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#my face has been live slug reaction the whole time i was doing this
nil-elk · 2 years
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Mmmm, some griddlehark for the soul.
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hitlikehammers · 25 days
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stupid superpower
rating: teen tags: humor, brotherly ribbing, Dustin has a ✨stupid superpower✨, Dustin continues to have issues with his tone ✨for @slashify at my BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST for the prompt: Character Has Powers (requested to be Dustin)
“Look, see!” Dustin points at the mat he’s laid out on the coffee table in Steve’s living room. “This is why Dart was so easy, it makes so much sense now.”
He turns to them with the biggest grin that’s getting a little less gummy by the week, now, but…he looks so proud, is the thing.
And it is painful. The pride. What it’s for.
The way they’re gonna have to probably dash it.
“I,” Steve squints at the setup, start to finish, empty cans framing the perimeter before he sighs: “I am not seeing anything, man.”
“No,” Dustin’s voice goes pitchy, really, he should have outgrown that by now, s’looking like it’s a permanent trait, yeesh; “look.”
And he points with such…some superiority, such imperiousness, like…okay, so maybe it’s the least painful of the list, when they have to dash all that pride. Kid’s gotta fucking learn some humility, man. Like, sooner rather than later.
“I told you I could communicate with them!” Dustin pulls off his cap and throws it to the couch, triumphant. Steve watches the mat for a few more seconds before he straights up, cocks his hip and crosses his arms.
“You’re telling me,” he says slowly; “that you talk to slugs.”
Because that…that certainly appears to be what the argument has been. They’d kinda thought Dustin has been joking, in previous passing mention. Eddie, at least, definitely thought he was just being an annoying little prick for how many times he asked if either of them felt particularly chiropteran, muttering about traits from interactions, close encounters, bites would obviously count.
Like, it was Dustin, if they took all the crap he said to heart, weighed it seriously, they’d never do anything else.
Like: ever.
“Interspecial gastropodic extracommunicational phenomena,” Dustin rattles off, a little defensive, if Eddie’s gonna be honest; and it wasn’t exactly called for. Steve just asked a question.
Eddie, on the other hand…
“So slugs and snails,” Eddie confirms, droll as fuck by intention, because Eddie is actually very aware of his tone in most situations, thank you very much; “the shell doesn’t deter you.”
“No, I think it’s the whole at least the whole class, maybe the whole phylum,” and he’s so excited, but, he’s also being a fucking know-it-all about it and there is a part of Eddie that doesn’t want to squash Dustin’s enthusiasm but the bigger part of Eddie, but fucking far, knows for a goddamn fact no one could possible squash Dustin’s enthusiasm, or self-confidence, like, Dustin would happily go toe-to-toe with like, Stephen fucking Hawking, and brag afterward that the intellectual stimulation was lacking.
So Eddie doesn’t actually feel bad about any of this and Dustin rambles on.
“But I think if I got my hands on a limpet, or an abalone—“
And when he looks up he must catch something, like he must be able to tell, to read something despite Eddie being very fucking careful to keep a helluva poker face right now—and Eddie’s kinda proud, because maybe the little shithead can be taught.
“You’re joking,” Dustin concludes, dry as fuck and with the audacity to sound…disappointed? Like in a how-could-you-be-so-juvenile-as-to-stoop-to-this-level kind of way which. Which.
“Not at all,” Eddie clutches his non-existent pearls in mock offense, and Dustin’s eyes just narrow.
“I was right.”
“Might not want to say that too loud, Dusty-Buns,” Eddie shoots right back and Steve coughs unconvincingly to cover a laugh and Eddie bites his bottom lip to stop his own smile, less because of Dustin’s reaction and more just because…Stevie. Being adorable.
Steve being his Stevie.
“Yeah, that feels like slander,” Steve adds in thoughtfully, stroking his chin and everything before he turns to Eddie, considering.
“Can you slander yourself, if you’re embarrassing enough?”
And oh, oh: Eddie adores it when his boyfriend’s bitchy side comes out. He adores it so much.
“‘Course you can, big boy,” Eddie can’t help himself as he leans over and pecks at Steve’s cheek; Dustin scowls at them and Eddie can’t help himself, so he licks up Steve’s cheek for the disgusted grown from Dustin and the half-assed shove from Steve that doesn’t move him further away at all.
“You’re just jealous that I have a superpower,” Dustin ultimately shoots back which: okay, Eddie knows he’s capable of better than that, he’s kind of disappointed, that was so weak.
“It’s a stupid superpower,” Steve points out, plain and simple and Eddie wants to clap his hands. He. Loves. His. Bitchy. Boyfriend.
So. Much.
“Or is it a superpower for stupid?” Eddie asks, turning back to Steve like it’s a genuine question, a worthy debate.
“Naw,” Steve shakes his head, almost regretful; “he is pretty fuckin’ smart.”
“More than one kind of stupid, Stevie,” Eddie notes with due gravitas.
“Envy,” Dustin sniffs, so goddamn superior. “Green’s really not your fucking color,” and ooo, there’s a little snarl, a little sneer on his lips; “either of you.”
“I look good in green,” Steve points out, not even petulant, just factual.
“For example,” Eddie picks up and talks over Dustin’s comment like he never made one, leveling the little asshole with a pointed look:
“Some people are stupid about their tone.”
Steve doesn’t even try to cover his snort that time.
“You look good in everything, sweetheart,” Eddie takes the opportunity to comment, to sneak another kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth as he purrs; “and out.”
“Disgusting,” Dustin gags and Eddie turns to glare as he bites out:
“Tone!”
Like, way to prove Eddie’s fucking point for him, wow, the lack of self-preservation is overwhelming here.
“I’m gonna go find El,” Dustin announces, like he thinks it’s an airport; “she will be thrilled to have someone like her around—“
“Remember what I said?” Eddie turns to Steve, exaggerates the knowing look he gives; “types of dumb,” then he turns again to Dustin, and knows his look is pitying, because he fucking means for it to be.
“Telekinesis and slug-speak aren’t even in the same universe, man,” and Jesus H., Dustin looks offended at the suggestion, which.
Which.
“The overlap of telepathic—“
“Slugs, Dustin,” Steve butts in, cuts him off; “I drown those fuckers in little bowls of beer in the yard. They go in willingly,” and oh. Oh, Eddie loves his boyfriend.
Eddie loves his boyfriend so goddamn much.
Because he hadn’t even noticed the set up, the slight of hand, because Steve had overturned the can of PBR he hadn’t finished, that had gone warm anyway, and dumped it into the shallow little bowl that used to have pretzel sticks inside, low enough to, to—
“Well they won’t anymore,” Dustin declares, fucking haughty with it; “because I will tell them—“
“Yet behold, special super slug-whisperer,” Eddie gasps and gestures wide to the mat where the slug demonstration had originally taken place: “whatever do we have here?”
What they have there is the little bowl of beer, set on the slug mat.
With slugs already drowned inside.
“Probably maybe you should be smarter about where you stick your attention if you really want to save your precious children from their hoppy graves,” Eddie shrugs, and infuses his words with as much fake fucking concern as he can fit into them because slug-whispering.
Fucking honestly.
Dustin only wastes a few seconds gaping at the scene, mouth working around something—comprehension, maybe, or just some degree of shock—before he turns his eyes up and glares at them both.
“You’re evil,” he says definitively, pointing; “both of you.��
“Go see El, Super Slug,” Eddie smiles indulgently; “she’s absolutely trembling with anticipation at the arrival of an equal, I’m sure of it.”
“After all, didn’t you say,” Steve shrugs and folds his arms over his chest, looks Dustin up and down before delivering the final blow:
“You were right.”
And Dustin scowls, and Eddie cackles, because that’s his brother, that’s their brother.
“Fucking assholes,” Dustin mutters, and leaves his slug mat and the beer-bowl behind as he stomps out the door: these children really need to learn about cleaning up after themselves, even if they leave in a stompy little huff like a goddamn toddler, fucking hell: but still.
Dustin’s their brother.
Like they were ever going to let him get away with bragging about slug powers.
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permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 
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eriexplosion · 9 months
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Star Wars: The Clone Wars
MOVIE TIME.
I actually love the way this starts out with the voices shouting over the LucasFilm logo but also I hate it because oh god the clone boys sound SO panicked.
"Skywalker should have attacked by now!" "Don't worry, he knows the plan!"
Ah but Obi-Wan will he FOLLOW the plan is the question. We all know he KNOWS the plan. But this is Anakin we're talking about.
Christ though it's been like ten seconds and we've already lost so many clones. One of them punches a droid and hurts his hand just before getting shot and it's clearly supposed to be comic relief and I'm so much of a clone sap that I'm like ;A; NO!
GOD AHSOKA IS SUCH A LITTLE BABY NUGGET.
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SMOL. God though please put some armor on there is a war going on. There are blaster shots Ahsoka. Who dressed her in this. Why. Anyway shout out to Anakin for living the nightmare of suddenly being assigned a whole child to take care of without your permission.
I am however living for Rex's reaction to her. Meets his future beloved baby sister and all he can do is make this face.
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Ew, a child.
And I... I forgot that the way they got through the barrier. Was just. Hiding under a box. Metal Gear Solid ass plan right there. Just get in the box. Thank god battle droids aren't very smart.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan takes a moment to do a little war crimeing with his fake surrender. I know Star Wars doesn't have the Geneva Convention but that doesn't make it less funny that Obi-Wan has canonically violated it.
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GOD I LOVE THIS HIDEOUS SQUEALING ORB. WORST SOCCER BALL OF A CREATURE. I want fifty. While watching the sprinkler outside of my apartment window gurgled on and for a solid ten seconds I thought it was coming from Rotta.
I do wish the movie was SLIGHTLY less action oriented just because it leaves very little room for anything else, and I think it would have been interesting to see more of Anakin wrestling with justifiable distaste for the hutts. Obviously we get to see some of it, but only in a very limited scope since most of it is focused on the pewpew of it all. (Still, justifiable issues with hutts aside. Anakin. Don't DRAG THE BABY.)
Best moment in the movie - that poor droid getting yeeted into oblivion by Ventress screaming WHYYYY all the way down.
OH. I. FORGOT ABOUT THE PART WHERE ANAKIN HAS TO ABANDON REX IN ORDER TO GET AWAY WITH THE KID AND HAS TO CALL AND SAY "I'M SORRY WE'RE NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO HELP YOU."
"Don't worry about us General, we'll be alright. The mission always comes first sir."
Okay but I hate that it does at least I know Rex comes out fine but GOD. Anyway coming off of Hidden Enemy and Slick talking about his brothers being cannon fodder and then seeing them drop like flies here is A Lot.
I ALSO. FORGOT ZIRO WAS INTRODUCED HERE. Ziro the hutt sure is. A character. Every time he is on screen I am certainly glued to him.
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Very normal things to say when the 'treachery' is stopping you from killing a baby.
Anyway the rewatch was definitely more coherent than the first time I watched it, because now I'm invested enough in the characters for it to hold my attention. I want to see the little slug child again some day.
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pinkt3aa · 2 years
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agree to disagree
Geto Suguru x fem! reader ♡
summary: while being on a talk show the host suggest a fun game of agree to disagree.
contains-actor au, fluff, 1,186 words
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“Y/N how did you feel when you heard your boyfriend got the role as Batman,” the Talkshow host asked making your boyfriend laugh
Y/N L/N a famous actor known worldwide for her acting performances on the big screen. More importantly, her big role-playing as the joker. Now looking back at the past films you’ve always been cast as the girl with a pretty face but has a psycho side. Seeing your past films the director had made the role perfectly for you so hearing that they’d like to have you onboard for the new joker you were ecstatic.
Now back to the question
Letting out an embarrassing chuckle you gulped remembering your reaction. “Oh yeah”
“Seems like you weren’t too happy about it” the host laughed
“That sounds about right” sighing you continued, “when Suguru told me that he got the role I was happy for him I really was but I was mad that people were going to think he was hotter than me” you pouted. Getos lips turned into a smile as he ran his long fingers down your thigh, “she ignored me for a whole day till I finally asked what was wrong”
You couldn’t help but laugh recalling the day. “Only one of the problems for one of the world's hottest couples, am I right?” The audience laughed. “Now a question for you Geto. How was it working with Y/N because as said here you’ve never been in a movie with her”.
Although you trusted your boyfriend you gave him a quick glance not to spill that you’ve had done a few quickies just to tease you. “Yeah, it was amazing, to say the least. She gets into character very well and when she thinks she’s not doing her best she’ll walk offset to take a breath and do the scene over again”. Suguru held a true smile on his lips talking about you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he loved you too the whole world which made your heart do a flip.
“She made it a point to learn everyone’s names even the people that would give her a glass of water. And we worked great together in general. I've only seen my clingy girlfriend at home so seeing her on set and working with her was like a whole new side of her”. The whole audience cooed at his loving words and even cheered making you slug down in your seat out of embarrassment.
“Your too good for me” you mumbled but Geto caught it and wrapped his arms around your shoulders a cheery smile on his face present
Shaking his head with a smile on his face the host laughed, “i can already hear the cries of the fangirls but that’ll have to wait till after the break”. And with that, the ads started to roll while the make-up and hair crew quickly ran over to you all to do some touch-ups.
“Mm suguru I think Yuji and Megumi are in the crowd tonight” you spoke with open lips as Molly your stylist touched up your lip gloss. “Oh yeah, babe?” sugurus bun was being tied up again. “Yup Yuji posted something saying he’s going to see the tonight show live and I could’ve sworn I saw a plump of pink hair in the crowd”.
“Okay Y/N you're looking great you have 1 minute till we’re live again” Molly smiled. Nodding you sent her a smile as she walked away. Turning to Suguru he winked and pushed the back of your head making your lips join together in a kiss. You both smiled into the kiss and this time you were the one to break away first. “I love you”
“Okay and now we’re back” The Talkshow host announced reviving tons of claps from the crowd
“Now today we’re going to play a game called agree to disagree”. Suddenly a table and two chairs were brought out from the curtain. “Okay so how it works is your both going to sit opposite from each other and I’m going to ask you questions that will make you agree or disagree” the topic brought a lot of claps from the crowd.
“Shall we begin” earning a nod from you and Suguru as you made your way to sit down in the chairs.
A playful smirk made its way on both of yours faces. You were a very competitive couple. “Great! Now first question orange juice or apple juice?”
“Apple juice” you both answered in a minute
Looking over to your boyfriend a breathy sigh escape your lips, “thank the gods I thought you would’ve said orange juice”. Placing a hand to his heart geto scoffed amusingly, “never sweetheart how dare you think that” making the crowd laugh.
“Dogs make better companions than cats” the host spoke
“Pineapple pizza is tasty”
The topic made you gag aloud. “Oh my gosh no. Tangy pineapple on pizza is disgusting ew”
“I mean it's alright” Suguru chuckled rubbing the nape of his neck in embarrassment, “overrated as fuck though in my opinion but yeah..”
“Your so bad at lying Suguru” sticking your tongue in a teasing manner, “but still let’s just stick to cheese pizza like we always do, hm?”
“Now this question is for the audience” a roar of cheer erupted from those who were seated, “who do you think is better Batman or joker?”
“People who say Batman stand up” looking over your shoulder you could count around 15 people. “Okay okay, a good amount so far, and what about joker?”
This time 30 people in the Audience stood up making you smile and a hand on your heart as a genuine laugh escaped your lips, “Thank you everyone that truly feeds my ego”. Geto had a pearly white smile on his face hearing your laugh.
“Lots of joker Stan’s I see isn't that great. Now the last topic of the night, this one might get Y/N in trouble with her boyfriend but here we go”
Awkwardly chuckling you gazed at your boyfriend waiting for the question to be said. “Geto Suguru is the best Batman”.
“Well let’s start off with the best quality’s, yup? I mean there is a lot but first, you embrace the character very easily. I would also say you have the annoying capability of doing things very well, you do too things with such ease” you emphasized.
“Also being very handsome,” the man in front of you said clearing his throat.
“That too” you smiled sweetly. “Plus it’s different to see a long-haired Bruce Wayne for a change. All in all, you're my favorite Suguru”
“Nothing better than hearing those sweet words from your girlfriend” the host chuckled, “Thank you, everyone, for watching and taking their time to be here tonight and good night” with that, the ending song played making you and Geto get up from your seats. Intertwining your fingers with his he spoke, “I must admit those things you said about me made me fall in love with you even more”
Kissing his cheek you smiled. “I love you so so so much geto Suguru but remember joker solos batman”
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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years
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All I Need
Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader
Words: 4512
Summary: Andy has been drowning his grief at your bar for weeks. You help him dry out after a particularly bad night.
Warnings: Major angst!, softish Andy Barber, slight AU (spoilers for Defending Jacob book), explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), descriptions of excessive drinking by adult of appropriate age, SMUT, 18+ only!
A/N: I have officially jumped on the love train for everyone’s favorite floofy lawyer. The sad!boi activated my caretaker instincts so this is pretty soft compared to my normal fics, and extremely angsty. Plus the smut kind of got away from me, I actually had to stop myself from writing even more! 
Checkout my masterlist and join my taglist if your inclined!
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“Shit!! Jesse!” you screamed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, grabbing the bat from under the register as you jumped over the bar to break up the fight.
You swore under your breath as you moved toward the two men who were brawling. The smaller one seemed to have the upper hand, but it didn’t seem like the larger man was putting up much resistance. Maggie just stood there watching them with bambi eyes as you heard your giant cook rumble behind you, ripping off his apron to lend you a hand.
“What the fuck happened, Mags?” You hissed at your bartender, trying to haul the men apart with little success.
“Neal just came over and said he was sorry, and he just lost it.” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Granted, she probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with brawls in downtown Newton at a lawyer bar, but Neal sure seemed to invite violent reactions whenever he opened his stupid mouth.
You lost your patience and smashed an empty glass on the floor next to the two men, shocking them out of it. Neal rose to his feet with a look of fury on his face, but you kept your eyes on Andy Barber.
He’d spent pretty much every night this week since the funeral at your bar. His face was pallid and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he smelled like stale bourbon. Now he was rolling around on the floor aimlessly like a slug.
“Get the fuck out of my bar, Neal.” You said exasperatedly, spying the mostly empty bottle of bourbon on Barber’s table.
“What, I didn’t do anything!” the giant whined at you.
“Really?! You couldn’t just leave the poor guy alone? Jesus Neal! I don’t wanna see you in here for a month.” You hooked your arms under Andy’s and dragged him to sit on the bench, his head lolling drunkenly on his neck as you tried to assess how far gone he was.
“Fuck you, bitch.” Neal spat at you as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.
“Have a great night!” You called after him, sarcastically, flipping him off.
“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Jesse asked, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head at you.
“Who cares, I hate that smug asshole. Hey, Andy?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he slapped your hand away lazily, growling under his breath. “You sneak behind the bar again, man?”
“I swear, I didn’t sell him a bottle, Y/N.” Her chin was quivering as tears slowly leaked down her cheeks.
“I know Mags, he’s a sneaky bastard. Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face.” You watched her scurry off to the bathroom and rubbed a hand over your face. “Fuck. I’m gonna call in Emma to give Maggie a hand. You ok locking up tonight Jess?”
“Sure, what’re you thinking?”
You just stared at Andy with overwhelming pity as he almost slid of the bench, forcing you to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna take him back to his hotel and help him dry out. Wouldn’t feel right just kicking him to the curb.”
“You’re too soft, Y/N.” Jess chortled at you.
“Yeah, maybe. Can you bring me an ice bucket?” You hooked his arm over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet so you could make your way out to your car.
Jess got your bucket from behind the bar as you hobbled outside. You managed to get your passenger door open and you slid Andy inside. His head rolled on his shoulders as you buckled him in before shoving the bucket into his lap.
“Andy, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking puke in my car!”
He grunted in acknowledgment and wrapped his arms around the bucket, curling himself over to hang his head above it.
“You sure you shouldn’t be taking him to a hospital, Y/N?”
“No… mmph… no fucking hospital!” Andy slurred at you as you slammed the door closed.
“I’m pretty sure he’d jump out of the car if he thought I was taking him to the hospital Jess.” You murmured as you circled to the driver’s side. “Thanks for closing, you’re the best!”
You watched him wave in your rearview as you drove off, making sure to keep one eye on Andy as he groaned over his bucket.
You reached his hotel in 15 minutes, grateful for the short drive as the man was looking greener by the second. You dug your hands in the pockets of his coat, searching for the keys to his room and you thankfully found them quickly. You were relieved to see he was on the first floor, as you didn’t trust your ability to safely get him up the stairs.
