#school's been kicking me around like a goddamn football | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hitlikehammers · 4 months

Text

i realize that this is a world where anything is possible and—

a Pro-Football/Rockstar Super Bowl Steddie AU for @thefreakandthehair

I don’t as a rule write sports AUs, but I do, as a rule, bend my own rules when someone gives me prompts for a fic I’m writing as a gift.

So: when @thefreakandthehair prompted me with ‘Starry Night’ but said she would have liked also something about football? I tried to fulfill the request (try being the operative term)

Lex, I hope your birthday was as brilliant as you deserve, and that this little fic in celebration of you brightens your day

title from this poem, aptly titled and about, what else, but football; divider credit here

(Also sincerest thanks to the ever-lovely @pearynice for listening to me babble about this and having a look at the final product and being amazing all around, and @hbyrde36 for blindly hlepng pick which ending was ultimately posted—you guys are the best ✨)

✨also on ao3

“I am about ninety-nine-point-nine…” Eddie chews on his bottom lip, coils a stray curl around his index finger and resists dragging it across his mouth: “eight, point-nine-eight percent sure I’m not supposed to be here.”

He’s entirely sure he’s not supposed to be here. Not now.

“What are they going to do?” Steve scoffs at him, leading him by hand through the tunnels. “Kick us out? Ban us?”

He snorts, and Eddie stops trying to not-hide behind his hair a little because: not supposed to fucking be here.

“You’re gonna get us arrested or something.”

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Steve cackles a little and maybe Eddie’s anxious, but he’ll never not melt at that sound, music brighter, holy like he could never touch, let alone play: “Eddie Munson, poster child for sticking it to the goddamn man,” Steve tuts, clicks his tongue and shakes his head: “afraid of stadium security.”

“Pretty sure they’ve got better people on payroll for this,” Eddie points out under his breath but never once fights Steve’s hold, his lead: he’d put his whole fucking life in this man’s hands, no question. It’s just that…

“Relax, babe,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand in his own; “no one will know.”

Eddie…Eddie doesn’t doubt Steve, never would, but, like—this is a big fucking deal.

“If Chrissy finds out we fucked something up—“ because that’s why Eddie’s here, obviously, at least in this specific capacity; not like Corroded fucking Coffin, no matter how many albums they’ve sold, would ever land a gig like this for themselves. Nope: Chrissy’s been a friend for eons, and when her career skyrocketed they were all ecstatic for her, but she never changed from being a hometown girl with a sweet heart, never let the fame or the money or the statues dull that down in her, so she was still the cheerleader who clapped for Eddie in middle school, and so of course she invited Eddie’s band to feature on a track—and of course they said yes.

So when she signed on for the halftime show and knew they’d be nearby recording? She’d asked them to join her on stage as special guests for a couple songs.

And no matter what else proved an incentive: Eddie and the guys would have said yes in a heartbeat. It’s the fucking halftime show, but more than that? It’s Chrissy Cunningham, and she smiled and cheered when the Hawkins auditorium sat in silent judgment in the face of their…everything.

“A,” Steve’s pulling him along just a little further, still; Eddie can tell they’re almost to the field, can see literal light at the end of the tunnel; “we will not fuck anything up.”

“I’m clumsy,” Eddie offers a token protest; it’s not untrue, but he’s also kinda half-assing the fight of it; “I might—”

“B,” Steve’s cut him off; “Chrissy loves me,” then he points to Eddie; “Chrissy loves you,” and Eddie tucks his chin a little more to press the bunch of his hair tighter against the seam of his lips; “Chrissy also loves us,” Steve gestures between the two of them, then, chest-to-chest and back; “as in, us together.”

And yeah, okay: Steve had been Chrissy’s friend properly before Eddie, used to help her get the height on her ponytail before games, caused a million rumors but they were never an item—so. Yeah. Chrissy loves them. As themselves, and as SteveandEddie.

“Just here,” Steve eases them to a halt and steadies Eddie by the biceps when he stumbles for the stop anyway because: clumsy, if he’s not on stage. Steve knows this, they’ve been at this too long for him not to, but.

He anticipates it so perfectly, and it still kinda skips in Eddie’s pulse like a giddy schoolgirl for the fact of it. They they’ve got this.

“Close your eyes,” Steve instructs as he smooths his hands past Eddie’s elbows, down to circle his wrists.

Eddie feels his eyes get big as he tries to frown, but gapes instead.

“I’ll run into—”

“I will not let you run into anything, love,” Steve pulls him in for a quick peck on the lips, and speaks into the contact sweet and warm:

“I’ve got you.”

Yeah. Yeah he fucking does.

Giddy-schoolgirl-under-his-ribs again, Jesus.

Eddie slips his eyes closed and barely even has to wait for Steve to grasp his hands tighter.

“Okay,” Steve murmurs deep and rumbly and hot under Eddie’s skin as he walks him at a careful pace further, further, turns a little, further again then slows: “now,” he brings Eddie’s hands together and kisses his knuckles, and Eddie’s not just warm under the skin, now he’s warm everywhere.

“Now, follow me down, we’re just going to sit,” and Steve presses one hand to the small of Eddie’s back and leads him, and Eddie goes because there is nowhere he wouldn’t, nowhere he won’t go with Steve beside him.

It’s just not possible; he’s not built to be anywhere else.

“And now lie back,” Steve eases him gentle even as he says it, and Eddie lets him, enjoys the feeling of being handled like this, precious and delicate almost, in this space that’s anything but save that it’s them, and what they are is stronger than spun silk, tested further than diamonds but they’re also tender, they’re also blood and bone and tangled together soft and vulnerable, if only just to shore each other up and tie together tighter.

“There you go,” Steve says as Eddie feels the whole of his body, the length of his back make full contact with the ground; “and tip your head,” he puts his open palm under Eddie’s chin like he needs to guide, but Eddie figures it’s just to touch: he doesn’t complain, because hell if he minds. As if he could ever.

“Now open your eyes.”

Eddie lets himself bask in the blind touch of Steve for just one more breath before he blinks and looks and—

“Oh,” Eddie barely breathes, and he can feel Steve beaming at him, so wide and shining out in the dark like the meteors that are streaking across endless stretch of sky above them, leaving trails behind to mark their paths, to leave proof of their being before they burn on descent and oh, oh.

“Right?” Steve breathes close to Eddie’s ear, strokes Eddie’s pulsepoint where he still holds at the wrist, kisses Eddie’s jaw as Eddie gapes up because it doesn’t matter how many times he sees the show, it’s awe inspiring.

So much like the man next to him, pressed tight against him so Eddie can feel him breathe: never once has Eddie stopped being filled up with wonder for him, never once will Eddie ever do anything but marvel that he’s here, that he exists, that Eddie can look at him and know in his bones that it’s true, unshakable when he stares and thinks: mine.

“Stevie,” Eddie spins his hand so it can lace with Steve’s, fingers interlocked as he turns into the press of his mouth to catch his lips for real, to taste: “sweetheart,” he mouths, tongues into Steve’s kiss: “it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful goes unsaid because they say it clear with touch; what we have is so much more than beautiful is the understood fucking you. Given like the spin of a planet, or the expanse of the universe.

“I know how much you like the stars,” Steve shapes the words more than speaks them, never moving back to pull apart their lips, not all the way; “and when I saw there was a shower, and we’d have a shot to see it, I,” and Steve presses a quick kiss into Eddie then: I couldn’t not, and Eddie thinks lucky isn’t a word that means anything at all, in the face of this.

He watches with Steve pressed against him, slid down to fit with his head on Eddie’s shoulder for a long stretch of seconds before the question comes to mind and he kisses Steve temple, reverent, but still in askance:

“The lights?”

Because it’s too dark. There are still a few bits of the stage setup that need to be moved before the kickoff, so he has to figure there’d be some lights, but the space surrounding them is a near-perfect void.

“So maybe someone knows we’re here,” Steve answers, a little wry. “I maybe bribed Lenny in Operations,” and of all the people working in this mass-ass complex, for this insane fucking event, Eddie actually knows who that is; let him bum a smoke the first time they came to rehearse. “We have about half an hour.”

Jesus. Jesus.

“God, I love you,” Eddie half-exhales, half-wonders at this, this, this specimen of a human before him, pressed against him close and he pulls Steve in, brings their still-joined hands to his chest and stretches down to kiss the tips of Steve’s fingers before just pressing hands there, making sure Steve feels:

“Every time I think you’ve stretched this heart as far as it’ll go,” Eddie whispers, because it’s sacred; this feeling, this thing they make together as one: “every time, you find room to fill it up all over again,” Eddie feels that stretched-heart of his pound a little beneath their hands, and fucking good, too, because then Steve feels it at the exact same time, and that’s what matters, what counts: that Steve knows the depth of this in Eddie’s chest, always; that he understands because:

“You’re magic.”

And Eddie means that. Eddie means that with all his pounding heart.

“You’re playing the Super Bowl tomorrow,” Steve says it like an explanation; like it’s enough of a reason. Like he would have done all of this anyway, just because.

“I am playing as a guest at the halftime,” Eddie knows that’s correct, he knows, but it’s still instinct to look at Steve like he’s making sure he gets the terms for all the different sports games right and it’s worth the knee-jerk instinct surviving all these years just for the grin and the nod he gets, so encouraging and indulgent and sweet; “show.”

“You are playing the Super Bowl, tomorrow.”

Because that’s the other thing, the thing that was entirely not-music-related that existed as the whole fucking incentive for Corroded Coffin to be in town for studio space in the first place: Steve, his Stevie, his partner and lover, beloved and adored, his Steve Harrington is the goddamn starting linebacker in the motherfucking Super Bowl.

Like Eddie would miss that for his fucking life.

Which: hold on.

“Don’t you have curfew? Coach’s orders?” Eddie turns a quirked brow to him and Steve just grins and, god: taps Eddie’s nose.

Gawwwwwd.

“I’m sneaky, baby,” Steve whispers and fuck, the stars above them are exquisite but they’ve got, like, nothing on the way Steve’s eyes shine. “Stealthy like a ninja.”

Eddie wants to laugh, snicker maybe a little under his breath but he…he can’t.

He can’t because he’s, his whole body feels weightless and tingly and untethered from gravity and matter and any atmosphere that isn’t Steve and Steve alone, like just be next to this man, the love of his life, is akin to and far beyond swimming alongside the shooting stars overhead: he can only relish, can only marvel.

He gets this. He gets to have this.

Unfathomable. And yet.

“You did all this for me,” Eddie exhales, still wondering at this. At Steve: the fact of him. The whole of him. This is the night before the biggest game of Steve’s career, likely the biggest day of Steve’s life and yet, here he is. Breaking rules, risking fuck knows what, just for Eddie. It’s, it’s…

“That can’t be a surprise by now,” Steve breathes back, nuzzles their noses a little and Eddie keens, because fuck.

“It’s not just,” Eddie tries to collect his thoughts, his point; “this is big, Stevie,” he says, like that encompasses it, encompasses the day they’re on the brink of, and the fact that they’re here right now, just before that day:

“This is big.”

