to have a big enough umbrella for the both of us, do you?” Eddie asked with slight hope. Richie let out a breathy laugh and shook his head.

“Not unless you count that small yellow one I got for a gag gift on my birthday." Richie shrugged.

Eddie sighed and held his head a little lower, “then I hope you weren’t too excited about seeing a movie with me.”

Richie feels upset for a second, he knows he didn’t cause the rain but clearly Eddie put a lot of thought into this whole date. I mean, flowers and such a cute cute cute outfit? It made Richie wanna have a personal talk with the clouds about how his date deserves better. But he can’t do that, instead, he tries a different approach.

“Aw, Eds.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, “the only reason this date is exciting is because I’m gonna spend it with you. I don’t need a movie to enjoy spending time with you.”

He didn’t miss the way Eddie’s cheeks flushed pink or the way his eyes widened. Richie leaned more towards Eddie’s hand and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles. “Now, we’re going to go back to my apartment. We’re gonna hope that takeout is willing to come all the way in this rain and watch hour-long vine compilations. All the while I’m going to enjoy every moment I spend with you and hope you feel the same. Okay?”

Eddie didn’t hesitate to pull Richie’s entire head down to his level and press a bruising first kiss against his chapped lips. Richie was caught so off guard he didn’t even get to kiss back but Eddie didn’t seem to mind because his smile was still brighter than the sun hidden outside. “Okay.”

And that’s what they did. They cuddled on Richie’s old couch with Chinese takeout while watching vines on Richie’s computer because his tv couldn’t. If you ask Richie at any time of the day, he’ll tell you that nothing made him fall harder for Eddie than hearing him yell, “this bitch empty! YEET!”

…

“Bold of you to assume you haven’t ruined my life.” Eddie challenged before scooping a bite of his ice cream into his mouth. Richie felt something twist inside, nerves no doubt, he knows Eddie meant it as a joke but insecurities never back down.

“I hope you don’t regret it, you’re stuck with me.” He intends that to be a joke but his voice is too timid to pull it off. Eddie looks back over at him and understands Richie in a second. He reaches his free hand over to Richie’s and intertwines them.

“You ruined Edward Christopher Kaspbraks life. Eddie Kaspbrak couldn’t be happier for you to stomp that old guy out.” His tone is loving but his words are firm. It makes Richie’s heard swell with love.

“Richie Tozier loves you, Eddie Kaspbrak.” Richie leans over and gives Eddie a disgustingly cheesy Eskimo kiss. Eddie returns it.

“Eddie Kaspbrak loves you too, Richie Tozier.”

#it 2017 #richie tozier #the losers club #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #12 flavors

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samtheflamingomain · 3 years

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remember when tik tok was a song?

A lot has changed in my short time on this planet. I grew up to the sound of the ole dial-up and now I can watch someone talk about why the Earth is flat for an hour from anywhere on the disc!

The way we create, consume and criticize media is one of the things whose recent evolution is probably what piques my interest the most. Not necessarily the content of the media, which is always changing, but trends in the structure behind it.

Tech has obviously improved exponentially. Health, science, education - all significantly changed in the past few decades. But same goes for the past few centuries.

Media has, necessarily, been slower to evolve. Can't have TV shows without a TV. It basically went from book to newspaper to radio to TV to Internet. There's at least a few decades between all those things, if not longer. However, from TV to today is what I'm most interested in.

For decades, for generations, TV was channel-surfing via an antenna or a satellite dish served by your cable provider. A lot of those words mean nothing to a teenager now.

I'm 26. I started with cable (10 channels), then we got satellite (500 channels), then by the time I was 16 or 17, Netflix the streaming service came out. So I'm in a very small window of people who were young enough for all of these things to happen in my childhood. 5 years older than me and you didn't get Netflix as a teen. 5 years younger and you didn't have cable as a teen. Maybe 10 years. You see the point.

