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jesssssah · 2 years

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Just Like Love 3/5 (Werewolves of London)

Gif source

Fandom: Queer as Folk (US TV 2022)

Ship: Mingus/Brodie

Rating: M

Warnings: Angst. Canon HIV-Positive Character. Sexual Content.

Summary: For the MF Halloween Bingo. A year on from the teardown party, Mingus and Brodie encounter each other again. As they reacquaint during a kayaking tour, and then a Halloween-themed party at Babylon, they realise the only things that have changed much in a year are the ones they think they have control of. Everything else has stayed the same; Mingus is still besotted and Brodie still feels like a fuckup.

Update is below the cut.

Or you can start from Chapter 1 on AO3 here.

_________

Judy merges left, onto the I-10, and into traffic that’s moving comfortably on what feels to Mingus like a perfect Saturday morning in late August. From the front passenger side, as her sky blue Pontiac takes them both north towards the Twin Span bridge — where beyond is the boat launch site at Pearl River — Mingus smiles to themself as they look out the window and imagine, projected out into that bright, dream-filled void of possible things, what unforgettable thing Brodie’s wearing today. They really hope it’s something sleeveless.

They look down at their own choice of outfit and fiddle with a hem on their loose-fit swim trunks. On top is an oversized, V-neck hockey sweatshirt and on their feet are an old pair of black, pull-on Adidas Actives. In their backpack is a change of clothes except for shoes — way cuter stuff than their activewear — and they secretly hope they will need it so that in front of Brodie they can glow up in especially the red checkered shirt and cream vest combination they only just got at the Buffalo Exchange last weekend.

The song playing on the Pontiac’s stereo — one of many retro-fits by one of Judy’s many ex-boyfriends, Mingus forgets exactly which one — comes to an end and they lean back in their seat and find the bop as the first piano bars of Warren Zevon’s 1977 recording of ‘Werewolves of London’ start a lazy trip through the speakers. It’s a nice beat to roll out over a sparkling body of water to as the car’s dated motor swaps from a laboured whine to a big cat purr when the road flattens out, now Judy is guiding their ways across the bridge that spans it.

“You know,” Mingus thinks aloud, reaching for their phone, which is connected to the car’s auxiliary charger, another hack by another of Judy’s exes, “this could actually be a good song for drag if something else was added. But I dunno what yet.” They start a search in their iTunes library, scrolling through ‘Art Angels’ by Grimes, still a go-to album for mashing tunes with. Although at a quick glance, they’re not sure it fits as well as something else might with this, so they close the app and start a Google search instead. “Or maybe if somebody has covered it, or something…”

“Oh?” From the corner of their eye they see Judy give them a quick glance, kind of askance, and in between checking for traffic as she changes lanes. “Well, honey…that would be great!”

“I’m not saying I’m thinking of doing it, Mom.”

“Oh, I know. I learned my lesson. I don’t rush you back into your drag anymore.”

“You never really did. It was fine.”

“Well…”

“It was fine,” Mingus assures her, chuckling. “Really.”

“Oka-ay…”

The song lyrics bubble up again to take the place of a conversation they might otherwise develop as Mingus takes the opportunity to give up the online search which they only really began half-heartedly anyway, and instead they slip back into something they’re a lot more full-body invested in, which is to find the confirmation from Brodie again that he is still coming kayaking today.

They slide down in their seat, bare hairy knees cramming up against the glovebox, and pull their phone screen closer to their face, green eyes taking in every pixel of the ‘eyes’ emoji he posted below the message Mingus sent him a week ago to check. Which he finally replied to late last night because until then Mingus hadn’t actually heard a thing from Brodie since back in July.

Their lips part and their pupils blow out, and their toes inside their sneakers start a helpless curl at just the sight of his name on the screen. Distant memories of him in states of undress flash through Mingus’ head again, and the more recent reminder of how warm his arms are, namely how warm his shoulder was when Mingus closed the little gap between them as they’d sat outside the puppet theatre together on that waning afternoon, when Mingus had asked Brodie out.

Even though, outwardly, Mingus had downplayed that angle, the date angle. Brodie’s never been their boyfriend as such. But they hope, only outwardly, that Brodie had downplayed that too. And that inwardly he had remembered it, as clearly as Mingus had then: that one time when Bussey had mistaken him for their boyfriend as such.

After all, Brodie hadn’t reopened that little gap between their bodies that day, back in July. He’d sat there too, with his shoulder pressed back to Mingus’ on the curb for some perfect quantity of minutes after that, just talking to them again. Brodie with his big hand squeezed around theirs for some of it and stroking their fingertips for the rest. Surely remembering, just like they were, all the other things of Mingus’ that Brodie has ever squeezed and stroked. And that part about a boyfriend again.

Mingus sighs.

“Is, um… Is everything okay?” Judy asks them.

“Mm-hm.”

“He better not be standing you up.”

“He’s not, Mom.”

“But would you actually tell me if he was?”

“Hm…maybe?”

“Mingus…”

“Of course I would tell you if he stood me up. You’re my ride back, I’m not exactly gonna walk for forty-five miles.”

“Or hitch, okay?”

“Or hitch.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Alright… Well, thank you for making that promise, baby.”

“He’s definitely coming, I checked.” Mingus holds the phone up for Judy, showing her the message, and smiling. “See? He confirmed.”

“Well… Wait, what is that? An ‘eyes’ emoji? Mingus… That is not confirmation!”

“Mom, it’s Brodie. It doesn’t get much more confirmed than that. Trust me, it’s fine.”

“Listen, honey? Now, I know you know this already but I just want you to know it again… I never mean to interfere when it comes to you and cute boys, and I’m really glad you wanna use your present but baby, I do just worry that sometimes, when—”

“Mom, I know.” Mingus closes their message app and sets the phone down, screen down, on their thigh. “I appreciate this again, I really do. But you haven’t talked to Brodie lately. He’s different now. He got a year older too.”

If they thought she looked askance at them before, Judy definitely looks askance at them now. And Mingus laughs out loud, half in exasperation and most of the other half in excitement, but the tiny little bit left over is like a little mask for the tiny little part left inside themself that actually doesn’t feel like laughing at all. That actually fears she might be right. Again.

But half an hour later, when the Pontiac pulls up in the car park, there Brodie is. He looks hot as fuck, and his top is sleeveless. And Mingus can’t get out of the car soon enough, their big feet getting caught up in the straps of their backpack on the way. They gather their long legs quickly, and untangle, hoping Brodie didn’t notice a thing. Except, as Mingus straightens up to reach their full height proudly, the same height as Brodie when Mingus wears flats, for how fetching they know they look in sports sunglasses.

“Remember—” Judy starts, reminding Mingus she’s still there.

“Mom!” they hiss, bending back down and dipping their shades to glare at her through the open window. “I’ll be careful, okay? I promise that too. I’ll be with Brodie, I’ll be fine… But I gotta go, he’s already here! Why is he early too? I thought—”

“Mingus, breathe, for gosh sakes… I was gonna say have fun… And also, honey, don’t call me if you tip out and fall in and get taken off by a gator or something, okay? Because I’ll actually be in Lacombe until at least one o’clock and I won’t be able to do much about it until then.”

Mingus stares at her open-mouthed.

“I’m kidding!” Judy says, laughing. “We’re actually hooking up in Mandeville… Two person private day spa… Best part?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “He’s paying.”

Mingus groans, unfolding again. “Mom, remember those things we used to call boundaries? Can we get those back? Because I really miss them.”

“Old people have sex too, you know. It’s not a big deal. I have sex, Mingus. It’s how you were conceived.”

“Mom… Leave. Please?”

“Remember I love you!”

“Love you too.”

They close the door without regret at that point but blow multitudinous kisses through the air at the back of the sight of her head through the rear windscreen, when Judy finally turns the car around and goes, waving wildly at them through the open, driver side window, and leaving a trail of dust in her wake. Through which, when it clears, the alluring figure of Brodie re-emerges.

“Hey,” he says, and Mingus’ knees go weak when his brown eyes sweep their body up and down, and the little gap between his front teeth is revealed by the extent of the full smile it brings to his face.

“Hi,” Mingus says back, flashing their wrist when their oversized sleeve slips down their forearm as they give him a little wave, and their cutest smile back. “Ready to get eaten by gators?”

Brodie snorts. “Oh my god… I swear to god, I’m gonna have a heart attack if we actually see any gators.”

“Well, we will. It’s a swamp. They’re, like, the drawcard. If we don’t see gators, I’m asking for my money back.”

Brodie laughs. “You didn’t even pay for this!”

“Hey!” Mingus chuckles back. “Are you implying I’m cheap?”

“Would I really do something like that?”

“Yes.”

Brodie bumps his muscled shoulder straight across into Mingus’ more lithe one playfully as they start to walk side by side, and Mingus’ stomach does a little somersault at how even a playful touch like that by Brodie is strong, like he’s indelible. And like he shares a little bit of that with Mingus with each touch, each time, and never by accident. Like he wants Mingus to have it. Like his strength is a gift he could never grow tired of giving to them. And Mingus could never grow tired of letting him do that.

“So, how have you been?” Brodie asks. “Alright?”

“Yeah, fine.”

When they reach the check-in shed, they collect their paddles, life vests, and a dry box for storing their dry clothes and phones in. Then they walk, led by their guide and accompanied by about a dozen others, down a worn path to the launching place on the edge of the river. As Mingus holds the paddles, the dry box on the ground by their feet, Brodie removes his tank top and pulls a stick of insect repellent from a pocket inside his cargo shorts. He starts to slather it over his arms and legs, and Mingus only tears his eyes away once he stops, straightens up and hands the stick of repellant over to them.

“Could you do my back?” he asks. “I can’t reach and I always get bitten.”

“Ah, sure,” Mingus says, laying the paddles and their life vest down on the ground, and taking up the repellant as Brodie turns around.

They roll it over the width of his back and down the length of his spine, smoothing it out with their hands over his thick traps, underneath the blades of his shoulders, and across his tight hips. Only stopping at the waistband of his shorts. His muscles feel perfect when Mingus presses into them and his skin feels soft and hot to the touch when Brodie leans back into theirs, countering the pressure of Mingus’ hands against him.

“Do you want some too?” Brodie asks, once they finish and pass the repellant back to him. “Or are you already covered?”

Brodie stuffs his tank top into the dry box, then starts to put his life vest on.

“Um,” Mingus answers, watching his ripped chest and upper abs disappear behind the padded panels and buckles, and the sight catches them unprepared for just long enough to be brutally honest. “Well, I have my sweatshirt…”

“Legs though?” he asks while he bends to pick up Mingus’ life vest, and pass it to them.

They blink from behind their shades, brain suddenly jerking back into gear. “Oh, yeah…”

Brodie grins, crouches down, and then he starts swiping a series of quick, assured stripes of bright white repellent down Mingus’ long legs, while Mingus fits their vest around themself. Halfway through buckling up, Brodie taps their hip to indicate they need to turn around, so he can do the backs of their legs too, and while Brodie rubs the creamy balm into their calves and shins, Mingus smears it across their own thighs. Once the cream is all rubbed in, Brodie wipes his hands off across the back of his own neck, and Mingus does the same to theirs before they reach across to gently glide the tips of their fingers up and down one side of Brodie’s neck, just beneath his ear.

“Oh, did I miss a spot?” he asks.

“Um…yeah?” Mingus answers.

Still grinning, Brodie clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Get in,” he says through a muffled groan, thrusting the stick of repellant at the kayak they’ll be sharing.

“You first.”

“Okay.” He bends down to throw the repellant into the dry box with everything else, then lifts it up and stows it down the nose of the kayak. He puts one foot in the back but before he plants his second, he reaches out for Mingus. “Here, take my hand. Let me help you?”

Mingus glances a few kayaks down the dock to where their guide is helping another pair of people board.

“I’ve got you.” His voice is deep and sure. “I promise.”

They reach out for Brodie, take his hand, and take a cautious step into the front of the kayak. When they wobble as they leave solid ground completely, taking their other foot off too, they feel his other hand firm against their hip, and hold them there until Mingus finds their balance on both feet inside the boat, as well as the awareness that this isn’t really all that different from skateboarding now. Even surfing, which they tried a couple of times one summer when they were ten. Judy was seeing a guy who lived at Holly Beach.

But more than knowing they might know how to do this already is knowing that Brodie is there, just in case they don’t. Like they thought as they farewelled Judy, when Brodie is there, things may not go perfect but they end up okay. When Brodie is there, they are always alright. After all, he saved their life. Theirs. In a club full of people it was Mingus he held inside his arms, protected when shots rang out.

They shimmy their feet, rocking the kayak from side to side as they find their swamp legs and their confidence again. Brodie cusses from behind them, loud enough to draw the attention of their guide, who is still several yards up the bank. Mingus laughs and Brodie cusses some more before he pulls Mingus down by the hem of their sweatshirt, and their ass finds the front seat of the kayak.

“Do. Not. Tip. Us.” Brodie’s voice is as serious as Mingus thinks he’s ever heard it.

“I will protect you from the gators if we tip,” they swear in answer, leaning back in the flexible seat until they can rest their head against the front of Brodie’s life vest, and look up at him.

Mingus watches his face while they feel him, through the thick layers of their own life vest, place one spreadeagled hand across the centre of their chest as he steadies himself against them there, and leans over one side of the kayak. And when he leans back, he has the paddles in his hand. He lays them along the deck of the boat.

“With what exactly?” Brodie asks, pushing off from the bank with his arm when the guide calls out to let the whole group know it’s time to launch.

Cypress trees, silhouetted against the sky, move behind his head, and Mingus hears the sound of water lapping gently on the outside of the kayak as they glide out from the bank and onto the river proper.