“All the more reason,” Steve nips at Eddie’s lip then leans back, meets Eddie’s gaze square on before he breathes out slow, and lies back down, turns Eddie’s body to him, both of them on their sides and then he brings their hands between them, close enough that they hit both their chests when they breathe in: “because,” and he takes one more breath, and Eddie doesn’t know why it feels like Steve’s steeling himself, or building up to a thing he feels he has to steel himself for, because there’s nothing he could say or do that’ll sway Eddie from his side, there’s nothing, but then—Steve doesn’t feel stiff, or scared, or nervous against him, his hand in Eddie’s hand.

It just feels big, this moment, whatever it already holds or is gearing up to hold as more; it feels momentous, equally so, either way.

“Win or lose, tomorrow, no matter how big this is,” Steve finally speaks words into the tiny space between them, his grip firm and his eyes unwavering on Eddie the whole time. “I won the only thing I really wanted in life,” and his smile, dear god.

There are no stars, falling or burning, dying in a supernova or sprawling newly born: not a single goddamn one could compare.

“And he’s not really a prize, so it’s not really winning,” Steve’s watching him with so much love, so much love; “he’s a gift, he’s my heart,” and Steve mirrors Eddie this time, draws Eddie in to press against his chest, to feel the fluttering there; “and he gave me his to keep safe, and that was a whole other gift on top of everything,” and Steve laughs a little, his own overwhelming awe, and Eddie almost doesn’t know what to do, save grip Steve so fucking tight; save to memorize the cadence of his pulse like a song.

“So no matter what you call it,” Steve draws a deep breath and lets it shudder a little when he blows it back out; “when I wake up in the morning and I know he’s mine, and I’m his,” and Eddie lifts the hand not held to Steve’s heart to cup Steve’s cheek and just touch, just drink him in:

“I feel like the biggest winner in the world,” Steve says it, so honest, so heartfelt: so much.

“You’re a fucking sap,” Eddie doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears clog the words when they tumble from his lips but then he’s leaning, then he’s kissing Steve like the world’s ending only to begin again and it’s perfect, it’s heavenly like the fires burning miles upon miles above their heads, cosmic and immense but then Steve’s pulling back, but his open palms are pressed to Eddie’s chest to manage it and it’s contact, it’s grounding: it, too, is perfect.

“Oh, really,” Steve’s lips curl, even as they’re swollen at the pout and wet-red still; “I’m a fucking sap?” but he doesn’t even look irritated, he looks entertained, no: he looks delighted and what—

“Let me one-up your standards then, Munson,” and Steve’s leaning in, catching Eddie’s lips one more time before he raises up on his knees, tips back on his calves and lifts from those glorious fucking thighs of his and if Steve’s ignoring curfew entirely Eddie thinks he’s got a good chance of asking for those thighs to be wrapped around him at some point in the next twelve hours before he gets to spend a good stretch of hours sharing the clothed version in those tight fucking pants with the whole goddamn country, sure, but at Jumbotron-size he can’t wholeheartedly complain and—

“Edward Elliot Munson.”

Wait. That’s him. He’s Edward Eli—

Why is he being full-named here, now?

He starts to sit up too, brings his eyes up from Steve’s glorious legs where they stretch even under his track pants, to meet his eyes and—

They shine. They shine.

They put the stars and the space matter and the glow of angels on high if they’re there at all: they put them all to fucking shame.

Steve puts them to shame.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes deep and Eddie catches the gleam of something in an obvious shape in his hands, but it’s only in his periphery: he cannot, he will never look away; he might be trembling already.

He’s definitely trembling already.

“Will you,” and Steve pauses, plays with Eddie’s bare ring finger, the only one empty just now and Eddie honestly never thought on it too hard but in this moment he knows, he knows in the marrow of him that he was waiting, that he was wanting and he was keeping it safe for just one thing, just one thing:

“Will you let me fill your heart up to stretching,” Steve blinks, and a tear falls; just one, glistening and glorious for the avalanche that’s spilling from Eddie; “and then will you let me fill it up even more, again and again and again, Eddie, will you let me do that for the rest of our lives?”

As if that’s a fucking question.

Eddie doesn’t even have to process the necessity of putting his lips on Steve, of kissing him breathless and then boneless and then weightless, so fucking close and so fucking fierce and giving everything and anything and all that he is and allthat they are; he doesn’t have to process it as a choice before they’re consuming, devouring each other relentless, unceasing, and Eddie will pull back and speak the ‘yes’ that’s already obvious, he will shake a little as Steve puts the ring on the naked finger waiting to be adorned, the last lone space waiting to be claimed; Eddie will wear it proudly on the stage when millions watch him play tomorrow, and there won’t be a single second he’s not smiling like a loon through the whole goddamn day, and it’ll have so very little to do with playing the biggest show of his life, and that’s wild, that’s insane: that is the only real thing in the whole fucking world and—yeah.

Yeah: the biggest prize of living at all is the one they’re holding tight between them, the one they’re passing back and forth, soul to soul between their lips.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #established steddie #marriage proposal #rockstar au #football au #so very very soft #stranger things #gift fic #thefreakandthehair #hitlikehammers v words

80 notes · View notes

pleaseleavemealonebye · 1 year

Text

Dust to Dust

Summary: the snap, from Abby Keener's POV.

TW for terror in a school setting.

It was like a goddamn magic trick.

Some egotistical prune with terrible fashion taste snaps his fingers on the other side of the galaxy, and half the world turns to ash. Abby stopped trying to make sense of the world years before, but this broke any remaining shred of normalcy she had. Makes sense it did. It broke everything else.

The day it happened, everything was normal. Mom was gone by the time Abby woke up, a post-it note professing her love stuck to the counter. The car broke down before it even pulled out of the driveway, and Harley spent an hour and a half fixing it while Abby watched TikToks on her phone. When they got to school, the drop-off line was empty.

Abby poked her head out the window, examining the empty school campus. “We’re so late.”

Harley sighed dramatically. “Yes, I know.”

Abby pulled herself back into the car, pouting. “They’re not gonna let me in.”

Another sigh from Harley. “If they don’t, go get Mom.”

“But she’s working,” Abby whined. “She doesn’t like it when we bother her at the diner, and I’ve already skipped school this month ‘cause of that flu I caught, and I don’t wanna bother her.” She kicked the front of the seat with some prejudice. “Can you at least walk me in?” she pleaded.

Years later, Abby would remember this conversation while lying concussed on the floor of an alley, and wonder if Thanos had the gauntlet by then. She wondered how doomed ten-year-old her had been in that moment.

All the way back in 2018, Harley groaned. “Just go,” he ordered. He already sounded so tired and annoyed. The grease on his hands was smeared across the steering wheel. Abby didn’t want to push him. She stepped out of the car, crept silently towards the school. The car puttered past behind her. She turned, waving goodbye like she was trying to flag down a passing plane. She caught a glimpse of Harley’s reflection in the shattered rear view mirror. That was the last time she would see her brother for almost half a decade.

What happened next? Abby wasn’t sure. Somehow, she negotiated her way through the front office and into her classroom. They were supposed to be learning fractions, and she vividly remembered a row of numbers written in green on the whiteboard, but she remembered very little else from the actual lesson. Something was happening in New York, but no one was paying attention. New York was a world away.

The teacher finished her lesson and traded places with another teacher who immediately started on his history rant that centered almost entirely on unproven conspiracy theories. Some kids’ phones chimed with news alerts, but the teacher glared at them when they tried to pull them out. At the time, Abby looked at this and thought it was wrong.

Abby thought of this years later and laughed, then glared at a passerby when they looked at her weird.

By the time lunch rolled around, something was obviously wrong. The cafeteria had two ancient TVs set up, usually playing the news or some sort of mindless, background-noise sitcom, but when Abby looked at them, they were turned off. She would remember it forever: her face reflected in the black screen, kids whispering all around about what was happening (“Dylan said Loki came back, then that arrow guy shot Thor, an’ that’s what’s going on.”)

Then–well, the next part came in pieces. The girl she was sitting across from dissolved into dust. She didn’t even seem to notice, just stabbed at her chicken before melting onto the floor. People started screaming–one of the lunch ladies dusted into the mashed potatoes. Other kids were gone. Everyone was gone.

Then Abby was running. She was outside her school and racing across the football field that stood between her and the high school, screaming at the top of her lungs the whole way. She was crying and her tears were blurring the line between the green grass and the blue sky.

Then there was the high school, oh, the high school. Abby had to fight through a tide of panicking teenagers to get in. The next few minutes were blended together in a mess of random images; ash in front of an open locker; kids screaming and shoving each other as they ran for the exit; some of the teachers were standing in doorways, trying to corral the students.

Somewhere along the line, words came spilling out of her mouth. “I’m looking for my brother, has anyone here seen Harley Keener? Do you know where Harley Keener is?” But the dust clogged her throat and the words stayed stuck in her mouth. She could barely breathe through all the dust.

In the alley years later, Abby closed her eyes. She thought of the doomed little girl, crying and screaming and begging anyone who would listen for help. She thought of her brother, a pile of ash on the floor of a random classroom. She thought of the Avengers and Iron-Man and most of all her mom. Then she sighed and went to sleep.

#abby keener #harley keener #harley keener's sister #fanfic

5 notes · View notes

shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

If the World is Ending, I Want to Fuck You First

Summary: You need to do one last thing during the zombie apocalypse.

Pairing: Kyle Orfman (MGG character in Life After Beth) x Fem!Reader

MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)

Content/Warnings: swearing, smut, blowjob, praise kink, sub!kyle, gun violence (used against zombies), vaginal sex, choking, fluffy ending (let me know if i missed anything)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: okay i know this is a lesser famous mgg character but i beg of you to give this fic a try because i think it’s my best smut yet and i love the ending. you don’t need to have watched the movie to understand (i give a few visuals).

Masterlist

“Open the goddamn door, Jacob,” you pounded on your ex’s door, “I want my shit back.”

A car with sirens pulled up in the driveway. Great, you thought, the cops. But when you turned around, it was just an old tan sedan with ‘Briarwood Security’ written on it.

You turned back around, “Jacob, I know you’re fucking home, you cheating son of a bitch.

“What seems to be the problem here?” a tall, lean man with a slicked back undercut dressed in a beige security uniform approached the front door.

“My cheating ex won’t give me my stuff back,” you continued to pound at the door, “I have a laptop in there!”

He sighed and spoke quietly, “This is technically still trespassing because he didn’t necessarily steal it but let me see what I can do.”

“Jacob Peterson,” he knocked on the door, “This is Briarwood Security. I need you to open the door or I have the clearance to break it down.”

He whispered to you, “I actually don’t,” and you giggled.

Jacob swung open the door with your bag of stuff.

“Take your crap and go,” he shoved the bag into your arms.

“Gladly, asshole,” you checked to make sure everything was in there.

You nodded to the security guard and Jacob slammed the door once again.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked, noticing your lack of a car.

“I live like a mile away so I just walked here but yeah, if you don’t mind, that would be great,” you accepted.

He opened the trunk for you to put your bag of belongings inside.

“Kyle,” you hummed, looking at his little name tag.

“And you are?”

“Y/N,” you stuck out your hand for him to shake and he accepted it.