Getting Andy out of your car was a deal harder than getting him in, as he slipped further into his alcohol induced stupor. You almost dropped him when you wrenched him out of his seat, and you basically carried him to his room.
You somehow managed to get the door unlocked and drag him inside right when you heard his stomach roil. You cursed under your breath as you scrambled to get him to the bathroom, shoving his head in the toilet just in time as he emptied his gut.
“Shit, Andy.” You hissed, your hands on your knees as you tried your best to breathe deeply and get accustomed to the scent of his alcohol-soaked stomach contents. Once you were sure he was relatively stable, you moved to the kitchenette and filled a glass with tepid water before returning to find him leaned back against the wall. “Drink.” You ordered, kneeling beside him and bringing the glass up to his lips.
His eyes locked onto yours as he chugged the water down greedily. No sooner had he swallowed the glass’ contents than he was lunging forward to throw it back up. You tutted worriedly as you rubbed a hand over his back and used the other to start the shower.
“Why the fuck are you here, Y/N?” He grumbled miserably, not bothering to lift his head as you dragged his coat over his shoulders and threw out into the living area.
“I couldn’t have you killing yourself in my bar, Andy. Where’s your phone?” His stomach seemed to have calmed down, so you drew him to lean back against the wall and started to tug off his boots.
“S’in my back pocket.” He slurred at you. You rolled him over and drew the phone out of his jeans to set it on the counter. “You could’ve let me do it here.”
“Nah.” You said. “If you quit coming around, what excuse am I gonna have to kick Neal out?” You rolled up your sleeves and thrust your hand under the shower’s flow, checking the temperature. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!” You slapped him in the face as he started to doze off and you worked on getting him undressed. “I’m fucking serious, Barber, you don’t get to drink yourself to death on my watch.” You finally got his shirt off and started to drag his jeans down his legs.
“But why?” His eyes were boring into you now, pleading for some kind of answer to what possible reason there was for him to stick around as they welled up with tears.
You chewed your lip as you thought about it.
Andy had been a fixture at your bar for years. Always coming by for a celebratory drink after a win, or when he was working late on a difficult case. Even during Jacob’s trial, he’d stopped by with Joanna a few times to hash out details of the case. No matter how much stress he was under, you were always able to make him smile, and he always left a very generous tip no matter who was serving him. Your bar had been one of the only places he’d always felt welcome, and you had no qualms about kicking out anyone who wanted to give him a hard time.
Then the crash happened. He lost Jacob first; he was DOA to the hospital. His visits to your bar were more somber then. You didn’t try to make him smile, you barely even talked to him. But you’d drink with him in silence when he was the last patron in the bar, sitting across from him in his booth as the rest of the staff shut things down, occasionally placing your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles in a comforting gesture.
They had taken Laurie off life support 2 weeks ago, and after her funeral was when he really started to spiral. Rather than nursing his usual three drinks, he was downing whole bottles a night. You had to instruct your staff to cut him off after 6, or he would end up like he was tonight. This wasn’t the first time you had caught him with a stolen bottle.
You couldn’t say why you cared so much. You weren’t even sure you were really friends. But through everything that happened, you seemed to be the only constant, an anchor point for him as his world fell apart.
“I dunno Andy.” You murmured as you drew off his socks before rolling him into the tub with a lurch, making him gasp as the cold water hit his skin. “I guess I’d miss you.”
He glared at you as he shivered under the shower’s stream, huddled around himself in only his boxers.
“Do I need to wash you, or do you think you can handle that on your own?” You asked, handing him a washcloth and some soap.
“I can handle it.” He hissed, snatching them from your hands as he braced himself against the wall and drew himself slowly to his feet.
“Good.” You started gathering up his soiled clothes. “Make sure to wash the vomit out of your beard.”
He ripped the shower curtain closed and tossed his boxers over the rail at you, grumbling the whole time. You bagged up his dirty laundry and set some clean sweats on the counter in the bathroom before you set to work on cleaning the rest of the hotel room, doing your best not to gag at the week-old takeout containers.
Andy staggered out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wobbled on still drunk legs.
“How’s your stomach?” You asked, stretched out on the couch and sipping a glass of ginger ale.
“S’better.” He murmured, stumbling his way to the bed and collapsing on it with a groan.
“And your head?”
“Fuck you.” He murmured with his face buried in the pillows.
You grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and set it next to the bed. “Make sure you sleep on your side or your stomach. I’ll be on the couch.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.
“No, stay with me.” He mumbled, peeking up at you through those stupid long eyelashes, his damp hair drooping over his forehead.
“You’re still drunk, Andy.” You scolded, snatching your wrist away from him. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about it before, but there was no way you were going to let him make a move on you after the night he had. “I’m just 20 feet away, here to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit overnight.”
You turned back to find him passed out, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes and turned off the lights before collapsing on the couch in a huff.
Andy woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs as you slammed the hotel room door, carrying some takeout from the greasy spoon down the road.
“Shit, I was hoping to sneak out before you were up.” You murmured as he rose up off the bed, his bedhead a sight to behold. “I got you breakfast.”
“What happened last night?” He groaned, his stomach churning as he inhaled the smell of the food you had brought in.
“Well, you stole a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my bar, drank more than half of it, then fought Neal.” You shoved a plate of food in front of him as he sat down at the island. “Then I brought you back here and held your hair while you puked your guts out.”
“Fuck.” He murmured, fighting the urge to gag as he eyed the plate in front of him. “How did I get in these sweats?”
“Don’t worry, I dumped you in the shower in your boxers, no looks at the goods. And even if I had, last night was decidedly unsexy.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He murmured, burying his head in his hands.
“Mmhmm. Eat.” You ordered, making him groan. “Suck it up, Barber, you’ll feel better after a couple of bites.” You watched him shovel a bite in his mouth and chew dutifully, taking a deep breath as you steeled yourself for what you wanted to say. “Are you talking to anyone, Andy?”
“’M talking to you.” He said around his second mouthful off breakfast, starting to feel a bit better.
“I mean like a shrink.” You said, seriously.
“What the fuck is this?” He threw his fork down on his plate, pissed. This was none of your business.
“Andy, you’ve been drinking yourself stupid every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s not healthy, and I don’t want to be responsible for you ruining your life.”
He gave you a snort of derision and rolled his eyes as he stood up to walk away. “Fuck off.”
“Hey!” now you were angry. “I care about you asshole! You think I enjoyed last night? I’m sick of it!” You followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around sharply.
“It’s not your problem, Y/N.” He seethed at you, ripping your hand off his shoulder as he took a menacing step towards you.
“You made it my problem when you decided to use my bar as the stage for your descent to rock bottom, dick!” You were yelling now. “Y’know what, fuck this. Figure your shit out Barber. Until then, don’t step foot in my bar.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you as you slipped your coat back over your shoulders.
“Fuck!!” Andy screamed before charging after you.
He managed to catch up to you as you were about to open your car door and he slammed it shut over your shoulder, pinning you against the driver’s side of your vehicle.
“I swear to god, Andy, I’ll mace you.” You hissed at him, turning as you dug your hand in your bag. He wrapped a massive hand around your wrist, stopping your turn halfway.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing his forward to yours as he leaned against you. “I need you.”
“Andy…” this was such a bad idea.
“Why’d you stay last night?” He muttered, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek. “You said you care about me.”
“I do care, Andy.” You sighed as he took another step into you, pressing his body against yours. “Fuck, what’re you doing?”
“Stay.” He whispered, dipping his face to catch your lips with his and sending every objection you had right out of your head.
You sighed against him as you wrapped your hands in his hair, rolling your body against his. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip before pressing it against yours, his hands moving down to your hips and drawing you into him. You let out a whine as you felt his growing erection grinding against you.
“Shit.” You hissed as you felt a rush of arousal soak your panties. “Andy, we need to go back to the room.”
“Right.” He muttered, deepening your kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you off the ground as he drew you away from your car and started to head back towards the room, thankful he had left the door ajar.
You kicked the door closed as he carried you inside, giving a small huff when he sat down on the bed with you straddling his lap. You slipped your coat over your shoulders and tossed it aside as his mouth devoured yours, lips molding to each other as your tongues tangled.
Andy slipped his fingers under the hem of your tee and drew it over your head, throwing it on top of your jacket before unclasping the front of your lacy bra and nuzzling himself between your breasts. He rolled the two of you gently until he was on top of you.
You sighed as Andy moved his mouth over the slope of your breast to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking softly as he moved one hand to dip beneath the waistline of your jeans. He groaned against your chest when he found you sopping wet for him.
“God, I need you, sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin as he worked at unbuttoning your fly, dragging your jeans and panties down your legs and flinging them aside before bringing his hand back up to cup your heat. “Need to make you feel good. Lose myself in you for just a bit.” He moved his lips up to brush against your neck as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick over your mound and making you gasp, your fingers gripping his massive biceps tightly as he teased you.
“Andy, please.” You whined, canting your hips into his hand, your clit throbbing with need as the pads of his fingers brushed against it.
He brought his face up to yours as he plunged one thick finger into you, a smile teasing his lips as he watched your face screw up in bliss. He dipped his lips to meet yours as he added another finger, swallowing your small cry.
“You feel so good, beautiful. So warm and tight.” He scissored his fingers inside of you, drawing lewd squelches from your canal as your arousal soaked his hand. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.”
You scrabbled your hands over the broad muscles of his back as he curled his fingers inside you, massaging that soft, spongy muscle deep within your canal. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring soft praises as you came apart beneath him.
You mewled as he inserted a third finger, your cunt clenching around him as you thrust yourself onto his hand, fucking yourself on his digits.
“You close love?” He asked, his thumb brushing against your clit before he started massaging it gently. Pressing soft circles into your core as you writhed beneath him.
“Oh, fuck.” You muttered. “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……”
He felt you tense underneath him when he drove his thumb into your clit, hard. You choked on your tongue as every muscle in your body vibrated with pleasure, your release gushing over Andy’s hand and soaking him to the wrist. He felt your nails digging through his sweatshirt as you came.
He kept his fingers moving inside you as your rode out your orgasm, your body rolling in waves underneath him as your pleasure wracked you, leaving you breathless. Once you sagged back against the bed, he withdrew them, disconnecting from you reluctantly to remove his own clothes. Staring down at you, all he wanted was to press himself against every inch of you. Claim every slope and curve of your body for his own.
He gripped one ankle and brought it up to his mouth, skimming his lips over the jut of bone as his fingers skirted over your calf, pressing into the firm muscle there. His lips followed his fingers, searing your skin with each lingering kiss and brush of his tongue as he worked his way further up your leg. Your cunt clenched around nothing when he reached your thigh, his beard scratching at the soft skin between your legs as he marked you with lips and teeth. You tangled your fingers in the blankets and moaned when he bypassed your core, moving up the line of your hip as he claimed you.
Your breath was coming quicker as worked his way over your body. His lips swept against your abdomen now, his tongue dipping into your navel as he nuzzled over the midline of your torso. All you could focus on was the feel of his mouth on your skin, leaving a trail of electricity as marked you as his. He laved his tongue over first one nipple, then the other as you arched into him, pressing your thighs together as your pussy throbbed with need.
He moved to trace the curves of your shoulders, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed his way down first one arm, then the other. You were panting now, your thighs soaked as arousal seeped out of you. Andy traced his fingers over your torso, skimming over the slopes of your breasts as he moved to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking gently to draw light bruises as his hands moved lower, kneading into your hips. He drew your knees apart slowly, slotting himself between your thighs as he dragged his hard length through your folds, making you keen as he ground into you.
You were a mess, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips rocked against you. You were desperate for release, every inch of you tingling with need and when Andy’s cock brushed against your clit, you lost it. You threw your head back in ecstasy as your fingers scrabbled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something to keep you anchored.
Andy just stared at you, one massive palm cupping your cheek as he watched you falling apart. He needed you so much, you were the only constant he had. The only person who didn’t make him feel like a charity case or a failure. He hated what he was becoming, what the secrets and the tragedy were turning him into, but he knew if you stayed with him, he could come back.
“Y/N,” He whispered as you relaxed and he stilled his hips, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as you slowly opened your eyes, gazing up at him through your lust blown pupils. “Promise you won’t leave me.”
“Andy,” a small voice in the back of your mind was trying to warn you, telling you not to commit to anything now while he was still drowning in his grief. But you were overwhelmed with the pleasurable assault he had subjected you to and when he pressed his lips to yours again, that little voice went away. “I promise.” You gasped when he released you.
He grinned at you as he lined himself up, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed into your eyes. You were so wet that he slid into you easily, bottoming out right away with a hiss.
“Fuck, honey.” He murmured against your lips as you whined, his hips setting a languorous pace as he pulled out halfway before thrusting back into you. “God, you’re so tight, you feel amazing.”
You couldn’t reply, you could already feel another orgasm building as you thrust your hips to meet his, mewling softly as the warm coil in your stomach tightened. You ran your fingers over his auburn beard before burying them in his hair, panting into his mouth as he brought you closer to the edge.
Andy brought one hand between the two of you and strummed his thumb against your clit, making you tighten your fists in his hair until it was painful.
“God, Andy, right there.” You sobbed, your cunt clamping around him as he moved to bury his face in your neck, nuzzling against the hollow behind your ear.
“Go ahead, beautiful.” He scraped his teeth over the edge of your jaw as he drove his thumb against you, and you screamed.
You fluttered around him as your body spasmed, multiple waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your knees gripping around his hips and squeezing as your torso rolled against his. You sank back against the bed with a sigh as your body relaxed, Andy still fucking into you and starting to pick up speed.
“I’m gonna move you, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you and rolled until you were on top of him, pressing you against his chest as he kissed you deeply. “Wanna watch you ride me.”
You gave him a smile as you sat up, bracing your hands against his chest as you ground yourself against him. He was seated in you deeper than anyone had ever been, his cock dragging against that secret spot inside you with each drive of your hips, making you groan. He thrust up into you and groaned at the bounce of your tits while you let out a cry at his tip hitting your cervix.
Andy dug his fingers into your hips as he took over, pistoning up into with increasing speed as your cunt clamped around him. Your head rolled loosely on your shoulders as you let go, eyes fluttering as you felt another orgasm gathering.
You gripped his hips tightly with your thighs as it hit you like a truck, sobbing with pleasure while your muscles shivered over him. Andy sat up quick and caught you before you could collapse back on the bed, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck and catching you lips with his as his hips picked up even more speed.
“Shit.” He murmured against your lips. You felt his cock twitch inside you as his hips faltered in their rhythm. “Are you on the pill honey?”
You nodded vigorously, unable to speak as Andy’s violent thrusts had knocked all the breath out of your lungs and you were gasping.
“Good. Fuck.” He nipped at your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat.
You felt warmth spread through your abdomen as he shot his release into you, his thick spend coating the slick walls inside you and leaking out over your thighs as he fucked you through it. He slowed his thrusts as you felt him soften inside you, groaning into your mouth as he came down and collapsed back against the bed, holding you close to his chest.
His chest hair scratched against your cheek as he breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate back down and rubbing his fingers over your spine as you panted on top of him.
Neither of you spoke for a while, content to lie in the comfort of each other’s arms. You made Andy feel safe, and he made you feel needed, and that was all the two of required for now.
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therainykitty · 3 years
Text
Some thoughts on new chapter
So new chapter of Berserk out and I just have some thoughts to share.
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First Guts thinks it is an eclipse which is fair but to me it looks more like the abyss which Guts should know what it looks like since he saw it with Slug count in the early volumes. Also eclipse kind of gives off an eye of God vibe to it so if the center of the abyss holds the ioe (God or whatever) to me it makes sense.But I still think this is something a little different from your standard eclipse.
While I hope we go more into it later on I feel like there are huge gaps here not being filled. First of all Skull knight really doesn’t tell us more of what happened what caused it etc. And Guts has no pressing questions about them.
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Like wtf that would be my first question because they are not like the Godhand Guts knows. And if my friend became one of them I want to know what is going on.  I guess Kentaro Miura plans something from them but honestly at least have Guts ask the question in this chapter.
Next is Skull Knight’s beloved and yes that’s what she is too him apparently she looks like Danann
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I can kinda see it from the front but less from the back and sides
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And she is the priestess of the cherry blossoms so I guess that’s why she is meant to look like Danann. Which you could guess from her jewellery in previous chapter. But honestly I still think she is meant to look like Griffith (at least for Guts anyhow) My reasons are based on Guts own reaction to her when he was caught up in the Skull Knights memory.The rage at the Godhand, the rage stopping for a brief moment because he sees someone like Griffith (you know that whole urge to kill going when Guts saw Griffith like how he use to be), only for Guts to go still when this lady dies like the fight is taken out of him. It could all just be Guts living through the skull knights feelings but they resonate with him and reminds me a lot of Guts own struggle going on with Griffith post eclipse.
Then we have an interesting statement about Flora being exiled which I’m happy that there might be some form of disagreement with perfect Elfhelm and Flora. Following this we have a not so interesting time between Schierke and Isidro. Which to me was a waste of time that would have been better used to move the story along. I’m getting tired of Elfhelm.
Finally on to the interesting parts of the new chapter. First one
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Casca and Farnese bonding being each others own little light inside while Guts outside in the dark without his light. It clearly shows us Guts place is not with Casca and that place has been taken by Farnese. A choice Casca can make now that she is not an empty shell for Guts to project Griffith onto her anymore. That pipe dream has burst. But here look at what Guts does
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Starts swinging his sword until Griffith pops back into his mind. Now we know Guts tends to do these sword swings when he is trying not to think too hard on things. And well if you look at how Guts has no longer any place by Casca and he is outside in the dark. Well this image keeps coming back to Guts and it’s not hate, anger or rage but deep obsessional longing.
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Both pictures express an aching longing on Guts’ face and it’s not Casca he has the aching longing for. So as I said Guts is left out in the dark and someone who is the “true light that burns” pops into his mind and then we have a visit from someone I knew would be coming.
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Now yes he is moonlight boy and maybe it’s just coincidence he shows up again but honestly I don’t think so. Well because of this
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Look at the moonlight boy when the moon illuminates him in the above image his hair shines silvery white. This could be just artist effect but combined with the picture of Griffith and his own hair and the words “Of course...then this night will be...” it just feels like it is a very purposeful strong effect on Miura’s part. Also with Guts feeling left outside in the dark and up and comes a being the brightest thing visually there is to Guts right now all when he was just thinking of Griffith, his own light.
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Now I know some people hate the idea of moonlight boy having any connection to Griffith but I do think there is one and I don’t think this is a bad thing. In my view at the very least moonlight boy carries with him some part of Griffith.
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Light that burns
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and the beasts rage at the light burning him
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Not to mention the touch soothing Guts’ beast
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Like Griffith’s touch soothed him
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It wasn’t dislocating the shoulder that really got Guts to stop fighting. It was Griffith’s touch that quelled all that hurt and rage from Gambino and what happen to Guts in his past.
Then there is this
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“Why’re you frolicking around? You’re like.. some playful kid”
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“He really is tough to read...But probably just a kid”  We all know Griffith liked to mess around like he was a big kid at heart. And look at the spirit’s smile bright and full of life like a kids smile, like Griffith’s smile.
Also Griffith is always rescuing Guts’ ass kind like this boy.
So like I said I do think there is something of Griffith in the moonlight boy. Perhaps a part that might offer Guts some hope.
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leviislut · 3 years
Note
Levi finding out his fem s/o dealing with mental and domestic abuse with parents and occasional physical and very awkward/scared talking about? If you’re not comfy writing it that’s fine. Stay safe 🖤🖤
!DISCLAIMER!
I'm sorry for my bad English, but I'm Italian and I'm currently studying this language, so this is also a way to improve my vocabulary. if you spot any mistake, feel free to correct me. furthermore THIS IS A SEPARATE POST AND HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE PREVIOUS ONES.
thank you for asking!!!! I'm so glad I wrote a story with your idea! hope you like it<3
Thanks for the attention and now let’s move on the story’s details.
𖥔 pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader
𖥔 genres: fluff
𖥔 TW: mentioning of mental/domestic/physical abuse, self harm
𖥔 word count: 1.4k
𖥔 summary: while training, you have a little fight with jean and levi notices your weird behavior.
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“you fucking slugs better move your asses or I'll make you pay for it!” levi says in a bossy voice that makes a shiver run down your spine. you love him, but he low-key scares you when he acts like this during the training.
“jean what’s the issue with you? can’t you run faster? or you wish a titan eats your fucking head? come on!”
jean scoffs and mumbles something under his breath.
“eren is running slow too, captain. but that doesn’t seem to bother you at all.” says jean, a little pissed off, staring at eren with the corner of his eye.