“Oh, you know, my charms,” Mingus answers, smiling up at Brodie who’s paddling solo, the second paddle stowed down the inside of the kayak beside Mingus by now. “No going to thy deathbeds here.”

“Deathbeds?”

“Yeah, you know, Ophelia? It’s Hamlet…” They contemplate telling Brodie how they know about Ophelia but they stop short of mentioning Ruthie. It was Miss O’Neill who’d taught them Shakespeare in high school. Or tried. “I mean, all I ever really read was the CliffsNotes.”

“All I know,” Brodie says, “is that you seem to have it in your head that somehow you leaning back like this and not paddling at all will somehow miraculously save us from elements that you would happily tip us out into. Because you somehow miraculously think reptiles are not immune to your charms.”

“Oh… So you are acknowledging that I have charms?”

Brodie frowns theatrically. “How am I letting you lay in my lap and talk to me like this? And also managing to call me a reptile…”

“Charms, Brodie! My! Charms!”

Brodie laughs so hard he drops his paddle. “Shit…”

Mingus closes their eyes in pleasure at the thoughts that are swimming through their head now, content to listen to Brodie deal with the paddle situation on his own.

“So,” they say, feeling happy and unashamedly flirting with him now, “you are telling me, in your round-a-bout way, that you do think I’m charming. Aren't you.”

Drops of water fall like rain across Mingus' bare legs as Brodie swings the recovered paddle over the boat, and they hear it clatter against the inside of the kayak as Brodie stows it there, with the other one, for the moments it takes him to place his hand palm-down on Mingus' forehead, which feels cool from being in the river water, still slightly wet. But Mingus doesn't mind.

Brodie sweeps their curls back from there, and then he does it again. “Would you like me to tell you that more clearly?” he asks. “If I do that, will it mean you'll sit up and paddle?”

Mingus stomach does another little somersault. “Yes.”

Suddenly his warm cheek is pressed against Mingus’ cheek. And they can smell his moisturiser, and the cologne he wears, mixed in with the insect repellent when his lips are against their ear.

“You’re charming, Mingus,” Brodie whispers. “And you're charming too, Chickie-Ophelia.”

_________

Thanks for reading. Archived here on AO3.

#Mingus/Brodie #Modie #queer as folk 2022 #queer as folk 2022 fan fic #mf halloween bingo

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universe-on-her-shoulders · 1 year

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can you do two rivers meeting perhaps a public place with kids around and they get a flirty and suggest going off somewhere else or river meeting kid mels?

"Oh, for Rassilon's sake," River muttered, leaning against a lamppost and looking across Republic Square at the horribly familiar figure approaching from the other side. "Really?"

She stood and waited impatiently, resisting the urge to tap her foot or check her vortex manipulator, and a moment later found herself face to face with a much nattier-dressed version of herself, who was smirking enormously from ear to ear.

"Oh, this is excellent," Other-Her said with relish. "Have we done this on purpose?"

"Done what?" River asked; she was here to do a job, not to hang around socialising with anyone - especially not another version of herself. "I try to avoid crossing my own timeline. The husband is enough of a chrono-spatial problem, as am I, and I can't be dealing with factoring in different versions of me in the same place. Trying to remember where I've been and when it hard enough; how does this little jaunt go in the diary? Do I put it in? Do you? Do we leave it out? I am actually here to achieve something, you know."

"Yes, I know," Other-Her rolled her eyes. "I was you. Don't worry, the Ambassador is going to leave his residence in approximately..." she checked her watch. An actual, honest-to-god analogue watch. Retro. "Forty-seven minutes, and you'll be able to get the sapphire from him."

"Oh, good," River raised her eyebrows, equal parts irked and reassured. "Thanks for the spoiler."

"Think of it as encouragement. Gentle encouragement. From afar, and with the knowledge it'll all go to plan. Doesn't it make you feel better knowing that it's all going to go according to plan? And that you can pull this off?"

"I can generally pull things off," River noted with a flash of irritation; she didn't need a cheerleader. "That's sort of what I - we - whatever, do."

"Well, did we do this on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Oh, come on. Belgrade. Two of us."

River shook her head, not understanding, and the Other-Her rolled her eyes and extracted a guidebook from a pocket in her jacket. Nice to know that she'd one day get to enjoy the city without it being imbued with danger, she supposed.

"'Belgrade'," Other-Her read aloud, in a passable imitation of one of their professors. "'Is situated at the confluence of the Sava and Danube rivers.'"

River only shook her head, not getting it, and Other-Her winked at her.

"Two rivers... two Rivers..."

#asks #anons #drabbles #river song

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moreauz · 3 years

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my former gifted kid playlist directory

autumn. frosted breaths, hot drinks, tweed blazers and knitted sweaters. coloured candles and stacks of classics in dimly lit rooms. library dates and early morning coffee runs. witches, pumpkins, brown jackets. the air is heavy but the coffee is warm. the leaves are falling and its time to fully embrace the dark academia aesthetic and go feral, as we do.

yearning. an almost constant state of being at this point. poetry, calloused fingers, white flowing shirts, candlelight, long eyelashes, twisting your ring on your finger, words dying in your throat every time you look at them, patterns traced on skin, a brush of fingers, fading memories, car conversations, sly nicknames, stolen kisses, broken promises.

introspection. coffee shops, foggy mornings, rainy evenings, city lights, flannel shirts, silver rings, dark colours, elliot smith, true crime podcasts, eye contact across a dim cafe, secondhand smoke, secondhand shirt, ink stains, faded jeans, chilly nights, messy notes, great music taste, probably gatekeeps, optimistic nihilist, feeling stuck, feeling like you’re meant for more than this.

feeling the big sad again. not really sure what brought it on, listening to sad songs to cope, rewatching comfort movies, nostalgia, self doubt, tracing a path on a map with your finger, leather watches, closed curtains, cancelled calls, staggered breaths, gasps for air, drying tears, midnight ice cream, watching the sunset, sighs of relief, hopeful smiles, things will get better.

overstimulated. too loud, too quiet, too many people, not enough. long walks, art galleries and bookstores. tangled earphones and painted totebags. need to collect your thoughts, need an iced coffee. skipping every song because you can’t find the right one, your head's a mess but your outfit is great today.

love. slow songs, dancing in the kitchen, fingers intertwined, cheap wine, good company, philosophical talks on the roof, knowing looks and wry grins, laughing together while making breakfast, oversized sweaters and cold hands, flowing dresses and loosened ties, candles and annotated paperbacks, dirty jokes and warm hugs, home.

sunlight. rays streaming through the windows, it’s saturday and you can sleep in, warm sheets, freshly brewed coffee, a cat jumping onto the counter top, syrup and pancakes, plants on the windowsill, arms around your waist in the kitchen, the radio is playing, soft tunes cutting through the morning, you’re awake and ready to face the day.

moonlight. hot chocolate, fairy lights, thinking aloud, cozy socks, the feel of cotton and the smell of rain, making playlists and rereading childhood classics, cough percy jackson cough, indie folk music, the colour dark green, making tea, listening to traffic, worn-in sweatshirts and vines on the wall, lamps, late night snacks, doing your best.

iridescence. the feeling you get leaving a movie theatre. neon lights, midnight strolls, bus rides home, vivid pink clouds, blueberry slushies, shitty alcohol, leather jackets, the colour purple, a24 films, eyes closed against a car window, bubble gum, sarcasm, graffiti, disassociating at frat parties, retro diners at 2am, a secret romantic, tired, can’t wait to see the world.

arson. fiery eyes and deep purple eyeliner, kind of want to be left alone, kind of want to rule the world, smashing plates in abandoned houses, smudged mascara, 4am mcdonalds, stop signs, screaming lyrics from a rooftop, combat boots, chipped black nail polish, head banging and big smiles, conspiratorial winks and high fives, optimism and anarchy.

let’s get high. self explanatory.

dude that little kid is hardcore goth. soundtrack from when we were 14. sorry.

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lcandothisallday · 2 years

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ooo what about something where y/n hires urban to take some pictures for her for a project and jack gets jealous cause he’s liked her for a while but urban is the one that gets to meet / work with her before he can

Unfair - Jack Harlow x f!reader

Warning: a bit of angst, lil bit 18+, brief urban x reader

note: this is lowkey such fucking trash💀 but haven’t posted something in a while and this has been in the drafts for a hot minute lol

Urban’s eyes widened as he read the dm over and over again. There was no way you contacted him for a project. He and Jack had been crushing on you for a while, keeping up with your Instagram and commenting on your posts here and there. He didn’t actually think you would notice it-or notice him for that matter. He always thought if you did notice one of them, it would most definetly be Jack and not him.

You were a model, often participating in high end projects of course, but also modelling for your own artistic pleasure and as a muse for your photographer friends. It was an art form. You loved different aesthetics and recently, you had been really into more retro and funky styles, so you thought Urban would be the perfect photographer for the next project you had in mind.

“Dude,” Urban called out for Jack’s attention, smacking him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Come look at this,” he said, handing Jack his phone. “There’s no way Y/N actually wants to work with me.”

Jack furrowed his brows and took hold of the phone, narrowing his eyes on the message you had sent Urban. “That’s so unfair,” Jack whined, handing him back his phone.

Urban furrowed his brows. “How is it unfair?” he mumbled in question.

Jack frowned. “I’ve tried sliding into her DMs so many times and nothing. Then she ends up randomly contacting you? Yeah. Unfair.”

Urban snorted before he laughs. “Your jealousy is showing, man,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna set up a date with her,” he said, replying to your dm.

“Think I can come with you to meet her?” Jack asked him, a hopeful look in his face.

“It’s work not play,” Urban pointed out. “You’ll just distract her.”

Jack scoffed jokingly. “C’mon, man. I take you everywhere with me,” he said. Urban thought about it for a minute before he nodded reluctantly.

“Alright fine. We’re going to New York in three days,” Urban warned, Jack grinning as he nodded. “Can’t wait,” he mused, leaning back in his seat.

Urban rolled his eyes before he laughed at his friend. “If you fuck this up for me—I’ll be pissed,” he joked.

Three days pass and Jack and Urban are now in New York, headed to the location you sent them. You and Urban had texted a few times back in forth in the few days leading up to the meeting which was nice because it eased both your nerves about the project. In that time, you two also shared your visions on the shoot, making the planning and organization of it that much easier.

“Do you think she’s as hot in person as she is online?” Jack wonders aloud. Urban snorted and shrugged. “Guess we’re gonna find out,” he chuckled, motioning to where you stood talking to your assistant.

Your back was to the boys so your assistant notified you of their arrival which truth be told, had you feeling a bit nervous. You thanked her before turning around and smiling upon seeing Urban.

“Oh my God, hi,” you greet, going in to hug Urban which he gladly accepted. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” you chuckle. Jack clears his throat in exaggeration, nudging Urban with his elbow which causes the blond man to sigh.

“Y/N--this is Jack,” he introduced for his friend. You laugh softly and nod, turning to look at the taller of the two men. “Yeah. I’m a fan of your music,” you compliment, enjoying the way it made him grin with confidence. He really was extremely attractive you thought. They both were.

You keep up your professionalism and turn to Urban, since Jack’s intense stare and smirk made you a bit flustered. “Okay, so I was thinking you get full creative freedom. It’s as much your art as it is mine,” you explain. “I have one thing in mind I wanna try but other than that--I will be your muse,” you smile.

Urban grinned at that, “sounds good. Let me set up,” he said, beginning to take out his equipment. Jack walked over and stood next to his best friend, Urban taking the opportunity to lean closer to Jack. “Definitely hotter in person,” he mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for Jack to hear which causes him to nod, most definitely agreeing.

“For sure. She’s fine as hell...a bit pressed though that I didn’t get a hug,” Jack mumbled which caused Urban to roll his eyes.

While Urban set up, Jack strolled over to where you’re standing, licking his lips as he discretely looked you over once, his eyes falling on your ass for a bit longer. “So do you really like my music or were you just saying that for pleasantries?” he asked teasingly and with an amused smirk.

You turn to look at him and laugh before you roll your eyes at him with exaggeration. “Nah because I wasn’t gonna embarass myself like that again,” you giggle. Jack looked at you playfully. “That’s happened before?” he asked you.

You nod. “Yeah—I met a guy. Thought he was cute so I said I was a fan of his music then he asked me what my favourite song was and I blanked,” you say, groaning at the memory. “Needless to say it didn’t go anywhere,” you chuckle.

“You know I gotta test you now, right?” Jack teases.

“Yeah but I’m actually prepared,” you hum with confidence. “I like a lot of your music but Creme, and Smells like Incense are some of my favourites.”

Jack grinned, “Damn, mamas. Proved me wrong for sure.”

The nickname caused your cheeks to heat up which forced you to look away, not wanting him to see that he’s caused that reaction. But Jack being the observant guy that he was, definetly took note and it made him prideful.

Meanwhile, Urban was at the side, nearly finished his set up when he glanced over at where you and Jack stood talking to each other. After seeing the way Jack had you giggling and blushing, he knew he had no chance. Not when he was competing against Jack and his smooth talking. He never won in these instances.

“Hey, I’m finished,” Urban called out after a few minutes, you spinning around and smiling at him, almost completely forgetting about Jack. “Let’s begin then,” you muse.

The next few hours consisted of several outfit changes, a ton of poses, and flurries of camera flashes.

Jack stood to the side, his tooth pick between his lips as he observed you doing your thing. He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t getting bricked up while watching you--you were just so damn beautiful and when you came out in what was practically lingerie, he nearly passed out.

Despite having modelled in front of dozens of people before, doing it in front of Jack made you extremely nervous for some reason. Perhaps it was the way he was watching you, his intense stare that made your face heat up. This outfit change, as requested by your management was the one you were most on edge about because of how revealing it was.

Urban looked between your nervous and flushed frame and Jack’s gaze and he sensed you were uncomfortable.