“Kyle, I have a proposition for you,” you said as you entered the passenger side of the car.

“Okay…” he looked at you.

“Let me suck your dick.”

Kyle stared straight at you for a minute, not moving.

“Hello?” you asked, waving your hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what did you say?” he snapped out of his daze.

“Let me suck your dick,” you repeated, “I don’t want his,” you pointed to Jacob’s door, “to be the last dick I sucked and I want him to see your car still parked out here, knowing exactly what we are doing. Plus, you get an orgasm out of it.”

“I’m on the job,” he tried to resist.

“If you really don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m not trying to pressure you. I just think this could be a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Kyle nodded, putting the car in reverse and starting to back out of the driveway. He made it about halfway before he braked and put the car back in park.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Please,” he begged.

You looked down and as your eyes adjusted to the evening darkness, you could see the obvious bulge strain in his khakis.

You leaned over the center console, untucking his uniform and unbuckling his belt. You slowly unzipped his fly to tease him as he squirmed underneath you.

“Patience, my sweet boy” you hummed and your warm breath fanned out across his dick.

His needy whines were beautiful. You sat back up and removed your shirt, leaving you in just a lacy bralette.

“Please,” he pleaded again.

“Because you asked so nicely,” you leaned back down and licked a long strip up from the base of his dick to the tip, swirling your tongue at the top.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands moving to your hair.

“Hands off,” you ordered and he whined but complied.

You took him in inch by inch. He was certainly the biggest you’ve ever been with. You gagged when he bottomed out in your throat.

You could feel him using all his self-control to restrain his hands to his side.

You bobbed your head up and down, taking up a quick pace. His melodic groans filled the car.

“I’m gonna-” he panted, “Can I please cum?”

“Yes, you’ve been such a good boy for me, baby. Let go. You can touch me now,” you spoke.

His hands moved to your hair just as his hips bucked up, shooting his load into your mouth. You accepted it all with a moan and swallowed.

You took a few more gentle sucks before releasing him from your mouth. As you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, Kyle stared at you adoringly.

“Ummm, thank you? I’m not really sure what to say,” he finally spoke.

“Just drive,” you laughed.

You woke up to a loud crashing sound coming from downstairs. You reached for your cell but it was dead even though it was plugged in. The power must have gone out. You grabbed your emergency battery-powered flashlight from underneath your bed and your bottle of pepper spray.

You quietly snuck down the stairs but when you turned the corner, you came face-to-face with your old kindergarten teacher who died a couple of years ago. She was definitely dead but still walking somehow. You screamed as she tried to grab you as you ran for the door.

You burst out of the door to see the street crawling with zombies of dead people you used to know. You ran towards the direction of the police station. You got about a half a mile until the deceased retired high school football coach tackled you to the ground.

You fought and kicked and screamed, trying to avoid him biting you. You thought it was over until you heard the sound of a gunshot and the zombie limply collapsed on top of you. You pushed it off with a yelp.

A hand reached down to help you up, you looked up to see Kyle standing there in a slightly bloody orange jumpsuit.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded slowly.

“We should get off the street but I’ve cleared this whole neighborhood so we should be okay,” he grabbed your hand.

You looked down at your interlocked hands, “I don’t know if it’s just the adrenaline talking but if the world is ending, I want to fuck you first.”

Kyle smiled softly, “It would be a hell of a last memory but I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He pulled you towards his house and jumped the fence to his backyard.

“I don’t think zombies can climb,” he said, looking up at his childhood treehouse.

“This is a first,” you laughed softly as you headed up the ladder with Kyle right behind you.

“I can feel your eyes staring at my ass,” you said as you climbed the ladder.

“It’s right in front of me! Where do you want me to look?” he defended himself.

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you smirked.

Immediately upon crawling into the treehouse, your lips were on his.

“How do you want it, baby?” you whispered into his ear.

“Ride me, please,” he whined.

You put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back onto the wooden floor. You unzipped his jumpsuit hastily, ripping your shirt and shorts off in the process.

You released his dick from the confines of his tight black boxers and stroked it a couple of times.

“You ready?” you asked as you lined yourself up above him.

“Yes,” he nodded enthusiastically.

You sank down on his dick, adjusting to the feeling of him inside you. Kyle’s head fell back in pure pleasure.

You wrapped a tentative hand around his neck, only applying more pressure when his moans increased in volume.

His hips were bucking up to meet yours at a ferocious pace.

“Ah fuck! I think I just got a splinter in my ass,” he yelped.

“Shhh baby, you can take it. You’re fucking me so good, my sweet boy,” you continued to ride him and guided his hands up to your boobs.

Kyle groaned at the praise, “I’m close-God, I’m so close.”

“Give me a few more seconds. I know you can, baby,” you frantically rubbed your clit in order to finish with him.

“Okay, fill me up like a good boy,” you whispered into his ear.

Kyle’s hands grappled at your hips as he bucked up into you one last time. As you both came down from your highs, you collapsed on top of him.

The two of you just laid like that for a while. Catching your breath while soaking up the skin-to-skin contact.

“You know I was going to go back to your apartment and ask you on a date? You know…before the whole world went to shit. Besides giving me the best blowjob of my life, you just seemed like a really cool, beautiful girl,” Kyle admitted.

“Too bad you didn’t get the chance, I would have said yes.”

“Can I leave you here for just a second?” he asked quietly.

You hugged him closer, “I would prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Well, I would prefer it if you stayed up here where I know it’s safe. I need to get supplies and I’m armed,” he reasoned with you.

“Promise you’ll come back,” you had tears in your eyes.

“I promise,” he held out his pinky and you wrapped yours around it, both of you kissing your fists.

You and Kyle got redressed and you watched him climb down the ladder and head into his house with his gun fully loaded. And then, you waited. You counted the seconds. You were at 381 when he finally returned.

“Thank god,” you let out a sigh of relief.

He started to unpack the bag he brought with him. He pulled out a blanket and set it on the floor for you both to sit on. Then, pillows. Next, he pulled out leftover cold pizza.

“Ah, gourmet,” you jokingly smiled.

He pulled out red solo cups and placed one in between you both, putting in a rose he plucked from his mom’s rose bush.

Finally, he pulled a very expensive bottle of whiskey from the bag and filled your cups.

“My dad was saving this for a special occasion, I think zombies coming back from the dead and the world ending qualifies,” he grinned.

The world didn’t end. In fact, you were just starting your new life with your future husband.

taglist (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187

#no minors please #mgg fic #mgg smut #mgg x you #mgg x reader #mgg oneshot #mgg fluff #kyle orfman #life after beth #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader

210 notes · View notes

hikarimiyanaga · 3 years

Text

Loving You (Wanda Maximoff/Reader)

Summary : The worst that could ever happen just happened to you.

You were a beta. Being an omega could’ve been better but no, God decided to fuck you up.

In a world, where Alphas and Omegas are considered the best, being a beta meant that you were just going to be an average person. Always in the middle.

People don’t look the same at you. You had potential. At the top of your classes, taking all of the AP Classes. Now, you doubt that even Colleges would consider you.

Ever since, Asami Sato has proven that even Omegas can change the world, people have been considering them as equal to Alphas… but never Betas. When has a Beta ever change the world?

So you shut up and hide from the world as you try to graduate and maybe get a job in your Family’s Company, R Firm.

But a chance encounter with a gorgeous Omega will change everything up.

Warnings : Omegaverse. Beta!Reader x Omega!Wanda Maximoff.

New series! After a month. College does seem to hate me that much.

You sigh as you trudge the halls of your high school. It was lunch break and almost everyone is in the cafeteria, obviously not you, though. You’ve been reading inside the library when Miss Danvers kicked you out, saying that she needs her lunch break too. You sigh and sit in front of your locker. You open up your book and begin reading.

Reading is one of the only things you could enjoy these days… you still remember the day you got your evaluation test.

You tremble as you stare at your test result. You were a beta. Tears spring up in your eyes but you quickly wipe them away. You could hear some people cry and some sniffle. You guess they were betas too.

“Y/LN?” You stop and turn to Janine Rivera, she was one of the juniors. A popular Omega who is in your AP English Class.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to-?” You stop and gulp. Janine cuts off herself and gets your test result. You don’t fight her because it’s better to just rip the band-aid off. She scoffs and shoves the result back to you. “Megan!” Another girl looks at Janine. “Cross off Y/LN! She’s a Beta!” She shouts and everyone quiets down. You take a deep breath and walk off. The murmurs then start. You feel tears again in your eyes and you wipe them away again.

You walk home because inside your school felt so suffocating. People were going home anyway to tell their families their evaluation result. As you stood in front of your house, you feel your stomach cave in. You’re afraid to face your parents. Your Alpha Mother would surely get angry. Even your Omega ma would look at you with disappointment. Your two Alpha sisters would get disgusted. Just imagining their reactions make you cry.

“Y/N?” Your sister, Alsie, gets out of her car and you cry even more. She quickly kneels besides you. “What’s wrong!?” You refuse to answer so she guides you inside. “Ma!?” Your Omega Mother, Dahlia rushes downstairs and gets to you.

“Y/N!? Are you okay?”

“M-ma.” You stutter and cry even more. Your other sister, Valerie, gets downstairs too and fusses over you. You faint and they panic even more.

When you came to your sense, you’re in the living room with your Alpha Mother, Zale, is hovering over you. She sighs in relief and shouts that you’re okay. She was about to leave and you bite your lip as you grab her arm.

“Mom.” You say weakly and Dahlia gives you a glass of water. You sit up and gulp it down in one go.

“What’s wrong, little one?” Zale asks gently and you try not to cry again. God, their gentle affections and kindness, will it go away once you tell them what you really are? That you’re just a Beta and not like them? Will they throw you out? Disown you? You take a deep breath and you look at them.

“I-I” You tremble and put the glass on the coffee table. “I’m a Beta.” You look down and clench your fists, waiting for their reply.

“Oh, Jesus, it was just her evaluation result.” You look up and see as your all of your family collectively sigh in relief.

“Damn it, Y/N, don’t scare us like that.”

“My little sister is a goddamn drama queen, who freaking guessed?” Zale slaps Valerie softly on her arm.

“Why were you so afraid, anak?”

“I thought you guys would get angry and disown me.” You sniffle and Dahlia quickly hushes you and hugs you.

“Y/N, little one, that doesn’t matter to us.”

“Dude, that’s like the least of our concerns.”

“Oh? What matters most then, Val?” Valerie glares at Alsie and look away. “Your potential mate, that girl call-“ Valerie screeches and attacks Alsie who dodges quickly. You laugh at their antics and everyone looks relieved at you. They hug you and you hug them back. Grateful that they accepted you.

You were just humming to a song that’s been stuck inside your head when someone calls out.

“Excuse me?” You look up and gulp. The girl looked stunning and words seem to be stuck in your mouth. It felt like everything around you was moving slowly.

“Y-yes?” God, human interaction was not a daily occurrence for you, people tended to avoid you like the plague in School and the house is quieter now that both Zale and Alsie are off to college. Both of your moms never push you to talk about anything and simply bonds with you through food and TV.