“come on, jean. even if I'm on my period, I can run faster than you!” you say chuckling.
everybody knows jean has a huge crush on you, so you really enjoy teasing him and making fun of him, especially during training. he turns in your direction and you laugh at his mad face.
“what the fuck is wrong with you shitty slut? is your life’s so useless that you always need to make fun of mine? I'll tell you this, I'm fucking tired of this bullshit, Y/N” he screams in your face, pushing you on the ground, leaving everybody shocked. he never reacted like this at one of your jokes.
you quickly stand up and walk towards him. you slap his face as hard as you can, turning it on one side because of the impact. then you force him to look at you in you eyes.
“don’t ever try to touch me again or I swear I'm gonna pulp your liver with my bare hands and make you eat it.” you say in a hard voice. you grab his shirt and push him away from you. you quickly unhook your harness, throwing it on the ground and walking fast towards the sleeping quarters.
“what’s wrong, brat?” levi tries to stop you and talk to you, but you ignore him and run in your room. as soon as you close the door, you start to cry silently. you stand up and punch everything you find in your way, destroying the wooden table and chair and ripping the sheets of your bed. you sink your face in the pillow and start screaming as loud as you can, collapsing on your bed.
as soon as you feel something touching your skin, you wake up and run out of your bed.
“jesus christ levi! you scared the shit out of me!” you say to him, still half asleep. he sits on your bed and invites you to follow him. you sit near him, maintaining a little distance, as always.
“what was that out there?” he asks you looking at your eyes. you look away, not able to maintain eye contact.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you exactly know what he is talking about.
“Y/N don’t fucking lie to me, please. you know I hate it.”
“I don’t care if you hate it. you don’t need to know everything about me, we’re not fucking married! stop acting as if you care about me and my stuff!”
“oh so you think I just act like I care but I don't. then you're fucking wrong, Y/N. I care about you more than anyone else, don't even say I don't.”
“then why did you let jean treat me like that? you didn't say a thing, you just let him do whatever he wanted. I felt like shit and you didn't even notice that!”
“Y/N what are you talking about? I wanted to kick his ass when he treated you like that, but you said that we shouldn't tell the others about what's between us. as if I gave a shit about what others think. and don't think I didn't punish him, he’s been running laps for hours and he’s still training. and I'm not the one who run away without letting anyone help them. now, please, tell me why did you react like that?”
you lay on the bed in fetal position. you start to cry, but you quickly try to calm yourself down so levi doesn't notice.
“my parents said...”
he gets closer, but you stop him with a movement of your hand.
“and did... sorry levi I can't.”
you stand up and run out of the room. you never told anyone about what your parents use to do to you, not even levi. you still feel so embarrassed that, even if you try to tell anyone, words aren’t able to come out of your mouth. you sit under a tree near the field where cadets use to train, tearing tufts of grass from the ground. you look at the moon, you didn’t notice evening had already arrived. you look at your legs and arms full of goosebumps and you try to warm up your body a little bit.
“if you go out like this, don’t be surprised to wake up with a cold.” levi’s voice increases the goosebumps on your skin. after a couple seconds, you hear his strong arms grabbing you. at first, you flinch, but then you surprisingly let him catch you. once you’re in his arms, you rest your face on his shoulder and hook your legs and arms around his body. now you’re back in your room.
“Y/N, you know you can trust me. talk to me, please. I need to hear you.”
you feel a strange feeling in your body that makes you gain enough courage to ask levi what you thought you’d never ask.
“would you sleep here tonight?” you ask him so softly that he almost doesn't hear you.
“you sure? you don’t have to di this, Y/N. I told you I'll wait long enough to make you feel ready.” he says touching your cheeks.
in response, you grab his hand and you make him sit on the bed.
“I just... just wanna sleep, is that ok?” you ask him awkwardly. he softly chuckles and nods. you lightly smile and reach the furthest corner of the room, as you start to unbutton your shirt.
his face is confused. he’s probably misunderstanding.
“I’m sorry.” you say full of embarrassment. you take off your shirt and your pants and start to get closer to him. as soon as he can clearly see your body, his face becomes shocked. your thighs and arms are covered in scars. you seat besides him and cover your naked belly with your hands.
“did...did you do that to yourself?” he asks with a shocked face. you slightly nod.
“my mom used to tell me I was just an useless bitch who could only sell her body in the underground to gain some money and have a life. I spent my whole life cleaning the house or going around satisfying my parents’ requests. and when I went back to the house, my dad was there, waiting for me with his belt, prepared to beat the shit out of me. and when he finished, he used to tell me that he was just doing what it takes to grow a soldier.” your voice is broken, you know that you’ll not be able to hold back tears for still a long time. levi notices that.
“it’s ok if you cry. I'm not gonna judge you.” his words hit your ears like an order. in fact, as soon as he speaks, you burst into tears. he hugs you from behind and makes you put your head on his chest. the regular sound of his heartbeat calms you.
“the reason why I reacted like that today... it’s because it was like living again the hell the I've been through. and i’m sorry if I rarely let you touch me, but I'm afraid that you could act like my dad. actually, you’re the only man that can touch me. you’re really important to me, levi. you should know that. and i’m sorry if I didn't tell you this before, but I was embarrassed. and scared.”
“why that, darling?”
“because I didn't know what your reaction would be. what if... what if you found me repulsive? what if touching me made you feel sick? what if you couldn’t look me the same way anymore? levi... I can’t live in a world where you find me disgusting.”
“what are you even saying? how could you even think that? Y/N there’s no way in the world I could ever find you disgusting. you’re the only woman in my life, the only person that matters to me. I just want to make you happy.” he whispers.
as soon as you hear his words, you turn around and you gently place your lips on his.
your first kiss ever. with your man. with levi.
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yamithediaperdork · 3 years
Text
How to break a bully (My hero academia)
Kirishima was on cloud nine as he walked though the halls of the school. he'd just gotten a98 on his last test, He was at the height of his powers AND he had a blond cutie pie for a boyfriend and a big baby. for a daddy dom like Kirishima it was like getting triple 7's at a slot machine, even though there was ONE slight problem with his cutie pie big baby. it was that his big baby who could be loving and sweet and such a widdle cuddle bug in private..was a big brat and a total bully in public. If you hadn't of guessed as much by now, the baby in question was Katsuki Bakugo, Who as Kirishima looked out one of the hallway windows he say him bullying anther student. 'Little man..I thought we talked about this.' Kirishima thought and frowned, crossing his arms as he watched the scene. He was NOT a fan of his little sweetheart being a bully and had tried everything from washing his mouth out to spanking his bottom bright red and even tried bribing the brat, but nothing seemed to work. Slowly thought as he kept watching, a plan formed in his head. it was a evil plan to be sure, and one that might just break the little guy, but as a responsible daddy he knew it was his duty to teach his widdle guy right from wrong.
Meanwhile, not knowing he was being watched, Katsuki was having fun as he gave a third wedgie to glasses wearing student. he hadn't even bothered to learn the nerds name, he'd just felt the need to blow off some steam and the nerd had been the closet target. "S-Stop this o-or I'll-" the nerd whined and whimpered, lifted in the air by his hello kitty briefs and Katsuki snickered. "You'll what? wet your panties? Tell a teacher? go ahead~ But if I get in trouble because of you you'll WISH for something as kind and loving as I'm doing right now~" Katsuki said and then holding the geek up with one hand twirled him with the other. with the geek all twirled up, Katsuki let him spin and held out his palm so the geek got slapped every rotation. "Geez stop hitting yourself on my hand nerd!" Katsuki laughed and when the nerd was all dazed and confused, hiked him up higher and then dropped him to the ground. Hilariously at least to Katsuki, as the nerd whimpered and sobbed, the front of his pants started to darken and then the geek was wetting himself. "Pffft, Are you pissing yourself? what a BABY!" the blond bully laughed loudly, even though he was the last person who should be teasing someone else. "Maybe you should ask your mommy and daddy to get you some huggies, LOSER!" Katsuki chuckled, and again, considering he was at the moment wearing a power ranger pull up under his own pants, he had ZERO room to talk. Still, he decided the geek had had enough and walked away, whistling and feeling good and having NO idea of the hell that would be waiting for him all too soon.
That night while snuggling with daddy, Katsuki was in his normal daddy time attire (Read: A thick massive white disposable diaper and a t-shirt reading daddies little stinker, and sucking on a paci) they were watching one of daddies shows but since it wasn't a cartoon Katsuki basically tuned out of it, thinking about how tomorrow was one of his rare brief days and looking forward to it. it wasn't that the blond didn't like his pull ups or his diapers (Clearly he loved them) but well, the pull ups just sorta felt close enough to his huggies that sometimes Katsuki would almost boom boom in them before catching himself. Daddy also had promised if he could prove he didn't need his pull ups by keeping his undies clean 10 times in a row (and tomorrow was day number ten!) then he could stop with the pull ups at school anyways. with dreams of big boy undies during the day Katsuki suckled extra hard on his paci, not registering the weird taste on it and the fact he was sleepier then normal, and just snuggled into daddies side and closed his heavy eyes for a second.
when he opened them again he was being dressed by Kirishima and it was morning. "Hey sleepyhead, welcome back to the world of the living. you conked out HARD on me last night." the red head chuckled. "I..I did? huh..Weird." Katsuki said and sat up. he felt a little wonky still, but gave a yawn as daddy finished getting his shirt on him, his socks, undies and pants were already on and a glance at the clock told him that he'd super slept in, they were gonna have to boogie to get to class on time. "Sorry I conked out on you, wanted to play with you." Katsuki said and got up, pecking daddies cheek with a smooch and reached down for his school bag. "hey it happens. maybe my cute big baby needs to start taking naps." Daddy said and winked. "heh, maybe."  Katsuki agreed though the thought brought a blush to his cheek. "something to talk about later, for now, let's get going. one more tardy and you'll have to spent Saturday in detention inside of crawling around in the living room making presents for me." Daddy said and lead the way out the door. Katsuki who loved being a little present maker, gave no argument.
Getting to school with a few minutes to spare, Kirishima and Katsuki split up, their lockers where on different floors and the blond noticed something weird as he walked towards his locker. Normally the other students steered clear of him or gave him looks of hate because of his bullying ways, which was how he liked it. It was part of his (in his mind) brilliant cover for his big baby life with daddy, that in public he was the meanest toughest asshole you ever had to deal with. Daddy wasn't so fond of the plan but Katsuki could endure any of daddies punishments and truth be told, while daddies spankings hurt and Katsuki didn't get off on them..well, they helped him feel like the little boy he really was. Still today as he walked to his locker he was getting lots of chuckles and smiles. a couple of girls were whispering to each other and pointing at him, then both burst out laughing and he raised a eyebrow. he stopped to go and ask them what was so funny when a boy from a grade lower then him came over, wagging his eyebrows for the sake of the crowd and then spoke up. "Are you lost little guy? Do you need me to help you find your daddy?" "..The fuck did you say?" Katsuki asked, going to go for a badass pose when anther student from behind swatted his thigh. "Bad boy! no potty mouth!" Katsuki yelped and jumped at the swat, more from shock then pain but the reaction got a chuckle from everyone. turning around to slug whoever had slapped him, the slapper had blended into the crowd. "Alright, who's got the balls!?!" Katsuki growled, and started to take a battle stance. "Awww somebodies all grumpy!" a voice from the crowd called. "I think he needs hims paci!" anther called. Katsuki's mind was racing now, his cheeks turning red. 'what the FUCK is going on here?!?' he thought. The stand off came to a end when the warning bell rang. "Aww, better hurry up and stock up your diaper bag little guy!" was the second to final insult hurled Katsuki's way though as the crowd moved, SOMEONE patted his ass! "he's still clean!" came the final insult and Katsuki was left sputtering in rage, before stomping off to his locker. almost ripping the door off it's hinge, he found a pastel blue pacifier on a whine cord hanging inside of his locker, with a note taped to it. 'Suck on this before you end up crapping yourself' the note mocked, and he didn't know the handwriting. '..Somebodies gonna die toward.' he growled red faced, and yanked the paci down and tossed it in a nearby trash can. packing his books into his school bag he dashed for class.
if he'd of thought the classroom would be a sanctuary from his torment, he'd been wrong as right there on the chalkboard for home room was a drawing of him, in just a diaper and a baby bonnet squatting and who'd ever done the art had added stink lines. with his distinctive hair it was clear just looking who it was suppose to be, but if there had been any doubt it's been labeled in big bold letters "BABY KATSUKI BAKUGO GOING BOOM BOOM!!" Katsuki let out a soundless screen and almost blasted the chalkboard, but restrained himself, barely and erased the drawing and turned to face the smirking faces of the the rest of the class. "OK, which one of you twat monkeys has a god damn death wish?" he growled. "Sheesh, somebodies a grumpy baby." Tenya chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Maybe he needs a diapie change already." Yuuga suggested and laughed. "No, i think we'd all KNOW if the baby was poopie." Momo giggled, holding her nose and waving a hand to prove her point. "G-Guys..Come on.. be nice..it's not his fault if he needs diapers.." Midoriya said, sweat dropping. "I DON'T NEED GOD DAMN DIAPERS!" Katsuki yelled. "oh wow, then that makes it worse! you wear'em by choice!" Jirou chuckled. there was throbbing vein on Katsuki's forehead and he was about to blow up the whole classroom when not only their teacher came in, But Kirishima. "everyone, calm down and take your seats please." Fuming and blinded with raged, Katsuki stumbled for his desk and got some d'aww's and 'baby can't walk yet' comments from the class.
the rest of the morning crawled by, with Katsuki receiving more then one note with various drawing of him being a big baby, or worse questions about how his diaper was holding up. so was it any wonder that his school work for the day suffered as a result, and when he was asked to read out loud for the class he stumbled over even the most basic of words, which got quiet chuckles. Come lunch time he couldn't wait to get away from all of them, and add into it that his belly was growling from not only missing supper last night but breakfast this morning. the tummy growls had gotten him even more teasing but he didn't even wanna think about that right now. Kirishima had been called away just before lunch break and so Katsuki didn't have his daddy to help him calm down as he strolled into the cafeteria. he went and picked up a lunch tray and scanned the crowd for Daddy's trademark red hair but then first noticed a crowd at the back of the cafeteria and then noticed WHAT they were all looking at. there, in blown up giant posters were 6 pictures of Katsuki in all his baby glory. The first picture had him triple diapered and asleep, sucking on his thumb on a blanket on the floor. he was face down and ass up and using a teddy bear as a pillow. He didn't recognize when the picture had been taken but daddy HAD told him he'd end up like that more often then not when he conked out on the floor. The second picture had him laying on his back, hands balled up in fists and rubbing his eyes and laying on a teddy bear print changing mat, and in a clearly loaded diaper. THIS one he reorganized as the first time he'd loaded a diaper for daddy, he'd only meant to let out a little bit to try but his butt hadn't listened to him. he'd been hysterical for a hour but daddy had given him LOTS of hugs. Picture number three had him asleep again, this time in a crib and wearing a teddy bear onesie with a bear eared hoodie to go with it and a fluffy tail.  he was also hugging a teddy bear to his chest and drooling up a storm. That had to of been from his birthday, because that was what daddy had gotten him and he'd tried to wear it as often as he could. Picture number four he remembered taking not that long ago, and had assumed that Daddy had been joking about sharing it, but it was becoming PAINFULLY clear who had posted all of these. It had Katsuki in a thick balloon print diaper sitting on a duck shaped training potty, holding onto the handles and filling his diaper, a look of pure pleasure on his face even though he was blushing. Moving onto number five and Katsuki felt himself pale even though he was blushing, making for a interesting look. it showed him on top of a teddy bear that was a foot taller then him, hugging it around the neck and kissing it, and from the blur around his pampered hips it was clear to everyone what he'd been doing. he couldn't even pin down WHEN this had been, as it was the only way he'd been allowed to get his rocks off. the last picture had Katsuki again in just a diaper, but he had paint all over himself and was holding up a poorly made finger painting for whoever was taking the picture to see. of course it was Kirishima but that much wasn't in the picture, though the painting was signed 'To daddy love Baby Katsuki' Katsuki felt his knees going weak and he tried to say something, anything as countless students laughter, chuckled and took pictures, then someone noticed he was there. "HEY EVERYONE, THE BABIES HERE!" practically the whole school turned and started laughing at Katsuki, and the taunts and jeers came. "What a big dumb baby!" "Stuffie humper!" "Diaper pooper!" "who's the big baby now?" "i bet he's filing his diapers now!" "Cry baby cry baby!" "Diaper boy! Diaper boy!" it was that last chant that caught on and Katsuki whimpered and whined. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP ALL OF YOU! I'M NOT WEARING A DIAPER! I'M NOT! I'M IN UNDIES! T-THOSE WERE ALL PHOTO SHOPPED! STOP LAUGHING AT ME!" he screamed, stomping a foot and his voice cracking and going higher and higher pitch. "prove it!" Called the geek he'd beaten up yesterday. "yeah! prove it!" a girl he'd tormented last week agreed. "H-How can I prove it?!?" Katsuki huffed, and whined, fighting back tears. Where was daddy!?! he needed daddy! "Drop your pants!" "yeah! drop your pants and show off your undies!" "drop your pants! drop your pants!" It was a mob action mindset at it's worse, and Katsuki knew it would only get worse if he didn't give the crowd what they wanted. thankfully for him, it was a undies day and he just prayed that daddy had picked a basic white pair of briefs for him when he'd been dressing him this morning. of course if Katsuki had been thinking clearly, he would of realized that since daddy had set this all up, there was no way in hell this would of ended well. but can anyone really blame him for not thinking of that? Undoing his belt to a cheer from the crowd he undid the button on his pants and let them drop to his ankles, smirking. "There see? I'm in big boy underwear!" he said, not bothering to look down. the crowd exploded in laughter and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, then the geek from yesterday called out. "Nice pull ups! I guess compared to the DIAPERS those ARE big boy undies for you!" Katsuki's eyes went wide as saucers and he looked down to confirm that not only was he indeed in a pull up, it was a barney one. "I-I no! I..But..Daddy dressed me..and.." Katsuki whimpered and cried. "Bwhahahaha! he doesn't even dress himself! he really IS a baby!" "what a dork!" "What a baby!" "WHAT A LOSER!" more laughs and taunts and Katsuki couldn't take it and started to bawl, even as the front of his pull up started to swell and Barney's smiling face faded away. he was wetting himself. He couldn't take it anymore and turned to run away, but forgot about how his pants were around his ankles and tripped, landing face down and ass up and giving everyone a perfect view of what happened next. maybe it was all the teasing, maybe it was all of his nerves. maybe it was from the laxative powder that Kirishima had slipped onto his paci for a bit this morning before he woke up. In any case he found himself stuck there as his body suddenly had a payload to get rid of and he let out a massive fart that shut the crowd up for a second. but only a second. "wait..is he going to.." "No way!" "ah jeez, if his FARTS stink this bad.." three loud and powerful farts came out in a row and then the back of Katsuki's pull up started to puff out as he cried and sobbing, pounding a fist on the ground and putting his forehead to the floor. whether his cries and sob and behavior was from the shame of what he was doing or just trying to force what looked like a painfully large movement out was anyone's guess, though most believed it was the latter. the puffing of the back turned into a large lump that was poking out the back of the pull up and one boy who's quirk was force fields thought quick as it looked like the big baby was gonna leak. Forming one around the pull up the lump shushed against it and then as Katsuki screamed out "DADDY!" the mess was smushed all around. the ONE thing the force field couldn't contain however was the smell and lots f students started to hold their noses even as thy laughed and waved hands. "YUCK! what did you eat? roadkill skunk?" "Somebody open a window!" "Are we sure THIS isn't his quirk? super stenches?" with his poopies all out and it all over, Katsuki was crying big time and blubbering for daddy. "Awww, did somebody have a accident?" Came Kirishima's voice. Though tear filled eyes Katsuki looked up and saw daddy, who had a large diaper bag with him. "You..you.." Katsuki whined and whimpered. "am here to save the day." Daddy said, then held his nose. "whew, just in time, force field or no force field, i don't think that load is staying contained for long!" Daddy came over and scooped the blubbering baby up, and Katsuki sniffled and buried his face into daddies chest, getting a d'awww from the crowd. 'it's over..d-daddies gonna take me away and get me changed and-' Katsuki thought, eyes closed. then he felt himself being plopped onto a changing mat that had been set up on one of the lunch tables. "D-Daddy?" Katsuki asked, opening his eyes. no way he was gonna change him HERE..in front of everyone! "Shh, be a good boy and let daddy change your stinky bottom." Daddy said and winked. this was a humiliation a step too far, even in light of all of this and Katsuki screamed and thrashed about, shaking his head no and yelling it it too, till daddy rolled him on his tummy and got the kid making the force field to drop it, then walloped his squishy backside. "Little man! that is enough! you are going to be a good little boy and let me change you're pull up and put you in a nice thick diaper, then you're going for a nap, or daddies gonna paddle your bum and then all of that will happen anyways! got it?" Katsuki bawled and whined, but nodded he understood.