He smoothly walked over to where you stood talking to your assistant, reaching for your hand for your attention. “Wanna do this one in the other room? Just me and you?” he asked, not being able to help but catch a peak at your body.

You smile softly and nod. You inform your team you’re switching locations for the next few shots, and since it was a tighter space, it was only gonna be the two of you. It worked out perfectly too because the room worked well for the vision.

Jack watched as the two of you left to the other room, causing him to sigh. He loved his best friend and wanted the best for him but he also couldn’t deny that there was raging jealousy bubbling within him.

Meanwhile in the room, there was a beautiful velvet couch, the perfect contrasting colour to what you were wearing, which also complimented your skin tone perfectly. You laid on it and splayed your body as Urban held the camera up.

“Like this?” you hum in question, posing dramatically and just overall being kinda goofy which caused Urban to let out a laugh. “Perfect,” he joked, snapping a few candids of you messing around. “Lay down again,” he instructed, you doing as told as he continued to take snapshot after snapshot.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered quietly, moving closer to get a better higher up angle of you. You can’t help but grin as you look up at him through your lashes. “Yeah? You think so?” you ask him timidly.

Urban smirked, his right hand holding onto his camera tightly while his left hand reached out to stroke your cheek before it slid down slightly to gently wrap around your neck, the camera going off throughout the entire interaction.

You looked at him with blown out pupils, your entire body heating up. “You... Are so hot,” you breathed out, sitting up slowly before brushing his hair back with your hand and bringing his lips in to smash into yours.

He kissed you back just as eagerly, putting the camera aside as you slowly began to lay back down so that he could hover over you. His hands were all over you, touching your hips, thighs, stomach. You let out a soft moan as he began to kiss down your neck, reaching the top part of your breasts, the exposed part, and deciding to suck a few marks. After he’d left about three, you gear his lips back onto yours, kissing his plump lips sweetly before mumbling a low “I need you.”

___

Jack perked up once he saw Urban step out of the room first, you following moments after with a set of new clothes on. Urban was adjusting a few things on his camera as he approached Jack while you spoke to your assistant.

“How’d it go?” Jack asked curiously. Urban nodded, fighting back the blush that overcame his cheeks as he nonchalantly shrugged and tried to play it cool and not like he just railed you minutes before. “Yeah--pretty good,” he replied.

“You’re gonna have to show me the photos of her in the lace though,” Jack breathed out. Urban’s eyes widened momentarily when he remembered the scandalous photos of you with his hand wrapped around your neck. “Um yeah,” Urban started, clearing his throat. “Ima have to edit them first though,” he replied smoothly.

Jack nodded in understanding, a grin appearing on his lips as he watched you begin to walk towards them with a smile. “Hey, my team and I are going out to dinner. Do you guys wanna come?” you ask, biting your lip as your eyes shifted hopefully towards Urban who purposefully avoided your gaze.

“Yeah, why not,” Jack piped up with a smile.

Urban practically ignored you throughout the entire dinner. Any time you tried to spark a conversation with him, he’d either brush you off or give one word replies that added nothing to the conversation. You didn’t understand what happened and why he was acting the way he did. You thought he had liked you, especially considering what happened in private.

Jack on the other hand made extra effort in talking to you, making you laugh and complimenting you often which undeniably made you flustered at times.

You were taking a sip of your drink when you noticed Jack staring at your chest with an almost concerned look, his hand reaching out to smooth his thumb over the red mark... the hickey that Urban had given you earlier. “You good?” he asked.

You glance down in remembrance, eyes widening slightly before you shrug it off with a laugh. “I’ve got sensitive skin and some of the clothes they put me in give me a rash,” you lied.

Fortunately, for some miraculous reason, Jack believed you and his brain completely disregarded the fact that it could’ve been a hickey.

Dinner was wrapping up and at this point, you were beyond upset with Urban but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. If he was going to treat it like a one night stand, then so would you.

Truthfully, it was Urban’s own insecurities that had him become closed off. Knowing that Jack liked you first gave him a sense of guilt and he knew that if Jack kept pursuing you than he would lose so he thought what was the point?

As you go to say your goodbyes to the boys, Jack stops you with a nervous look. “I was wondering if you--you know... If you wanted to go out on a date with me?” he breathed out.

Your eyes widened as you looked at him a bit stunned. It wasn't a secret that he obviously liked you--he was flirting with you all day after all but you just hadn't expected it, and for him to be nervous no less.

“Oh Jack--I don’t know if that’s a good idea...we barely even know each other,” you chuckle awkwardly. Jack reaches for your hand and gives it a squeeze. “That’s why we’d go on a date. To get to know each other one on one,” he explained with a hopeful smile.

You were still hesitant, all because you had hoped things with Urban would’ve worked out. “Jack--”

“Urb!” Jack called out to his friend, catching his attention. “C’mon--tell Y/N she should go on a date with me.”

You looked at Urban expectantly, wishing he would’ve interjected in any way, except the long haired man only shrugged. “Yeah--you should give Jack a chance,” he practically deadpanned. “He’s been simping over you for a while.”

You had to stop your jaw from dropping as you heard his response. You couldn’t believe that he was dismissing the moment you two had so easily. Meanwhile, Jack’s cheeks visibly turned pink in embarrassment. “Man--I asked you to hype me up, not expose me,” he mumbled. “But what do you say, Y/N?”

You bite your lip as you look away from Urban and gaze up at Jack, forcing a smile. “I’d love to, Jack.” You couldn’t deny that the grin he gave you after that gave you butterflies. What was the worst that could happen?

___

It had been about four months since that day and you could confidently say that you were falling head over heels for Jack. Your first date had gone way better than you had expected. He was extremely charming and respectful and put so much effort into the date, more than any guy you had ever gone out with.

“I’m sure you’ve gone on many fancy restaurants dates with a bunch of guys so I’m trying something new,” he had told you when he picked you up, which had undoubtedly caused your heart to melt. And the night was perfect. So much so that you had completely forgotten that you slept with his best friend because you were so enchanted by Jack and Jack only.

He made you so beyond flustered but he too was extremely nervous which was adorable in your opinion.

At the end of the date, when he was dropping you off, you knew you wanted to keep seeing him. “I had a really really good time with you, Jack,” you confessed, the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Really? I wasn't sure about the--”

“Jack it was perfect,” you interrupt with a soft smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed myself so much on a date,” you chuckle, biting your lip. “I’d like to keep seeing you.”

Jack’s eyes widened since you had caught him completely off guard. “Fuck--and here I thought you only accepted the date to be polite,” he joked. “But how can I deny such a pretty girl a request like that,” he mused with a grin, his hand coming out to brush a few strands of hair away from your face. “Text me what your schedule is like and we’ll set up another date.”

You can’t help but grin at the compliment, before nodding your head at his request. “I’ll text you for sure,” you breath out. “Good bye, Jack,” you hum, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek before you disappear into your apartment.

You were now in his apartment, more specifically, on his bed, with you underneath him as he hovered over you while making out. Surprisingly in the four months of dating, you two hadn’t slept together yet, him wanting to take things slow as to not pressure you. But at that moment, while your lips clashed with one another, you both knew it was time.

Your fingers were tangled in his curls, eyes closed blissfully as he began to pepper kisses along your neck. Eventually he began to tug at the button on your jeans and that’s when you had to pull away.

“Jack--Jack,” you call out, prompting him to stop his actions immediately. “We don't have to continue if you’re not ready,” he mumbled sweetly.

You shuffle away from him and sit up, shaking your head. “No, J...its not that. I--” you sigh, running a hand down your face. “I just need to tell you something first.”

Jack sat back on the bed and furrowed his brows, his right hand reaching for one of yours. “What’s up?”

Your eyes began to water as the guilt coursed through your veins. “You have to promise me this doesn't change anything,” you choke out. Upon seeing the tears in your eyes, Jack instantly felt concerned, his hand leaving yours to move up to cup your cheek.

“You can tell me anything,” he reassured. “Nothin’ is gonna change, mamas.”

“God--you’re gonna fucking hate me,” you whisper, looking up at the ceiling momentarily, almost contemplating how you fucked up with him so badly.

“Y/N, you’re kinda scaring me,” he chuckled, trying to ease your nerves. “Just let it out.”

“I slept with Urban.”

The second those words left your lips, Jack’s face fell, his kind features dropping into a frown as he immediately dropped his hand from cupping your face. “When?” he asked, his jaw clenched in anger, having to stand up and distance himself from you.

“The day we met--the shoot. Happened when we went into the private room,” you explained. “But I promise it meant nothing.”

Jack scoffed, “I should’ve fucking known--did you even want to go out with me or did you agree to spite Urban?” he asked.

The tears now freely fell from your eyes as you shook your head and held back a sob. “I don’t--fuck I barely knew either of you...I agreed to get to know you. It wasn’t to spite Urban--”

“If Urban didn’t ice you out after fucking you would you have been with him instead of me?” Jack asked as he glared at you.

You shake your head, “Jack you can't be asking me questions like that! I don’t know what would’ve happened--you can’t base this on the ‘what ifs.’”

Jack ran a frustrated hand through his curls. “Except you've been lying to me, Y/N!”

“I didn’t lie! I didn’t know where this thing between us was gonna go so I decided not to say anything but things between us are getting serious and we’re becoming emotionally attached and I just--I wanted to clear the air before we went any further...please Jack you have to understand it meant nothing,” you choke out.

Jack shook his head, his arms crossing in front of him as he closed himself off. “How can I trust you after that?” he asked, the hurt so evident in his voice.

“You promised this wouldn’t change anything,” you sniffle, which caused Jack to scoff. “Yeah--that’s before I knew you fucked my best friend.”

“It’s not like I cheated,” you croak, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I just...why are you telling me now?” Jack asked, his expression was one that was filled with hurt and confusion. You reach for his hand and pull him down back onto the bed, taking the opportunity to just hold his hands as you spoke.

“The past few months with you, Jack--God I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. You’re so good to me. You’re so sweet and you never force me to do anything I’m uncomfortable with. You’re charming and smart, and so beyond talented. I love hearing you talk about your passions and teaching me your process in the studio--I love watching you perform because I’m always so proud of you,” you say softly. “I think I’m in love with you and I didn’t want this to be a secret I kept from you because I regret it so much. If I had known I was going to fall this hard for you I would have never slept with him,” you sob. “I’m so sorry.”

Jack only pulled you into his arms, holding you to him as you softly cried into his chest. He drew circles on your back as he kissed the top of your head. “Y/N its okay...baby c’mon. You gotta calm down,” he spoke softly. “M’ not mad,” he reassured, pulling away sightly. “Look at me,” he instructed, to which you pulled back and tilted your head up, your eyes red and puffy.

He cupped your cheeks in his large hands as his beautiful blues stared into your eyes. “You’re in love with me, yeah?” You nod. “And you say it didn't mean anything?” You nod in confirmation again. “Then we’ll be okay,” he completely with a smile. “Because I’m in love with you too and I’ll be damned if I lose you.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow blurbs #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow request #jack harlow smut #jack harlow drabble #jack harlow x y/n #jackman thomas harlow #jackman harlow

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 3 years

Text

pt.1: the swapping begins

-> 4-fking-am masterlist <-

b:katsuki / f.reader

genre: neighbor au, pro-hero bakugou

warning(s)!!: bakugou's potty mouth (ofc)

status: on-going!

synopsis: you had just moved into your new apartment and like every other college student under the sun, you had the worst sleep scheudle known to man. due to this, you find yourself playing music through your speakers at 4 am. your neighbor slides you a note under your door about your ‘shitty’ taste in music, thus the note swaps begin.

a/n: the first part has arrived! hopefully, updates on this particular series won't be so drawn out since i'm planning to keep all written parts on the shorter side along with the smau parts being just easier since it's all just dialog LOL (ive done smau in the past for other things but they weren't so hot but hopefully i'm better now lol rip)

-x-x-x-

w.count: 1.3k

-x-x-x-

Why did you decide to go back to school to pursue further education again? If it wasn’t to stress yourself into early grey hairs or to rip out those grey hairs until you were bald, then why?

Collapsing over your desk- textbook open and notes out in messy piles with doodles across every edge and corner from wandering concentration- you groan. Exams were right around the corner, but you couldn’t for the life of you get your brain to focus on one thing- much less multiple things- for more than a couple hours, so studying quickly turned into a failed attempt to study.

Normally, studying wasn’t so difficult for you and you actually found it therapeutic in its own weird way. You enjoyed learning new things and the pride and wholeness you felt after succeeding to teach yourself something new was well worth whatever the process to get there was to you. But, this current college burnout was making all those end results hard to get to.

You glanced at the clock on one of the elevated shelves of your desk, the dimly glowing orange letters showing the time of 3:54 am. You groaned again, pushing your forehead into your written words and definitely smearing pencil lead on your forehead while you were at it. Maybe you’d soak up the words this way and have the knowledge transferred automatically into your brain if you pushed just hard enough.

Another dull and unrelenting amount of minutes pass you by before you officially call it quits for the night. Giving up, you walked to the other side of the room and plopped down on your bed’s edge next to one of your nightstands, your wrist rubbing your forehead to hopefully clear away the mess of leftover lead on it. On this nightstand was your radio and beneath it along the shelves and below the drawer was a collection of CDs.

In a world where albums were digital and everything was Bluetooth compatible and no one carried around a portable CD player anymore, you felt somewhat awkward sometimes at the seemingly large and ridiculous collection of yours. There were still plenty of people with CDs and even vinyls, but still- the awkwardness of your ‘retro’ thinking at your age did make you feel a bit self-conscious; no matter how idiotic it sounded.

You leaned over the bed and down to the bottom shelf cubby and grabbed a thin, plastic album case. Popping it open, the cheap plastic threatened to break and bend as you pushed open the top of your radio and placed the CD inside, shutting it again and turning it on.