“Can you tell me where I would find this classroom?” She pushes the schedule onto you and you hum. You knew the school halls like the back of your hand, it was easier to navigate that way. You felt your heart beat faster as you give it back.

“Yeah. You should take a left there and it should be the fourth room on the right.” You point it out and she nods. She smiles at you and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks, stranger.” You nod.

“Wanda!” Someone calls out and you both turn to the newcomer. “You know where the classroom is?”

Yeah. Come on.” They both turn to leave and you stare after them. Wanda looks back and waves at you. You simply put your hand up in a lame attempt to reciprocate.

“Fuck.” You whisper softly and put your hand to your chest. You will yourself to calm down before resuming to read your book.

You yawn as you step inside the cafeteria. It’s been a week since you gave Wanda directions… a week since and you’ve been avoiding her. Every time she would wave her hand at you, you’ll turn to the other direction. Anytime she tries to call you, you would run the other way. It was hard since she’s practically a dog just begging for your attention… this is why you really prefer cats.

You get a tray and get your usual lunch. You’re not in the library since Miss Danvers apparently quitted and even though students usually man the counter, you’ve decided to eat like a normal person this day.

“Hey!” Wanda calls out and you felt your stomach drop. She was with the Avengers. They were the most popular group in school, even more than Seniors despite being Sophomores like you.

Tony and Vision Stark are smart, and people are saying that they’re going to take the world in a few years. With Stark Industries, they might as well do that.

Natasha Romanoff is the heir to the Romanoff Airlines, and she has been basically to everywhere and knows many languages.

Angel Garcia is one of the only people who seem to take every AP classes like you. She’s a smart Omega that you have no doubt will take the world in a storm. Some says she’s a power Omega to Natasha.

Pepper Potts is already showing signs of a great businesswoman and is already interning at Stark Industries. She’s the soulmate of Tony Stark.

Steve Rogers is another example of a power Omega, with his buff body and being the captain and quarterback of the football team.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is an Alpha who is also the ace of the Basketball team. He’s the Alpha of Steve Rogers.

Thor Odinson is an Alpha who can make girls wet their panties without doing anything but existing. He’s the heir to Mjolnir Constructions.

Sam Wilson is an Alpha who loves flying more than anything else, he’s father is a pilot at Romanoff Airlines.

You gulp and turn away from her. Walking to a smaller table with no one. You turn to look and see Wanda’s disappointed face. You sigh as you eat and take your phone out. You read fanfics as you eat your lunch.

It’s not like the Betas at the school have not invited you to eat with them but you preferred to be alone, talking to no one and be in your own world.

Wanda sighs and turns back to their table.

“Something wrong, младшая сестра?” Pietro asks and Wanda huffs. She gets her tray and was about to go to you when Sam grabs her arm.

“I wouldn’t go to Y/LN. She’s a Beta.” She stops at that and pulls away from him.

“So what? Is that a sin?” Natasha scoffs at Wanda.

“It means she’s a trying hard nobody.” Wanda glares at her and Natasha smiles.

“She’s still in most of the AP classes though.” Angel says and Tony scoffs.

“Only because her mom and sisters threatened to sue if they didn’t let her.”

“Jesus, what a spoiled brat.” Wanda’s eye twitches at that and she drags Pietro away from them.

“THOSE are you new friends?”

“Yeah? They’re the coolest people, Wands, trust me.”

“Coolest? They’re judging someone based on their second gender.”

“It’s the truth, though.” Wanda crosses her arms and Pietro shrugs. “Betas are just average people, Wands, don’t put too much faith in them.” Wanda huffs and looks at you but you were already gone.

You stretch your body before going back into your research. You’re inside the library after school and you’ve already texted your moms about being late.

“Is this seat taken?” You look up and see Wanda with a book of her own. You shake your head. “Do you mind?” You shake your head again and she sits down besides you. You were so focused on doing you research that you haven’t noticed that Wanda has been staring at you. You only notice that she hasn’t opened her book yet. You look to her and meet her eyes.

“Um?” You blush and Wanda looks away as she opens her book. “Is that The Flower Girl Wore Celery?” Wanda nods and you squeal lightly. “They have this? Where’d you find it?”

“In the literature section? There’s a whole lot of Children’s books there.” You sigh.

“Maybe after I finish this dreadful thing.”

“I’m Wanda by the way.” She holds out her hand and you take it while blushing.

“Right. I’m Y/N.” Wanda smiles at you and you gulp.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” You nod and try to focus on the research. You finally finish after an hour and you stretch your body.

“Finally done.” You say and Wanda hums. She’s already finished the Children’s book and was now reading a novel.

“Here.” She gives you the book and you smile at her.

“Thanks.” You begin reading the book.

Your phone rings just as you finish the book, you quickly answer it and it was your Mom.

“Y/N? Are you still finishing your research?”

“No. I’m already done, just going to return all the books that I’ve borrowed.”

“Okay. Your Ma is already cooking dinner.”

“Alright. I’ll finish up and go home.”

“See you later, little one.”

“Yeah. Bye, mom.” You hang up and sigh.

“You okay?” Wanda asks and you hum.

“Just a little sore.” You gather all of your things and put them into your bag.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yep. Ma’s cooking and my mom’s going to get angry if I’m not home by the time she finishes.”

“Let me help you.”

“You sure? Some of these reference books are heavy.”

“Yep.” She picks up the books that you left behind and follows you. You begin returning the books while Wanda hovers behind you. “You’ve been avoiding me.” You drop the last book in your hand and it drops on your foot. You whimper quietly and pick it up. You immediately sit and Wanda looks down you. “You okay?”

“F-fine.” You stutter and stand. You take all the remaining books from her and return them. After you return the last one you notice Wanda and blush. You look down. “Sorry.”

“For what, exactly?” She gets into your vision and you sigh.

“For avoiding you? Getting involved with me won’t do you any good.” You pick up your bag and leave the library with her.

“Why not?” You sigh.

“Because I’m a Beta. And you’re an Omega.”

“So what?” You look at her, not believing her words…

“I’m a Beta, Wanda, you’re an Omega, you should hang out with another Omega or an Alpha, not a Beta like me.” You get something from your bag and present it to her. It was a bookmark, a simple one with just words on them. “My apologies and try to read all the books written on it. They’re all pretty good.” Pietro calls out to Wanda and you both turn to him. “I have to go.” You leave her behind and Wanda sighs. She smiles as she reads the bookmark’s contents.

A/N: I don't know how to cut off chapters now that I have no guide. Help.

Anyhows, thank you for reading and do tell me if you would like to be on the taglist for this series or future works!

I'm going to try to post chapters at least once a week or if life happens then once biweekly.

#Wanda Maximoff x reader #Omegaverse fic #Marvel #Marvel fic #Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader #Wanda Maximoff Fanfic #Scarlet Witch x Reader #Wanda x you #wanda x reader #Scarlet Witch x you

311 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for the meet ugly asks, 08 with the ot4 if that’s ok? (the note in the locker one, in case I have the wrong number). rating up to you! :)

Here you go! I went NSFW

Joseph is not missing his chance. Not again.

If he’s keeping count, which he’s certainly not, he’s missed fifty-two chances between fifth grade and now.

Barclay’s family moved next door in the summer of 1951, causing eleven year old Joseph to learn very quickly what it’s like to have someone whose side you never want to leave. Lucky for him, Barclay felt the same way; they were in the same boyscout troop, were each others first choice for sleep overs or outings where they were allowed to take one friend. When they hit high school, Barclay went out for football because Joseph did (and Joseph did because that’s what upstanding young men do). They played together all four years, Barclays growth spurt rendering him doubly dangerous on defense and the dominant source of Joseph’s late-night fantasies. Joseph did debate club alone, but Barclay joined him for chess club. And when Barclay bought his car, his first stop was to take Joseph cruising, just the two of them.

Unluckily, Joseph’s never worked up the nerve to tell Barclay how he feels. This may be why he hasn’t had a date since the spring hop two years ago, while Barclay’s had quite a few (cheerleaders and band boys alike can’t seem to resist his physique and general gentleness).

That all changes today. Joseph slipped a note into Barclays locker right before lunch that conveyed all relevant information.

Dear you,

Drive in on Friday? We can park in the back row.

Love,

Joseph.

He’s sitting in his normal spot on the bench near the cafeteria, doing his best impersonation of someone who’s heart isn’t in his throat.

As he’s scanning the crowd, none other than Duck Newton begins weaving his way over to him, leather jacket reflecting the sun and his black hair combed back as always. Joseph was wary of him for years--as any good square is of kids from the rough side of town--until they got paired together in biology their senior year. Duck, who seems not to give a shit about school the rest of the time, is incredibly good at science. And he’s funny, nearly got them both kept after class for cracking a joke that made Joseph lose his breath laughing.

The problem is, right now he’s waving a very familiar piece of paper.

“Gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin flattered, Joe. But, uh” he leans on the table, smiling playfully, “I gotta make sure ‘Drid is okay with me playin backseat bingo with someone who ain’t him.”

“Um.” Joseph shakes his head, trying not to focus on the idea of Duck holding his head in his lap in the dark corner of the drive in, “I, I’m so sorry. I must have been nervous enough to put the note in the wrong locker. Not, not that you’re not a catch.”

Duck raises his eyebrow, “1650 or 1652?”

“1652.”

“Huh. Well, I got shop class with Barclay. You want me to just give it to him?”

“No.” Joseph holds out his hand.

Duck places the letter in it with a shrug, “Suit yourself, slick. See you later.”

Joseph rips the letter to shreds, tosses it in the trash, and hopes that’s the end of this humiliating error.

It’s not.

“Hello, Joseph.” Indrid Cold rests a shoulder on the locker next to his. There’s no one in Kepler High quite like him; his family moved from California three years ago, which most people use as the explanation for Indrid’s red glasses, crystal necklace, and pale hair that is always a quarter-inch shy of the principal writing him up for it. He’s never struck Joseph as the kind to fight, but he did mistakenly proposition his boyfriend three hours ago.

“Indrid. How can I help you?”

The taller boy hands him a folded slip of notebook paper, “By taking me up on this invitation.”

Before Joseph can ask any questions, Indrid is disappearing down the hall. The paper contains a hand drawn map to an X, under which is the word “Bash” but nothing else. Joseph has never been invited to any kind of party that needed a secret map. He mostly just gets invited to get togethers because he’s the captain of the football team. No one talks to him once he’s there. Well, except Barclay.

He stares at the map; he doesn’t have to be home until ten. He’s never going to get a chance to make the scene like this again.

Joseph shuts his locker and hurries to his car.

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

Indrid’s remarkably accurate map leads him to a dirt parking lot beneath the sign for Amnesty Point. As he follows the signs for the “beach house,” a Coaster’s song drifts through the air, underscored by splashes from the lake to his right. He’s deep in the woods on the wrong side of the tracks, but even so he’s unprepared for how everyone lounging around the weathered picnic tables on a shaded patio stops talking and stares at him.

“Who the fuck invited the square?” Someone whispers, making him wish he hadn’t left the map in the car.

“Joseph?”

He turns so fast the gravel flies. Barclay, clad in a grease-stained apron, is smiling so bright it evaporates his nervousness.

“Hi, big guy.”