One change later, and earning a new nick name to go along with all the others he now had (the new one being little nub..go ahead and guess why) and Katsuki was in 4 for his over night diapers and had been changed into a light blue t-shirt with a teddy bear in a night shirt and night cap sleeping on a quarter moon on the front. He'd been given a ba-ba of formula to drink while he was changed, and it had been oddly filling but didn't make things any better for him as he now had to wave night night to the rest of the school. scooped up with dadies hands under his butt and his legs sticking out behind daddy while he held onto daddy with his arms for support, Katsuki was carried towards the shop class where they had built a crib just for the impending big baby. he was sulking and whining and looked eyes with Kirishima as he was carried away. "..why?" he sniffled. "because I told you to stop being a bully or else. you didn't wanna listen. now you'll NEVER be a bully again, and will see what it's like to be picked on. I know it's a hard lesson, and trust me, I didn't wanna have to teach it to you like this. Just, you left me NO other choice." Daddy said. "I-I would of stopped if you'd of told me this was the punishment.." Katsuki pouted and whined. "...Huh. didn't think of that. oh well, too late now. Look at it this way. you'll get to be a big baby ALL the time now. and don't worry, daddies never gonna let anyone physically hurt you." Kirishima said and kissed the huffy boys cheek. Somehow, that didn't make things better but Katsuki just didn't have it in himself to fight anymore. the bully terror of hero academia was gone, replaced with a huffy diapered toddler who could only strike back at his tormentors with stinky diapers.
The end
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disneygeeeek · 3 years
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The little mermaid-Ariels real problem
I might get crap for this but here it goes.
So recently I rewatched The Little Mermaid. A movie I love, but have never been able to fully enjoy because of one person- Ariel. I’ve never liked her. She always seemed to be selfish, self centered, and a brat.
Upon rewatching it however, I discovered that I had been a little too hard on Ariel. This whole time I had been treating her like the typical mean girl, who only cares about herself, and throws a hissy fit when she doesn’t get her way. This isn’t true. Ariel has many good qualities- she caring, curious, adventurous, and brave.
However, she still has problems.
Ariel is more headstrong, rebellious, and most of all uncooperative. She refuses to listen to anyone else, which is her biggest flaw. We see it when she’s with flounder treasure hunting, with her father, and never listens to Sebastians warnings. I don’t know if this is because she is oblivious, or doesn’t want to hear the truth. Especially with her father and humans- she refuses to acknowledge that her father is trying to keep her safe, and that humans really could be dangerous. That’s where the conflict of the movie comes from, her not listening to anyone other than herself and what she wants.
She keeps going to the surface, despite the danger.
She has a collection and is obsessed with people who might kill her.
She goes up to a ship and is almost seen by humans, and then is sort of seen by Eric.
And then she signs a contract with a literal sea witch fully aware of the consequences, thus putting herself and everyone else in danger.
Everything bad that happens is a result of her own actions.
But still everything just…. Works out for her.
She shouldn’t be collecting human stuff, but she’s clearly miserable as a mermaid, so we can’t help but feel for her. (Which I’m ok with this one alone, it’s just not cool when you add it to the list)
Then she goes to a human ship, which could have gotten her killed and/exposed mermaids- but then she saves Eric’s life, so it turned out to be a good thing she was there.
And then the big one- she signs the contract with Ursula, condemning herself. Which Ursula later uses against Triton and turns him into a sea slug and becomes ruler of the ocean. But then Eric kills her, and everything goes back to normal.
So the big thing is Ariel never has to face the consequences of her bad/ selfish decisions. And to top it off, because everything miraculously worked out, everyone acts like Ariel was right all along, when really she was just lucky. She was lucky she came across a ship of good people, she was lucky Eric took her in and fell in love with her when she became human, and she was lucky that she didn’t doom the entire ocean. This story could’ve gone a completely different way is she had found a pirate ship instead of Eric’s boat. Or is she hadn’t found Eric once she became human. Or if Ursula hadn’t DIED. She would’ve been screwed, and her father would’ve been proven right.
But instead she ends up getting her way without any backlash- which leads to my BIGGEST PROBLEM;
She never takes responsibility for her actions.
If Ariel had apologized to her father (for real, not that desperate cry when Ursula had her), recognized that she made mistakes, and realized her father was just trying to take care of her, I would’ve liked her. She would have shown character growth, admitted to her flaws, confess to her mistakes, and learned a lesson. But that never happens.
If you were to compare Ariel to Marinette from “Miraculous Ladybug”, it would show how and why Marinette is a better character, despite Marinette often being in similar situations to Ariel.
Marinette, like Ariel, makes a lot of mistakes- sometimes inadvertently, sometimes for selfish reasons, which often leads to large conflict. The difference between Marinette and Ariel is that Marinette takes responsibility for her actions, apologizes to those she’s hurt, does what she can to make it right, and learns her lesson. This is a huge character trait that makes her likable, and shows growth, which makes her a great role model. This is all things Ariel should’ve done.
If there was a scene like this in “The Little Mermaid” between Ariel and her father, this would have saved/ redeemed her character. If she said something along the lines of “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, I never should’ve made a deal with Ursula, it was wrong. I realize now that you were just trying to keep me safe.”
And then Triton could apologize for taking things too far, and note that humans aren’t as bad as he thought, based of Eric’s character. This would’ve not only save Ariel, but given a message to the viewers watching. I just hope they do something like this in the live action remake. The things you do define you as a person, but so does your reaction to those things.
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when your love reaches me (ii)
summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.
word count: 8.5k+ (once again, i got carried away)
warnings: screwed up historical timeline, suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful), language, innuendo, slight angst; truly, this chapter is mostly fluff which is surprising coming from me and probably explains why it was so hard to write :)
a/n: thank! you! for such a lovely response to the first part of this mini-series! truly means a lot. :) also: mega shoutout to @deacyblues​ who really helped me with this one; she’s the mvp of this chapter! this one is formatted a little differently than the first and the last part (which for some reason i’m ~nervous~ about), so let me know what you think. xoxo!
part i
in this chapter: snapshots of what life is like on the road alongside the one you love.
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october, 1978—new orleans
as much as it can be, life is bliss.
you’ve been on the road for days, slept on a bus more than in a proper bed, survived the flagrant display of hedonism in new orleans, argued with brian about how long he hogs the bathroom in the morning, and barely eaten anything of substance, but still you’re happy.
he makes you happy. you make him happy. that’s all that matters.
you’re on the bus, headed for the airport. the next leg of the tour is florida—two nights there—then two nights on the east coast—maryland and connecticut. it’s late, nearing midnight, and the bus hums down the highway at a consistent and comfortable speed. for the most part, it’s quiet. there’s a soft conversation somewhere at the front of the bus; you think it’s gerry, yet again going over the schedule, but you could be wrong. flashes of light stream through the windows as you pass under street lamps, and you curl a little closer into brian’s side. he shifts in his sleep, mumbling under his breath.
he’s tired. they all are. it’s only been a few days, but after the party in new orleans and with the waning energy after the initial concerts, the boys are settling—settling into tour life and the long nights and early mornings. life on the road isn’t easy, and you don’t blame them for catching whatever sleep they can when they can. 
you’re settling too. it’s been nearly two months since you left home. you’d thought you’d be more desperate than you are. sometimes, you see a trinket in a shop window or hear anna say something that reminds you of your baby sister. other times, crystal will make a joke that reminds you of your brother. in those moments, you miss home more than anything in the world. but then brian will walk by, headed for the stage, and trail his fingers across your shoulders in a silent moment of affection, and you’re happy where you are. 
so long as you’re with him, you’re happy.
brian’s eyelids flutter open when the driver skips over a pothole. he groans, rubbing at his temples. “fuck,” he breathes. 
you push yourself off his chest, enough to meet his gaze. “feeling okay?”
he peeks through his fingers. “i think i got run over by a train.”
“well, that’s what freddie’s parties will do to you.” you poke his ribs, grinning. “you’re lucky you lot have a few days off to recover.”
“trust me,” he says plainly. “it was built into the schedule.” for a moment, his eyes scan your face. one long finger comes up to brush your cheek. “how’d you manage to get out unscathed?”
you shrug and resist the urge to lean into his touch. you can’t tell him the truth. he wouldn’t understand if you explain that your grandmother once read you an article about “saturday night in sodom” and the night freddie mercury almost broke louisiana. instead you twirl a lock of his hair around your index finger and say, “i’m good at moderation.”
leaning back against the headrest, his arm circles your waist, squeezing at the flesh below your hip. “remind me to get a few tips next time.” he closes his eyes, his lips parting as he falls back asleep. you smile, snuggle against him, and pinch yourself.
nope—still not dreaming. thank heaven.
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november, 1978—detroit
by the time you reach michigan, the rhythm of the tour is set. everyone has their role to play, and each part is played to perfection. your part is slightly more fluid than most, but, alongside anna and john’s wife veronica, you manage to find your way most of the time. 
it can be awkward, though. you have no musical talent, no ability to haul or set up lighting rigs. really, your role is very clear: you’re around to keep brian entertained and as relaxed as possible. whatever he needs, you do it—even if that means letting him muss your hair or mark your skin too much during a lengthy drum solo. 
at first, you can’t stand knowing everyone else knows when you’ve had a quick shag in the stairwell or showed up late to sound check because brian got too handsy in the lift on the way out of the hotel. you’ve never been so open about a relationship before, least of all the physical aspect of it. you like to keep private things private, but that doesn’t work so well when you live hotel to hotel with the same thirty people. any bit of juicy gossip can fuel the band and the roadies for days on end. they’re worse than a group of church-going busy-bodies.
but that was a week ago, and you know better than most that much can change in the span of a week. brian’s lingering kisses or the quickes in a broom closet don’t make you nervous anymore. you don’t care if you get caught because lord knows roger and anna or veronica and deaky or any number of the crew are doing the same a hallway over. it’s all a part of the thrill of being with him, loving him (you refuse acknowledge it—the love—even to yourself; it’s too soon to love him, though you know you do). 
on the first night of the two gigs in detroit, you catch brian in the hallway before he goes out on stage. you’d stepped out to grab a bottle of water and nearly missed him in the process, but when he sees you, he lights up with a smile. he pauses. roger quips for brian to make it quick as he rushes after john, drumsticks in hand. 
“go get ‘em, tiger,” you say, slugging his shoulder with your fist lightly.
he catches your arm and lifts your hand to kiss the bone of your wrist. god, he makes you melt. “you gonna come watch from the side?” he mumbles against your skin. he’s looking at you through his dark lashes, thoroughly enjoying the way you squirm from side to side.
you nod and untangle your hand from his grasp. “eventually, yeah. crystal said he wants to show me the view from up top.” 
brian rolls his eyes with a good-natured huff. “watch out for that crystal. he’s trouble.” 
“sorry—what was that, mate?” crystal, rushing down the ramp toward one of the dressing rooms, pauses behind brian. “did you say i’m trouble?”
brian glances over his shoulder. “would you deny it?”
crystal hesitates, runs a hand over his beard. “no, but i don’t think my contract includes taking slag from my boss.”
shaking his head, brian laughs and heads up the ramp toward the stage. you call after him, and he turns as he continues walking, red special over his back, eyes wide and expectant. lifting the camera that’s perpetually around your neck with one hand, you blow him a kiss with the other. the camera captures his reaction: a wide grin, flushed cheeks, legs mid-stride. he disappears around the corner, and the hallway fills with the sound of cheers and applause when queen finally takes the stage.
you meet crystal’s eyes and wait for him to say something. you don’t have to wait long.
“you two are disgusting.”  
“you know, if you had actually brought me my drink at the disco, we might not be here.”
“to think i could have been saved the horror of having to go to bed each night scrubbing my brain of all your disgusting happiness.”
reaching out, you touch crystal’s elbow and pout your lower lip. “oh, crystal, are you lonely? do i need to find you a friend?”
he scoffs and twists to shake the hand on his elbow. “please,” he drawls. “i’ve got no issue there.” 
you stick out your tongue, and he moves down the hallway, but you follow close at his heels. “so, will you really show me the view from the scaffolding?”
“aren’t you afraid of heights?”
“absolutely, but i want to see it anyway. ratty said it was the best seat in the house.”
it takes a modicum of more effort to convince him—you have to promise to buy him a bowl of ice-cream next time the group goes out—but eventually he gives in. after leading you through a maze of wires and boxes, he climbs the lighting rig suspended over roger’s drumset. you hesitate at the ladder. you are afraid of heights, but you based on the way ratty went on and on about how “fuckin’ amazing” the show is from above, you’d like to think you can put your fears aside for the experience. palms sweaty, you wipe them across your jeans then scramble up the ladder. crystal sits on the narrow walkway, laughing, legs dangling over roger’s head. he pats the spot beside him, and you shuffle closer. 
“what do you think?” he asks, spreading his arms toward the view.
once you’re settled and able to calm your racing heart, you look out over the stage. your breath catches in your throat. “ratty was right—for once,” you whisper. 
you can see everything from here. most of the time, when you’re confined to the wings, you can barely see brian or barely see deaky. you never see roger, and you can rarely see the audience. from the scaffolding, you can see it all: freddie strutting across the stage, roger pounding the drums, deaky bopping in a tight circle, brian tearing into the guitar. from this angle you catch the way they work as a well-oiled machine, perfectly in-tune with one another. you can see the audience, too, and the way their faces shine with joy. the crowd looks like the sea, the way it moves up and down and side to side with the time of the music. it gives you a whole new appreciation for the roadies, too, and the way they work tirelessly to make this happen, often without proper thanks.
crystal nudges you with his shoulder. “take a picture,” he says. “to remember.”
you don’t have to be told twice. you raise the camera, peer through the viewfinder, careful to get your feet and crystal’s in the frame, and snap a shot. when you pull back, you see brian looking up at you from below, and you hope you got him in the frame, too.
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november, 1978—philadelphia
“[y/n]! get over here!”
at the sound of ratty’s frantic voice, you pause in the stairwell and look over your shoulder. he’s hunched over a smoking amp, waving toward crystal and another roadie—phil, you think. when he catches your eye, he points to the spot beside him. you’ve never seen him so alarmed and, as much as you want to get away from backstage and find a couch to nap on, you hurry to his side.
“what is it?”
“the fucking amp broke! deaky’s muted and so’s brian.” 
you cringe. “his amp’s gone bad, too?”
“no! something else. i don’t fucking know. he just needs this wire.” ratty shoves a wire in your hand. it hangs loosely in your palm, and you get the feeling you know what he’s going to ask next. “you gotta go give it to him.”
you shake your head, mouth gone suddenly dry. “ratty, you have to be joking.”
he straightens. “do i look like i’m joking, [y/n]?”
he looks, truthfully, like he’s on the verge of tears. but you don’t say that. you just grimace and mutter, “please don’t make me do it.”
“sorry, gotta be done. just make it quick!” he takes a hold of your shoulders and pushes you out of the safety of the wings before wheeling around on his heel at the sound of crystal calling his name. 
legs frozen, you stand just to the right of deaky, still partially obscured by the walls of the wings. deaky continues to play, despite the fact that no one can hear him. you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. he looks to the left and the right, searching for someone—anyone—to come and solve the issue. when he looks to his right, he sees you and his face relaxes for the briefest of seconds. he shuffles closer.
“is that for me?” he asks, nodding to the wire in your hand.
“no, sorry! it’s for brian. he’s got issues, too.”
“fuck! this is a fucking shitshow!” he cocks his head toward the other side of the stage. “go give it to him then!”
you realize belatedly as you run across the stage that you’re not wearing shoes. your socks slide against the slick floor, but you manage to stay upright, your vision tunneled on brian. you try not to think of the hundreds of thousands of eyes watching your every move, wondering who on earth you are and why you’ve taken to the stage like an invader. 
roger and freddie are still going, riffing off one another to keep the energy high. they’ve started some sort of call-and-response game with the audience, so when you make it to brian’s side, you have to shout to be heard. 
“ratty told me to give you this!”
brian’s angry, in rare form. his jaw is clenched tight, his temples throbbing. he looks ready to burst, and you wince when he grabs the wire from your hand. “for fuck’s sake, [y/n]! what is going on tonight?” he rips a wire from his guitar and replaces it with the new one.
you can only offer him a paltry shrug. “couldn’t tell you.”
fiddling with an amp behind his back, he gives his guitar a few experimental strums. sound blasts through the amps, and you resist the urge to lift your hands and cover your ears. relief surges through your veins; you give him a thumbs up. at the same moment, deaky plucks at his bass, which fills the stadium with its deep tones. 
oh thank heaven. you did not want to be in the greenroom after the show if everything hadn’t gotten fixed.
before you can turn to leave, brian grabs the back of your neck and kisses you hard. your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, well-aware of the way the audience cheers as the touch lingers. you pull away first.
“thank you,” he whispers. he gives your rump a solid tap as you turn to make a beeline for the wings.
you think you’ll curl up and die when you rush past freddie and he says into the microphone, “ay, that’s brian’s girl!” he grabs your wrist and crushes you against his side, and you have the wherewithal to laugh even though you really want to stamp on his foot and run away. “she’s our little savior tonight, huh? a good luck charm!”
you finesse your way back to the wings, your skin hot with embarrassment, and flip ratty the bird as you make your way to the greenroom.
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november, 1978—st. louis
there’s a show on thanksgiving day—sold out, much to everyone’s surprise—but after the concert, you gather around a long table in the hotel conference room. the carpet beneath your shoes is a pale purple, the table flimsy, the chairs uncomfortable plastic. someone’s laid a brilliant white tablecloth with a traditional thanksgiving meal, and the smell of roasted turkey and sweet potatoes and stuffing warms any of the cold still lingering on your body. you sit, squeezed between brian and crystal, across from anna, who winks at you as she lifts her cup to receive a helping of red wine.
“i’m fuckin’ famished.” crystal doesn’t wait for everyone to be seated or gerry to say a few words of toast. he grabs the basket of rolls and hands you one.
rolling your eyes, you take it and place it on the side of your plate. it’s the hotel’s china, a cream with mint trim. “you could wait and try to pretend like you have good table manners.”
beside you, brian snickers into his cup—a mug, really—of wine. his arm is slung over the back of your chair, his fingers circling lazily on your shoulder. you shift in your seat to lean into his touch. 
crystal pulls a face. for a moment, you think you’re staring into the face of your elder brother. that’s exactly something marcus would have done. your gut clenches, and you have to look away, reach for brian’s knee, before you begin to cry. how long’s it been? three months? you miss the sound of your mother’s voice, the way your father worries after you in your flat. you miss it all; you always will.
“excuse me, excuse me. i’d like to say a few words.” gerry stands at the head of the table, tapping his fork against his cup. lingering conversations fade as everyone turns to face gerry. “not one for speeches,” he starts.
“then sit down!” it’s john, from the end of the table, who interrupts. veronica elbows him hard, and he doubles over in a combination of a laugh and a wheeze.
gerry smiles through tight lips. “thank you, veronica. as i was saying, i’m not one for speeches, but i think tonight’s as good as any to tell you how happy i am to be a part of this. we’ve got a hell of a lot more to do, but i’m thankful for what we’ve accomplished so far. anyway, that was shite, but it’s how i feel. eat up. happy thanksgiving.”
there’s a chorus of happy thanksgiving and glass clinking against class. you sip at your wine and smile to yourself. you’d thought of what it would be like to celebrate thanksgiving before, but never imagined it would be like this. you wouldn’t have it any other way. not with roger slingshotting a green bean across the table or freddie grilling dennis about what type of butter he used for the mashed potatoes. 
you fill your plate, thankful, among other things, for the chance to eat a full meal alongside your new family. there’s a deep satisfaction in your chest. though there’s some part of you that still feels ridiculous wearing checkered trousers and dark turtlenecks, you think you feel more at home here than anywhere else.
“[y/n]?”
lifting a bite of cranberry sauce to your mouth, you turn your head to meet brian’s eyes. he’s leaned forward, his chin dipped. beneath the table, his fingers settle on your thigh, and he squeezes gently. you quirk an eyebrow as you chew, waiting for him to speak.