Then realize that the 16 year-old of today hasn't grown up without Netflix being a household word. If the 16 year-old of today wanted to watch Peter Pan, he would boot up Disney+. I would've gone to Blockbuster and rented it for $3. If he wanted to see a kitten falling down stairs and then doing a backflip, that's probably somewhere on Youtube. If I wanted to see that as a kid, well, I'd better start looking for a very gymnastic cat with all its lives.

So to sum up so far, a lot has changed very quickly - about how we consume media. What about how it's formatted?

And how we consume it always necessarily comes before what it is we're consuming changes. Remember when "Netflix Originals" didn't exist? The platform was built, the people came, and then new media came from it.

We've seen TV shows go from the binary of "22 minutes or 44 minutes" to "however long we fucking want". The disintegration of the binary of "comedy or drama". When I was a kid, sitcoms had seasons of 22 episodes, once a week, in the fall. Drama shows usually had 16 episodes. Now Netflix puts out "Mike Tyson Mysteries", with any number of episodes in a season, with each only 11-13 minutes long, pretty much at random. Letterkenny puts out 6-episode seasons once a year on Christmas. Back in my day, we never knew if this season would be the last. Even if the last episode was a cliffhanger, there was no promise of a resolution. Sitcoms kissed the rings of the networks every year hoping to be renewed. The other day South Park announced it was making 6 more seasons and a bunch of movies.

There are a few TV formats that I consider "evolution proof" - game shows (not reality, game), soap operas, late night and standup. All of these date back to radio times and have rarely if ever changed format. I'm personally hoping that, within my lifetime, I'm able to see a change in the way standup is done. We've seen very few attempts to break the mold, and the only example I can think of right now is Mulaney's Sack Lunch Bunch, and to be honest I think it left a lot to be desired. But that's to be expected if media itself is going to change formats - it'll take a lot of trial-and-error.

Quick tangent: I'm not talking about comedy itself. Comedy is constantly changing formats. Vine made absolute stars out of SIX SECOND-LONG content creators. I mean standup. I'd like to see its definition change from "70 minutes of uncut, unedited, scripted jokes told in story form on a stage in front of an audience with a microphone and maybe a few props done by one person, with pauses for laughter and applause, sometimes with audience interaction" to "long-format comedic content delivered by one person to an audience", taking away the mic, the stage, the very structured format. With the exception of maybe Bo Burnham, even if you've never seen a specific comedian, you know what to expect and when to expect it. You can Just Tell when the last joke is about to begin. You're not going to be surprised when the guy picks someone out of the crowd to make a few jokes with. You probably even know the definition of a call-back by name because they're so common. I don't know how it would necessarily change, but I don't think it's impossible.

Back to the main post for one more point: fandom. We've talked about the evolution of the consumption of media and what format we're watching it in. We know the content has evolved. But I think one of the most interesting changes in this category is the way we interact with shows now.

I'm currently sitting in my Simpsons-character-covered tracksuit I bought for $15 on Wish, next to my closet which contains about 15-20 t-shirts. At least 8 of them are Simpsons-themed. When I started building this collection, it started about 5 years ago when I saw my very first Simpsons shirt in a Bluenotes, and it was the only one I had for a few years. I would buy any Simpsons shirt I saw for a while. Today I went to the mall, and if I still had that policy I'd have blown through my savings in one trip.

I actually consider myself lucky; The Simpsons isn't as popular on merch you'd find at the mall as say Rick and Morty, Adventure Time, or Spongebob. I've seen giant stuffed Pickle Ricks, but never an oversized Homer.

My point being, I'm a superfan, but of a slightly older show that isn't nearly as popular as it used to be. If you walk into a Hot Topic, you can probably find any pop culture property on a t-shirt, mug, keychain and temporary face tattoo. This was not the case 10 years ago.

And that's just fandom with regard to the physical world. Did you know that John Mulaney, who did 3 Netflix specials 4 years ago, has THREE subreddits? Every time I get into something new it used to cross my mind, "Hey, I wonder if there's a subreddit for this yet". Now it's "I wonder which of the several subreddits that surely exist for this show/movie/vague concept is best".