A small little baby blue boombox that resembled a sort of bubble-like structure- a late birthday gift from your friends back in your hometown.

You figured if you didn’t absolutely blast your music, it would be fine to play aloud. Plus, you decided to put your bedroom in the backmost room, and the second room closer to the front room of your apartment was used for storage- since renting a storage unit was way too expensive. In your mind, the room closet to the door for a single living tenant would definitely be their bedroom- so you did the opposite when you moved in.

With your legs still handing off the side of the bed, you threw yourself back onto the mattress with your arms out to your sides. You stared at the ceiling of your room, thinking that at some point you’d need to purchase some cheap glow-in-the-dark stars to tack up there just for nostalgia’s sake.

As you heard the radio read the CD in small hums, you shut your eyes and smiled when the first track started. To be honest, you weren’t really pressed for what music you were going to be listening to, so you just kinda pulled from your cubby and popped the CD in without even looking at what you grabbed. You almost laughed when an older album your mom used to listen to started playing.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened or when, but the next thing you knew, you were staring blankly and tiredly up to your ceiling again. The sun outside had risen and you heard birds, outside chatter, and basic roadside living outside. Even being up on the fourth floor, you could still hear the world below fairly well since you almost always had your window open with a fan inside of it.

Your body was sore from how you were laying on your back with your arms out, and you felt stiff. Legs partially numb from hanging off the bed all morning when you turned to look at your clock on the desk with squinted eyes.

Almost noon.

“God,” you moaned, forcing yourself up and wobbly making a path out of your room and into the kitchen to solve the problem of your severe cottonmouth. Stepping out of your narrow, short hall, you yawned and stopped before stepping into the kitchen when you saw a note at your doorstep. It had been slid under the front door and was face down, small blotches of black bled through to show that the other side had something written on it in marker.

More intrigued with the mysterious note than ready to deal with your dry mouth and throat that demanded water, you trotted to the paper and flicked it up. Your eyes quickly scanned the note and you gasped, slightly slapping a hand over your mouth.

‘Your taste in music really fuckin’ sucks’

Oh my god, someone heard that? Were you too loud? Was it annoying? Who in their right mind has the further room from the door other than you who did it on purpose so that this situation could be specifically avoided? Would you need to move rooms? No, then you’d have your other neighbors slipping you notes or even knocking on your door.

Maybe this neighbor has a roommate and had no choice but to take the room furthest from the door. Would you need to move out now before you died from overthinking the situation?

Racing back into your room, you tore out a sheet of lined paper and a mark erfrom your jar of pens, pencils, highlightser, what have you, and began to write in large letters a note back.

‘I’m so sorry about the noise! I’ll make sure not to play it that ungodly early again! (also, no it doesn’t, my taste in music is fine).’

You felt a little silly putting the added small text at the bottom of the paper in parentheses, but you felt the need to nip this particular neighbor’s opinion about your music in the butt- you boiled the choice down to comedies sake.

Making your way back to your door, you unlocked the bolt and unlatched the chain as you poked your head out. For it being almost the middle of the day, you made sure no one was in the halls before you jogged out your door and to the left. Your room was the furthest left room and they heard it, so clearly it had to be the left side neighbor... right?

Taking one last left-to-right look down the hall, you knelt at the door, pushed your paper under it, and dashed back into your own apartment before locking it back up. You let out a breath, as you pushed your back into the door, feeling awkward and almost embarrassed at the idea of passing notes with your neighbor. Trying to be secretive about it and acting like if someone saw you push a note under their door you’d be looked at strangely.

In a somewhat awkward way, you felt like some weird criminal.

“Whatever,” you shook your head, slapping your hands on your cheeks and heading to the kitchen. Finally ready to get that glass of water you had been craving to soothe your aching throat with. You had other things to get done today anyway. Now that you were awake, better get your day started.

Even if you may have just completely fucked your sleep schedule.

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isocrime · 4 years

Note

I always feel like Tony is almost never treated as smart as he actually is in bother fandom and fics??? I'm not even talking about being oblivious more about simple things like being able to calculate nos ridiculously high in his head, out of the box thinking etc

one of the most delightful challenges in the world is writing a character who is much, much more intelligent than you. it’s so fun! but also takes effort the same way any other characterization work does, coming up with all the day-to-day consequences of tony being a genius that are so pedestrian to him they don’t even register.

i’m going to take this moment as an excuse to throw out more smart!tony headcanons:

can identify materials by touch; touches everything, actually, tapping and bending them to figure out if it’s ABS or nylon and is there glass fiber in there? will pick up your retro walkman and be like “what is this made of” and if he can’t work it out WILL pull out a multitool, scrape a sliver of plastic off of a nondescript spot, and burn it with a lighter so he can sniff the smoke and figure it out that way. it’s rude, and also a pretty sure-fire way to notice alien tech.

in that vein, a FANTASTIC mold-maker. he’s constantly prototyping parts and then casting them into exotic alloys, which means he can look at basically any object and split it into smooth planes with no overhangs.

hand tony stark a chunk of machinery and he’ll be able to tell you how it was manufactured, which bits were done first, and how worn out the bits were when they milled out the middle and if the guy chamfering the edges was lazy or not. again, put a piece of alien tech in tony’s hands and he’s going to notice because he is always, always asking “how did they make that” and if the answer is “not on earth” it’s going to be obvious

eyeballs measurements with creepy accuracy. and not just length: angle, volume, temperature, decibels, area, velocity, duration -- all of it. from very large scale to very small, tony’s “ish” guesstimate is way, way closer than you expect

strikingly adept at order of operations. you know how sometimes you find yourself curled into a pretzel trying to squeeze a paintbrush into some weird corner of the thing you’re making you’re like “i wish i had thought to paint this BEFORE i glued it”? that doesn’t happen to tony.

reads FAST. no, faster than that. can read upside-down or mirrored text just as quickly. can read aloud from things written in relatively simple ciphers as a party trick.

fantastic intuition for which corners can be cut, and what needs extra failsafes. still discharges capacitors by putting his thumb over them though. obviously always errs on the side of cutting corners to make things smaller, faster, better, sleeker.

i can’t emphasize enough how much tony knows what’s inside every device around him. it’s how he built iron man out of a box of scraps -- encyclopedic knowledge of what he could get by taking apart all those missiles, and what he could turn it into.

looks at the world in terms of both intended use cases (you are meant to put toast in the toaster) and unintended use cases (if you cut some wires and filled the toaster with water you could probably make an electrolysis chamber to create hydrogen and oxygen). frequently applies unintended use cases to thigs like “your security system” and “household cleaning products”

i could go on, this is the most delightful game

#it's like worldbuilding but it's a person!#yay!#Anonymous

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dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

Forever and Never

A/N: A long one because it was a fun one. My absolute favorite chapter!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, rape, blood and violence

Word Count: 6135

—————————————

Six: The Breakfast Club

“What are you thinking about?”

“H-Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling for the first time today. What are you thinking about?”

“...Stan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apparently, I had slept through all of my alarms because when I awoke the next day, it was almost nine. Cursing aloud, I sprang out of bed and zoomed to my closet, ripping out any clothes I could find. Not having time to pull together something totally retro as per usual, I threw on a maroon hoodie, wedged into blue skinny jeans, and slipped on my white sneakers. I applied deodorant and stuck a piece of gum into my mouth before slinging my backpack on. The school was a fifteen-minute walk from my house. I was going to be so fucking late. I was skipping every other step on my way downstairs when I heard a voice call out to me.

“Whoa, you’re still here?”

On my right was Jacob, sitting in the living room and watching television. He stood from the couch and slowly approached me with a smirk. “What are you doing here still?”

“What are you doing here still?”

“I don’t have classes today, Bug,” He lightly teased before gently pushing me towards the door. “Let’s go before you miss anymore school. Hopefully, you don’t get detention.”

“I won’t, Jake.”

I did. As soon as I opened the door to my English class, all eyes were on me like a newcoming circus act. Ms Anderson’s eyes cut to me the second I stepped in and before I knew it, she was stomping towards me, gently ushering me out of the room with her. When we were alone, she crossed her arms and stared down at me. I felt like a child getting scolded for breaking an expensive vase or something. “(Y/N), this is your fourth tardy this month.”

“I know…”

“Is there something we need to talk about?”

There are so many things I need to talk about.

“No… I just… um… I-It’s been a rough few days…”

“Well, I would let this slide, but I’ve already broken the rules twice for you. I’m sorry, dear, but I’m going to have to give you detention. Okay?”

Dammit, Jake… “Okay, fine. Can I just go back to class now?” I sighed. My teacher nodded and opened the door for me. Stepping inside, I was met with the smiles of Dina, Stan and Ricky all directed towards me. I returned the smiles towards my two friends before taking my seat beside Dina. Throughout class, two eyes bore into the back of my head, and I tried my best not to turn and look at who they belonged to. He was catching on. On my way to choir, I heard Ricky calling out to me. He was pushing and shoving past students until he was by my side.

“Babe, what’s been going on with you?” He gently nudged me, but my eyes stayed trained forward. “Oh, so the silent treatment… Are you gonna tell me what I did or am I gonna have to figure it out?” Silence. “Right, okay. I get it. Hey, listen, when you’re out of your bitchy mood, make sure to come talk to me.” And with that, he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Letting out a breath, I slowed my pace along with the beat of my heart. I never wanted anyone to dictate the way I felt, the way my anxiety sky-rocketed when they were around. But it seemed I was letting Ricky do everything to me.

When lunchtime rolled around, I wanted nothing more than to eat my first meal of the day. All throughout English and choir, my stomach had been curling into itself and I felt stupid for not at least grabbing a granola bar before I left home. After grabbing my food, I joined Stan at a near-vacant lunch table. He had been mindlessly picking at his lunch when I sat across from him. “Good afternoon, beautiful.” I whispered. Hearing my voice, he didn’t need to look up.

“Hey, (Y/N)...”

“(Y/N)? Whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Uh, it’s just Syd. She won’t talk to me…”

A pang of jealousy went through my heart. Knowing we’d never talk about our kiss the other night didn’t prevent my wave of disappointment whenever he mentioned Sydney. I mean, how do you even kiss a girl and then talk about a totally different one days later? As much as I love Stan, he could be an idiot sometimes…

I hadn’t even noticed I was spacing out until his voice spoke loud enough for me to snap back into reality. He had been staring at me with raised brows, an expectant look on his face. “O-Oh, sorry… Uh, do you wanna hang out later? Like, when we get home?” I calmly asked, my eyes flickering to the fading bruise decorating his eye. He shifted in his seat and returned back to his lunch.

“Um… I’ll see.” He mumbled, my throat constricting at his words.

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

Whitaker watched me like a hawk as I turned into the girls’ restroom.

“Don’t think I don’t know that trick, (Y/L/N)! You better get to the gymnasium as soon as you’re done!”

“Yes, sir.” I mumbled and closed the door behind me. To be honest, I didn’t think he knew that trick and was absolutely planning on spending the entirety of my detention in the restroom. Letting out a sigh, I leaned against the wall and texted Jacob.

Me: I got detention. Pick me up at 7 please?

Jake: Haha! I’ll be there, don’t worry

Jake: And don’t try hiding out in the bathrooms. Whitaker knows that trick

Me: Noted

Pocketing my phone, I pushed the door open and trudged to the gym. Even with the doors closed, I could hear Whitaker screaming at whoever else was inside. With a small groan, I lazily used my body to open one of the doors, the principal’s voice quieting as the screech of the hinges echoed throughout the room.

“Ms (Y/L/N), I would have thought that after getting detention for tardiness, you’d learn to be more punctual. Take a seat!” Whitaker boomed. Rolling my eyes, I moved over to the bleachers, surprised to see Sydney, Stan, Brad, Dina and… Jenny Tuffield.

I could be irritated with people all I wanted, but I never completely ignored or even spat insults or such at them, unless they truly did something to hurt me or the ones I care about. Hence the reason I ignore Ricky. But Jenny brought out a side of me I really despised. It was a side of myself that thought of the worst things to say and spewed them out without hesitation, resulting in a back-and-forth war between the two of us. It usually ended with death threats and flipping the birds to each other, but we’ve never physically fought. That could change one day, who knows? I could feel her sickening smirk as I passed her to sit in front of Stan, who looked bewildered to see that I was here with him in detention. I patted his knee before turning back to Whitaker, who had been waiting for me to do as I was told. Satisfied, he continued on.

“Now that you all are here,” He cut me a look. “I want you to take the next few hours and think about your mistakes. And carve out in your mind a plan for change. Determine how to improve yourselves. Define what the word ‘respect’ means to you.”

Get a job, dude…

“Now you can start by respecting this beautiful gymnasium. Between now and seven p.m., you’re gonna scrape up every goddamn piece of gum from the bleachers,” He stepped forward and slammed a box down in front of us, no doubt full of the tools needed for our manual labor. The six of us all rolled our eyes as Whitaker stepped back again. “Get started.”

“Uh, Mr Whitaker, sir,” I heard Stan from behind me. “Um… Will there be a break for snacks or dinner?”

Silence was his answer. Whitaker stared at Stan as if he’d just asked him to lick his shoes before exiting the gym. From behind me, I felt him lean forward towards Sydney, picking up on their very quiet and very short exchange.

“Hey, I’m really sorry-”

“No. I’m not talking to you, okay?”

Reaching over, I tugged on Stan’s jacket sleeve, the boy shuffling so that our faces were right beside each other. “What are you doing in here?”

“I called File a motherfucker.”

“You- What?”