“i’m glad you’re here.”
you swallow, put your fork down, press the hand that’s on your thigh, smile. “i’m glad i’m here too.”
something stiff and slimy hits your forehead. you jostle in your seat with a gasp. a green bean lands in your lap, and you look up, eyes wide. across the table, anna’s laughing behind her hand, roger grinning widely.
“roger!”
he shrugs. “sorry, love, couldn’t help it. perfect target!”
“if i didn’t respect all the hard work poor dennis put into this meal, i’d shove your face in that bowl of potatoes,” you warn, pointing to the bowl of starch in question.
roger frowns, though his eyes sparkle with mischief. “brian, control your woman! she just threatened me!”
brian, wisely, lifts his hands in surrender, leaning back in his chair. “oy, she can handle herself, mate. don’t drag me into this.”
from his place beside roger, freddie slaps a hand on the table. “no fighting at my thanksgiving or i’ll kick you all out and eat by myself!”
“would you all please shut up and pass me the turkey?” crystal leans into your arm space, reaching in vain for the plate of meat just out of his grasp.
rising, you hand him the plate and cross to the front of the table. you clap your hands together to grab everyone’s attention then place your hands on gerry’s shoulders.
“i think you all know what time it is,” you say, grinning as a few of the roadies groan and duck their heads. you lift your camera. “squeeze in and look pretty.”
heart clenching as you look through the viewfinder at the collection of people you hold so dear, you snap your picture and sit down. without hesitation, brian takes your hand in his, and you sit together, hand in hand, for the rest of the meal.
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december, 1978—london
you would be lying if you say you aren’t surprised when brian invites you to his parent’s home for the holidays. the tour has a month long break now that the american leg is over. once it starts up again in january, they’ll be off, gallivanting over continental europe. truthfully, you’d assumed you wouldn’t go back on the tour. you’d assumed you’d continue to crash on anna’s couch, make a few extra dollars at the diner, maybe look into enrolling in a few classes come spring.
you’d assumed the fairytale would be over.
there’s nothing official between you and brian. sure, you love him to bits. when you wake up in the morning, roll over, and see his sleepy eyes already looking at you, you know that for the rest of your life you will never feel for someone the way you feel for him. if he asked you to stay with him forever, you would. if he asked you to marry him, you would. you’ve known him for only a handful of months, but, fuck, he owns you. time doesn’t seem to matter when love’s involved. still, he’s never really put a label on what you are. not that he needs to; you’re just as fine without one. but with the break and then the touring starting up again, you’d just thought that would be it. he’d find another tagalong because lord know he’s could have his pick of the litter.
but he seems genuinely offended when he asks you to come home for christmas and you confess, “oh! i thought that you wouldn’t want me now.” the words sort of fall out of your mouth in a tumble, before you can really consider what you’re saying, and your hastiness shows because his forehead creases in a deep frown.
“why would you ever think that?” he asks it in the middle of the airport baggage claim, with the crew and band milling about, waiting for their luggage. it’s quiet, some ungodly hour in the morning, so you wince when he speaks a tad too loud for your liking.
“i just thought that...” you shrug and look away when his frown deepens. “don’t look at me like that, brian.”
“like what? pissed?” he scoffs. “i’m pissed ‘cause you know how i feel about you, [y/n]. at least i thought you did.”
you’re saved having to make a response by freddie dropping the last of your bags at your feet. he kisses your cheek, wishes you a happy christmas, and asks you take a dramatic photo of him leaving the airport, headed out for a night on the town all by his lonesome because his friends won’t join him in the fun. you oblige, though your heart isn’t in it because brian radiates frustration at your side and you’re jetlagged. you just want to go to sleep, really. it’ll be better in the morning.
after wishing well to the rest of the group, you follow brian out into the cold. it’s frigid, and a gentle snow has begun to fall, glittering in the harsh lamplight. you stamp your feet to try and generate some warmth in your legs as you wait on the curb for the cab. the tension between you grows thicker with each passing moment, but you can’t find the words to say. 
in all honesty, you figured he looks at you as nothing more than a good time. and that’s okay with you because it makes things less complicated. you aren’t sure what you will do if he actually wants you, wants you for good. because it’s always in the back of your mind—how you don’t belong here, how you don’t belong with him—and if he feels something more than a general liking for your kisses or your ass or your tits, you don’t know what that will mean for your future. it scares you. so you say nothing, and he says nothing.
the cab pulls up the side of the road, and the trunk pops open with a soft whoosh. the driver hops out, rambles something about how big of a fan he is and how brian is such an inspiration, and you can’t help but roll your eyes as you lug your bag to the trunk and dump it in unceremoniously. you slide into the backseat of the car, cross your arms over your chest, and sulk. brian follows suit, sulk and all, seconds behind you. 
the driver either ignores the tension in the backseat or is oblivious because when he takes the driver’s seat and turns to ask you both where you’re headed, he’s all smiles and flushed cheeks.
brian doesn’t answer. neither do you.
the driver’s smile begins to fade as the moments pass by. 
“you really didn’t realize that i love you?”
you suck in a sharp breath at brian’s confession, eyes darting to his, which bore so deep into your soul you wonder if he can see into the very depths of your heart. you wonder if he can see the way you’re at war with yourself. there’s part of you that wants to jump his skinny bones and forget everything you left behind; that part is dangerously close to breaking through the surface. but you care for him enough to shake your head in an honest answer. he sighs.
“well, i do.”
“oh,” you whisper, turning your face to your lap. “sorry.”
there’s an edge to his voice when he speaks again, and it makes you squirm. “that’s it? just sorry?”
you force yourself to meet his eyes. it’s hard to make out exactly what he looks like in the dim lighting of the cab, but you know he’s not happy. “i didn’t want to assume anything,” you admit. “this is all terribly out of character for me.”
“what is?”
you know he won’t give the driver an address until you speak the truth, so you close your eyes and grit your teeth. “all of it—you, queen, the tour. i have absolutely no idea what i’m doing or how i’m supposed to act.”
“you’re supposed to act like yourself, [y/n]. that’s what i love: you, not what you think you’re supposed to be.”
swallowing hard, your eyes slide back to him. his shoulders have dropped from their tense hunch, and the lines in his forehead have smoothed. he looks more tired now than anything else.
“if i’m being honest,” he continues. “i think i’ve loved you since you called crystal out on the tour bus that first night.”
you smirk, remembering the way you thought he’d turned to glance back at your after your outburst. lip caught between your teeth, you shift in your place to face him better.
“if i’m being honest,” you say. “i think i’ve loved you since i stepped on your stupid clog in that disco.”
he doesn’t laugh like you thought he would. his eyes just dart back and forth between yours for a moment before his hand slides across the bench to skim your splayed fingers.
“so, christmas at mine?”
you nod, chest soaring when he scoots closer, his warmth invading your cold bubble. “christmas at yours.”
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december, 1978—london
freddie throws a new year’s eve party, and you all but have to drag brian to it. all he wants to do is stay home and fiddle with the telescope his father got him for christmas, but all you want to do is go to freddie’s party with the man you love and kiss him as the clock strikes midnight. you end up cutting a deal: you’ll both go to the party but leave right after midnight so he can catch what’s left of the night sky. 
as you dress in a decidedly not-winter-appropriate outfit, you tease and tell him he’s such a grandpa. he just pushes his hips against your backside, pushing you into the bathroom counter, and you gasp at the feeling of his desire pressed against your leg. you have to brace your hands on the countertop when he leans over your shoulder and nips at your ear, muttering, “don’t think grandpas get riled up like this, love.”
now at the party, leaning against the wall with a flute of champagne in your hand, half-listening to veronica’s story about john attempting to cut his own hair, you can’t stop ogling brian from across the room.
he stands beside roger and some business executive from the record label. he’s wearing the suit jacket you like: it’s black with white pinstripes. it’s buttoned halfway up his chest, but, as is customary, the crisp white dress shirt beneath his jacket is barely buttoned at all. you can make out the outline of his sternum, a silver necklace dangling against his skin. his trousers are dark and tapered along his narrow waist and legs. he looks good enough to eat, and you still hum with the electricity he’d shot through you back in the cramped bathroom at his parent’s home.
mumbling an half-hearted apology to veronica, you set your empty champagne flute on the marble mantlepiece and cross the floor with purposeful steps. it’s rare you get like this—so worked up you might explode—but with the recent revelation of his feelings for you and the way he stands there, so nonchalantly beautiful, you think you might burst if you don’t do something.
sidling up beside brian, you curl your arm around his elbow and smile at the men with whom he’s in conversation. roger grins right back, like he can read your mind and knows what you’re up to; the business executive’s eyes falter a moment too long on your chest, but that’s fine because at least it means you look good. you can work that to your advantage.
“mind if i steal him for a moment?” you ask, already tugging at brian’s wrist, question dripping with sugar and honey. 
the business man’s eyes flick up from your cleavage to your face. “well, we weren’t exactly—”
“go ahead, love.” roger waves you off with a wink. “i can finish up with mack.”
mouthing a thank you to roger, you curl your hand around brian’s and pull him down the crowded hallway to a small coat closet. there’s heavy jackets and fur-lined coats strewn about the room, bags and purses and briefcases too. it smells slightly musty despite it being the largest coat closet you’ve ever occupied. you don’t waste a moment. with one hand, you shove the door closed and with the other you grab the lapel of his jacket and pull his mouth down for a bruising kiss.
brian laughs against your teeth, his hands skimming around your waist to settle in the small of your back. “what on earth’s gotten into you?”
you shake your head. the strap of your dress, thin as it is, falls down your shoulder as you trip over your own feet in an effort to perch yourself on the single bench in the room. “nothing,” you huff. “just want you ‘s all.”
he helps you with the stubborn zipper that runs along your spine, his mouth working on your throat, still chuckling. “i can work with that.”
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january, 1979—berlin
anna studies you from across the room, one leg dangling over the other. she picks at her nails while she stares, her eyes narrowed in thought. you let her inspect you for a few moments, but her stare soon becomes too much to handle. her eyes are heavy and intense, so you slam your book shut.
“what?” there’s an edge on your voice, but she doesn’t take notice, just shrugs.
“do you think you’ll get married? you and brian?”
with a sigh, you toss your book to the coffee table and swing your legs to the carpet. “that’s a ridiculous question.”
“no it’s not!” anna’s eyes follow you as you pad across the floor to grab an apple from the buffet along the wall. “it’s obvious you love each other.”
leaning against the table, you bite into your apple. music from the stage filters through the air vents, attempting to drown out the thoughts swirling through your head. you might let it, too, but anna’s question pricks at the girlish ideas of marriage you’d buried so long ago.
“me and roger,” she continues. “i know we won’t get married. he’s an epic shag and almost too much fun, but i don’t love him. i mean, i do, but not the way you love brian. and he definitely doesn’t love me the way brian loves you.”
you arch a brow. “i didn’t realize everyone had so many opinions about my relationship.”
“sure we do. crystal’s started a pool on when brian will actually pop the question. my money’s in the spring. i think i picked april fifteenth. we’ll be in tokyo then and they’ve got gorgeous cherry blossoms. can you imagine how romantic that’d be?” 
you do imagine it for a moment—him bending down to one knee, cherry blossom trees swaying with a gentle breeze, your hand clasped in his, finger weighed down by an engagement ring. you fiddle with your ring finger, feel the emptiness there, and wonder what it would be like to actually, truly marry him. you’d say yes, if he asked, but that would also mean giving up any lingering hope of returning to your natural life, wouldn’t it? you still aren’t sure if you can do that. 
besides, you know he isn’t going to ask. there’s no reason for him to. he loves you; you love him. that’s it; that’s all it needs to be.
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february, 1979—zurich 
you’re walking hand in hand along a quaint street in zurich’s city center. the air is cold, but brian’s hand is warm, and you feel impossibly safe by his side. not for the first time, you have to pinch yourself. before leaving home you’d rarely traveled and never extensively, but in the six months you’ve been away, you’ve seen more of the world than you ever dared dream you would—and it’s all because of him.
you slide your hand from his palm to the crease of his elbow and lean against his side. he glances down at you and moves his arm around your shoulders. he smells like laundry detergent and roger’s cigarette smoke. the scent makes your head dizzy with affection, so you have to ask him to repeat himself when he speaks.
“how much film have you used up? for your camera?” he asks again, drawing you out of the path of a jogger. 
you tally the sacred tubes tucked neatly in your suitcase. “four canisters so far.”
he smiles, clearly proud of himself. “i guess i did pretty well with that gift, then.”
rolling your eyes, you poke his side, but the grin on your face is secure. “don’t flatter yourself. i don’t want your ego getting too big.” looking away from his pretty face, flushed with chill and sparkling with amusement, your steps falter. “oh, that’s nice!”
you say it before you can stop yourself, but the jewelry displayed in the window of a small accessories shop truly is nice. there’s a wide array of necklaces, bracelets, and rings sparkling in the overhead light. just the sight of a diamond ring makes your heart flutter, and you think back to your conversation with anna in berlin. you pull your eyes away from the wedding bands and focus on the necklaces. 
brian steps behind you, circles his arms around your stomach, and settles his head on your chin. “do you want something?” his breath tickles your ear, and you immediately shake your head.
“no, just looking.”
he squeezes you against his body in protest. “come on. let me get you something.”
“brian, it’s too much.”
“it is not! you haven’t let me get you anything this whole time!”
you turn around in his arms and plant your hands on his lean chest. “i don’t need anything. you’re present enough as it is.”
he huffs. “that’s shite. we’re going in there and we’re not leaving till you pick out something you want.”
in the end, you choose a necklace with a pearl set against a fanned-out silver flower. it’s dainty, light against your collarbones, but it reminds you of brian. pearls are formed out of grit and determination, just like he is. it’s a silly metaphor, but when you see the necklace for the first time, that’s what springs to mind. you don’t tell him as much. you just let him pay the shop woman and hook the necklace around your neck.
later, when you’re lounged around the hotel lobby, waiting for the boys to finish changing from the show so you can go to dinner, crystal points to the necklace.
“new bling?”
you touch the pearl with your fingers and nod. “he insisted.” you level him a pointed stare. “i heard you’ve got a bet going on as to when brian will ask me to marry him.”
crystal has the decency to blush, and he swings his legs over the arm of his chair so he can sit straight. “yeah, well, we gotta do something to keep entertained.”
“i want in.”
he laughs, loud and echoey in the sparse lobby. “what?”
“you heard me: i want in.”
“you think he’s gonna ask?”
you shrug. “maybe. a girl can dream.”
shifting, crystal unearths a square notebook from his back pocket. he reaches for a discarded pen on the glass coffee table at his feet and puts the cap in his mouth while he flips through the pages of his notebook. “what day you want?”
“what day’s not taken?”
“uh... march first. we’re in paris then.”
“fine. put me down for march first.”
crystal pencils your name in and opens his palm. “it’s forty pounds to enter.”
you startle forward, sputtering, “forty pounds?!”
“you’re getting in pretty late, sweetheart! take it while you can.”
“how much do i stand to win?”
he calculates slowly, mumbling, “forty times twenty-eight... about five thousand.”
you scoff, shaking your head. “i don’t know whether i should be offended or impressed.” withdrawing your pocketbook, you slap the forty pounds in his palm. 
he curls his fist around the money and shoves it in his pocket. “thank you and good luck.” he winks as the boys round the corner from the elevators, talking quietly amongst themselves.
brian comes to stand behind your chair, his hands on your shoulders. he glances between you and crystal. “what’s going on? you look like you’re up to no good.”
rising from your seat, you grasp his wrist and kiss the back of his hand. “oh nothing. crystal was just brushing me up on my maths skills.”
buzzing with giddiness, shocked at yourself but not unpleased, you grin wider when you hear crystal whisper to freddie, “she took march first” on your way to the car and freddie says, “dammit it! i got february twenty-eighth. he likes the first of the month.”
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february, 1979—madrid
you stare at the calendar tacked to the dressing room wall. it’s your birthday.
you didn’t expect to feel so sad. freddie’s planned a party for this evening, something outrageous and ostentatious, and you’ve been anticipating it all week, but now that the day is here, you don’t feel excited or thankful or even the slightest bit happy. you just feel empty.
if you were home, where nature intended you to be, you’d likely have woken up to a flurry of happy birthday text messages. your roommate rachel might’ve made you breakfast in bed, and you’d have gone to dinner with your family before returning home to open presents. it would have been simple, easy and uninspired, but just the way you like it.
this morning you’d woken to brian pressing a kiss to your temple as he rushed out of the room, already late for a day set aside for brainstorming the new album. he couldn’t help the schedule; that’s just the way it fell. so you’d gotten ready by yourself, eaten by yourself at the hotel’s cafe, read by yourself on your room’s terrace. crystal had shouted his well-wishes on his way out of the hotel by the time soundcheck rolled around; anna had brought you a muffin as you slid into the car beside her. you knew you would celebrate later as freddie had promised, but that didn’t stop the ache, the yearning, in your chest for something more familiar. now standing in brian’s dressing room, alone and in silence, it takes everything you have in you to not break down and sob.
you miss home. you miss your parents. you miss your brother and sister. you miss your phone and your keurig that takes too long to pour and your subscription to netflix. as much as you love brian, you miss where you belong, the time in which you belong.
you don’t realize you’re crying until the door opens with a click, and brian steps in. he’s halfway through a sentence about wanting to find something to eat before the show starts when he sees your tears and stops talking. rushing to your side, he takes your shoulders in his large hands and bends to catch your eyes.
“[y/n]? what is it? what’s wrong?” he sounds worried, painfully so. this must be the first time he’s seen you cry in such earnest. sure, he’s seen you shed a few tears on occasion—when you’re irritable and he’s being stubborn; when roger and crystal’s antics make you double-over in laughter; when he does something particularly endearing—but he’s never seen you like this.
you wrap your arms around your stomach and shake your head, tears flowing all the more. you wish you could unburden yourself and tell him the truth. he deserves that. but you can’t answer his questions. you don’t know what’s brought you here or why, and he’ll probably only think you’re crazy. you think you’re crazy.
he stops asking you what’s wrong and leads you to the couch. the faux-leather squeaks as he sits, drawing you to his lap, your head cradled beneath his chin. he rubs soothing circles up and down your back, humming, until you’ve settled enough to blow your nose and wipe what little makeup remains from your eyes.
you exhale, sitting upright in his lap. he has one arm draped over your hips, the other still working along your spine. you can feel his eyes searching your profile, as if he’s trying to discern the cause of your turmoil from the patterns on your skin. 
you don’t say anything. you just twist and press your mouth to his. 
god, you love him. it’s not the fact that he’s brian may and that’s he opened up a world previously unknown to you. it’s him: his height which makes you feel safe, his hands which love you so well, his intelligence which dazzles you day after day, his kindness, his vulnerability with others, his wit. you love everything about him and more.
but you don’t belong here. the thought has been plaguing you since you arrived, and you suspect it will haunt you until nature returns you home—if nature returns you home. you are meant for the days of roaming wifi and overpriced coffees on every street corner. you are meant for skinny jeans and simple eye makeup, youtube and internet shopping. 
you miss it all, but you love him so dearly—would marry him, and have his children, and die by his side if he asked—but you don’t belong here.
your mouth moves rough across his as you straddle his hips, hands clawing at the hair around his shoulders. you’re crying again. you can taste your tears, salty and warm, and you wonder if he tastes them too. he kisses you despite the tears or maybe because of them. whatever; it doesn’t matter. you just want to forget, to feel good, to feel him.
pulling back, you breathe heavy, chest brushing against his. his eyelids are heavy with lust, his throat flushed. he lifts a hands, brushes his palm down the side of your face, his thumb swiping out to wipe away a tear. 
“what do you want?” he asks.
you take the moment to memorize his face, every line, freckle, and marking. you run a finger long his lower lip and whisper, “you.”
he frowns. “you have me.”
a lump rises in your throat, and you push it back before meeting his gaze. “always?” you aren’t sure what you mean by always. your head is so muddled, so torn, it likely doesn’t matter what you really mean. just as long as he answers the way you want him to.
he does. 
“always,” he says, and you sigh in relief before kissing him again.
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march, 1979—paris
march first, the day you picked in crystal’s proposal bet. 
it’s drizzling, but you insist brian accompany you to the louvre on your last afternoon in france. together, you race to the museum, hair damp and frizzy, laughing as you check your coats and grab maps of the exhibits. you wind your way from room to room, commenting on the masterpieces hanging along the walls. brian listens as you spout the wealth of useless knowledge you’ve stored in your head for a later date. he asks questions; he nods and hums in approval; his hand rests in the curve of your back.
by the time you reach liberty leading the people, you’re sure he’s as bored of hearing your voice you are. you pause, study the painting, and sigh in contentment. the room is quiet, only an older couple in the far corner, standing side by side. the man is much taller than his wife, like brian’s taller than you. the woman leans into her husband’s touch when he presses her shoulder, and you wonder absentmindedly if you will experience old age alongside brian. 