A lot of the time when I see the concept of fandom discussed in mainstream media, it's still a severely outdated depiction. Even documentaries tend to stop at "and then Comic-con was invented. The End". I hate to praise it for anything, but if it did anything good, The Big Bang Theory did properly define "fandom" for the world.

I remember when 99% of people polled would not have heard of "fan fiction". I started writing it at 12 when the category for Harry Potter fan fiction on fanfiction.net had but a few thousand entries. My show of choice, Death Note, had a few hundred. I got in on the ground floor and built my way to the top. I abandoned that account 6 years ago and I still get 10-20 story comments or favorites per week.

Now try finding someone who hasn't heard of fan fiction. Find someone who's too old to have written on AO3.

Finally, and I know it's been a long ramble but bear with me, I want to address the homicidal, drunk-driving, pregnant-wife-killing elephant in the room: stans.

If you don't get the reference I just made, please google "origin of the term stan". Caught up? Good, so now answer me this: how did we take a term that refers so very, very obviously to a very, very negative situation and turn it into something someone says casually or even proudly of themselves?

Obviously when I say I stan Green Day that doesn't mean I'm going to write Billie Joe threatening letters and kill my girlfriend, it means I consider myself one of their biggest fans. I think in all of English vocabulary, there's only one other word that's taken such a 180 in definition and it's one I can't say.

Anyway, that's me done. Now that there's more streaming platforms than people who've fucked your mom, I'm interested to see where we go from here.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

#media #media consumption #evolution of media #tv #sam

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richiestoziers · 7 years

Text

stay gold

summary: richie is desperate to win best couple costume at derry high’s halloween dance, and who better to go matching with than stanley uris.

warnings: um kissing, slightly sexual talk or notions??

read on ao3 here!

got messed up during posting sorry for any mistakes!!

it’s the derry high annual halloween dance and almost all of the school is there, usually everyone would be at the party at sally mueller’s house, but this year they put a curfew on halloween and they were strict. apparently there have been some threats of violence this halloween so cops are driving up and down the streets to catch anyone violating this curfew, and the only way to have a semblance of fun and not break the curfew was going to the school dance.

richie and his friends had never gone before, they usually stayed at bill’s and rented some scary movies, but this year they decided to go. it was mainly because bill’s parents had a party to go to themselves and they were afraid to leave the kids alone with these threats. they were all either seventeen or eighteen but the denbrough’s still saw them as children, and probably would until they graduated high school.

that was how they found themselves in this situation, scrambling for costumes to wear to the dance, and richie begging “someone please go matching with me!”

they all looked at him and shook their heads, knowing whatever richie wanted to wear would not be good for them.

“come on guys, they have a couples contest and i really want to win. please, please, please.” he got on his knees as they all hung out one day, his hands seemingly ready to pray as he begged his group.

“sorry richie, i already have a superman costume.” mike responded first, and richie almost offered to be lois lane until he realized that was already taken by the resident red head of the group.

“eddie and i are going to be batman and robin.” bill spoke next, leaving ben and stan for his two options to match with.

“i’m going as an olympic track player, which i don’t think would make much of a matching costume.” there goes ben, always representing the track team he was so proud to be apart of.

“stan, please tell me you don’t have anything.” richie turned, still on his knees, feeling the sting of the gravel rubbing into his knees as he made eye contact with stanley. “you’re my best friend, my love, the one person i want to match with. please, stan, do this for me and i’ll do anything for you.”

stan rolled his eyes in typical stan fashion, and put his hand out. “stand up, seeing you begging on your knees was fun at first but now it’s just pathetic.”

richie took his hand to help himself up, and wiped the pebbles that rammed their way into his knee. “are you sure it’s not cuz if you keep seeing me on my knees like that you’ll get hard?” there is richie, making crude comments that make stan blush.

“shut up, say shit like that and i won’t match with you.” stan looked down to his feet, trying to hide the blush from the lanky boy towering over him.

it was an unoffical offical thing that stanley uris was crushing on richie, he was butt-crazy in love with that boy. everyone in the losers club knew except for richie, he was somehow blind to stan’s obvious affections towards him, despite stan being so blatantly obvious with it.