His friend hoists him in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re here, Indrid said he invited you but I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“He piqued my curiosity. Um, is this the new job you were so cagey about?”

“Yep. Mama--she runs this place--pays real well, but tries to keep Amnesty Point kinda secret. Cops just love busting places like this up for no reason.”

Joseph nods, still a little hurt Barclay didn’t trust him enough to share where he worked. His friend must notice the dip in his smile before he hides it, because he adds, “It’s gonna be even better working here now that you know where to find me. Listen, um, I gotta get back before Jake sets something on fire, but the burger stand closes at eight. I’ll come find you after that. Duck and Indrid are down by the dock, if you want company.”

He absolutely does, since the alternative is looking even more out of place by being the only person here alone.

When he hits the grey sand, Duck is just pulling himself back onto dry land. The half moon scars on his chest are the only reminders of the trip he took to San Francisco last summer.

“Glad you showed up, slick. Day like this, the water is the only nice place to be.”

“I wish I’d known, I would have brought my swim shorts.” Maybe if he rolls up his pant legs he can get some relief from the heat…

“Could just go in your boxers. I won’t tell.” Duck winks.

“Nothing is also allowed.” Indrid lilts, floating past on his back.

Joseph looks at him, then at the planks of the dock because Indrid is also demonstrating that second option without a care.

Duck snickers, “sugar, put somethin on, you’re scandalizin’ the poor guy.”

“Very well. But I demand help with the sunblock in payment for quashing my self-expression this way.”

“You’re soundin like your pops there, ‘Drid.”

“....ugh, you’re right.” A splash and the soft fwup of a towel, “alright, Joseph, I’m decent.” He is, but his swim shorts leave very little to the imagination. Joseph stares a moment too long, notices Duck smirking when he looks away.

The greaser holds out a bottle of sunblock and they get to work.

“Goddamn, this wouldn’t take so long if you weren’t so fuckin long everywhere.”

“You’ve never complained about that before.” Indrid grins, red sunglasses hiding his eyes. He doesn’t lift a finger to help them, but Duck seems to get a kick from it. Joseph wonders if he spoils Indrid like this in everything they do. If Indrid ever does it back.

(If either of them would do it for him).

They spend the evening talking, Duck skipping stones and Indrid sunning himself while Joseph dangles his legs in the water. When they get back to the beach house Joseph receives fewer stares, Duck and Indrid’s company substituting for cool. He and Duck get a real dinner, but Indrid opts to down three Cokes in place of a meal.

When Barclay closes up shop, he’s immediately at Joseph’s side. Joseph is about to suggest they all go for a walk when Indrid winks at Barclay and steers Duck towards the trees with a promise to see Joseph at school tomorrow.

“You get on okay while I was working?” Barclay starts them on a path towards the edge of the point.

“I did. It was actually really nice just to spend time talking with people who like me. Or at least don’t hate me enough to shove me in the water fully clothed.”

“Nah, they’re not those kind of guys. Hell, it was their idea to invite you here. I was, uh, I was too shy.”

He stops, turning to face Barclay, “what do mean?”

“Duck told me about the note.”

“Oh lord.”

“Not on purpose, he just mentioned he’d seen you and when I asked how you were doing, well, you know he can’t lie for shit. So Indrid suggested we invite you out here.”

“Out of pity?”

“No.” Barclay frowns, sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “Joseph, why didn’t you just ask me out in person?”

“I was too nervous. I thought it might ruin everything.”

“Not a chance, blue eyes.” Barclay rumbles. Then he’s kissing him, gentle and slow, whimpering when Joseph kisses back and cups his face. When they part, he’s certain there’s nothing but air under his feet.

“Can we do that again?”

“Not tonight. Your curfew is still ten.”

“Shit, you’re right, if I don’t get on the road I’ll be late.”

“Lemme walk you to your car. I gotta hang around since I’m Indrid and Duck’s ride home tonight.”

“Do you want to go get them so we can all leave together?”

Barclay chuckles, tips his head towards the woods where a faint, rhythmic grunting cane be heard.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not gonna ruin their fun.” He pulls Joseph into a much more heated kiss, then sighs, “get home safe, blue eyes.”

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

Joseph suffered through both the personal hygiene class at school and his father’s lecture on what to expect now that he was truly a man. But nothing in either of those taught him what to do if he’s so hot under the collar he can’t focus but the guy who’s causing it won’t just fuck him.

He and Barclay have gone out every Friday for the last month, steaming up the car windows with their kissing sessions. They tried to work out who was supposed to give who their varsity jacket and settled on just trading, Joseph smiling whenever he spots Barclays name on his back. And Barclay tells everyone Joseph is his boyfriend with a level of pride he never gave their state football wins.

But he won’t go all the way with him. One Sunday afternoon they were listening to records in Barclays room when the larger boy rolled across the rug to straddle Joseph. His hands were hot and a little rough on his cock, Joseph moaning into his mouth as he came in under a minute. Before he could reciprocate, the front door banged open, announcing the return of Barclay’s parents. His boyfriend told him not to worry about it and kissed him on the cheek.

He’s worried Barclay loves him but doesn��t want him. He’s worried that if he ever does, Joseph will embarrass himself, be so inexperienced and inelegant he’ll turn him off forever. He wonders if he can entice Barclay to ask him to fuck so he doesn’t have to admit the embarssing intensity of his desire.

“Duck? Do you, um, do you think I’d look better if I dressed like you?”

The greaser looks up from his notes, “Maybe? I mean, I dress like this because I dig it. You wanna try it, go wild.”

Joseph nods, intending to drop it. Instead, he slows his stride by Duck during their laps in gym.

“It’s just, I’m worried I’m too square for anyone to be really into me.”

“Joe, what the fuck is this about?”

“Newton, I heard that! That’s an extra lap.”

“Son of uh, hold on, are you worried about Barclay? Because he’s so into your goody-goody thing I’m surprised he ain’t asked you to fuck him with your report card.”

“Stern, you’re done, get off the track!”

He jogs to the bleachers, Duck’s words rattling around long after he’s hit the locker room.

“You’re really worried about this, ain’t you? You’re smart, slick, but I swear sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” Duck is behind him, still in his gym clothes while Joseph is half changed out of them. They’re both dawdling, the locker room empty save for some other stragglers near the bathroom.

“Duck, if I were in high demand, I’d be getting more, um, attention than I-”

His sentence is cut short by Duck yanking him down into a kiss, lips salty with sweat and so demanding Joseph wants to get on his knees.

Duck pulls back, pats his cheek, “Like I said; right in front of you.”

With that he waves and leaves the room the back way. Joseph can’t even be mad for cutting school; right now, he’s almost ready to follow him.

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

“I really must thank you again.” Indrid clears the low table of his math notes, “my focus is such that I struggle with math much more than I’d like. Having someone sit and walk me through it in a calm setting helps a great deal.”

“I’m always happy. Barclay can too, if you ever can’t get a hold of me.”

“Oh, I know he can. He helped me last year.” Indrid stretches his legs; they’re on the floor of his VW Westfalia. His parents let him live in it on the property behind their one-story house as long as he continues to be a cooperative member of the household.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was only a few times, though he often lingered when we were through.” Indrid’s emphasis makes Joseph blush.

“Duck and I weren’t going steady yet. And my cocksucking skills are not the stuff of legend for nothing.” Indrid smiles, dreamily.

“Oh. Um.” Joseph shifts his notebook into his lap.

Indrid sits up straighter, “I apologize. I, ah, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure that’s what this is.”

Indrid cocks his head, “No? Envy perhaps? After all, you’ve had years to dream about him, to hope you’d be the first, and here comes a skinny little freak from the coast to beat you to it.”

“You’re not a freak” Joseph says softly, “I, I can’t say I blame Barclay for taking you up on it.”

“He does have excellent taste” Indrid looks pointedly over his glasses at him. The heat under his skin doubles as Indrid crawls forward, “you know, Duck and I have an...understanding. But if you and Barclay do not, I can stop. I mean, I can stop regardless, if you don’t want this.” He lowers to his belly between Joseph’s legs, nuzzles his fly with a hum.

“I, I--ohlord” He moans when Indrid mouths at his slacks; he’s getting hard, if he had his way he’d lay down and let Indrid suck him off until he came on his glasses. But he knows he won’t enjoy it if he isn’t sure how Barclay feels.

“I, we should stop. Please.”

Indrid sits up, smiling, “Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner? My mother is making fish stew instead of tofu salad for once.”

“...I’d love to.”

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

“I didn’t know Amnesty owned all this.” Joseph let’s Barclay guide him through the trees.

“Yeah, Mama’s family bought it years ago and she’s hung onto it through some seriously nasty shit. Hah, there they are.” Barclay waves to Duck and Indrid, resting against each other on a massive, checkered blanket. His boyfriend sets the picnic basket down and then, confusingly, turns off the lantern Duck brought.

“Okay, baby, there’s something I’ve got to ask” Barclay looks at him, “do you think I don’t wanna make it with you?”

“Truthfully? Yes. You, you’ve barely gone beyond some heavy petting, meanwhile Indrid was offering to blow me.” He slaps a hand over his mouth; there go all three of these relationships.

Barclay shrugs, “He told me about that.”

“Honesty is important. Most of the time.” Indrid grins.

“Blue eyes, I’m crazy about you. I’ve just been going slow because I was afraid I’d stress you out. I know how you get, Joseph. You put so much pressure on yourself to do everything right, I was worried you’d try so hard to be perfect for me that you wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”

Joseph stares into deep brown eyes, eyes he’s loved since he was a boy. Then he laughs softly, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder, “You really do know me well, you know that.”

“Oh, oh baby” Barclay holds him closer, “you really think there was a way of touching me that’d disappoint me? Fuck, just getting to kiss you makes me the happiest guy in the state.”

“That being said” Duck drawls, “aint there somethin about practice makin perfect?”

“I, are, is this really what you three want?”

“Yes” Indrid nods, “but if you don’t, well, we shall never speak of it again.”

“I do. Sweet fucking christ I do.” He kisses Barclay ferociously as the other two scoot closer.

“Hmm, I believe we should let seniority decide. Barclay, what’s your preference?”

His boyfriend pulls back, kissing his jaw, “Do you wanna blow me, blue eyes?”

“So badly.”

“That settles that. Duck, what about--ah, I see you’re already taking off your pants, so I guess you’re fucking hm. He’s fucking you? Ah, semantics.” Indrid waves his hand dismissively.

“Wait, does, do we have a rubber?”

Duck pulls one from his wallet, “never leave to see this one without one. I know how he is.”

Indrid pecks his cheek, then grins, “I believe, Joseph, that leaves me to help you with your hand jobs.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“On your back, baby.” Barclays nudges him and he falls onto the blanket. For a moment only the trees and stars look down on him; then Barclays face fills his vision as his hands open his fly and guide his cock out.

“AHshit, shit that’s good.” He bucks as his boyfriend jerks him off steadily, his cock standing at attention in a matter of seconds.

“Okay big fella, you go get your dick sucked.” Duck straddles him. He’s down to only his undershirt, his muscular thighs, soft belly, and strong arms on full displays as he rolls the condom down.