“i want to give you something.” brian breaks the silence with a voice that is on the edge of trembling. 
you look up at him, brow furrowed. “you know i don’t like when you give me things.”
“i think you’ll like this.” he gasps his right hand and twists at the ring on his pinky. as you watch his movements, shaky and unpracticed, your heart stops in your chest. 
oh my god.
oh my god.
oh my god.
the words thrum through your veins like a mantra. the air in your throat goes cold, your eyes glued to his hands. you think you might faint when he grasps your left wrist and places the ring in your palm. mouth open, you stare at it: it’s silver with a flat face, small and plain. there’s something engraved on the smooth circle and, after you blink your tears away, you see it’s a flower with three drooping bell-shaped buds.
he notices your inspection and nods to the ring. “it’s lily of the valley, supposedly may’s flower of the month, or so my mother has always believed. you saw our house. she’s obsessed.”
you swallow past the moisture gathering in your throat and look up, unable to form a sentence. he shoves his hands deep in his pockets and shrugs.
“it’s not so much of a proposal as it is a promise.”
“a promise?” is all you can manage to squeak.
“i want to marry you one day,” he says matter-of-factly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like it’s what he was born to do. “but you know how things are right now. we’re busy and money’s tight and—”
“okay,” you breathe. 
his brow puckers. “what?”
“i said okay. i’ll marry you—one day.”
his lips spread in the most heartbreakingly beautiful smile, and you know for a fact that you are doomed: doomed to love him forever and always, until you’re both dead and buried and the world continues to turn even though you’re gone.
“well, mr. may, are you gonna make me put it on myself?” you wiggle your hand and pass him the ring which he dutifully slides on your middle finger.
still holding your hand in his, he leans down to kiss your forehead. “i’ll put a proper ring on your finger one day,” he mumbles against your skin, clasping the back of your head to his lips. “promise.”
as you stand in the middle of the louvre, held in the arms of the man you love, you remember: you’re five thousand pounds richer now. you won the bet. the thought makes you laugh and hug him all the tighter.
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april, 1979—toyko
if you had known nature would choose that day make her mistake right, you likely wouldn’t have gone back to your hotel room for your sunglasses.
but you didn’t know, and it was painfully sunny outside. 
freddie suggests the group takes a walk around toyko to enjoy the sights and the last of the cherry blossoms before the evening’s soundcheck. though you’re tired from a late flight, you aren’t going to turn down an afternoon of simplicity, not when the tour is so close to finishing and you might never experience this feeling of family again. you’re walking with crystal out of the hotel, bag slung over your shoulder, camera around your neck, arguing with him about whether or not the clouds in the distance mean rain. he says yes; you say no.  
“it’ll just pass over us,” you say, shielding your eyes from the sun. “it’s too bright to storm.”
“clearly you’ve never been to japan before.” he pauses when you stop walking, turning to look over his shoulder while you backtrack toward the entrance.
“i’m gonna pop back inside for my sunglasses anyway. i’d rather have them.” you wave your hand. “don’t wait for me. i’ll catch up. tell brian i’ll be there in a minute.”
he shrugs and pops a toothpick in his mouth. “you know freddie’s a fast walker so be quick.”
nodding, you turn fully on your heel and rush back into the building. the lift is too slow, so you take the stairs two at a time. by the time you reach the door to your room and finesse the key into the stubborn lock, it’s raining. you groan, thumbing your nose at the rain-stained window, but grab the sunglasses anyway before racing down the stairs.
your camera bangs against your chest, your bag slapping against your hip. the stairwell is cool concrete, and the sound of your shoes echoes on the stairs as you wind down the floors. 
thunder booms overheard, and you gasp, stalling on the steps. it sounds close. maybe you should have grabbed your umbrella...
reaching the bottom of the stairs, you pull the door to the lobby open and stumble into an empty concert hall, all too familiar and entirely unwelcome.
your heart plummets to your stomach.
“oh fuck.”
~*~*~*
taglist: @bhmay​ @grigorlee​ @teenagepeterpan​ @just-my-sickly-pride​ @perriwiinkle​ @ubernoxa​ @anunknownnebula​ @coincidence-ithinknots-blog​ @captvinswaan​ @ineloqueent​
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bourbon-ontherocks · 3 years
Text
(Previously, on GG rewatch...)
Ooooh my God, this is officially the first occurrence of our national got-my-nose-pierced-after-my-gf-shot-me Emo Boi!!!
Damn, Lucy carried A LOT of tampons in her purse...
The Porcupine's logo is just... so cute
Annie's grand tour of all the shrinks in town is objectively hilarious. Extra points for the lady who believes Annie is some sort of Bruce Willis who talks to dead people!
Ah, my favourite Brio angsty scene!!! Rain! Darkness!! Mick!! The G-Wagon!! Emo Boi making a dramatic entrance!! Idiots staring at opposite directions! Angsty talk!! CHRISTINA'S PERFECTLY TIMED TEARDROP I DON'T KNOW HOW SHE DOES THAT!!! THE. SHOOTING. DISCUSSION. This show is starting to really look like a fanfiction and I’m loving it!
“THAT SHIP SAILED WHEN YOU PUT THREE SLUGS IN ME”!!! “THIS IS YOUR FAULT”!!! “YOU, ME, WE, IT'S JUST BUSINESS”!!!!
Also, “you, me, we, it’s just business” doesn’t sound like a logical response to “this is your fault”... But what do I know? Maybe I’ll try that the next time someone’s mad at me for something...
I really like that it's Ruby who suggests they dig Lucy's face out. Feels a bit ooc though, after all her speeches about burial decency for Boomer in season 2
MICK X BRONCO SAUCE IS SUCH A FAVE MOMENT!!!!!!
I wonder who actually did the chopping of Lucy's body, though...
Okay, Mick is clearly and PURPOSEFULLY messing with Beth and letting her think he's hitting on her. Nobody licks Bronco sauce out of their fingers like this.
“YOUR HUSBAND WON'T LIKE IT”!!!  “I HAVE HERPES”!!! BEST LINES DELIVERIES EVER!!!!
Clearly none of the writers of this show has children, otherwise they'd know that they WAIT for the parent to be gone before turning the phone on under the duvet...
The choose-your-spa scene is absolutely surreal. Mick's contented "wooo!" and fingers tapping at the end always cracks me up
So, killing Lucy resulted in chopping off her body and burying the parts in some place that's two hours drive away. That's a lot of work for someone who just wanted to prove a point. Rio is a dramatic Bitch.
"You should have seen his facec. He really wants a hot-tub."
Beth can't use emojis THIS IS CANON!! Also I really like the whole conversation about break-up texts.
I love that Ruby is calling Max a child, haha!
I hope for the sake of Retta's bladder that they got that scene right on the first take... Also I love her speech about Stan, feels very reminiscent of season 1's "I'm that bitch."
"If there's nothing else, I have nails to paint" that's my badass Ruby!
I love the awkwardness of Beth's "why don't you sit?" implying "let's move this to the living room," and Max just sitting right where he is.
Max: "Have you ever been dumped?" Beth, browsing through all the times Rio said/implied she was only work: "Um, you know, I married my first boyfriend so not really, no..."
In what universe, when you put something in the mail, is it already at the other side of the country within two hours??? In the real world, Max would have located Lucy in the nearest post office and that would have been it...
Tim really is the chillest kid in the world...
Well, I mean for once Josh has the right reaction in not wanting to take Annie back as a patient... Too bad this man's completely undecise and unprofessional.
Wait, does Max think Lucy left with Au-Jus since he didn't ask ANYTHING about the bird's disappearance?
Oh, cool, here comes the ink bullshit to cover Beth's theft... SOMEONE's gonna have their furniture taken very soon... Seriously, she IS like a newborn, leave her for five minutes and she'll make another mess...
Rio squinting at the pseudo-invoice is the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life!!! Someone buys the poor boy glasses immediately!
“How's the boyfriend?” “He got over it.” “THEY ALWAYS DO”!!!! Gosh, the pettiness of this is off the charts!!!
Bonus: Beth’s ottoman, a Saga
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here4theheartbreak · 4 years
Text
Missing (TaeKeySeok)
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AO3 Link Here!
✩ Relationships: Jung Hoseok x Kim Kibum x Kim Taehyung ✩ Genre(s): Fluff/Angst
✩ Rating: General ✩ Tags: swearing, alcohol mention, established relationship, polyamory, fluff, angst ✩ Summary:  After a fight, Taehyung refuses to answer one of his boyfriend's calls. But this one involves their other boyfriend, and might just change their whole world.
✩ Word Count: ~2.6k ✩ A/N: Written for @blink4jimin​ for the prompt #15 - Call me now. It’s urgent. Hope you enjoy!!
One thing that could never be said about Kim Taehyung was that he was a pushover. Rather, he was stubborn to a fault. Even in matters where, in the eyes of everyone else, the easiest thing to do would be to just let it slide. In hindsight, Taehyung knew that was what had gotten him into his current predicament.
He loved Hoseok and Kibum with his entire heart. They’d been together since he was nineteen, nearly seven years now. But they did have their disagreements. And, despite their love, sometimes those disagreements turned into full-blown arguments. Key was stubborn and blunt, and Taehyung’s sullen attitude often got to him. On the reverse, Key’s bluntness often came off harshly to Tae, and they ended up bickering worse. Hoseok was always their rock, the middleman, the one to soothe everyone’s tempers and get them back to a place where they were able to talk things through rationally. They all loved one another dearly, and the reactive arguments were just a part of their relationship. Despite them, there was never any ill will held after they finally made up, moving on as a solid trio through their lives.
That was where they were at the fateful Saturday mid-morning. Taehyung and Key had gotten into it over Tae’s messy shoe collection, which even Taehyung had to admit was getting a little out of control. But when Key had come at him, his response was, as per usual, more petulant than it should have been, resulting in an argument. Taehyung had stormed out of the apartment, opting to stay with his friend across the city instead.
What was strange, however, was that while Taehyung was playing video games with Jin the following morning, he received a call from Key. Key never called when they were arguing.
Taehyung scowled at the phone, watching it vibrate across the floor.
“You gonna answer it?” Jin asked.
“I… He doesn’t ever make the first move to apologize. No way am I going to answer it.”
“What if he realized he was in the wrong?”
“Not possible. Key-hyung’s ego is way too big for that.”
“Coming from you, those are strong words,” Jin teased, crying out when Taehyung slugged him in the bicep.
“Shut up and let’s play.” He muted the phone and turned his attention back to the television, starting up their game again.
Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed again. Taehyung scowled.
“It must be important,” Jin said softly. “He doesn’t call twice often, in my experience.”
“Well he can just fuck right off,” Taehyung snapped, ignoring the call again.
Jin shrugged, turning back to the television. This time, a text came through almost immediately. ‘Call me now. It’s urgent.’
“Tae, I know you’re mad at him… But he seems really desperate to get ahold of you.”
“He shouldn’t have been so mean.”
Another text came through. ‘Please Tae. It’s Hobi.’
Taehyung’s eyes widened at that. He grabbed his phone, opening it and dialing Key’s number immediately.
“What about Hobi-hyung?” He asked, rising and pacing through Jin’s apartment. Jin rose as well, watching him closely.
“He never came home, Tae. He’s not with you?”
“No, I’m at Jin-hyung’s. I have been since our fight. I left when he was working.”
“He was at the studio, right? With his class? He shoulda been home no later than five or six. You left at like four-thirty.”
“It’s almost noon. Have you called Yoongi-hyung?”
“Mhm, he hasn’t seen him or heard from him.”
“What about the main choreographer he’s working with?”
“I don’t have his number.”
“I do,” Taehyung said. “I’ll call him, see when Hobi-hyung left the studio yesterday. I’ll head home now.”
“Okay.”
Taehyung hung up, immediately scrolling through his phone as he went for his shoes.
“What’s wrong with Hoseok?” Jin asked.
“He’s missing. He hasn’t come home and Key-hyung can’t get ahold of him.”
“I’ll go by some of our friend’s places,” Jin offered, “to see if he holed up there, maybe he went out for a drink or something after work.”
Taehyung nodded. “Thank you.” He rushed out as he put the phone to his ear, digging his car keys from his pocket.
Hoseok wasn’t particularly famous – not idol level fame at least, but he did have a following big enough that they had recently upped security at their apartment. And worse – Hoseok was a creature of strict habit. He never changed his nightly routine without letting Key or Taehyung know that he’d be home late, where he was going. It wasn’t that they required it – Hoseok was a grown man and capable of caring for himself, but it was just a way they all showed affection. Even in the middle of their argument, Taehyung had informed Key he was going to Jin’s. He may have screamed it at him, but he still let him know. It was how the trio worked. And that was the frightening part of it. For Hoseok to be away nearly twenty-four hours without so much as a text to either boyfriend was abnormal even for their standards.
Taehyung rushed up to the apartment, rushing in. Key looked up, his eyes red rimmed though he’d never admit he’d been crying. He nodded at Taehyung.
“Yeah, thanks Jimin.” He hung up.
“Nobody’s seen him.”
“Jin-hyung is checking our common places too,” Taehyung said.
Key rose and hesitated. He shook his head. “I’m sorry for fighting with you yesterday, Tae. Going through this alone has been…” He stopped, his eyes welling. Taehyung circled the coffee table and hugged him tightly.
“I get it, you don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I shouldn’t have been so bratty.”
Key pushed Taehyung back a bit only to kiss him hard. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Taehyung whispered. He buried his face in the crook of Key’s neck. “What do we do?”
“Well, Jin-hyung will keep us updated I’m sure. We’ve already called everyone we know. I think the next step is to start calling hospitals.”
Taehyung’s stomach dropped at Key’s words, a cold chill coming over him. “You don’t think…”
“Why else wouldn’t he call us? An accident is better than a crazy fan, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” Taehyung rubbed his neck. “Okay. You take the hospitals on the west side of town, I’ll take the east.”
Key nodded. They sat close together on the couch, each searching up hospitals on their phones. When Key would dial a number, he reached over, setting his free hand on Taehyung’s leg. Taehyung did the same, squeezing gently as the phone rang. Again and again, they were told no, nobody here by that name, that description. As the hospitals dwindled, their panic began to increase.
“How many?” Key asked after hanging up once again.
“Two on my end.”
“One on mine,” Key whispered. Taehyung grabbed his hand.
“We’ll be okay. Hoseok will be okay.”
Key nodded. Taehyung could see him chewing the inside of his lip, and knew he was fighting back yelling or crying.
“Want me to make the last calls?”
“No, no. I’ll do it.” Key lifted his phone, scrolling through to find the last number. As he did, his phone began to buzz in his hand from an unknown number. Without hesitation, he answered it.
“Hobi?”
He hesitated, listening to the person on the other end. Taehyung nudged him, his face a question.
“One… One moment, ma’am.” He put the phone on speaker.
“Okay, sorry, yes, My name is Kim Kibum.”
“Oh, good, I’m Jisoon, a nurse at Asan Medical Center. Do you know a Jung Hoseok?”
“Yes, yes,” Key cried, his voice cracking. “That’s my partner, is he there? Is he okay? We’ve been going crazy looking for him.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Yes, he’s here. He’s fine, just recovering.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I’m not at liberty to say over the phone, but he is okay. He’s asking for you to come by.”
“Of course, tell him me and Taehyung will be right there.”
“Kim Taehyung?” She asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” Tae said. “Key put you on speaker, sorry – I’m… I’m a friend.” Taehyung stuttered, not wanting to out them to a stranger.
“Of course, thank you. I was going to call you next, he requested both of you. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”
“Thank you so much, ma’am,” Key said. He hung up and Taehyung grabbed him in a hug.
“He’s okay.”
“He’s okay,” Key repeated. “But what the hell happened?”
“Guess we need to go find out.”
Key nodded. “I’ll drive.”
“No, I can, I’m faster on the roads,” Taehyung argued, rising and pulling his shoes on.
“Yeah, but my car is more comfortable and smaller, so I can get in between other cars easier.”
“Which does nothing when you drive like a grandpa,” Taehyung said.
“I do not drive like a grandpa! You drive like a maniac—” Key stopped short, his angry expression turning a little sheepish. At least one thing doesn’t change no matter what, does it?” He asked.
Taehyung scowled, ready to snap, then relaxed, chuckling. “I suppose it doesn’t. I’m still driving.”
Key rolled his eyes deeply enough that Taehyung only saw the whites of his eyes for a moment, but said nothing further. They pulled their shoes on and headed out silently.
On the way to the hospital, Taehyung tried to be mindful of the road, not wanting to panic Key further.
“Do you… Think we fight too much?” Key asked softly, picking at a spot on his pants.
Taehyung hesitated, unsure how to answer. His gut reaction was to say yes, but that’ wasn’t quite right. He sighed. “Yes.”
Key looked over, his expression gentle. “Are we good boyfriends?”
“Yes.”
“How can both be yesses?” He asked.
“Because I think that we do fight a lot, but there’s something about our fights. I can’t quite explain it. I love you and Hobi-hyung dearly. Even with our fights, even when I storm out or you shut yourself in your room. There’s never a time where being anything else but your boyfriend crosses my mind. Never that it would be easier to break up with you, never that we shouldn’t date. Even though we fight, I’m fully dedicated to you two. That’s why I think that we fight a lot, but we are good lovers. We are good together.”
“Being alone last night… I think I realized just how important you and Hobi are to me. Thinking that you two might not come home to me, I—” Key stopped, swallowing hard. Taehyung reached over and grabbed his hand.
“I don’t care how much we fight, Kim Kibum. I will always come home to you. I love you,” he said firmly.
Key nodded, drawing in a deep breath. Taehyung squeezed his hand. “We’re here.”
He parked and they got out, hurrying into the hospital and heading to the front desk.
“We’re here for Jung Hoseok,” Key said in a rush.
“Ho.. Oh! Yes, just one moment.” The nurse stepped away, tapping another on the shoulder and pointing to the two. She nodded and approached.
“Mr. Kim?”
Both Taehyung and Key nodded. “That’s us.”
“Great. Come on, Mr. Jung is waiting for you.”
“What happened?” Key pressed again as the nurse led them through the hall.
“Well, his friend brought him in last night. He’d had far too much to drink and wasn’t responding to his friend. He was concerned about alcohol poisoning.”
Key’s shoulders sagged. “What?”
“Does your friend have a drinking problem?” The nurse asked.
“No, not at all,” Taehyung defended. “He drinks a little, just like everyone, but he’s a lightweight.”
Key chuckled. “That’s true, two beers and he’s rosy cheeked singing love songs. Three and he’s out.”
“His blood alcohol was far higher, but he also assures me it’s not routine. But you know how it is, just being safe. Here he is.”
“When can he come home?” Taehyung asked before opening the door.
“He’s fine to be released this afternoon, just as long as some of his final blood work clears. We’re waiting on it from the lab, so it shouldn’t be too long. He said you two would be worried though, so he was pretty desperate for us to call you.”
Taehyung nodded. “Thank you.”
Key pushed open the door and the two stepped in. Hoseok was in the hospital bed, sipping some water and flipping through television channels. He looked over when the two entered and his eyes widened.
“Key-hyung! Tae, thank God you came.”
Key rushed up to him and punched him in the arm. “You had us worried sick, you asshole,” he snarled.
Hoseok winced, rubbing his arm. “I deserved that.”
“You deserve more than that,” Tae growled. “What were you thinking? You could’ve died. Why didn’t your friend call us?”
“He didn’t know to. It’s a guy from work, he’s never met you two, he’s relatively new. We went out for drinks and I got too drunk. My phone broke, so when I passed out he took me to the hospital. He probably didn’t even think to mention you guys to the nurse.”
“Why were you drinking so much?” Key asked. “You’re not a heavy drinker.”
“No, but I was stressed. I just wanted to relax and not have to worry.”
“About what?”
“My idiot boyfriends,” Hobi muttered.
Taehyung’s shoulder’s slumped. “You were mad about our fight?”
“I wasn’t mad. I love you both. But sometimes I get so tired of being the mediator. So I went out drinking with a friend and hoped you two would figure your bullshit out on your own. I know you two work different than other couples. The fighting seems to energize you and that’s fine. I love you and even though I don’t get it, I can handle it. It’s when you get me involved in them. The little stuff is fine but sometimes I just want a break, you know?”