“come on stanley, if you do me this favor i’ll owe you big time...whatever you want.” richie took stan’s hand in his as he said this, making stan look up to this big eyes made even bigger with those ridiculous glasses richie still wore (stan found it so cute). god, richie did not know what he was doing when he did this to stan. holding his smaller hands in richie’s larger harder ones, telling him these things that made stan want to faint and fall in his arms.

he thought he was crazy for falling for richie tozier, and he was right.

“fine, i’ll match with you, but i have to agree with the costume. i’m not wearing something ridiculous or embarrassing myself.” stan agreed, though he knew he would the minute richie asked.

richie let go of stan’s hands and missed stan’s face fall, a wide smile showing those big horse like teeth richie had that stan thought was cute for some reason. they were right when they called him bucky beaver as kids, except stan saw it as cute rather than an insult.

“great! come over to my house and we can plan it all out. we better win or i’m going to trash the school.” richie spoke, half serious.

“well i won’t be helping in trashing the school, you can get kicked out on your own.” stan rolled his eyes, using his typical richie centric sarcasm as a way to deflect his obvious crush on him.

“you’re supposed to be my partner in crime, stan, don’t bail on me so quickly.” richie feigned dejection, but stan was used to his fake over dramatics.

“beep beep, richie.” stan spoke, with a curled smile on his face that he desperately tried to hide, even more so when richie wrapped his arm around his shoulder as they walked with the group.

the group disperses until it’s just richie and stan, and stan is shy and scared but trying not to show it. him and richie always hang out alone, but every time stan feels his heart beating frantically and thinks he’s gonna faint, and he always has to hide it from richie so he doesn’t suspect anything.

stan is convinced he has no chance with richie, it’s all apart of his self loathing that has haunted him for years and years.

but he climbs in richie’s truck anyway, always struggling since it’s so high off the ground and stan hasn’t grown since eighth grade when he hit 5′7″, versus richie who seems to never stop growing. he’s a beanstalk, and stan is jack because boy does he want to climb up that.

he shouldn’t think such things, so he keeps his eyes on the road rather than look at richie and think thoughts that will leave him red in the face and his hands all clammy.

“you okay, stan?” richie questions as he drives them back to his house, used to stan being quiet but not when it was just them two.

stan and richie had been best friends since richie was one and stan was born (richie was a year older), and even as children they knew they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

and so far they had, they were still best friends to this day, and even though they were close with the other losers when it came down to it it would always be stan and richie. just how they liked it.

“fine, just a bit tired.” stan turned to look at richie as he spoke, a smile on his face reassuring richie, and richie swore he almost got in an accident at the sight. looking at stan like that, leaned against the seat, curls unruly and his big brown eyes looking up at richie, and his thin pink lips spread out into a smile.

richie would never tell anyone, but he thought his best friend was gorgeous.

so he had to turn away, look back on the road before he swerved to the side and killed them both, because stan was like the sun. he was like the sun because he was beautiful and warm and everything he wanted, but he couldn’t look too long or he’d lose himself in it.

it’s a good thing they weren’t too far from richie’s house, making it quickly over. “here we are.”

parking in his usual spot the two boys jumped out of the truck, making their way to richie’s door as he unlocked it for them. all the lights were off indicating that they were alone in the house for the time being, which both excited stan and made him nervous.

“come on, let’s go up to my room and plan our award winning couple costume.” hearing it referred to a couple costume made stan almost swoon, but he followed richie up the stairs and into his bedroom none the less.

“so what were you thinking of?” stan asked richie, making himself comfortable on richie’s bed, finding the one clean spot on it and in his room to sit on.

“i don’t know, maybe some brokeback mountain.” richie winked at stan, teasing him and taking a seat on the rolling chair at his desk.

“so just a cowboy costume? not very distinguishable.” stan tried to play it off cool, especially since brokeback mountain was one of his favorite movies.