“You’re so handsome” Joseph sighs.

Duck seems to blush, “Thanks, slick. Not bad yourself.”

“I mean it, really, you’re incredible” he paws his legs, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into the kiss. Duck giggles into his mouth, then sinks down onto his cock. Joseph decides he is never, never letting go of the man above him; his weight is so comforting, his body so perfect, the way his laughs morph into moans so charming.

“G-great thing about this position” Duck gasps, “is you don’t gotta do much besides let me ride you. That’s why it’s ‘Drid’s favorite.”

“Second favorite; you on my face is my first. Speaking of which” he kneels, gently lifts Joseph’s head into his hands while Barclay sits cross-legged on the other side of his head. His cock is thick and long, so mouthwatering Joseph opens his mouth without being told.

“Fuck, baby, wanted this so long.” Barclay guides his cock between his lips when Indrid turns his head. The skinnier man keeps supporting him as his tongue registers skin, sweat, Barclay and he whines for more.

“Easy, blue eyes, fuck, you’re doing great.”

“I’ll say. Fuck, can’t believe you been keepin this dick all to yourself, Joe.”

“I got my haAAnds on it once.”

“Clearly you should have done it more” Indrid purrs, hips moving slightly, “as soon as someone plays with it, he sucks cock very nicely.”

“No fuckin kiddin. Baby, baby, yeah, suck like that.”

Indrid shifts behind him, “Barclay, hold him a moment, there’s been a change of plans.” A zipper goes as Barclay cradles him. Then Indrid’s fingers are back, turning him to face a second, narrower cock.

“Handjobs can wait.” Indrid pulls him forward, moaning high when he sucks the head, “oooh, yes, that’s it.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin combust watchin you do that.” Duck bounces more deliberately and Joseph yelps joyfully around Indrid’s cock. He’s already close to cumming, the feeling of Duck around him and Indrid inside him flooding the rest of him with pleasure.

Indrid pulls his head back, starts to turn him towards Barclays, when it punches through him. He moans, pushes up into Duck as the shorter man laughs.

“I, I came first, I’m sorry, this is one of the things-”

“Shush” Barclay helps him up as Duck climbs of him, “that was fucking incredible, and you’re not done yet.”

“On your knees, facing us. Unless, sweetheart, do you-”

Duck’s hand is already between his legs, “I’m gonna enjoy the show.”

“Mmm, which means I get to enjoy you enjoying it. Barclay, turn slightly, like this.”

“Why, oh, oh I got it, fuck, you’re a fucking genius.”

Joseph agrees, though he’s going a bit cross-eyed. So he closes them, lets first Indrid and then Barclay press their cock into his mouth. It’s a stretch, his jaw aching instantly, but it’s the best he’s ever felt. They can’t push more than the heads in, so he concentrates on sucking and licking, pre-cum collecting on his tongue and spit seeping down his chin. Duck grunts behind him, offering running commentary on Indrid’s appearance and Joseph's voice. Barclay shoves both hands into his hair while Indrid keeps one on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, baby, this is fucking aces, gonna paint your whole fucking stomach white.”

“Ahnnn, agreed” Indrid pants, “your mouth was made for this, ohyes, that’s it, mmm, this is even better, feeling your cock against mine dearest, oh, oh” Indrid cums, bitterness hitting his tongue, and when he tries to swallow he gasps and gags instead.

“Fuck” Barclay grunts and then another burst of cum fills his mouth. He gasps for air as they pull out, sending some down his chin. He wipes ineffectively at it with the back of his hand.

“Here” Duck, underwear back on, cleans his lips with a napkin.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course.” Duck kisses him as Indrid flops on his belly and Barclay curls his arms around Joseph.

“Gotta say, blue eyes, don’t think you got anything to worry about when it comes to making it good for me. Or, uh, us.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Joseph rests against him, then jolts up, “shit, what time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Shit!”

“Don’t worry” Indrid nestles next to his knees, “we’ll say I had car trouble and you two came to my aid.”

Joseph relaxes back among his boyfriends, “Good call. Just, um, don’t let Duck talk?”

“Only if I get an extra kiss for keepin my mouth shut.”

“Deal.”

#OT4: Government Men and There Cryptid Boyfriends #Indruck #agent stern/duck newton #sternclay #50s au #inclay #meet ugly #reader request #trans duck newton

13 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 4 years

Text

Mike Zacharias was, all things considered, a good guy.

Levi wouldn’t have gone so far as to call him a friend, they only had a couple of classes together, but they both were a part of a football team.

And on the field, there was no better partner than Mike. He was honest and reliable. And when they played on the opposite sides, there was no tougher or stronger opponent for Levi than him. He always offered a good challenge. Levi liked that, respected that.

So all in all, Mike was a cool, even awesome guy, Levi didn’t have a single problem with him, except his best friend.

Hange fucking Zoe.

One of the most prominent and intelligent students at their school. The weirdest student of their school.

She was loud, messy and batshit crazy. Among other students, she wasn’t known for her exceptional intellect or her unusual friendliness. Instead, she was known for causing an explosion at the school’s lab not once, not twice, but three whole times! The only reason why she wasn’t kicked out of the school was her perfect grades. Or her parents’ huge wealth.

When she wasn’t hanging out with her ‘research team’ as she affectionately called those fools, who followed her around, she was spending her time with Mike. She was with him almost always, including the football practice.

And maybe, Levi wouldn’t have any problem with her, or Mike, if Hange wasn’t loudly cheering on Mike every goddamn time she accompanied him to the practices.

And, yeah, sure, what was wrong with cheering on a friend? But it pissed Levi off, especially because maybe, kind of, he had a tiny, little, miniscule crush on Hange.

He didn’t like her, of course. He didn’t. He just liked staring at her and listening to her. She also smelled surprisingly nice and had very soft hands. Not that Levi had ever held hands with her. He just touched them once, and now he wanted to touch them again.

They didn’t hang out together and, of course, they weren’t friends. They had only one class together, and that was biology. Biology, where Levi’s traitors of friends decided to fucking dump him.

“You need to be more friendly,” Farlan, that asshole smirked at him, after he had told him that he and Isabel were going to pair up together for the science project.

Stupid jerk, if his advice was so fucking sound, why didn’t he follow it himself? Still, there was nothing left for Levi to do than to seek out a different partner for himself. His eyes darted to Erwin, they weren’t exactly friends, not as close as he was with Farlan and Isabel, but they talked sometimes. He liked Erwin, but apparently his opinion of him was wrong, because when Levi turned around - Erwin was already paired with the biggest shitass in their school - Nile Dawk.

And, unfortunately, apart from Erwin, there was no one else Levi was on good terms with. Maybe, there was some truth to that fucker’s words. He really didn’t have a lot of friends.

Help came from an unexpected quarter.

Hange Zoe, the school’s prodigy, stood next to him, smiling sheepishly.

“Do you need a partner?” she asked.

And it wasn’t like Levi could refuse. He did need a partner. And, as he learned later, Hange Zoe turned out to be an amazing one.

She was smart, but also hardworking and very passionate. She was also unusually, but genuinely nice. She wasn’t even a bit arrogant, and whenever Levi didn’t get something, she always explained it to him patiently.

(Sometimes, even though he would rather die than admit it out loud, he played dumb on purpose, just so he could listen to her excited voice and look into her burning eyes, as she explained to him some stupid shit like meiosis).

So, yeah, she was kind and really fucking funny. And, maybe, one could call her pretty, if that one was into messy-haired four-eyed weirdos. (Unfortunately, Levi was). And, yeah, maybe, he liked it, maybe, he liked her. It meant nothing though. Hange probably didn’t even know his name and paired up with him only out of the kindness of her pure fucking heart.

Levi shouldn’t even think about her. He also shouldn’t stare at her during lunches like he’s some kind of a pervert. And, especially, he shouldn’t become angry every time he hears “Go, Mike, you’re the best!”

She was just trying to lift her best friend’s spirits, Farlan and Isabel did it all the time.

Still, it pissed him off, it hurt his pride, it made him fucking jealous.

He hated it. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t hate her.

***

His leg was kicked. Levi ignored it. His leg was kicked again. Again, Levi ignored.

“You’re staring at her again,” the words were followed by another kick.

Levi grunted, turning to face Farlan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, using his most disinterested voice.

“Huh?” Isabel twisted her head around, looking at the mass of students, gathered in the cafeteria. “Who was big bro staring at?”

“No one,” Levi answered, while at the same time Farlan pointed Isabel to the right person.

“Ooh,” she cooed, grinning wickedly. “You’ve been staring at the weird Zoe girl!”

“Now, now,” Farlan chucked, patting Isabel’s head. “You shouldn’t talk about her like that. She may be a weirdo, but she’s also Levi’s sweetheart.”

“I swear to god, Farlan, if you don’t shut up, I’ll fucking punch you!”

Levi’s anger intensified, as he saw the shit-eating grin on his friend’s face. It was an empty threat and Farlan knew it perfectly.

“Oh no!” Isabel squealed, frantically pulling on Levi’s hand. “She’s coming here!”

“Oh yes, she totally does!” Farlan agreed. “Come on, Izzy, we should give them some privacy.”

And before Levi could throw another insult his way or beg them not to leave him alone, Farlan grabbed Isabel’s hand and dragged her away.

Fucking traitors.

Levi looked up - Hange was actually heading to his table. Shit. What did she want? What should he do?

She probably wanted to discuss the science project, the rational part of Levi’s mind kept insisting. But his heart didn’t listen, continuing to beat erratically inside his chest.

Shit, he needed to get a grip on himself. Hange was just a girl, a nerdy weirdo. The fuck he got so worried about?

“Hi,” Hange stood in front of him, holding a tray in her hands. “Can I sit down with you?”

“There is a lot of free space here,” Levi grumbled, taking a bite from his sandwich.

He mentally kicked himself. Why was always such an asshole? That’s why he only had two friends. Not that Levi gave two shits about being polite, but, well, he’d like to be Hange’s friend. Or maybe, something more.

“Great!” Hange smiled, as she took a seat across from him. Levi glanced at her beneath his fringe - of course, he shouldn’t have worried. Hange was a weirdo, she was never bothered by his rudeness.

“I just wanted to talk with you. I… well, you know about school dance this Friday? Oh, sorry!” Hange chuckled. “Of course, you know about it! That’s the only thing everyone talks about!”

Well… Levi certainly heard about school dance. Isabel mentioned it a few times, but neither of his friends was planning on going there. And there wasn’t any reason for Levi to attend. He would rather spend his Friday at home, playing video games with Farlan and Isabel.

“Anyways!” Hange continued. “Have you asked someone already?”

That took Levi by surprise. The question was so absurd that he looked at Hange closely - was she joking? But, strangely, she seemed to be serious. And she appeared to be somewhat nervous, which was even weirder. In all the time that he knew her, Hange was never nervous or shy. She was always unapologeticly bold. That was one of the reasons Levi liked her so.

So what was wrong now?

“Um, no?” Levi answered, feeling uneasy. For some strange reason, his pulse fastened.

“Oh, then have someone asked you?”