“Hobi, we didn’t know,” Key whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I had no idea,” Taehyung said. “We never meant to make you feel that way.”
“I know you didn’t. And I planned on talking to you about it, once I had sorted myself out in my head. It’s not something that’s been bugging me for a very long time, just recently it’s been a lot. I just ended up drinking too much and…” He shrugged. “I’m sorry I worried you too. It wasn’t fair of me either.”
“I get it,” Key whispered. “You were stressed. We weren’t being good boyfriends. We’ll work harder to keep our fights between ourselves.”
“Or just have less of them,” Taehyung offered.
“Hey now, let’s not get crazy.” Key laughed as he spoke, and Hoseok laughed. He reached out and grabbed their hands.
“You two have made up?”
“It was a dumb fight,” Taehyung said. “I was being bratty and Key-hyung was right. I shouldn’t have stormed out anyways.”
“I’m glad you two figured it out. I should be getting out of here soon… Can we all go home together?”
“Of course, we’ll be here with you when you get out,” Taehyung promised. “I gotta call Jin and let him know everything’s okay.”
Hoseok nodded. He pulled Taehyung forward, kissing him gently. “I love you.”
“I love you too… No more drinking gallons though, okay? You are a lightweight.”
Hoseok laughed and nodded. “Deal,” he said, letting Taehyung go to make the call to Jin. Taehyung hesitated, watching him share a gentle kiss with Key.
He and Key would always bicker; it was their nature. And Hoseok would always be their mediator, as it was his nature as well. But as long as they worked together, as a trio, to make things a little more peaceful – or at least a little smoother, things would continue to look up for them. Those two had Taehyung’s heart, and he knew he’d do anything to make it last forever… Even if it meant eating his pride every now and then.
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lady-divine-writes · 4 years
Text
Campaigning for Peace (Rated T)
With the fate of the world in the hands of a demon, an angel, two ex-antichrists, and a defunct computer engineer, sometimes decisions come down to the roll of a die. (1503 words)
Written for @drawlight ‘31 days of ineffables’ prompt ‘chestnuts’. All humor. Completely tongue in cheek. Don’t take anything seriously. One suggestive remark at the end.
“No.” Crowley snatches the tanned parchments from a baffled Newt and rolls them into a tight coil, eyeballing the young man with open and palpable disgust.
“What do you mean no?” Newt counters, brow furrowed, angrier and more confused than their party has ever seen him.
“I mean no.” Crowley shoves the parchments into a duffel sitting beside him and pulls out, instead, a leather-bound text. “One word, two letters, very simple concept to grasp … for most people.”
“But … you’re not even willing to try?” Newt’s voice rises sharply, his gaze darting from the demon’s inscrutable eyes to the black canvas bag by his thigh. It’s only pulled closed, the scrolled parchments nestled within out of Newt’s reach, peeking through a slim gap mockingly.
“That’s what no means, boy.” Crowley flips through the pages of the book, perusing the text with dramatic intensity to show he’s moved on from this argument. Other eyes gauge Newt’s reaction – with sympathy, with understanding, with ridicule and sly grins.
Newt knows he’s being watched, and his face burns because of it.
“You … are … infuriating!”
“So I’ve been told, and by better men than you!”
“Hey, hey, guys!” Adam intervenes in an attempt to calm soaring tempers. “Arguing helps no one but the enemy,” he reminds them, though he already has numerous times to no avail. “What if we go in a different direction and I wield the flaming sword?”
Crowley’s eyes snap his way. A fire behind them burns dangerously, his slit pupils going paper thin, telling Adam he’s overstepped his bounds. “Oi! No! That’s Aziraphale’s weapon!”
“But he’s not here!” Adam protests. “And it’s the most powerful weapon we’ve got right now!”
“Don’t matter! No one but Aziraphale touches that sword! End of discussion!”
“I think you may be projecting on that sword a bit too much,” Adam mutters under his breath, double checking to ensure Crowley didn’t hear. He doesn’t doubt the accuracy of his remark, just the timing. Crowley’s eyes have begun to turn from their usual venom yellow to a dark, fiery orange – something Adam has only seen once before.
Needless to say, things didn’t end well that day.
“I have another idea,” Newt ventures even though no one asked and no one intended on asking. “What if I seduce him?”
Crowley and Adam’s heads whip around, both demon and ex-antichrist staring at him strangely.
“What?” Adam croaks. “Why!?”
“You know … as a distraction.”
“You? Ssseduce the Lord of Hell?” Crowley nearly chokes on his bifurcated tongue. “That’sss rich! If you work your mojo the sssame way you work a computer, we’ll all be turned to flaming goo, ssswimming in our own intestinesss!”
“Cool!” Warlock pipes up from behind the screen of his 3DS. He glances up when the group goes silent, staring his way with varied expressions. “I mean … yuck,” he corrects, shaking his head in fake contrition. “Don’t want that. Nope. Not at all.”
“Excuse me,” Newt starts haughtily when he notices Crowley’s smug smile in Warlock’s direction. “What exactly is your contribution? Besides playing video games and making sarcastic remarks, that is?”
“Oh, I have no contribution,” Warlock replies without looking up.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I was an antichrist, too, you know. Probably more of an antichrist than Adam here. Raised by an actual demon, I was. I’m waiting for you all to die so I can step over your corpses and take over. Rule the burning pile of intestinal soup.”
Adam shakes his head, but he can’t help the grin he has for his unlikely friend. Crowley’s smug smile becomes positively effervescent.
Newt rolls his eyes. “It’s good to have goals, I guess.”
Bells jingle in the distance.
An alert! Someone else has entered the field!
But it's not a hostile, so no one pays it any mind.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Fell!”
Aziraphale, reading his newspaper at his desk a short distance away from the heated debate, looks up at the voice he’s been expecting for the better part of the afternoon. “Tracy, my dear! I’m so glad you could make it!”
“It has been a while since I could come over for tea,” she says, embracing the angel when he stands to greet her. “I’m looking forward to making up for lost time.”
“My goodness! Is it still snowing outside?” Aziraphale asks when Tracy removes the hood of her pink peacoat and a generous dusting of flakes falls to the floor.
“Just a bit, just a bit. None of it’s sticking though so that’s good news. The cold’s more a bother than anything. Brr!” She shivers out of her damp coat. Aziraphale hangs it up on the coat rack to dry. “That wind goes right through you! But it’s nice and toasty in here, isn’t it?”
“No, no, no!” Crowley roars, pointing emphatically at the book spread open in front of him. “We might as well just start launching flaming food stuffs at them then!” He chortles so loudly and with such an edge, it makes everyone, including Aziraphale, jump. “That’s what we’ll do! Take down the whole horde with flambes and hors d’oeuvres! Lump in some chestnuts while we’re at it! That’ll do just as well than your asinine idea!”
“I still think seducing him …!”
“Will you get off it, you dolt! It’s never going to happen!”
“How do you know!?”
“H---h---how do I … how do I know!?” Crowley sputters, gesturing at himself in disbelief. “Because I’m a bloody demon! I’ve lived under Satan’s rule for thousands of years and let me tell you, you’re not his type!”
Tracy listens, hands wringing out the chill, her grip tightening as the conversation continues.
“What … what’s going on?” she asks nervously. “Are they …” She swallows hard, a flashback from months prior zipping through her thoughts like a bullet train, speeding her heartbeat and rendering her momentarily breathless “… preparing for another Apocalypse?”
“Not at all, dear! Now at all! They’re playing some fool game called … uh … Prisons and Lizards, I think.”
“Dungeons and Dragons, angel,” Crowley corrects alongside a put-off, soul-wrenching sigh.
Aziraphale points at his exasperated husband. “That’s the one.”
“It looks like they’re taking it rather seriously,” Tracy says, quietly accepting Aziraphale’s offer of a seat.
“Oh, yes. They’re quite involved.”
“Do you ever join them?”
“Oh, I’m a part of their campaign, as it were,” he explains, forgoing the tea and bringing out a bottle of his best brandy. “In absentia.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Ha! Fun!? Let me tell you a thing about fun!” Aziraphale has to steady his hand while he laughs so not a single drop of alcohol hits the table instead of Tracy’s glass. At times such as these, it would be a sin to waste good brandy. “With the Dowlings gone away on vacation and leaving Warlock with us, and Newt having some kind of existential slump, this lot has started hanging around my bookshop 24/7, and I haven’t gotten a moment’s peace! Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy their company, but it can be a bit …” He clears a collection of less socially appropriate modifiers from his throat and goes with “… much.”
“It does seem a little crowded in here.”
“Yes, well, there’s usually more of them, so this is a refreshing change.”
“I notice Anathema isn’t here,” Tracy remarks a tad judgmentally, scanning the shop just to be sure she’s not hiding between the stacks, rifling through Aziraphale’s older tomes in the occult section.
“Exactly. With her fiancé here, she’s enjoying some much needed peace and quiet. Getting some work done. And I don’t blame her. But that means I’ve been tasked with babysitting. With the boys wrapped up in that game, this is the first chance I’ve gotten to read my newspaper cover to cover. Later on, I’m going to try my hand at actually finishing a crossword puzzle!”
“You sound excited,” Tracy teases.
“I am, dear! I am!”
“You’re ridiculous!” Newt crows, slamming a hand on the table. “All of you! Ridiculous! I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you!”
“The feeling’s mutual!” Crowley retorts, spiking Aziraphale’s brain with a perturbing sense of déjà vu.
“Acid slugs it is,” Adam declares, picking up a large, multi-sided die and offering it to Warlock.
“Nah.” Warlock dismisses the die with a shake of his head. “Still waiting on that sweet intestinal soup.”
Aziraphale raises his glass. “It may not be quiet, but it is peace.”
“Or something like it.”
“Cheers.” Aziraphale bobs his glass Tracy’s way in a meager toast, closes his eyes, and indulges in a longer than normal first sip. When he opens his eyes again, Tracy is grinning at him like a mad cat. Aziraphale frowns self-consciously. “What?”
“So, if you’re babysitting, that makes you something of a father figure. Yes?”
“I suppose so,” Aziraphale admits with a heavy sigh.
Tracy leans in. “Does that mean Crowley gets to call you daddy?”
Aziraphale’s eyes pop. Seconds later, he snorts into his brandy. “Hush you!”
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stardusttrashed · 4 years
Text
Football Coach Part 20
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Previous Part
Pairing: Calum x Reader
Word Count: 2.3k+
Warning: Angst
Weeks had passed since that night- the drunk decisions that piled on top of each other. Calum was practically attached to your hip. His hands made your body their new home, always settling on you intentionally and unintentionally. Evermore so since he officially moved in; boxes unpacked, apartment sold, the whole nine yards. 
Calum squeezed your hip, pulling himself closer to you, “I promise we don’t need to buy a whole new dresser, love.” 
“Mhm-- just like how we didn’t need to buy you extra hangers when you kept stealing mine. You’re so full of s-- stuff.” You looked down at D’artagnan with an apologetic smile, thankfully he paid no attention to your close slip up. 
“What ‘bout that one?” D’artagnan pointed at the chestnut dresser displayed in the quaint and cozy room display.  The sky blue decorations contrasted the primarily black furniture. 
You twisted yourself, turning to face Calum with an expectant look. His eyes roamed over the room before finally landing on the dresser. He was gorgeous under the Ikea lights- so relaxed and natural, domestic even. His peach lips parted just enough for a quiet sigh to slip past. The caterpillar brows forever resting on his face- furrowed in concentration. The bridge of his nose highlighted by the fluorescent lights hanging overhead. 
“It’s nice, good pick bubs.” Despite the encouraging smile on his face, you could detect the hesitation hidden in his chocolate eyes. “But maybe we should wait for a little-- y’ know to give mommy here time to make more room for me.”
“But it’s bigger than the one she has now,” D’artagnan pressed on, adamant on helping. Anything he could do to ensure Calum was completely settled into the house he did. He was probably the most excited out of the three of you that Calum was moving in. It was like a constant sleepover, interrupted by various kissing and ‘alone time’ between you and Calum, but still just as fun.
“I was thinkin’,” you interrupted D’artagnan in a gentle voice, “since you’re getting taller and all- why don’t you go pick out another bed?”
D’artagnan looked up at you beaming with excitement, “really?”
“Really really, Calum and I will be right behind you.” You held the basket steady and he clambered over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping out. You waited until he took off around down the aisle before completely turning to face Calum. “What’s up with you lately? You’ve been.. Distant.” You poked your finger into his chest as you looked up at him. 
“Distant eh,” Calum chuckled as he looked down, the space between you barely enough for a piece of paper. 
You groaned, rolling your eyes at his cocky grin.“You know exactly what I mean Calum. You hang back whenever we go out together where someone from the team might see. I try to get you to settle in, no more bags or boxes, and you put on this fake face like you’re only doing it to spare my feelings. You change the topic whenever I say we should tell D’artagnan and our families about our engagement. If-,” you let out a deep sigh to steel your nerves. “If you’re having second thoughts about moving in with us, just tell me. I can make up something so D’artagnan won’t know, just-.”
“No, no, no. It’s nothing like that.” He cupped your cheek gently, grazing your skin with his thumb as he pulled you closer. “I love living with you and I’m sorry. I was trying to find the right time or way to tell you but I got a call from my coach. Our season is supposed to start and he- well he wants me to be team captain.”
“That’s great news Calum!” 
Your beaming smile only made it harder to continue his announcement. Calum sighed and broke his gaze from your momentarily. “Pay wise, yeah it is- I’d be able to spoil you and D’artagnan more. But.. we’d, my team and I, we’d be going all around the country and if we make it far enough, out of the country.” You let out a quiet ‘oh’. “I have two days  to decide and our season starts next week.”
“What ‘bout the misfits?”
“I know-.”
“The tournament- who’d coach them Calum?”
“I don’t know. If I took the position I’d wouldn’t be able to coach them through the championship.”
As much as you wanted to avoid thinking selfishly, but you couldn’t help it. It had been nearly two weeks since that so-called phone call. “When were you going to tell me,” your voice wavered. “Or were you going to even tell me at all?” You narrowed your eyes at him, your heart teetering the line of being upset and being hurt. 
“Of course I was going to tell you-.”
“How silly of me, of course, you were- not like weeks had passed since you found out. Or like we’ve had plenty of alone time or anything.” A quiet scoff escaped your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Anything else you’ve ‘been meaning’ to tell me, or do I have to wait again.”
“Why are you overreacting like-” the words left his mouth before he could even completely process them. “Y/n, that’s not... I-.” He could see the hurt in your eyes slowly transform to an annoyance like a switch being flipped, your glare unwavering. 
“You’re completely right, I’m going to overreact over there,” you pointed in the direction D’artagnan had run off in for emphasis. “You’re welcome to join us, if not then I’ll just call you when we’re ready to leave.” You turned to leave before stopping yourself, “actually I’d probably have to think about when the right time to tell you would be.”
The car ride home was dragged out due to the awkward air hanging- not even the radio could help. D’artagnan focused on the blur of buildings outside of the window, oblivious to the situation. Or maybe he was simply ignoring it. Calum thought maybe the air would be lighter once you arrived at the house but if anything it got worse. His mumbled sorry’s only added weight to the already heavy air. It was crushing him, drowning him. You simply held your breath- wallowing in the brutal atmosphere. It wasn’t even the fact that he said you were overreacting. You wallowed over the fact that he practically hid something from you. That he seemed okay leaving without a warning. What if he decided to do the same randomly? What if one day you wake up and he’s just not there anymore?
You sat on the bed with your knees to your chest. Your thoughts raced a thousand miles per second, flipping back and forth between the situation, what if’s, and desperate attempts to keep yourself from crying.
“I’m taking the spot,” Calum’s voice interrupted your train of thought. He leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom, his eyes scanning you for a reaction. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want you to make some sort of protest. Instead, all he received were your steady glassy eyes. He sighed and stepped into the room, trudging through the air that left him heavy-hearted and breathless. Your eyes focused on his movements, watching his hands move like slugs in syrup as he packed a small suitcase. “And I- I figured it’d be best to give you some space.”
“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath. Calum brushed aside your actual words- far too relieved to hear your voice again. The simple hour or so felt like an eternity of solitude. “How am I supposed to sleep without your cuddles? And who’d  Dart quietly mess with when I don’t want to wake up?”
“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Calum chuckled nervously.
“Of  course you didn’t, idiot.” You crawled to the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you with the waistband of his pants. “I’m still not happy that you waited so long to tell me.”
“I know sweetheart and I promise I’ll make it up to you, starting now.” He nuzzled the tip of his nose against yours, his breath fanning over your lips. He could finally breathe again. Finally graced with your fragrance. He spent every single bit of his breath kissing you- drowning in the only way he felt was proper. “I love you… entirely.”
“Show me.” You melted into his kiss, determined to ingrain the feeling of him into every bit of your mind. Your mind took every piece of him it could, bottling it up to save for a rainy day. 
“I will sweetheart. I promise. But not until I tell  Bub, he deserves to know I’m leaving.”
“You’re what?!” 
You whipped your head toward the door just in time to see the stuffed animal D’artagnan was holding drop to the floor. 
“Is that why you were quiet in the car,” he shouted, the hurt in his eyes deepening with each passing second. “You can’t leave! You can’t! What about our team? We worked hard  like you said!”
Calum slowly walked over to him, squatting down to his eye level. “I don’t want to, but-.”
“Then don’t,” D’artagnan stated blatantly- his voice startling you and Calum. “We made it this far! We can’t give up.” He stared down Calum with glassy brown eyes, unable to form any more words. How could he? How could Calum lead the team this far and abandon them? How could he abandon him?
“You know you and the team mean so much to me.”
“Then don’t leave! You can stay here and coach us.”
“If I go then I’ll be able to take more care of you and your mummy. I can buy you more toys and take you on trips.”
“You can do that if you stay! I can sell my toys- I’ll-.”
“Dart,” you cooed sadly as you clamber over to him. His small frame felt so fragile in your arms. “We’ll make it work okay. If he goes we could go on trips and watch Calum play. Maybe you’d even meet some of your favorite players. Trust me he’s not doing it to hurt you or the team.”
“I-’m goin’ outside,” he mumbled as he slipped out of your arms, gently pushing you away. Without another word he walked off, eyes focused on his shuffling feet. The closing door brought a new wave of heavy silence. 
“Guess I’m on a roll with making you guys upset today, huh,” Calum awkwardly joked. You let a forced chuckle. “I can try to talk to him-- if you want.” He looked over at you with hopeful eyes. You knew seeing D’artagnan like this hurt him just as much as it did you. Calum loved him, sometimes more than he loved you.
“I got this one,” you finally replied after a minute. Each step you took toward the back door was like stepping with bricks tied to your feet. You had to be careful about how you went to him right now. 
“Wanna talk about it?” You plopped down beside him on the platform swing causing it to sway gently. His eyes shifted over to you as he shrugged nonchalantly. 
Moments passed where the only thing that greeted your ears was the breeze and sounds of birds. You forced yourself to keep quiet, absentmindedly scratching the mesh on the swing. D’artagnan did the same, using the sound to keep his mind off the thought of Calum leaving. 
“I- is there something wrong with me?”
Your face twisted into a frown“Why would you ever think  such a thing baby?” 
He shrugged again, “I dunno.” He kept his eyes on the mesh. “Everyone seems to leave,” his voice wavered. “All the time.”
“I haven’t.”
“You’re different. I don’t know, it’s stupid. Nevermind.” He shook his head, his curls slapping his forehead. “I don’t want Papa to go, he promised he wouldn’t. I don’t want him to be like my dad… I like having Calum around.”
“And I like having you around.” Calum’s voice startled you both, nearly causing D’artagnan to fall off the swing. Calum let out a melodious laugh before running over to stabilize D’artagnan. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or interrupt. I just wanted to tell you I love you, Bub. I love you and your Mummy. You guys are definitely one of the best things that have happened to me. I don’t plan on leaving either of you any time soon, okay?” He took a break to kiss D’artagnan’s forehead. “And if you want me to I’ll stay here.”
D’artagnan shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip, “go.” The words took Calum off guard. He had prepared a whole speech expecting to have to call his coach and deny the position. “Just- just promise you’ll come back. Mummy can coach the team, we’ll be okay. And I can help around the house when you’re gone. But you gotta come back… please.”
Calum searched his wide brown eyes brimmed with tears. Was that really what he was worried about? What they worried about? “Always. I’m never going to abandon you or your Mummy,” he made sure to look at you briefly before refocusing on the kid. “You’re my family and I want to be there for you all I can.” 