“Okay,” Dina’s voice interrupted us, causing everyone to turn to her as she stood from her spot beside Brad. “I know none of us wanna be here right now, but I was thinking, if we divide and conquer the bleachers, maybe we could be done before seven and Whitaker will let us out early, so…” Her suggestion earned a smile from her boyfriend and a sarcastic remark from Jenny, who I nearly forgot even existed. She clapped her hands, everyone turning to her.

“Go team!” She mimicked your everyday cheerleader as Dina sat back down, a look of irritation on her face.

“I’m not a cheerleader.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Maybe you should be in prison.”

“Ooh. That’s my wet dream…” She drawled out, running her tongue over her top teeth. I rolled my eyes and turned my head away.

“I don’t know, guys,” Stan spoke up. “This gum has been here for decades. I don’t think Whitaker actually checks. It’s just a social experiment, like a simulation.”

“Oh. Well, someone’s been smoking their supply.” Brad quipped. I narrowed my eyes and was about to give a sly remark when Jenny interrupted.

“You know what?” She whipped her body around to face us all, that wicked smile stretched across her face. “I have an idea. Why don’t we play Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

I couldn’t help myself. “What are you, thirteen?” I snarled. Our fellow delinquents stared between us with unease. “You say it like we’re about to huff some fucking gasoline. Are you supposed to be some kind of badass?”

Her eyes slid over to me, her grin widening. “Awe, Zip, I haven’t spoken to you in so long, I thought you died…”

“I wish you died…”

“So, who goes first?” Her head snapped towards everyone else, her finger moving towards each person in the room. “Eenie… meenie… miney… Brad.” She whispered out. Brad looked towards his girlfriend.

“Guess if I had to-”

“No. Not another word.” Dina shook her head.

“Oh, what about you, Miss Goody-Goody? Or are you too afraid to play?” Jenny gave a fake pout.

“Why would I be afraid?”

“Cool then. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Stanley Barber… Mr Whitaker… and… Syd.”

“Well, clearly, I’m killing Whitaker.”

“So are you gonna fuck Syd or marry her?”

Dina exhaled through her nose before looking to her right, eyes locking with Sydney. “Total life goal to marry your best friend, if Syd’ll have me.” She softly spoke, bringing a small smile to my face at their soft exchange. Of course, though, Jenny had to ruin it.

“Oh, so then it’s you and Stan in an all-day bone sesh. Ugh, you little slut.”

So over the sound of her fucking voice, I threw my head back in annoyance. “Jesus Christ, Jenny, you are so fucking boring!”

“No need to tell him about it,” She laughed tauntingly. “I’m guessing you wanna go next, since you got my attention. Or are you saving all of the sex and marriage for your little boyfriend?”

“Oh, bite me.”

“Ooh, where?”

Snapping, I slapped my hand down on the space beside me, my gaze set and locked on her. “No one gives a shit about you, Jenny!”

“And people care about you, Zip?! Where’s your fucking dad?!”

Fire in my eyes, I lunged towards her, but felt hands grabbing onto my shoulders and sitting me back down. The hands soothingly rubbed my arms as Jenny cackled. “Come on, (Y/N), it’s just all fun here… Now, for you, your very own Ricky Berry… Stan… and Dina.”

Scratching my cheek, I rolled my eyes so far back, I could feel them do a three-sixty rotation. “Fucking hell, you never give up. Fine, I’d marry Dina, fuck Stan, kill Ricky.”

Jenny lowly whistled as the hands on my arms slowly slid away. “But Zip, I thought you two were in love,” Her grin was something of evil as her brows bounced. “You guys had so much fun, fucking at his party. Oh! Or is it because you were drunk off your ass and he wasn’t?”

“Jenny, shut the fuck up-”

“No consent whatsoever… Boyfriend of the year…”

Having Jenny see me break down in front of everyone was not a moment in time I’d ever want to experience. She already got what she wanted, a reaction from me. She didn’t need a bonus. So, standing to my feet, I darted to the locker room, trying my best to block out Jenny’s laughing. I couldn’t help the tears that cascaded down my cheeks as I stood in front of one of the mirrors, hastily wiping them away.

Why are you letting her get to you? Why are you letting Ricky get to you? He can’t hurt you anymore, stop crying about it!

The creaking of the door sent my body into a stiffened, frozen state. That was, until I heard his voice, “Hey, lovely…” Turning my head to Stan, I sighed out.

“Hey, beautiful…” I sniffled as he made his way over to me. We stood in a comfortable silence, Stan understanding that I needed a moment to compose myself. “S-Sorry about that. You know I just fucking hate her guts-”

“No, I get it. We all hate her guts.” He cracked a smile. I quietly chuckled and stuffed my hands into my hoodie pockets. “Do you wanna talk about it, (Y/N)?”

“Not really… I don’t wanna think about it right now…”

“I know, but, like, it’s good to talk to someone about… you know, traumatic things that happen so it doesn’t bottle up-”

“Yeah, I know, Stan, I just can’t- I can’t think about it right now. We can do it, like, later… Not at school.”

He slowly nodded. “Totally. I understand. So… you ready to head back out? We’re not actually scraping gum. So we can just sit and talk.”

“I’d love to just sit and talk with you.”

Ten minutes later, everyone was spread out, Syd more than anyone. I had no idea where she’d gone, but apparently she stormed out shortly after I did. I guess Jenny knew how to get under everyone’s skin that day. Said girl was sitting against a brick wall away from the bleachers, where the other two pairs of us were. Brad and Dina were hugged up on each other, whispering into each other’s ears and quietly laughing. Stan and I were on the edge of the bleachers, the boy stretched across the one on the first level, and I on the second. As he fiddled with his rubix cube, my index finger reached out and gently traced his facial features. I started off with his brow, careful of his wound on the edge. It was clearing up and that caused a smile to appear on my face. Next, I let my fingertip brush across his lashes and he furrowed his brows, trying to focus on his cube. My finger then glided down the bridge of his nose. I quietly laughed when his eyes comically crossed to look at my finger. With a giggle, Stan jutted his chin upwards to gently kiss my fingertip. “Stop distracting me.”

My hand lazily dropped to his hair as I whispered out an apology. Not too long afterwards, I heard a voice quietly call out Stan’s name, but he was too fixated on his toy. My eyes looked to Sydney, who was standing in the doorway, desperately trying to get the boy’s attention. When she called out to him again, he actually looked at her. Looking between the two of us, she frantically motioned for Stan to come outside. When he only raised a brow, she did it again. Letting out a sigh, he wordlessly handed me his cube before sitting up and following Syd out of the gym, closing the door behind him to allow them privacy. Puffing out a sigh, I began playing with the multicolored cube in my hands. I never was very good with rubix cubes, my patience always ran too thin to finish them. That time didn’t seem to be an exception, either, because minutes in, I set it down and rested my head down to hopefully sleep off the rest of detention.

As I began to doze off, I heard the double doors screech upon Sydney’s arrival. She anxiously walked past me over towards the other side of the gym, where Dina and Brad had moved to suck face. I heard her call out to her friend a few times before she loudly spoke, “Look, Dina, I need a tampon right now.”

“Just dig in my bag.”

“I… I do need you, but for… but for something else.” She stuttered out. And with that, the two exited the gym. Suspicious about what my friends were plotting without me, I slowly sat up from my lying position and sat normally on the bleacher, waiting for one of them to come back. Hearing footsteps approach me, I knew it either had to be Brad or Jenny, and I was praying to the stars it was the former. As unusual as it sounded. The bleacher moaned under Brad’s weight as he sat beside me.

“Hey, Zip,” He greeted with a smile. I side-eyed him for a second before turning my gaze to my shoes. Scoffing, he shifted his legs. “You’re ignoring me now? Oh, come on. We’re friends, Zip. Good friends.”

“We are not friends, Bradley,” I almost laughed. “You’re friends with Ricky and I want nothing to do with him, so… I guess you know where the two of us stand.”

“Okay, well… Regardless, as Ricky’s best friend, I can say for him that what he did was fucked up. Right?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Right! But listen, we all make mistakes, Zip. Ricky really loves you, you know that, right? He would never do anything to hurt you.”

I was silent for a bit, only to prevent myself from decking Brad in the nose. “Well, he clearly didn’t love me enough. Not enough to respect my right to consent-”

“Zip-”

“And you know what, Brad?” I slowly stood to my feet. “I’ve had enough of you defending everything he does! You can tell Ricky to get lost and leave me the hell alone!”

Before he could utter another word, I marched straight through the double doors. Three figures stood ahead, and I was more than ready to push past them, but I recognized each of them. Halting in my tracks, I saw Dina, Syd and Stan all nervously staring at me. Confused, I put my weight on both my feet. “Uh… what’s going on?”

Dina was the first to answer. “We… need your help distracting the janitor to get his keys.”

“W-What? Why?”

“Well, Stan and Syd hooked up in the library and got it on camera-”

“You guys hooked up again?” I turned to my best friend, who quickly turned to Sydney. She frowned and stood up straighter.

“You told her?”

“S-She’s my best friend! She tells me when she has sex!”

Widening my eyes, I let out a scoff. “I had sex, I don’t have sex.”

“Well, whatever, can you do it?” Sydney changed the subject. I looked between the three in confusion.

“Okay, but why me?”

“Because you have boobs. Like, a nice size.”

“Uh-”

“And,” Dina cut in. “Because you’re a great actress. The best out of all of us.”

My lips quirked up into a small smile, Dina satisfied that she boosted my confidence enough for me to accept. Lucky for them, my locker was just across from the gym, so I unlocked it and pulled out a spare tee. ‘Can’t seduce anyone wearing that’, Dina told me.

Shortly after, Stan and I were in a corner as I changed my top. He was nervously staring down at his shoes as I pulled my hoodie off. “I didn’t want you to be the distraction. Are you sure you’ll be okay doing this?”

“I’m not seducing him, Stan,” I chucked my hoodie towards him. He looked up to catch it, but as soon as his eyes raked over my almost bare chest, they darted downwards again. “That’s just a back-up plan.”

“O-Oh, okay…” He nodded as I pulled my shirt on.

Minutes later, I entered the classroom Carl the Janitor had been cleaning. He looked up at me and nodded. “Hey, (Y/N).”

“Hi, Carl. Listen. So, I kinda snuck out of rehearsal earlier and I need to get back into the auditorium. But guess what? The door’s locked. I really don’t want Ms Turner to find me out. Do you think you could help me? Please?” I tapped my fingertips together as he sighed.

“You know I can get in trouble doing that…”

“I-I know, but it would mean so much to me. I promise I won’t get you caught.”

“Well, what about the back entrance? She never locks those doors.”

He was right. Clearing my throat, I looked to the side. “W-Well, she did today…”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion for what felt like forever before relenting, handing his ring of keys over. “Okay, just get them back to me in twenty minutes.”

“You’re the best, thank you.” I grinned and stepped out of the room. Swinging around the corner, I found Dina and Syd waiting for me. Upon my arrival, they both grinned. “Nothing wrong with asking politely, ladies. We got less than twenty.” I cheekily smiled, handing the keys over to Sydney. Dina chuckled and crossed her arms as I took my hoodie from Syd and pulled it back on.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is quite simple.” Stan’s voice appeared as he approached us, two microwavable burritos in his hands.

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

“First, we distract Whitaker with burritos. I’m gonna put these in the microwave and blast these bad boys up on high, and then…”

The explosion muffled by the closed door was enough to get Mr Whitaker rushing out of the teachers’ lounge. “What the hell- What the hell is goin’ on down there?! Jesus!”

“...Whitaker will hear it and come runnin’. When he takes off from the teachers’ lounge, the coast’ll be clear straight through to the principal’s office, and then we make our move.”

As the principal moved past the closet we were all hiding in, Stan slowly opened the door, giving the four of us the chance to run out. As Dina and I silently followed Whitaker, Stan and Syd headed towards his office, keys in the latter’s hands.

“Syd, you’re the key man… Key lady.”

“Wait, why am I the key lady?”

“Because you’re… good with your hands.”

“Ew.”

“Dina and (Y/N), you two are lookout. You keep eyes on Whitaker.”

I crouched down and peeked around the corner as Dina did the same right above me. Whitaker had just opened the door to the microwave, the smoke engulfing him as he coughed and fanned it away.

“The burrito bomb should keep him busy for awhile.”

The two of us watched in amusement as he grabbed the fire extinguisher from the fire emergency supplies and sprayed it into the closet.

“That man cannot resist a fire extinguisher, which will give us the time we need to get in. Burrito bombs are disgusting. Last time I set one off, my whole house smelled like bean farts.”

“True story.”

“Gross.”

Sooner than we expected, Whitaker took off from the crime scene in a hurried pace. Dina and I quickly rushed towards our friends, the girl waving her arms in the air as I readied the door to the closet for us.

“Anything goes wrong, lookout crew, you signal us… and everyone take cover.”

Once Stan and Syd noticed Dina, they scurried off down the hall to hide. I pulled Dina into the closet with me and silently closed the door as we crouched down.

“That is literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s fair. It’s totally fair. Can you think of a better one?”

…

“Our best hiding spot’s probably behind the trophy case. And we wait…”

A collective sigh of relief filled the closet as the savior ringing echoed through the halls.

“...for the smoke alarm. Which will buy us more time. Which we will need, because there are a shit-ton of keys. Like a metric shit-ton, it’s ridiculous.”

After our principal took off away from his office again, the closet door slowly creaked open as Dina and I watched Syd and Stan successfully enter the principal’s office.

“Once we’re in, we head straight for the security system in the closet. And that’s it!”

The smoke alarm cut off its insistent ringing within seconds. My heart thumped in my throat as Whitaker’s form stormed down the hallway, towards his office in angry strides. Thankfully, Syd and Stan ducked down before he caught sight of them. As soon as he passed us, I gently nudged Dina out of the closet. “Go create some big distraction that’ll lure him away,” I whispered under my breath. “I’ll keep him from the door.” I stood up straight as Dina nodded and silently hurried down the opposite end of the hall.