Levi eyed her carefully. Hange was fiddling with the straw of the juice box and she avoided looking him in the eyes. So she was nervous! But why? Levi glanced behind Hange’s shoulder. Mike was sitting on a table near them. He was grinning happily, and when Levi met his eyes - Mike winked at him.

What the fuck was going on?

He focused on Hange again. “No, no one asked me.”

Well, technically, it wasn’t true - a surprisingly large amount of girls had asked Levi to accompany them to the school dance. Levi had rejected them all. Unfortunately, the only person he wanted to go with was right now sitting in front of him.

“Great!” Hange beamed. “Oh, wait, no, that’s not what I meant!” she frantically waved her hands around. Levi hid a smile, amused by her gesticulations. “I’m sorry that no one asked you yet, but maybe…” she trailed off, turning to look behind her. Levi followed her gaze and saw that Mike gave her an encouraging smile, showing thumbs-up. She turned back and cleared his throat. She still avoided looking him in the eyes and there was a bright blush on her cheeks. “Maybe, you would like to go with me?”

Aaaaaaand he definitely misheard her last sentence. And even if he hadn’t, he probably didn’t understand it in the right way. Maybe, Hange was taking pity on him again? Just like that time, when she offered to become his partner in a science project?

“You want… to go dancing?”

“That was my initial offer, yes, but we can just hang out…” Hange twirled a stray lock of her hair, smiling shyly.

“You want to hang out…” Levi paused, not quite processing her words. Hange just couldn’t mean what he thought she meant. “With me?”

“Yeah…” Hange lowered her head, her shoulders sagging. “I thought you knew about this?”

He knew about what?

“…I mean the whole school probably knows, I’m not exactly subtle…”

The whole school knows about what?

“I was sure you knew about my crush on you…”

Wait, what? What the fuck? Hange liked him?

“You…. Have a crush on me?”

“Well, yeah?”

“Since when?”

“Um,” Hange rubbed her neck, her blush becoming even more apparent. “For about a year?”

“A year?!”

“I know it sounds pathetic, but yes? You don’t know how happy I was when you agreed to become my partner… Oh, jeez, this is so embarrassing,” Hange chuckled, and even in his daze-like state Levi felt how forced her laughter sounded. “You’re clearly not interested. I knew you weren’t, but that jerk Mike made me confess to you… I’m sorry!” she straightened out, grabbing her tray with food. She held it so tightly, her knuckles were white.

Levi stared at her hands, unblinking. He suddenly remembered that time in biology class when they were studying DNA. They needed to extract DNA from spinach, and upon seeing Levi’s clumsy movements with mortar and pestle Hange decided to help him. She laid her hands atop of his and gently guided them, showing him how to do it correctly. Her skin was soft and so warm. Levi was so flustered he felt like his heart was going to jump out of the ribcage.

And why was he remembering it now?

“Well, I should go, I don’t want to burden you…”

Hange almost got to her feet and left, but before she could do so, Levi grabbed her by the wrist.

“Wait!” He called out, surprised at how hoarse and desperate his voice was. But he couldn’t help it, he still couldn’t believe that Hange’s confession was real.

“You like me back?” he uttered quietly, looking up at Hange with hope.

“Ye— Wait!” Hange shrieked. Everyone around the cafeteria turned to look at them. If Levi could pay attention to something else except Hange’s adorably bewildered face, he’d even hear Isabel and Farlan high-fiving each other in the background.

Thankfully for his best friends though, he had a more pressing issue now.

“You like me back?” Hange didn’t lower her voice, and now every student in their school knew about Levi’s feelings for her.

His reputation of cold and aloof guy was destroyed forever.

He didn’t give a fuck.

“I do.”

His hand traveled down her arm, until it ceased her palm and held it in his.

At the sight of their joined hands, Hange’s lips curved into a bright smile.

“So you agree to go dancing with me?”

Levi shrugged, intertwining their fingers. “We can do that.”

“Great!” it seemed impossible, but the smile on Hange’s face became even happier.

Levi stared at her, feeling the same happiness inside him. Their bliss was cruelly interrupted by a loud ring that announced the start of a lesson.

“Shit, I’m late to English!” Hange shot to her feet. But before she ran away, she turned back to Levi. “Maybe, I can see you after school? We can walk home together?”

“Sounds good,” Levi nodded.

“Excellent!” Hange quickly leaned down and placed a kiss on Levi’s cheek.

Then, she was gone. Levi stared after her retreating figure, feeling a smile appear on his lips.

He probably, no, definitely looked like an idiot.

But for some reason, he didn’t give a fuck.

#not exactly a reincarnation!au but!!!#i've written it recently and it's fluffy and happy and that's what we deserve after that awful chapter!!!!!#maybe... i'll write some stuff about you all know what.... but not right now hahah #too soon and too painful!!!#so i hope this lifts your mood if only just a little #levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoë #hanji zoe #levi and hange #levi snk #farlan church #isabel magnolia #levihan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk fandom #levi x hanji

136 notes · View notes

bythebcck · 3 years

Text

[ wolfgang novogratz, cismale, he/him ] have you seen ANDREW SINCLAIR lately ? yeah, i heard they're TWENTY-SIX years old and a MED STUDENT now in charleston city. i mean, i don’t know if it’s their VIRGO vibes or that they’re -UPTIGHT and -CRITICAL but also +RELIABLE and +HARDWORKING but they remind me of I AM THE ONE by NEXT TO NORMAL CAST. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble around here. (lola, 26, she/her, est ]

NICKNAMES: Just Andrew. Don’t call him Andy. Maybe he’ll let you call him Drew, if he likes you.

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual.

BIOGRAPHY:

Andrew had a pretty ideal upbringing. Ideal in the sense that he got everything he wanted, so long as he did what his father wanted him to do. He loved his siblings. Thought the group of ‘em would be a trio until they hit the grave. The ice cream family dates, park visits, and other festivities kept them close. They were inseparable.

Until they hit high school.

That’s when he started to take sports seriously. It wasn’t hard to do what his father told him to do. He loved sports and the rush he got when he played football, soccer, anything that got his heart pumping. At one point, he thought he was going to be a professional football player.

Unlike Elijah. Andrew still remembers the day their father decided to kick his brother out of the family. The man claimed they had to keep their family image (you know - put on that “we’re so perfect” front). Maybe he should’ve said goodbye, or good riddance, or something.

But he didn’t.

When Andrew graduated, he knew he wanted to go to Medical School. The human heart had always fascinated him. Cardiology felt like the right area for him. When one of the guys passed out or felt light-headed during a game, he was always there to help. His father was, once again, proud of him.

Now he’s trying to get through med school. Studying his ass off, drinking way more coffee than anyone should. Sometimes he thinks about Elijah and wonders how he’s doing. Other times - he pretends the kid doesn’t exist.

PERSONALITY:

Uptight: Andrew hates making mistakes. If he messes up, he’s bound to freak out (leading him to blame other people in order to make himself feel better).

Critical: He’ll literally question everything you do and then tell you how to be better. Is it his business? Absolutely not. But he thinks he’s doing you a favor, so he 2000% won’t keep his thoughts to himself.

Reliable: Andrew’s a hard-ass, but he cares about the people close to him. If you show him you care/you actually do your work, he’s more than happy to return the favor. You need to go over medical terms before class? Sure. Need a ride somewhere? He’d take you in a heartbeat.

Hardworking: People love working with him (in the sense that he a) actually works, and b) knows his shit). He’s going to med school for a reason - because he likes to learn new skills and use them. He’s the kind of guy you’d find in the library at 3 AM, coffee in one hand and a textbook in the other.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

The competition: Someone he has to be in constant competition with. He just... needs to be better than them, for whatever reason. Could be another med student, could be someone he went to high school with. Just throw the angst his way. >:)

The ex: Maybe his father didn’t approve of her. Maybe his parents approved of her too much, so when they broke up, they told him over and over that he’d made a mistake. I imagine their relationship was rocky. They could still hook up from time to time. Who knows.

The hard-to-get: He’s literally been pining over this girl forever, but she won’t give him the time of day. Not that it’s surprising. His ego is the size of a goddamn mountain. But there’s something about her he just can’t shake. He won’t let go, even if he has to admire her from a distance.

Classmates, friends, best friends, enemies, acquaintances, people he’s helped out, hook-ups, people who want him to loosen up ffs.

#ch; andrew sinclair #charleston:intro

5 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 4 years

Text

From A Whisper To A Scream (1/10)

(if the beginning looks familar, it’s because I posted the first 1k before I realized I was going to make it a full story)

ao3

The viola stayed under Alex's chin even as his bow slowed and his fingers fell limp against the neck.

Maria kicked him to tell him he was fucking up, but he couldn't fix it. He was far too busy watching as Michael Guerin, quarterback of the football team who was being scouted by five different universities, slipped into the band room with a note in his hand. He had that award-winning smile on his face as he strolled towards Mr. Richard. Alex couldn't take his eyes off him; he never could.

Two months ago, he'd been assigned to tutor Michael Guerin because he was failing English. He'd been annoyed at first. While everyone else found him charming, Alex found him annoying, arrogant, and chronically heterosexual at best. However, two conversations with him later, he discovered he was a goddamn math genius and he wasn't actually bad at English either, he just didn't put in the effort. Alex had just made himself a personal pest rather than a tutor, breathing over his shoulder until he did his work. That hovering turned into something a tad unexpected...

"Alex," Mr. Richard said, not stopping as he waved the paper in the air, "Mrs. Doyle needs you, bring your bag."

Alex nodded, ignoring Maria's confused look as he quickly packed up his viola and headed towards the door of the band room. Michael was leaning against the wall beside the door, flashing that mischievous grin.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble," he teased, speed walking down the concrete pathway that led to the virtually abandoned old gym that was only used during volleyball season. Michael had swiped his coach's key and made a copy, letting both of them inside.

"You can't just take me out of class whenever you're bored," Alex scolded, following him through the dimly lit gym towards the locker room without question. As much as those butterflies in his stomach were going crazy, he never let that show. It was easier to pretend he didn't really give a shit about him if he acted like it at all times.

"Who said I was bored? You can't make assumptions like that, Manes," Michael said, still grinning wildly as he unlocked the office that was used as storage more than anything. There were stacks of extra chairs and two old desks.

"I'm not making assumptions, I know you," he said, carefully putting down his case and his bag, "But seriously, our concert is in a month and I have a solo."

"Ooh, violin solo? Look at you," Michael teased. Alex rolled his eyes, standing up and looking at Michael who was waiting patiently for him with his hands behind his back.

"Viola," he corrected. Michael shrugged like the difference didn't matter, rolling from his heels to his toes and then back again. Alex stared at him blankly. "So what’s so important that you couldn't wait until after class?"

Michael's grin became entirely childish as he took a step closer. Alex leaned his hands back on one of the desks, lifting himself to sit on it easily.

"I had a dream about you last night," Michael said. Alex raised a lazy eyebrow despite his genuine interest.

Whatever they did wasn't real. It was something Alex had found to be very useful for bribery whenever Michael needed to do homework or a stress relief tactic, all born out of Michael's innocent questioning if the rumors about Alex were true. Alex was nothing more than a step in Michael's coming out process. But that didn't mean he couldn't have fun with it.