“all jokes, but i don’t know. batman and robin are already taken, and i wanna look good so no tweedle dee and tweedle dum or shit like that. we’ve gotta look hot, hot hot.” richie sang the last words, and since they were in private stan felt no need to deliver a snarky comment.

“well i honestly have no idea. we could be spongebob and patrick?” he offered up, but felt dumb immediately.

“did you not hear me say i want to look hot, and a sponge and a starfish aren’t exactly that. let me get my creative juices flowing, i always have been the smart one of us.” richie teased, getting a smack from stan which interrupted him rubbing his temple in hopes of an idea. “hey! watch it! i’m trying to think here!”

stan could only smile, loving how silly the boy in front of him was.

“greasers! like a grease meets the outsiders type thing, we could be ponyboy and johnny or some shit like that. come on, hair all greased back, cool sunglasses and leather jackets. we’ll pull some honeys and win the contest with our charming good looks.” richie got out of his chair as he said this, making ridiculous poses stan thought was his attempt at being a ‘greaser’.

“fine, not like i have any other ideas.” not to mention he wouldn’t mind seeing richie in that, and it was a pretty simple costume to get together.

“better not half ass this or bail out on me, stanley, i really want to win.” richie spoke with a pointed finger, and stan doubted they would win but did it anyway.

“promise, now i’ve got to get home and do some homework. i’ll see you later though.” stan got off the bed and walked through the mess that was richie tozier’s room to his door.

“wait, i can drive you.” richie offered, quickly getting up from his seat.

“thanks, but i can walk.” stan smiled at him, not wanting richie to go through the trouble of driving him home.

“are you sure? it’s no problem, really.” richie asked, leaning against his doorway, pale skin and pink lips in a goofy grin. it was going to drive stan crazy.

“i’m sure, thanks anyway.” stan smiled one last time, making his way down the stairs and to the door. “bye, richie!”

“bye, stan!” richie screamed back, smiling as he looked at stan walk out the door and into his heart.

he was just as madly in love with stan as stan was with him.

so they go to the dance, separately in the end and both are excited to see the others costume.

richie has his hair greased up but not greased back, it’s still down and if it wasn’t so greasey it would look good. he has sunglasses on over his contact which he rarely wears, and a leather jacket over a worn out mickey mouse shirt and ripped jeans. all together and all on him, it really works.

and he’s talking with bill and waiting for stan, and when he walks in he almost drops his spiked punch because stan looks hot. his curls are greased back so you wouldn’t even think curls are under there, and it makes you focus more on his face which is absolutely gorgeous. he’s in all black, a look richie has never seen him in, but he secretly loves. he loves seeing him in a black shirt and leather jacket and black skinny jeans that make richie’s jeans feel tight too.

“stan the man, looking good. i haven’t seen your hair like that since your bar mitzvah, and you looked hot then and you look hot now.” richie says as he greets him, putting his arm around the shorter boy to make sure everyone knows they were matching.

“you guys have to sign up to be apart of the couples contest, you know that right? none of us did so you guys could actually have a chance.” bill teased, and richie made a mocking face in response.

“let’s go, stanley my man, we still gotta win this thing.” richie leads stan to the booth with the entries, and stan’s heart is racing at the sight of richie and that his arm was still around him.

tonight was the best night of his life, or at least he hoped so.

richie only lets go of his grip on stan to sign them up in the almost empty bin, making him realize almost nobody cared about this shit, but he was still dead set on winning.

writing down in his chicken scratch handwriting richie tozier and stanley uris he quickly enters it and grabs stan’s hand, that big smile on his face and asking. “come dance with me?”

stan doesn’t even have to speak, just nod his head and give him a lovestruck smile as they go to the dancefloor. they dance to some trashy top 40 hit that they can barely hear the lyrics too, but they jump around and richie is a horrible dancer making stan laugh until his stomach hurts (richie loves the sight of it).

stan swore richie was starting to dance worse just to keep him laughing.

stan was right, richie was doing that, because he loved getting stan to laugh and he loved seeing him laugh and he loved him.

isn’t it funny how two people can be so crazy in love with each other but not tell the other?

it must be a high school type of thing, or at least that’s how they imagined it.