“Whatever you do, do not panic. Do not bail… or we are screwed.”

Whitaker was seconds from the door and I had yet to come up with a way to get him distracted again.

“Okay, but what happens if your plan goes to shit?”

Finding the key on his ring, he began jiggling it into the lock.

“It won’t.”

I stepped out of the closet, breathing labored in panic.

“But what if it does?”

When the lock sounded, I let out an ear-splitting scream that had Whitaker jumping three feet in the air. When his gaze settled on me, he marched my way, steam practically shooting from his ears. “(Y/L/N), what the hell is the matter with you?!”

“U-Uh- Uh, something happened down that way!” I blurted out, pointing down in Dina’s direction. His head followed my finger before it snapped back to me.

“Well?! What ha-”

A crash sounded.

“Improvise.”

The poor man shook his head in exhaustion. “I’m too goddamn old for this shit…” He whined before taking off down the hall, away from his office. Once the coast was clear, Syd and Stan peeked up, watching as I gave them a thumbs-up. They gratefully smiled my way before standing and finishing the job.

“And if all goes well, as it should, we grab the footage, our sexcapade remains private, and nobody gets expelled.”

My shoulders sagged as Sydney walked out of the office with Stan behind her, holding up the flashdrive in her hand.

“Let’s hope this shit works.”

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

It totally worked. After our brilliant scheme, the four of us sat in front of the lockers to rest, my form sandwiched between Stan and Dina. He kissed the flashdrive and let out a breath. “Oh, I thought we were screwed…”

“We were screwed, but holy shit, we did it.” Dina quietly laughed along with the rest of us.

“Thank you guys,” Sydney smiled, the three of us turning to her. “Seriously.” She chuckled as I reached my hand over to Stan’s pocket. Catching onto what I was doing, he fished his case out himself.

“Wonderful idea, Nugget,” He pecked the back of my hand with his lips before I could move it away and slid a joint from his case. “Any takers?”

“You’re not serious.” Dina frowned as Stan took out his lighter. He nodded to her with furrowed brows.

“He is.” I grinned fondly at my best friend as he lit up the end of his joint and inhaled the smoke before handing it over to me. I happily accepted it and took a hit as Dina glanced around us, hoping no adults were around to witness the scandalous act. She choked out a laugh when Sydney accepted the joint from me.

“Since when do you smoke weed?”

Sydney slyly smiled and stretched the smoke over to her, my own hand taking it to give her better access. “Oh, come on, Dina. Everyone’s doing it. Don’t you wanna be cool like us?” We all giggled and watched as Dina hesitantly took a hit from the joint. Her own snorting encouraged our laughter to increase, the four of us blissfully unaware of what lay ahead of us just in the locker room down the hall.

We sat in that hallway for the next half hour, talking about everything and nothing as our time of release approached closer. When the joint was finished, we entered the gym to enjoy our fading highs in peace. Dina headed over to the bleachers, and Stan and I sat on the bench beside the locker room, as Sydney headed inside to use the bathroom. The two of us sat in a comfortable silence as he shifted the colorful columns of his cube. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, and soon after, I felt his head rest against mine. “So… are you gonna need a ride home?” He whispered.

“No. Jake is picking me up.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Um… now do you wanna talk about how you’re doing? I know that, like, we’re still in school and we’re not entirely alone, but I just wanted to see how you were after you had to-”

“I’m doing better,” I interrupted his rambling. “Thank you.”

His hands froze their fiddling before one shyly crept close to mine. I felt his fingers graze my thigh as he interlocked our fingers in a tight hold. “Of course, Nugget.” He muttered right as Dina walked to the door to the locker room, giving me a smirk before walking inside. Stan then held up his rubix cube and chuckled. “Wanna try and solve it together?”

“Oh, my god, yes.” I laughed. And with that, we were using our free hands to turn and shift the cube around, hushed laughter filling the gymnasium as we told each other ‘no, not that way’, ‘turn the blue one’, and ‘yeah, yeah, that one’ for the next minute and a half of peace. Once our time was up, the door to the locker room slammed open and a teary-eyed Dina stormed out, a frantic Brad behind her.

“Babe, wait, please. Syd’s lying, I swear to god! Please! She’s lying!” As Dina walked out of the gym, Whitaker walked in, watching her go. “You’re not seriously breaking up with me right now!”

“Hey! Which one of you punks eats burritos?” Our principal shouted, Stan and I stifling our laughter in each other’s hair and shoulder. “Alright, I don’t know what the hell went on tonight, but I wanna see everyone in my office first thing in the morning!” He gave us one last look before exiting again. As soon as he was gone, Brad turned to Syd with a clenched jaw.

“I offered you a truce, and you fucked it up. This is on you. You remember that.” He pointed at her before angrily stomping out. Stan and I detangled ourselves from each other as Jenny walked out of the locker room with crossed arms.

“Ah, another day in paradise,” She looked between the three of us as her smile faded. “So, you guys wanna get wasted?”

I scoffed. “Fuck off, Jenny.”

Waving Stan and Syd goodbye minutes later, I joined Jacob in his car. He smiled over at me as I clipped my seatbelt on over myself. “So? How boring was it?”

“Oh, a total fucking snoozefest.” I rolled my eyes, my cousin chuckling and pulling off towards our home. Halfway through the car ride, I heard him turn down his music and sigh.

“Bug, what’s going on with you?”

“Huh?” I turned to him with raised brows.

“You’re… You’re different. You’re quiet, you skip dinner sometimes, you’re sleeping in. You never do that, especially the quiet part. Jesus, you’re so loud-”

“Okay, asshole, I get it!” I laughed quietly before going completely silent again. Not realizing I proved his point, I jumped when he poked my arm.

“See? Something’s wrong with you. What is it? Is it Ricky?”

“I-” I don’t know why I wanted to keep the whole situation a secret. Things like this needed to come into light and Ricky deserved to be exposed. Sensing my hesitancy, Jacob nodded.

“There we go. What did he do this time? Did he forget an anniversary? No? Did he… cheat?” Silence. “Did he do worse?” My eyes darted away. “(Y/N), did he do worse…?”

“I don’t know if I should say, Jake-”

“You absolutely should say it, (Y/N). Did he hit you?”

“No.”

“No? Did he… you know, touch you?” His tone softened as tears welled up in my eyes. “Bug, what happened…?”

“H-He raped me…” I cried and covered my face. “I got drunk on his birthday and he took advantage of it. A-And then he lied and said we were both drunk. B-But everyone else said he wasn’t even drunk.”

A beat of silence passed before the roar of the engine slid in pitch. I looked up at the houses and street signs that flew past us in a blur. “J-Jake, what are you doing?!”

“We’re gonna pay Ricky a visit.”

Before I knew it, we were in front of Ricky’s house. Jacob silently released himself from his restraint and exited the car. I sunk down in my own seat as I watched Ricky walk out of his home and towards his car. Upon seeing Jacob, he happily waved, but his smile vanished when Jacob decked him in the face so hard he fell to the ground. My breathing sped up as I jumped out of the car, speeding over to the two. “Jake! Stop!” I screamed as he straddled Ricky, landing punch after punch on his face. Ricky cried out and tried to push him off, but it was no use. Jacob was so much stronger than him. I knew pulling on him and screaming at him would do nothing, so I looked up and turned all around, watching as some neighbors peeked out their windows and front doors to watch the scene unfold. When I heard a crunch, I whipped back towards them and almost hurled at the bloodied mess that was Ricky’s face. “Jake, come on!” I screamed and pulled him off.

Stumbling to his feet, Jacob grabbed Ricky by his collar and lifted him close. “I don’t ever wanna see you near her. I don’t wanna hear that you spoke to her, I don’t even wanna know that you looked at her,” He growled, Ricky frantically nodding. “Don’t ever associate yourself with my sister ever again or I will make sure your eyes are swollen shut next time. Got it? Got it?!”

“Yes.” Ricky wheezed out before he was dropped to the ground.

“We’re going home, Jake! Jake, let’s fucking go home!” I screamed and ran to his car, getting in the driver seat. Chest heaving, he strode back over to the car and got in the passenger seat, sighing heavily as I drove away, leaving behind a groaning Ricky. I hadn’t even noticed his bloodied and bruised knuckles until I parked the car. Like a worried mother, I helped him out and over to the front porch.

“Hey, lovely!” I heard Stan call out. Looking up, I saw that he and Syd were just about to enter his house. “Do you wanna-”

I fished out my keys and hurriedly unlocked the door, pushing my cousin inside and shutting the door behind us. After ordering him into the bathroom, I found some bandages and hydrogen peroxide and joined him inside. The next few minutes were spent in silence, save for the soft hisses that escaped him when I dabbed the chemical onto his cuts. As I wrapped his hands, I felt his eyes on me. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“If he tries anything ever again, tell me immediately.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious,” He ducked his head down to meet my eyes, his own shining with unshed tears. “I promise you, he won’t lay a finger on you as long as I’m around.”

Setting down the blood-covered cotton ball, I nodded and allowed my lip to quiver.

“I know.”

—————————————

Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #ianowt x reader #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

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aimeelouart · 3 years

Note

Genesis wearing a stolen labcoat, retro swirly glasses and absolutely rocking the hippy mad scientist aesthetic grinned "Now onto the next part of figuring out the human cat DNA ratio. So far we have observed purring and pupil dilation in response to the laser next I bring you-"

Genesis triumphantty waves a bag he'd purchased full of various cat toys pulling out a small sachet and waving it in Angeals face, quite proud of himself for coming up with it.

"-The Zoomies Test!"

Angeal squints incredulously at Genesis, reading the label aloud with a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Catnip?"

I know (or at least...I’m pretty sure) you sent this ages ago and it was about HA!Cloud purring, but now I find it hilarious how many of my Clouds this can now apply to. So, let’s consider:

Hey, Asshole! Cloud: absolutely gets the zoomies, but only after a delay. They think they’re safe. Then they blink and he’s gone. Next thing you know he’s assaulting Sephiroth (JUST DRINK THE DAMN WATER SEPH) and like, three mako reactors are on fire.

Saving Subject C Cloud: it makes him high. That’s it. He’s tripping balls. Lies in his back, looking at the ceiling, pupils so big you can barely see his iris. This is the one and only time you can pick him up and cuddle him without being instantly mauled.

(Everything But) the Kitchen Sink Cloud: worse than a sugar high, he’s got Homicidal Zoomies. The only reason someone doesn’t end up stabbed a billion times is because Zack has the natural ability to amp up his energy to match. The destruction is untold.

Angry Duckling Cloud: he gets the Zoomies bad but is extra unable to part from Seph. This ends in Seph having to run laps with him while holding hands. They’re both exhausted. Genesis gets defenestrated by Seph as soon as Cloud passes out.

#ask #funny asks #written reply #sorathemasterofmasters #hey asshole!#saving subject c #(everything but) the kitchen sink #the angry duckling au

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redrobbingabank · 2 years

Text

ooh au time

Being a vigilante was against the law. The city had a real problem with it, so much that they’d gone past the ordinary police and given the heroes, L’Manberg’s best, authorization to arrest any they found on sight. Tommy was a hero. Or, a hero in training. He’d been in the program for a year under the tutelage of Dream, and this was his first time being allowed to patrol on his own. So he was at a loss to find himself face to face with two of the city’s most notorious vigilantes, who didn’t seem to care that it was his job to arrest them.

No. In fact, they were trying to get him to join them.

“Listen,” Bee said. Brown curls stuck out from the top of his goggles and his voice changer gave his tone a weird buzzing effect. “How much shit do you see on the news every day in that fancy tower of yours? How much of it do you actually get to stop?”

Tommy crossed his arms. “We stop a lot of it, dickhead.”

“No, you don’t.” Lethe had a mask over the lower half of his face and around his eyes, but Tommy could see the way they crinkled into a smirk that said you don’t know shit. “You barely scratch the surface. All the heroes do is fight the flashy fights, the ones that get coverage with lots of collateral damage. What about the muggers? The dealers? The small gangs and corrupt politicians that pay your organization off? You guys don’t do anything to fight them. That’s why there’s so many vigilantes. You guys are the people that get recognized, but we’re the ones that care.”

“You think I don’t care?” Indignation rose, hot and writhing in Tommy’s throat. “I joined the heroes because I fucking care! I want to help people with my powers! I am helping them.”

“Why can’t vigilantes help, too?” Bee asked.

“Because you people don’t have boundaries.” That was Dream speaking now, every lecture he’d given Tommy, pacing back and forth in the empty conference room. He was not a warm man, Tommy’s mentor. Quite the opposite. But he was powerful and high ranking. Obviously he was good if he’d gotten where he had. “Heroes have the law to stop them from going too far. Vigilantes aren’t kept in check by anything.”

Apparently, that struck the wrong chord. Bee’s fists clenched, and he stepped forward. “When’s the last time you saw a vigilante kill someone?”

Tommy opened his mouth, only to find that not a single example came to his lips.

“Exactly. I remember several people dying in the past month when the heroes showed up to play. Retro killed Wither just last week, if I’m remembering right?”

And yeah, that was true. But Karl had a good reason. That was what Dream said. Just like when Quackity killed Schlatt, and George killed Paralysis. But…

No. Tommy spoke that part aloud. “The heroes are good people.”

“We aren’t saying they’re not.” Lethe’s voice softened. “But they’re constricted and swayed by politicians in ways that Bee and I, and the people like us, aren’t. You haven’t been with them that long, but you’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

Tommy had. He remembered sinking down to the ground with his back against the door and his mask in his hands, hot tears streaming down his face because Sapnap had been telling the higher-ups for weeks that he knew Halo was planning an attack, and they’d told him––all of them––that they couldn’t pursue it. And then a block of apartment buildings had been burned down for no reason Tommy knew.