Tears streamed down D’artagnan’s cheeks and were fighting to make their way out of your eyes as Calum wrapped his arms around the both of you. He felt like a blanket fresh out the dryer, his warmth providing a blanket of safety around the pair of you. His secure yet gentle hold tole you everything you needed to know. You felt foolish for doubting he’d stay earlier. He was here for you and D’artagnan, right now, tomorrow, and as long as he possibly could be. 
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nishithunder · 3 years
Text
Fall (Kuroo x Reader)
He never meant to fall, and she never intended to catch him.
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TW: Mental health struggles, Cursing, Drug use
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Part 4: I’m sorry that I don’t feel the same way...
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Masterlist
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 The training camp almost went by in a blur, and when it came to the last night there, Y/N wasn’t ready to go. One more night before her friends that she had missed so much had to go back home. Yeah, they at least got to spend a little bit of time together during the training camp, but it just didn’t feel like enough to her. Tora had noticed that she seemed different, like she wasn’t as happy today as she had been for the past couple days, and all he knew is that he wanted to help her. After the final practice game for this camp, Tora went out of his way to find her, wanting nothing more than to talk to Y/N, and figure out what he could do to make her better. 
 Y/N stood near the door, her back against the wall as she watched the boys pick up the balls and put away the net. Her heart felt heavy, like it was being weighed down, threatening to plummet into her stomach at any moment. Tora caught her off guard as he stood in front of her, looking down with a soft smile.
 “The stars are out pretty bright tonight,” Tora began, mentally kicking himself for sounding so lame as he spoke to her, “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go on a walk with me?” He finally mumbled out. Tora was never like this, so nervous and shy. He was always so loud, rambunctious even. That might have been the reason that Y/N had taken a liking to Tora, because he reminded her a bit of Tanaka.
 “Yeah, we can go for a walk. If you’re done here,” Y/N quickly added, looking over to the door quickly. She had been waiting for a reason to leave the gym, no longer wanting to stand in the humid space. Tora nodded his head, waiting for her to take the lead towards the door, which she did gratefully. The night air outside hit her face, making her feel like she could breathe once again. She waited a moment for Tora to be at her side before she began walking, not sure where she was taking them, but nonetheless leading the way. Tora watched her quietly out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to miss a second of the moment that they had together, because he was sure it wouldn’t be like this when they began attending classes again. Kuroo was the one to walk with Y/N at night, their bond was much different that Tora’s was with Y/N. Though he wanted to be close to her, he was afraid that she would take it the wrong way. 
 “Hey, Tora?” Y/N asked, catching Tora out of his daze. He looked over at her as they walked, noticing that her face was calm and serious. This was not about to be a joking question that she was going to ask him, this was going to be something that she genuinely wanted the answer to.
 “Yeah?” Tora asked, trying to sound as calm as she was, though his heart was starting to beat a little harder in his chest.
 “Why are you so nice to me?” She asked, walking towards a patch of grass off the sidewalk. Tora followed, watching as she sat down, looking up at the sky that hung above them. Tora sat down beside her, holding his knees to his chest, his fingers interlocking in front of him, before Y/N continued, “You don’t have to be nice to me just because if the teams manager, I don’t expect you to like me to be honest, there really isn’t any reason to. I don’t talk to any of you. I’m quiet in class and between classes. I’m like Kenma but worse.” She finished with a sad look on her face, her eyes turned down for a moment before looking back up at the sky, dropping down onto her back. Tora felt almost shocked, not knowing that this was how Y/N was truly looking at herself all the time.
 “I don’t think any of that stuff, you know. There’s so many reasons to like you. I could list off ten reasons that I like you right now, but I don’t need to. The main reason is that you’re unapologetically you, and that’s hard for some people to be. You’re quiet, yeah, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.” Tora ranted, almost not realizing that he was just venting to her at this point. Y/N looked down, trying to think of what to say before looking up at Tora.
 “Have you watched that anime, A lull at Sea? The one where there are people that live on the land and in the sea, and they basically have their own society underwater?” Y/N asked, watching as Tora nodded slowly, having seen it on Netflix once and watching the entire season by himself, though he wouldn’t admit that to most people, “And you know how Monika says that if they find a red bellied sea slug, it was lucky and you could tell it your deepest secrets?” she continued, waiting for him to nod when he understood what she was talking about.
 “Are you asking me to be your red bellied sea slug? You want to tell me your deepest secrets, Y/N-Chan?” He asked, meeting her eyes as he looked down, noticing that they sparkled the stars within them. She nodded, her eyes now seemingly sad as he looked into them. Tora gave her a small nod, indicating that she could begin spilling her secrets to him, something that he appreciated greatly, and he would take to the grave if she asked him to.
 “Tora...as plainly and dramatic as I can put it, I don’t like myself. I look in the mirror most days and I just want to cry because I hate what I see. I don’t like the person that I am. I wish I was stronger, not just for myself but for my dad. I wish that leaving Kurosuno hadn’t broken every fiber of the spirit I once had. I wish I didn’t feel so broken anymore,” Y/N almost didn’t know how to stop talking at this point, this words falling out of her mouth faster than she could stop them, “Most of the time I feel like I’m annoying my friends, Nishinoya and Tanaka, and I’m afraid that they’re going to end up hating me. That’s why I’m so afraid to make new friends right now, I know that I get attached too easily and I’m afraid of being left behind. I don’t want to get hurt, and I’m trying so hard to protect myself but it’s so hard when I don’t want to be alone. It feels like the only way I can’t get hurt is by being alone. So I sit in my room whenever I’m not at school or at practice, by myself and smoking weed. That’s a whole issue of its own but I really don’t want to get into that right now...I’m not ready for that conversation yet.” Y/N finally stopped herself from talking, sitting up once again and holding on to her legs, eyes pointed directly at her feet and not moving from their spot. It was a lot for Tora to process all at once, everything connecting into one piece at the end, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know if there really was anything that he could say to her, to change her feelings or at least let her know that he truly was there for her, no matter what she told him.
 “I don’t know if there's really anything that I could do to make you feel different,” He began, pressing his hand gently into the small of her back, “But nothing you’re saying is going to scare me away from you. I care about you, Y/N.” He admitted smiling a little bit as she looked up at him. He couldn’t focus on anything other than her, it was like he had tunnel vision. She looked down shyly, not knowing how to handle the attention that she was getting at the moment, before he put a finger under her chin, lifting her chin so that their eyes met again.
 “I won’t lie to you, Y/N. I think that I have feelings for you. Like...feelings that are stronger than for anyone else.” Tora said, his voice barely about a whisper. Y/N’s eyes widened at his words, her heart falling into her stomach as he said this, knowing that this was what was going to end their friendship. She was afraid of this moment, that something would be said that would just make it all crumble into nothing. She didn’t expect it to be like this though. 
 “Tora…” She said, her voice shaky as she said his name, too afraid of hurting his feelings in this moment. His expression instantly dropped at her voice, knowing that this was going to all end just as quickly as he had thought it had begun, “I’m so sorry...I really am. If I gave you the wrong idea, I’m sorry...but I don’t feel that way about you...I wish I did. I do. You’re a great person and an amazing friend. If I could have feelings for anyone...I think it would be you. But...I don’t know how to do that. I’m sorry that I don’t feel the same...” She admitted, her heart sinking lower and lower by the second. Tora chuckled, now leaning back onto the palms of his hands, eyes up to the sky as he smiled gently. This was not the reaction she was expecting from him, this was actually the exact opposite.
 “I figured it would be that way...but I still want to be your friend. I’ll always cheer for you, Y/N,” He told her, shrugging his shoulders before looking over at her again, “I knew I couldn’t compete with Kuroo, but that’s okay.” Y/N looked at him in confusion, not understanding why he was bringing up Kuroo out of nowhere.
 “Kuroo?” She asked, causing him to chuckle again before he stood up, offering her his hand so that she could stand as well.
 “I know that you have feelings for Kuroo, it’s obvious. He’s obvious too, maybe moreso than you are.”
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A/N: I know that this part is shorter than others, and I’ve been kind of afk for a fat minute. A lot has been going on in my life right now, as far as having a job and trying to find a different one. I also know that this is kind of late, but since this part does mention drugs, lets all just pretend that this is aged up and the school just so happen to have the same names because it’s just easier that way lmfao I’m sorry!
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Tag List~
@yafriendlyfangirl​ @sokka-simp-420​ @neodnyl​ @london-quynh​
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Text
Book 1: Chapter 10
When Ari wakes up, the very first thing he sees is his bedroom ceiling, and for just the briefest moment, he’s tempted to believe again that the whole thing - the Pig Latin curse, the strange bottle, weird butler, Evil King Stan, fighting a ghost in the Church basement - was just a dream. But then the redundancy of it hits him and he pushes away the temptation.
“About time you woke up, slave.”
Ari hears the crabby grumblings as he slips out of bed. As Stan pops out from under his feet, he notices that he’s been changed into pajamas.
“What happened?” he asks, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes.
“In shock of my fury and rage, you promptly passed out. I disappear when you fall unconscious - which is a surprisingly frequent event it seems - but I saw idiots from the village come down a couple hours later to find you pathetically curled up on the basement floor. They noticed the low level ghost had been vanquished, praised my name, and quickly whisked you home to your family. You’ve been asleep for two days.”
“Two days?!”
“Pathetic, isn’t it? But then, I suppose my powers are considerably overwhelming. So, don’t be too hard on yourself.”
Ari sits down on the bed, memories of a burning white glow and the phrase ‘overdrive’ drifting through his mind. He pulls up the pant leg of his pajamas and finds a neat bandage hiding away the teeth marks. A twinge of tenderness aches his skin when he gently pokes it.
“I guess it was all the fighting. I-I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Speaking of, slave,” Stan starts in an offended huff, “what was all that? I wasn’t aware you had any sort of actual ability.”
“Neither was I,” Ari admits, “there was a moment in the middle of it, where everything sort of froze, and … there was this gear …”
“A gear?”
“Yeah, it was just floating in front of me. D-Does that mean you didn’t see it?”
King Stan places a thoughtful claw to his bright yellow mouth.
“Maybe you’ve been blessed with power simply due to your proximity to me. Leech-like you utilize the great amounts of power, boiling over from my being.”
Ari takes this as a ‘no,’ and sighs in resignation that he won’t find answers here.
“Technically, you’re the leech here,” he says, but then suddenly notices the glass tube sitting on his desk. “The village treasure?”
“Treasure?! Pah! Never mind that garbage! I’ve been stuck in this room for two days. Get dressed and make yourself useful!”
Before Ari can respond or even comply, there’s a soft knock at the door and his mother’s voice.
“Ari? Are you awake?”
He can hear an eagerness mixed with relief in his mother’s tone. “Y-yeah, I just woke up.”
“Oh, Ari! You must come see! Get dressed! Everyone is out front, waiting for you!”
“Everyone?”
Ari listens to his mother’s footsteps disappear down the hall.
“Well, don’t sit there like a slug! Get going!”
Stan sinks back down into the floorboards. Ari is grateful for a multitude of reasons, but the silence to be able to think stands at a solid number 2 on that list. As he dresses, the strange, floating gear still ticks away in his thoughts, and the word ‘overdrive’ echoes back.
Why ‘overdrive’ anyway? Did I make it up? I mean, if I did, it’s not a very cool name for an attack. I mean, even Stan had ‘Burning Devil.’ Even for him, that’s sort of cool. And how did I even get an attack? It couldn’t have been the weapon … unless that was a magic stick. Dammit! The one cool, magic item to fall into my hands and it’s a stick!
Ari doesn’t actually believe it was a magic stick.
Once dressed, Ari grabs the glass tube and turns it over in his hands. He’s not sure if the village meant for him to take it or if they didn’t recognize it as Tenel’s most prized possession and thought it was just some trash. Either way, he sticks it in his pocket and plans on asking the Village Office or the Village Elder or someone what he’s supposed to do with it.
Leaving his room, Ari makes his way down the hall and down the grand staircase that leads to the front door. Despite living with five other people - six if he includes the evil butler - the house is surprisingly quiet and empty feeling. He imagines that everyone is already getting on with their daily business. When he steps out the front door and into the sunlight, he is immediately deafened by waves of cheering.
The entire town of Tenel seems to be standing in his family’s courtyard. Some of Ari’s friends balance on the wall of the water fountain, waving at him. A few late villagers stand in the back of the crowd, carefully shifting away from the ancient graves so as not to step on the haunted ground. But in the front are a cornucopia of familiar faces, all pressing closer to give their enthusiastic support and ask their burning questions. He even sees Julia there, looking up at him with a uniquely feminine look of worry and concern.
“Hey! Hey, Ari!”
“Good work, Ari! Way to go!”
“Thanks! That was great!”
“How did you get rid of the ghosts? Let’s hear it, Ari!”
“Yeah! Tell us, Ari!”
Ari stands there speechless. He’s never been so noticed by so many people all at once. An embarrassing blush rushes to his cheeks.
“Grrr, they’ve got it all wrong,” Stan growls from somewhere, “It was all my doing! Evil King Stan is the proper target of your affection! Oh well, this is good timing. They are all assembled to receive the wisdom I shall bestow upon them!”
Before Ari can react, he hears the familiar whistle and feels Evil King Stan loom up behind him. He looks over his shoulder to find the shadow towering over him, quaking with an evil laugh as he looks out over the villagers. Ari tries to read the faces of the crowd. They look surprised to say the least.
“Listen here, villagers! I am the reincarnation of the Evil King Gohma, the Evil King of Darkness! I am Stan!”
“Wh-what’s going on?”
“Say, isn’t that …”
Ari hears the confused whispers and murmurs bubbling up from the crowd.
“Now that I’ve returned to this world, all that walks, flies, or crawls shall be my subjects! As a reward for your willing subjugation, I shall grant you insects a long, delightful purgatory!” Stan punctuates with a hearty laugh and then adds, “hear this! My official declaration! I will saturate this land with a black cloud of astounding malevolence!”
Ari feels a breeze hit the back of his neck as Stan whips about in his fervor.
“My plague of evil will infect every corner of this world! Bow before your lord and master, Evil King Stan!!!”
The ominous echo of ‘Stan’ bounces about the courtyard, over the heads of the bewildered audience. It seems like even the birds and squirrels in the trees have stopped twittering and chirping. Ari swallows nervously, his throat suddenly feeling dry.
“Aha! They’re speechless!” King Stan hisses in delight.
The quiet is heavily unnerving.
Ari waits.
And then, waits a moment more.
Another moment.
“… Ha ha …”
“… Pffft, ha ha ha ha ha!!!”
“Ha ha ha ha! This is too much!”
One laugh unleashes another and then another in a chain reaction of hilarity.
“Ari! I didn’t know you were such a riot!”
“Oh wow, this is good! I’m gonna die laughing!”
“That shadow trick of yours is pretty slick!”
“What?!”
“Hey! You should perform at the next Tenel Festival!”
“Evil King Stan, did you say? That’s priceless! Ha ha ha!”
“YOU PEASANTS! What are you laughing at?! My great decree is to be taken seriously! You! That one there! Stop laughing!”
“He just keeps going! Ha ha!”
All of a sudden, Ari feels a strange heat radiating off of the clearly angered shadow and it occurs to him that it’s been quite a while since he last used that ‘burning devil’ trick.
“Ah-um, OK, everyone,” Ari calls out, waving his arms to get their attention, “thanks for stopping by! Um, n-no trouble at all about the … the whole ghost thing … I gotta get back to studying. I-I’ll see you around town!”
Ari whips around and darts back inside the house before Stan can incinerate the entire town with black fire. He sighs as he leans against the front door.
“Why? Aghh! I don’t understand! Why?!” King Stan laments, shaking with rage. “I am the Evil King! A harbinger of impending doom! Yet the humans mock me … They even laugh at me! I’m so humiliated!”
Awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, Ari wracks his brain for something to say in response to King Stan’s tantrum of self-doubt.
“Well, I-”
“What am I … What am I supposed to do?! Am I a failure as Evil King? Am I a hopeless Evil King?”
“Uhhh …”
“So, it’s true?!”
“Wait, I didn’t-”
“Do I have to hear from this lousy slave that I am a lousy hopeless Evil King? I can’t take this anymore! I’m tired. I must rest for a while.”
And like a 2-dimensional teenager, Stan disappears to sulk in private. Ari waits a moment, frozen temporarily by the emotional whiplash. He’s not even sure how that conversation even happened.
“St-Stan?” he calls meekly.
Nothing happens.
“King Stan?”
“Silence! Don’t talk to me now! Curses!”
Ari supposes the shadow is well and truly upset.
“Oh, Ari!”
He looks up and finds his mother emerging from the kitchen, a huge sweet smile plastered across her face. She rushes up to him and catches him in a hug, squeezing him too tightly.
“Did you see them, Ari? The entire village came to see you! Oh, I’m so proud of you! My popular little man!”
“Mom,” he whines in a teenagerly way.
“You should go out into town,” she says excitedly as she finally pulls away, “I’m sure everyone wants to talk to you. Oh! And Stan too!”
A low growl rumbles up from the floor.
“Stan isn’t feeling too talkative right now.”
“Well, anyway, I heard even the village elder wants to speak with you! Apparently, there’s some rumor going around town.”
“What kind of rumor?” Ari asks, knowing full well that a rumor in Tenel is nothing new and usually nothing much to be excited about.
“I don’t know too much about it myself. Some kind of trouble happening in other towns. Go ask your father about it while your out. Go on!”
His mother practically pushes Ari out of the house. Once clear of the entryway, the front door slams shut behind him.
“Love you!” comes his mother’s muffled voice.
The courtyard now sits empty, its crowd of visitors having dissipated to carry on with normal, everyday Tenel business.
“I guess I’ll see what the elder wants,” Ari mumbles to himself … or to Stan, in case the shadow was still listening.
Before Ari sets off towards the gate, a strange noise pricks at his ears. It’s not the usual noises of nature - not chirping or twittering or snapping twigs - but it’s a sharp, mechanical clicking. It’s rhythmic and consistent. Instead of carrying on down the stone steps, he follows the noise along a small dirt path connecting the front to the back. Two balconies look down at him from the side of the house. Briefly, Ari wonders if the noise is leaking from one of those rooms. But no, it sounds much too close. Carrying on, he passes by a pile of firewood and a stump bearing the ax that made it. No, not from there.
Finally, Ari finds himself at the base of a tall, spindly steel tower. It’s an awkward marker for where the family property ends and the land suddenly drops off in a fair cliff, overlooking miles and miles of untamed, monster ridden wilderness. The tower is made up of lattice girders, spaced out at the base and joining together as the reach the top. The whole thing seems oddly squashed - as if a giant had grabbed it and squeezed - and it leans in a way that doesn’t seem safe.
“I found the source of the ticking,” he says to no one in particular, for no particular reason.
With an eye on the tower should it decide this is the opportune moment to finally keel over, Ari pokes around the tall grasses and tangled wild flowers. He swears the ticking is buried here at the tower’s feet. Finally, as he pulls aside a clump of weeds, a tiny gear comes into view. Nestled among the plant stalks, it fidgets in place, emitting that steady tick.
“Stan?” Ari excitedly whispers - though a beat later, he’s not sure why he felt the need to whisper since no one is around.
There is no response from the evil king. Feeling as if it might stop or disappear in a blink, Ari reaches out and gently plucks up the gear from its weedy nest. He lays it out in the palm of his hand. Overall, it seems completely ordinary. It fits neatly in his hand. It’s a dark, well-worn iron and has bits of dirt stuck in its crevices. If it wasn’t clicking on its own, Ari would have assumed it just fell off the tower. Naturally, he wonders if this gear bears any relation to that which he found (and broke) in the church basement.
Before he can think about it for too long, the ticking suddenly stops and the gear sits still.
I broke another one?
Ari wiggles hand in hopes of jiggling the gear back to ticking, clicking life, but the thing sits motionless, tickless, clickless.
I broke another one.
And of course, Ari’s now not sure if there was ever any noise at all. Perhaps it was all in his head. He wonders if hallucinations and mental breakdowns are typical symptoms of having one’s shadow possessed by a reincarnated evil king.
Anyway, Ari decides to pocket the little gear for now, just in case it start up again. If Stan will ever decide to talk to him again, maybe he can ask about it. But helpful answers don’t seem to be the evil king’s forte.
Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • Chapter 12 • Chapter 13 • Chapter 14 • Chapter 15 • Chapter 16 - Finale
NOTE: Okage Shadow King is owned by Sony Computer Entertainment and Zener Works. This novelization is purely a fan-work and the writer claims no ownership over the characters, general plot line(s), etc.
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