“are you having fun?” richie screams to stan over the music, his dancing all over the place making his hair go crazy.

stan moves closer so they can talk, screaming in response. “yeah, more than i thought i would!” stan was never a school dance, homecoming game type of guy. the only reason he ever went to games was for mike since he was on the team, but he was bored and cold throughout it all.

“good, i can’t have it getting around that my date is bored.” richie screams back, and stan’s dancing falters a bit before he gets back into the rhythm.

“date?” he questions, unable to ask anymore.

“well, not a date but...you know. we’re a couples costume, you’re kind of my date.” richie gives an unsure smile to stan, and stan doesn’t understand what he means but nods anyway.

they dance until they’re tired and sweaty and they both agree they need something to drink, and while richie gets some of the juice spiked with vodka stan sticks with the clean water in the cooler to the side.

“hey guys, you look great.” coming from superman, or rather mike, it was a great compliment.

“thanks, mikey, you look great. where’s lois?” richie asks, looking mike up and down, his costume is great.

“with ben, of course.” even though they were matching they were nothing more than friends, beverly’s heart belonged to ben hanscom.

the two followed mike back to the table claimed by the losers, all of them sitting their either talking or eating the halloween themed snacks.

“they’re going to announce the winners soon, shut up!” beverly tells them when they get too loud, and stan and richie are squeezing each others hands in hopes that they win.

up on stage is some girl in the grade below them, and richie is blanking on her name because he’s so excited he hopes he wins. “and the winner of this halloweens couple contest is...eddie corcoran and betty ripsom!”

feeling dejected and disappointed as he watches the winners in a ketchup and mustard costume go up on stage, he’s sad and pretending to be mad because that’s what they all expect. “this is bullshit, come on stan, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” he grabs stan’s hand and drags him out, and the losers know he isn’t really mad and let them be.

“richie? are you okay?” stan questions as they walk through the empty hallways and out to the parking lot.

“yeah, but our costumes were so much better than that shit.” his lanky arms flail around as she speaks.

“you’re not actually mad, are you?” stan questions, unsure.

richie smiles and laughs as he unlocks his truck, ready for them both to go in. “no, but i’m still going to destroy the school since they stole my claim to fame from me.”

stan shakes his head and gets in richie’s death trap of a truck, looking at richie and wishing they won for his sake.

“i’m sorry.” stan says, and he’s doing it again. he’s leaning against the seat and looking so precious that richie wonders how he is still resisting himself.

“stan, it’s fine. i had fun, and i hope you did too.” god, he’s starting to treat this like a date.

stan nodded, giving him a genuine smile. “i did...i always have fun with you richie.”

richie takes off his sunglasses and gives stan that look, that look of tenderness and loving and stan’s lips open a bit at the sight, because he is so in love with his best friend and he just can’t resist...

so he doesn’t.

he leans in, hypnotized by richie’s plump pink lips and big brown eyes, and their lips are pressed against each other. it’s soft, barely a peck, but it’s something and stan pulls away because he’s so shocked by what he did.

he looks at richie with terror in his eyes, worried that he ruined everything he had, but as he looks richie’s eyes are still closed and his lips are so kissable and stan is under his trance so he goes in for more.

this time it’s a real kiss, and richie cups stan’s cheek and stan grabs richie’s shoulder and kisses him the way he always wanted to. he kisses him like it’s the last time he’ll ever kiss him, he kisses him like he does in his dreams.

they finally pull away with their foreheads still together and their arms still all over each other, and they look into each others brown eyes and smile.

“i guess this technically was a date.” richie speaks first, his smirk making stan’s smile grow wider.

“good, i was hoping it was.” stan responds, and he doesn’t think he’s ever smiled bigger than he is right now.

and they were right when they said they would spend the rest of their lives together, because that’s what you do when the person you love loves you back.

@wyattghouleff

#stozier #stan x richie #stozier fanfiction #stozier imagine #stozier fic #my writing #stan #richie

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