“You get it. I know you do,” Lethe said. “That’s why we’re asking for your help.”

He wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t. “What do you want?”

“Come patrol with us. You’ve got better resources. Help us fight everything the heroes aren’t. You won’t get recognition. Hell, you’re gonna get an arrest warrant, but you’ll be helping. If that’s what you really care about.” Bee tilted his head, and Tommy could feel his assessing gaze through his goggles.

This was illegal. It was wrong. But at the same time, it wasn’t.

“I’ll do it.”

Bee took a step back, like he’d never expected Tommy to go along with it. “Oh.”

Lethe was more accepting. He stepped forward, offering his hand to Tommy. “That’s great, man. We’re gonna have to get you a second code name, though.”

Tommy grinned. “That won’t be a problem.”

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp fanfic #tommyinnit #ranboo #tubbo #bench trio

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sparkkeyper · 4 years

Text

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Word Count: 3,797

Warnings: None

Summary: Old habits die hard. Crowley and Aziraphale’s habits are very, very old. Building their own side is difficult when 6000 years of instincts won’t shut up.

(Originally very loosely-based on the song "Baby, It's Cold Outside" but then it kind of did its own thing, haha. I was originally going to post this for Advent Omens but uhhh you can see that didn’t quite happen. Written as ace but you can read it however you want, really. Guess what fools, it’s Soft Boi hours again!)

(Now on AO3!)

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The snow had started early in the day. When Aziraphale arrived at the Mayfair flat it was just a dusting. But the flurry had become a proper snowfall, and then quickly decided 'go big or go home' and transitioned into a flat-out storm.

This didn't phase the two immortals in the slightest, of course. If anything, the swirling flakes outside made it feel even cozier inside. Crowley's sleek, minimalist flat had grown a fireplace for the occasion, and a very surprised new chimney on the roof of the building found itself venting smoke that somehow managed to bypass three floors.

They sat together on the plush sofa (obtained at Aziraphale's insistence several months prior, on the grounds that he wasn't going to continue coming over if there was nowhere comfortable to sit, and Crowley couldn't have that) and drank wine and talked and laughed and reveled in the feeling of being cozy and warm on a cold, blustery day.

Time had traveled on in the usual manner since Armageddon failed to happen. The two of them were unwinding slowly. Thousands of years of looking over shoulders did not evaporate in an evening, benevolent Antichrist or no, and 'our side' was a concept they were still carefully exploring. But what a glorious exploration it was.

There was no limit to the amount of time they could spend together. It was a dizzying concept that they were both adjusting to, but one that carried a thrill through it all the same. Crowley had been sorely tempted to buy tickets to every concert, play, and musical revue London had to offer and do nothing but attend shows for the foreseeable future, the two of them together. In public. He very well might have done too, if Aziraphale hadn't talked him down amid giddy chuckles. "We have time," Aziraphale had reminded him, and Crowley was ecstatic to realize that it was true.

He had relented to two a week.

It was elating. They stood closer together, they sat beside each other on public transportation rather than one behind the other, they gave each other teasing nudges with elbows.

And sometimes - when they were both at least a bottle in - one of them might even bump their hand against the other's, and fingers might intertwine, and an electric tingle would flood Crowley like a live thing, and most importantly neither would pull away for at least two solid minutes and oh wasn't that alone worth saving the world for?

Crowley spent a previously-unheard-of amount of time at the bookshop and Aziraphale's face always lit up like the sun whenever he walked in. He arrived early, stayed late, sometimes didn't bother going home at all, often showed up with wine or snacks, and they were together and it was wonderful. He had fallen asleep on the bookshop couch in the past, but these months he got the impression that Aziraphale had zoned the piece of furniture as specifically his. There was a permanent place set aside for him in Aziraphale's home, in Aziraphale's life. It made a warmth pool in his stomach to think about it despite the creeping winter chill.

Aziraphale had begun to visit Crowley's flat in return. The angel had never once set foot in the place until the night after the airfield - Crowley had never given him the address, to be fair - but now that permission had been granted Aziraphale was here increasingly often. It was so like the easy evenings at the bookshop, just with more austere surroundings. Music, alcohol, debates and memories and slightly drunken speculation. The occasional temporary twining of fingers. It was good.

It was overwhelming sometimes, this new 'good'.

Aziraphale always left the flat at the end of the evening, usually around ten. He had no reservations whatsoever about chatting until dawn in the bookshop but the flat was a new environment, Crowley supposed. Possibly something to do with propriety.

Possibly something to do with thousands of years of distance that they were both still figuring out how to cross.

But that was Aziraphale, all right: as slow and steady as a glacier when it came to his set, comfortable ways. So much had changed in the past few months and the angel had had to adapt quickly. Crowley didn't begrudge him taking a few things slow. Old habits were hard to break and their habits were very, very old.

Crowley understood well how shadows could linger even in the bright daylight. It was all well and good to say he was off Hell's payroll. It was another thing entirely when instinct crept up on him screaming that he needed to watch his back, to sit a row behind Aziraphale on the bus, to have forty excuses ready for when Dagon came auditing. It took considerable effort to override those instincts and remind himself that 'together' was okay. It was allowed. And still he'd so far only managed to turn the volume down on them, not silence them completely. He didn't know if he ever would. Crowley didn't doubt Aziraphale had similar instincts of his own. If the angel felt better setting himself a curfew, Crowley certainly wasn't going to judge.

But tonight they were here, and warm, and sheltered from the blizzard. As 'retro' had begun to slide back into style, Crowley had picked up a sleek addition to his stereo system that was at once a record turntable, radio, tape deck, and CD player, with added Bluetooth capability for good measure. Strains of Vivaldi swam through the room from a vinyl, mingling with the crackling of the fire and the clinking of wine glasses. Aziraphale was settled deeply into the sofa, his posture several steps short of perfect which was how Crowley knew he was truly relaxed. Crowley, as per usual, was draped over the couch like he'd never seen one before in his life, as though he had too many limbs and didn't know what to do with them all. It was good.

Life was good.

It was a little after ten when Aziraphale spoke up. "It's getting late." His voice was a bit distant as he looked out the window, snow glinting in the reflected light as it fell. "I suppose I ought to be going."

There was a note of regret to his voice, a lack of conviction in his eyes, that Crowley had learned to read over the long years of the Arrangement. A smile pulled at the corner of the demon's mouth, covered up easily by another sip of wine. It was a very old game they played, treading carefully along the outside edges of things that could not or should not be said aloud. Expectations, angelic ones in particular, built a lot of barriers. Aziraphale wanted something that wasn't allowed him - or wasn't supposed to be allowed him - and couldn't bring himself to reach out and grasp it. It was Crowley's job to find ways for him to justify the forbidden something to himself.

In the subtle language they shared, the angel was asking Crowley to tempt him, and how could Crowley pass up a request like that?

"Awfully cold out there," the demon drawled, gesturing languidly toward the window with his wine glass. "Snowing like nobody's business. Wind and ice and subzero chill. Terrible night to be out in."

"I'm sure it's not so bad."

"Not so bad? It's been raging for hours! Look at it! It's knee-high! You expect me to try and drive my poor car out in that mess?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the demon. "Ah yes. Imagine if humans invented other forms of transportation aside from your horrid car."

The demon's argument was all bluff and they both knew it. The Bentley could slice through the snowdrifts like a hot knife through butter if Crowley wanted it to. It wasn't the strength of the argument that mattered - it was whether or not Aziraphale could twist it to bypass the metaphorical roadblocks. Crowley rose to the challenge by sprawling back on the sofa with a smirk. "Other forms of transportation? You mean a bus, in weather like that? And good luck finding a cab out there, angel. City's practically shut down."

Aziraphale stood, giving his back a tentative stretch. "I could walk, of course. I've done it loads of times. It doesn't take much more than twenty minutes, not counting the care that has to be taken for ice."

"Walk, he says!" Crowley tossed back the remainder of his wine like a shot glass. "Think of it - the first angel in history to catch pneumonia! Bad job I'm not working for Hell anymore; they'd give me an award!"

"If doing those temptations in Qashliq for you didn't give me pneumonia, I'm quite sure nothing will."

"Are you ever going to let that go? It was over four hundred years ago!"

"It was February in Siberia, no I will not."

"Suppose you did stay a bit longer," Crowley ventured, changing tactics. It was a risk, coming at the problem from such a direct angle when they were both so used to ghosting along edges. "Bookshop wouldn't go anywhere, would it?"

Aziraphale blinked at the abrupt transition. "Well no, I shouldn't think so. It's just...I mean if I don't return home someone might notice of course and well...people will talk."

Crowley leaned forward over his knees, seriously. "Angel. When, in two hundred years in that bookshop, have you ever given a single fuck what your human neighbours think?"

Aziraphale drew himself up with a huff, and Crowley was delighted to see familiar indignation winning out over nerves. "I am an upstanding member of the community, I'll have you know. And it's not just my neighbours, of course - it's yours as well. That little old lady who lives on the floor below, for example. She always gives me that look when I pass her in the lift."

"What look?"

"You know! That look! Like she thinks she knows what's going on between the two of us."

The demon grinned like a Cheshire cat and gave a suggestive wiggle of his shoulders just for the expression it painted across the angel's face. "You're worried that my neighbours are going to think you and I took a tumble in the sheets?"

"They already suspect! Or at least she suspects." Aziraphale was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but mirth glinted behind his eyes. "Do you know what she said to me as she was getting out of the lift the other day? 'Don't forget to use protection; you don't know where he's been!'"

Crowley howled, leaning so far back in his laughter that he fell off the couch.

"I don't know what's more outlandish, the idea that we're in here having a lurid physical affair or the idea that I don't know exactly where you've been."

Crowley wiped his eyes dry and held out a hand so the angel could help pull him up from the floor. "Remind me to miracle her fridge so that all her milk keeps past its date. 'Don't know where he's been' indeed."

Aziraphale fought to get his own smile under control, for the sake of his argument if nothing else. "Yes, but it just goes to show, Crowley, people do notice. And they will talk, I'm sure of it."

"Let them," he waved it off. "I've seen tissue paper with more durability than human gossip. It'll all get forgotten in a day or two." Crowley leaned over and refilled both glasses.

"Right. I suppose it will." The angel took a tentative sip and sat back into the sofa again. "Silly thing to get worked up about, really."

On a regular night that might have been the end of it. They'd had their verbal tennis, they'd had a laugh, and Aziraphale had accepted another drink. But try as he might, the angel couldn't seem to settle. There was a stiffness, a tension to his spine that would not unwind. He fidgeted with the stemware, shooting furtive glances at the window, the fireplace, the clock.

The ceiling.

The final notes of Vivaldi faded out, leaving the room in silence, and Crowley rose to swap the record. The discomfort radiating off the angel was almost palpable and it made his own spine crawl. "Aziraphale--"

"Only, the wind really looks dreadful," Aziraphale blurted out, jolting to his feet and crossing to the window. "I really ought to go before it gets worse."

"Can't get much worse than it is, I think," Crowley countered carefully. "Best stay where it's warm."

"I don't..." Aziraphale stared out at the London skyline, nearly invisible in the storm. Pale fingers worried absently at the hem of his waistcoat. His mouth was down to a thin line and there was quite a lot behind his eyes. He looked pained. "I shouldn't impose."

"You're not imposing if I'm offering."

"It isn't...it isn't right for me to stay!"

The demon set down the vinyl he was holding, something dangerous layering his words. "Says who?"

"I've been ignoring protocol too much as it is--"

Crowley gritted his teeth, a growl rising in his throat. "There is no protocol on our side!"

"I know!" Aziraphale snapped. There was a beat of silence and the anger in the angel's face melted as suddenly as it had come, leaving his expression frustrated and upset. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, almost apologetically. "I...I really can't...surely you understand why I can't just..." He ran a hand through his hair helplessly, eyes darting to the ceiling.

The demon set his glass down and moved over to the window.

It was a very old game they played. Crowley was good at his job and Aziraphale was good at the mental gymnastics required to fit through some of the more dubious loopholes. But every now and then they still lost.

He positioned himself in front of the principality, forcing Aziraphale to look at him.

"Angel," he said quietly, as though someone might overhear. "If you want to head home, I'll take you. You know I will. I'd just rather it be because you want to rather than because they would want you to."

Aziraphale looked truly miserable. "Crowley, you've been a marvelous host, you really have, but...I'm so sorry, I..."

Crowley stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. For just a moment the demon's face was soft, genuine. A bit sad but still impossibly fond. "Don't be." He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's late. Get your coat, angel, it's cold out there." He doused the fireplace with a wave and stretched his back out. "Give me a moment to sober up and I'll start the car."

Aziraphale sighed, clearly frustrated at a great many things, but headed for the coat rack while the demon forced the alcohol from his system. "It ought to be fine," he muttered as the wine bottles in the corner finished refilling. "It ought to be fine. I can't explain it, I..."

"It's like someone's standing too close inside your personal space," Crowley finished for him quietly, pulling a coat of his own from the ether. "Like you're driving on the motorway and you end up in the blind spot of a lorry. There's no great outward change but all of a sudden the hairs are up on the back of your neck and your skin is crawling. And you just have this overwhelming sense of this is not a good place to be, get out."

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured unsteadily. "Yes, that's it exactly." His eyes found Crowley's, apologetic, searching.

"It is what it is, angel," he assured him softly. "We have time."

A weight seemed to lift from Aziraphale's shoulders. "I...thank you. Truly." There were things unspoken that Crowley could hear beneath that simple phrase. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being patient with me.

Don't say that, hesitated on the tip of Crowley's tongue. Instinct was, of course, very old and very strong. He swallowed down the words and searched for new ones to replace them.

"You're welcome," he said quietly. The syllables tasted foreign in his mouth.

There was silence in the flat as he buttoned up his coat. Despite the passing months they truly had only moved the barest steps away from where they had been.

They had so very far to go yet.

But it was true. They had time.

"Right." He tried to break the mood as casually as he could, slipping dark glasses on and turning his voice into something light and easy. "Shall we be off then? After you, angel."

The lift ride down was silent, subdued. Something complicated was warring behind the blue eyes and Crowley wasn't going to even begin to touch on it until they were in the car. Aziraphale's steps faltered as he reached the glass doors of the lobby, and Crowley was halfway down the outside stairs before he realized he wasn't following.

"Oi, you coming?"

Aziraphale stared down at the space beyond the door with a peculiar expression: uncertainty and determination and anger and hurt. "I - I don't..." There was a moment of indecision, of frantic debate on his face, then he backed quickly over to the lobby bench and sat down hard.

Crowley pulled his coat tighter about himself as the wind bit through his clothes and ducked back into the building.

Aziraphale held very still, eyes closed and fingers gripping the edge of the bench.

"Angel?"

"Give me a moment. Please."

Crowley paced a cautious half-circle around him, instinctively scanning the principality for damage and the storm beyond the glass wall for threats. Another old habit - nearly useless now but one he wasn't going to be able to drop any time soon. He sat down beside the angel and the lobby was quiet for a very, very long time.

"I think," murmured Aziraphale at last, "if it's all right with you, I'd like to stay."

Crowley studied him closely. "Are you sure?"

"No." Aziraphale met his gaze. "I haven't been sure of much of anything, recently. Not since Tadfield. But I do not want to be forced back to the bookshop tonight."

"Shouldn't force yourself to stay if you're only going to be miserable."

"It's not so bad down here, that's the silly thing. But for some reason the idea of going back upstairs is just..." He laughed wryly. "What a mess I've made of the evening."

"It was a fine evening," Crowley told him earnestly.

"I thought so too, at least until the end there." He straightened, and looked a bit more like himself to Crowley's eyes. "And it's my most sincere hope that, with some more wine and another record, it might be again. Give me a few minutes. I think I can work up to it."

The demon took his glasses off and studied him closely. The determination in those eyes, the set of that jaw, were so familiar they hurt. There was a nervousness there, but there was a stubbornness as well. Like the glacier: slow, steady, but deep down so, so strong.

Crowley reached behind himself and retrieved a pair of full wine glasses that suddenly and thoughtfully decided to exist. "You know, I reckon..." he said quietly, handing one to Aziraphale, "that these will taste just as good right here as they would upstairs."

Aziraphale blinked. Glanced from his glass to the demon to the lift and back again. And his expression softened considerably.

"And if music and wine is what it takes to hang onto your company for a little longer, I s'pose that's the sacrifice I'll have to make, won't I?" He sat his phone down beside him and with a few taps Mozart began to play from its speakers.

Aziraphale stared deep into his wine glass, a smile spreading across his face that he didn't seem quite ready to share with the world yet. "A little unorthodox, isn't it?"

"And?" Crowley shrugged. "Last I checked, there's no protocol on our side."

"So there isn't. Do you know, I think I like that about it."

The demon lowered his voice. "Say the word any time, you know. We'll go, no questions asked."

"I know." Aziraphale let out a long breath and settled back onto cushions that were suddenly far more plush than anything the lobby bench had seen before. "But at the moment I'd rather be here."

The storm howled beyond the glass wall but the central heating vent behind them kept any stray chills at bay. They sat in gentle silence for a long time.

Piano Sonata No. 14 wound through the room, mingling with the warmth and the wine to kindle a sense of calm: a concoction of human magic that miracles, for all their power, could never replicate. Clever things, those humans.

Crowley traced a finger around the rim of his glass. "Can I ask what changed your mind?" he asked softly.

Aziraphale gazed off into the distance for a moment before looking back to his companion. "It was the 'you're welcome', funnily enough. You've always objected so vehemently to being thanked before."

"Yeah, well..." Crowley took another sip of his drink so as not to meet Aziraphale's eyes. "Like being in the blind spot of a lorry."

Aziraphale nodded. "It's..." He trailed off. Took a swig of wine and swallowed it down hard, as though for courage. "It's a comfort," he admitted so quietly that Crowley had to strain to hear him. "To know that it's not just me."

Crowley pursed his lips. "Not by a long shot, no" he confessed, equally quiet.

"I know accepting gratitude doesn't come easy to you. But you managed, tonight."

"It isn't a footrace, angel. I'm not asking you to keep pace with me."

"I know that. And I'm grateful. It's just... seeing you be brave makes me feel like...like I can be as well."

That smile was tugging at the edge of Crowley's mouth again. He reached out and clinked the edge of his glass with Aziraphale's. "Course you can be. Always have been."

The angel smiled back at him, warm and glowing and grateful, just the faintest hint of pink darkening his cheeks. With a daring Crowley had only seen behind the safety of closed doors and wine bottles, he placed a hand on the bench between them, palm up.

Crowley took it.

Meeting him in the middle, as always.

"Careful, angel," the demon murmured in his ear. "Remember, you don't know where I've been."

Aziraphale gave an undignified snort into his wine glass and their laughter echoed throughout the lobby.

The storm raged cold outside, but here, in their own little in-between place, they were warm.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #my fic #my writing #soft husbands all the time #sneaking in under the deadline like a boss #asexual ineffable husbands #Good omens heaven is full of assholes #they'll be okay they just need a little time and practice

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ikingsley · 3 years

Text

Ina x MC: A Small Detour

This is the second fic in my series loosely based on Queen B chapters. This one is based on chapter 2. The first one of my series is here: The Dance.

Summary: Luna finds Ina in an interesting and unexpected place.

Warnings: Fluff!

Tag: @samanthadalton

Author’s Notes: Happy Tuesday! Not super happy with the ending, but hope you enjoy!

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Luna walked briskly down the street towards the grocery store. She had failed to meet one Belvoire student who could actually cook for themselves. And the exception did not lie with Zoey. Luckily, the two had made a deal as soon as Luna had opened the fridge for the first time, where she found thirty mini bottles of Prosecco and not one food item. As long as Zoey kept the Prosecco coming, Luna would make dinner on the days they didn’t order food. And thus, Luna adventured to the grocery store in search of ingredients for a ‘gourmet’ dinner.

Luna found it extremely difficult to not think of Ina, or rather, Professor Kingsley. The Ina she had met at the bar, the Ina who she danced with until the early hours of the morning, the Ina she had passionately kissed at the diner had been swept away by a stoic, reticent and stuffy Professor Kingsley. Was it even possible to go from 100 to 0 real quick? If so, that’s how their relationship had plummeted, Luna reflected silently.

She could see the grocery store’s bright sign illuminating from a block away. She picked up the pace, encouraged that she had gone in the right direction. New York City was a busy place, and it was way too easy to get lost, especially for newcomers like herself. As she went down the sidewalk, she looked at each store along the block as a way to familiarize herself. She looked up and found a neon sign spelling The Retro Arcade.

Arcades are for nerds! Luna thought and chuckled.

Her laughter was cut short by a loud shriek followed by an even louder thud. Luna’s head swiveled vigorously as she looked for the source of the noise. It had come from inside the arcade. As she turned to look for the child who had made such a racket, instead, she found herself standing face-to-face with none other than Ina Kingsley.

Ina’s face flushed in embarrassment. For one, Luna had caught her in an arcade. But even more embarrassing was how Ina stood against the Donkey Kong machine clutching her toe. The same toe that she had kicked against the machine in frustration that her little Mario figure had been killed by Donkey Kong’s barrels.

Ina watched and sighed as Luna made her way into the arcade. As if this situation could get any more embarrassing, she thought.

“Why hello there, Professor,” Luna said with the slightest smirk on her face. Ina could only sigh once more. “Yes. Hello Luna. I guess you’ve caught me,” Ina said dejectedly. “Caught you from what exactly?” Luna asked. “My guilty pleasure and stress buster, I suppose. I guess you wouldn’t expect your professor to be playing arcade games on a Saturday afternoon,” Ina said. Luna laughed aloud. “Well...no. But there’s nothing wrong with arcades. Do you come often?” Luna asked. Ina’s face lit up at the approval of arcade games. “Almost weekly if I’m not too busy.” Ina responded through a smile. And all Luna could think was, dAmN what a NERD!

But she held herself together. At least for now.

Ina noticed Luna’s pensive, yet amused gaze on the arcade game. And just like that, Ina read her like a book. “...you’ve never played Donkey Kong before,” Ina realized. Luna could only laugh at her professor’s high intuition and perceptiveness. “Honestly, I’ve never even heard of it,” Luna admitted. Ina’s jaw dropped out of bewilderment as she turned to fully face Luna. “What! How have you not heard of Donkey Kong! It’s just about the most iconic arcade game ever! It’s Nintendo’s-” Ina said exasperated, but she was cut off promptly. “Professor, I didn’t ask for a lecture on Donkey Kong! Plus, I’ve played that yellow dude with the ghosts game!” Ina looked at Luna stunned. “Ummm....Pac-Man!!” Luna exclaimed. Ina hummed in disapproval. “Come on. That’s so basic. Donkey Kong - it’s pure skill. Come here. Let me show you.”

Luna was not one to turn down Ina’s request. She saw that the Ina she was fascinated by was not only alive at night, but maybe even on weekends too. Any other time, she was stuck with the upright Professor Kingsley.

Ina played the first round, showing Luna the basics: the controls, the premise, the things to watch for. Once Ina felt that Luna understood how to play, she let Mario get killed by Donkey Kong and stepped aside to make room for Luna.

The game began slowly and Luna successfully jumped over many barrels. But as the pace picked up, Luna suddenly felt overwhelmed. There were way too many things happening at once.

“Ina, help me!“ she yelped. Luna galloped away from the game. Simply put, it was fun until it wasn’t. Ina then came in to help Luna out. She kept in a laugh; to her, the game was still in its easy stages.

Ina stared at the screen, enraptured by the game as she had actually accumulated a relatively high score after taking over for Luna.

But it soon came crashing down. And again, like clockwork, Ina let out a howl. This time however, she learned her lesson. That machine was in fact stronger and sturdier than her foot. And instead, she kicked out to the side. Except this time, Luna was standing there.

“OWW!!!”

“Oh crap.”

It was a bittersweet disaster in slow motion. Luna was falling to the ground in pain, and at the last second, Ina swooped her from near collapse and held her in her arms. The pair stared at each other for only a couple of seconds, but to them both, it felt almost like a lifetime. Luna got lost in Ina’s eyes; they were so profound and full of affection. Finally, Ina cleared her throat. Luna sat up straight as Ina let her out of her arms.

“Are you okay?” Ina asked. She felt really bad for kicking Luna. Even if it wasn’t exactly a hard kick, she’d still hurt her. To Ina’s surprise, Luna was laughing on the side.

“Why are you laughing? I just kicked you!” Ina smiled. “The whole situation! You know, you’re such a ner- never mind,” Luna retracted. “I’m such a what!” Ina demanded. “When I passed by the arcade, all I could think was...arcade goers are nerds!” Luna laughed again.

Ina was slightly annoyed by her statement, and grumbled slightly. Then a small smile played at her lips. “If arcade goers are nerds, then why are you still in here,” Ina retorted. Luna pouted a little. “I guess...maybe, possibly, I might be a nerd,” Luna admitted. “I know,” Ina smirked. “Stop smirking like that! You’re such a nerd too!” Luna proclaimed. Ina sighed, but she knew it was true.

Ina was the first to get up. She reached out to Luna and helped her up. Luna scanned the arcade to see if there was anything she wanted to play. Then she saw it. In the corner, there was a small photo booth.

“Ina! Come on,“ Luna pleaded. Ina had no idea where she was being led to, but she took Luna’s hand. At first she was disappointed that it was a photo booth and not an arcade game, but she then realized how much fun photo booths actually were. All the different effects, all the crazy backgrounds, all the face filters... Ina smiled a little and proceeded to head inside the booth with Luna.

“Okay, here’s how we’re gonna do it,“ Luna stated. “First one is serious. Second one we’re trying one of those filters. Third one is funny. Fourth one...let’s just play it by ear.“

The first picture was like a mugshot of two people. Ina laughed at its hilarity as she searched for a filter to put. She found one with dog ears and a snout and thought it was appropriate. The second picture came out how middle schoolers would take pictures with their friends using Snapchat filters.

At this point, Ina was running out of ideas for pictures. At times, she was far from a creative soul. And for the third picture, she went with the classic bunny ears behind Luna’s head. Luna doubled over, laughing. She could barely make out the words “Really Ina? Bunny ears?” through her laughter.

Finally, her laughter ceased, much to Ina’s relief. And neither had an idea what to do for the final picture. 3...2...

In a panic, Luna put her head on Ina’s shoulders. For a moment, Ina tensed up. But then she leaned into Luna’s touch and put an arm around her. This was by far the best picture. Both women had big smiles on their faces as they cuddled next to each other.

Even after the photo was taken, the two lingered on each other. If it weren’t for the startling sound of the machine printing out the four photos, who knows how long the two could’ve stayed in that position. Finally, they pulled away from each other as Ina reached for the two sets of copies of the photos. She handed one to Luna, and both women smiled as they looked upon the reel.

“Can I admit something?” Ina asked. “Of course,“ Luna replied. “Remember when you saw me through the window?” Ina recalled. “Well, how could I forget, you were so mad you lost.” “I admit, I am very competitive. But I only lost because well, I was distracted,” Ina smiled sheepishly. “How so?” Luna inquired.

“I saw from the corner of my eye a pretty lady. I was distracted. By you.”

#queen b #choices #ina x mc #ina kingsley #luna garcia

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