"You were in that sexy little concert uniform, playing me a song, kept me distracted all day," Michael said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

"What are you talking about? My black slacks and white button-up? That's not sexy," Alex said. Michael bit down on his lip, eyes scanning over him anyway.

"Don't forget the bowtie," Michael breathed, taking another step closer, "Can I touch you?"

"Depends," Alex said, watching Michael snap his eyes up to meet his to wait for the permission he needed, "Did you finish that book report that's due tomorrow?"

"Yes," Michael answered.

"Mhm, what was it about?" Alex asked. Michael gave a soft sigh of disbelief, his shoulders dropping.

"Really, Alex?" Alex didn't budge. "It was about the roles the different women in Okonkwo's life played."

"Length?"

Michael gave a soft, pathetic whine. Alex leaned back against the wall, thighs spread wide, and letting Michael continue to bounce up on his toes.

"1,534 words, double spaced," Michael answered.

"And?"

"And MLA format, c'mon, Alex," he groaned. Alex allowed a small smile and raised his hand, gesturing him forward. Michael broke out in a smile, barrelling forward to fit between his thighs and his lips meeting Alex's.

Alex locked his legs around his hips, holding onto the back of his head as he kissed him without thought. It was slow, deep, deliberate as Michael pressed in as much as he could. Alex leaned his head against the wall, Michael holding his hips at the edge of the desk to keep them close to his.

Touching him made it obvious how pent up with unused energy he was. He didn't have practice this morning, leaving him extra antsy and needing an outlet. Alex started to push off his letterman jacket with one hand, leading his head to the crook of his neck. Michael shook off the jacket and audibly sighed in relief as Alex touched his arm, slipping under the short sleeve.

"That why you couldn't wait?" Alex asked, voice breathy as Michael skillfully kissed and bit at his neck without leaving a mark. He pulled up the bottom of his shirt to touch more of his skin, feeling the way it helped him relax.

"I just," Michael whispered, pausing just for a second to speak as he squeezed Alex's hips, "There's so much fucking chaos in my head, sometimes I just need you to make it shut the fuck up."

"Sex is really that distracting for you?" Alex asked, laughter in his voice. To him, sleeping with people definitely didn't make his brain stop. If anything, it made him think more.

"No," Michael breathed, his face still in Alex's neck, "It's just you."

Alex felt his entire body go rigid and he thought about pushing him away. It felt like he crossed some sort of unspoken line, but he hadn't. Not really. It was just... A lot.

"Dreaming about you was actually kinda nice, sexy outfit aside,” Michael admitted, huffing a laugh, "Woke up feeling well rested for once."

"Um," Alex breathed, swallowing harder than he meant to. He let his legs drop from where they were locked around his hips. "Maybe we should..."

"Nah, I'm good, sorry," Michael said, lifting his head and kissing him again. Alex pushed away his concerns probably a little too effectively, focusing on his lips as he grabbed a handful of his hair.

They kissed and touched until the bell rang. That part was unintentional and they had to be each other's mirror, fixing up each other's hair and their clothes to make sure they looked normal whenever they went to their next class. Alex deliberately avoided eye contact, not ready to face the weird admissions that came up.

"So, uh, you'll come over after you get out of band practice?" Michael clarified before they left.

"Do I need to? I mean, you already finished your paper," Alex pointed out. Michael's eyes flickered over his face.

"Uh, yeah, right, nevermind," Michael said, putting some space between them until his back hit a stack of chairs and he jumped. Alex furrowed his eyebrows. That was easily the least smooth he'd ever seemed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," Michael said firmly, "Sanders is just working late and I had some math homework, but yeah I'm good."

"You're good at math, Guerin," Alex laughed.

"I know," Michael said, a smile slowly coming to his face, "Which is why I said I'm good. Let's go, don't wanna be late."

Alex left first, waiting outside the gym as Michael locked up both the office and the gym. His better judgment told him to put more space between them, let Michael take some space so he could realize whatever he was feeling wasn't real. It'd be gone as soon as he gave it some thought and Alex needed to avoid hurting himself.

But, as Michael locked the gym door and the bell rang telling him he was late for class, Alex didn't budge.

"So, I'll see you after practice?" Alex said. Michael looked at him with wide eyes, but it slowly bled into a sweet smile and he nodded.

Alex headed to class, knowing he was making a mistake and refusing to have any regrets.

“Why did Mrs. Doyle need you?” Maria asked when he took his seat beside her. He looked at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“Huh?”

“The art teacher? The one who called you out of class?” Maria filled in, but she soon realized something and her eyes widened, “Wait, you don’t even take art, Alex, what‒”

“Shh, class is starting.”

He avoided her questioning looks and changed the subject when she tried to bring it up. Eventually he’d probably have to talk about it, but it was much more fun to completely avoid that. He didn’t think he ever wanted people to know he was hooking up with Michael Guerin, at least not while he was in high school. Maybe he’d brag about it in a few years.

After practice, he quickly headed to the car that had been passed down through all of his brothers and started his drive to the back of junkyard where Michael lived in a trailer with Old Man Sanders. Halfway through, his phone started ringing. The only reason he answered it was because of the name across his screen.

“There better be a good reason you’re calling because you interrupted a really good song,” Alex said playfully. His brother’s laugh was clear on the other side of the call, clear enough to tell Alex he was actually somewhere with good reception.

“I can hang up and leave you to it, but I had a small window and I wanted to make sure you were all good,” Flint said. Alex smiled easily. He missed Flint more than he ever thought he would. Their relationships got better once he was out of the house and they weren’t being directly put against each other anymore.

“Yeah, Dad’s been chill lately,” Alex said.

“Good, good,” Flint said softly.

“Where are you now?”

“Uh, can’t say, you know how it is,” he said. Alex rolled his eyes.

“What’s the point of it being called the family business if you can’t tell family?”

“You know how it is, Alex, you’re not quite a Manes Man yet.”

“I turn 18 in super soon and Dad is already trying to talk to me about the Air Force which means that eventually he’s going to have the whole Family Business talk with me,” Alex said, annoyance in his voice. He was always stuck in this weird middle ground where he both felt left out and wanted nothing to do with it. The idea of being under his dad’s thumb for his whole life sounded like hell, but there was something kind of cool about their multi-generational dynasty of researchers. He didn’t know too much about exactly what they did, but he knew rich people paid them a lot of money for it. Alex was pretty sure they were spies. “I should get to know where my own brothers are.”

“Well, you know where Greg and Clay are, isn’t that close enough?” Flint teased.

“Clay is boring and Greg gives me history lessons every time I ask him where he is,” Alex groaned, “At least you go cool places.”

“It’s because I’m the coolest,” Flint bragged. Alex rolled his eyes. “Here, I’ll give you a hint: it’s really fucking cold.”

“Canada?” Alex guessed, “Somewhere in Europe? You promised if you went back to Europe you’d get me something.”

“Good thing I’m not in Europe,” Flint laughed, “Not in Canada either. But, hey, look, I gotta go, I was just checking in.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to get out of talking to me before I can figure out where you are.”

“You got me,” Flint said, “But I also have to actually go. I’ll try to come see you soon.”

“Bring me something cool when you do.”

“I’ll do my best. Alright, love you, bye, weirdo.”

“Bye!”

Alex ended the call just as parked behind Michael’s truck and it wasn’t long before he found himself in his kitchen, mixing together ingredients to make cookies as the oven preheated and forgetting all about Flint. Michael had been the one to offer to make the cookies, to give them something to eat while they did homework, but it quickly turned into Alex doing all the work and neither of them was surprised by that.

Nor were they surprised when Michael still wanted something to do. Alex let himself focus on the kisses Michael was putting on his neck, his eyes slowly closing as he completely forgot what he was doing and rough hands slid beneath his shirt. He didn’t know what the hell had gotten into Michael today. He was always touchy, but today he’d brought it to an all new level. Alex didn’t say anything. He liked how desired it made him feel.

However, that only lasted up until the moment they heard his dad’s truck drive up. Alex pushed him off and pulled up the collar of his shirt to wipe his neck dry. Michael quickly hopped up to sit on the other side of the oven, effectively putting a few feet between them by the time Old Man Sanders walked inside.

“Boys,” he said, putting his keys on the hook beside the door.

“Sanders,” Michael said, mimicking the gruff tone of his voice.

“Hi, Mr. Sanders,” Alex said, giving the most respectful smile he could manage. Sanders was probably used to him being here at this point considering Alex found himself at Michael’s at least twice a week. He was a very dedicated tutor, after all. However, Alex was taught nothing if not to give the best impression to adults as possible.

Sanders, however, never seemed to put up the same over the top act. He walked closer, peering into the bowl of half mixed cookie dough with a raised eyebrow.

“Y’all planning on making dinner or just desert?”

“Haven’t decided,” Michael answered. Sanders nodded.

“Alright,” he said. He looked at Alex and then over to Michael. “Make sure you leave that door open, you know this trailer has thin walls.”

Alex held his breath and Michael’s eyes widened. “Dude!”

“Don’t act like that, I know you.”

“Alex is my tutor,” Michael pointed out. Alex wanted to laugh. As if that would stop him.

“Well it ain’t Alex I’m worried about,” Sanders said. Michael watched him with an unreadable expression until Sanders reached up to ruffle his hair. “Relax, I’m messing with you, boy. You know I trust you more than my own eyes. But I still don’t need Sargent Jackass thinking you corrupted his boy. No offense.”

“None taken,” Alex laughed, letting himself relax when he realized he didn’t care. Sanders suspected something and he didn’t care. That was kind of nice.

“Good kid,” Sanders said, taking a deep breath, “Well, make sure you feed that dog. Alex, you can stay as late as you need.”

Sanders shuffled back to his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Michael leaned his ear against the wall, holding a finger out to Alex to tell him to wait. Alex just rolled his eyes and went back to stirring. Seconds after the shower turned on, Michael was back to being pressed up against him and taking his ear between his teeth.

“Oh, I’m gonna corrupt you alright,” Michael said, voice rough as he pulled Alex’s ass as close as he physically could.

Alex gasped playfully, grabbing his wrists and easily flipping them so Michael’s back was the counter. Michael’s eyes widened and his smile was borderline filthy as Alex pushed up against him. He leaned in close and Michael’s eyes drifted down to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

“You know better than anyone that there’s not much left to corrupt,” Alex said softly, “And what happened to asking?”

Michael nodded, still grinning as he looked at him with those dopey eyes.

“Right, sorry,” he said, “Can you please spit in my‒”

“I’m gonna finish these cookies,” Alex said, gently pushing him out of the way. Michael laughed softly, but he stayed put as Alex did just that.

He eventually found himself on the floor of the living room as the cookies baked. Michael was reading his essay and Alex laid, cuddling their old dog that only answered to the name Dog even though Sanders tried to give him a million names that never stuck. So he cuddled Dog and listened to Michael read and smelled the cookies that were baking. It was nice and homey in a way that made him never want to leave.

It stayed nice as they went over the physics lecture while eating cookies. It stayed nice when Michael fed Dog and suggested they go to his bedroom so they didn’t have to listen to him eat. It stayed nice when his books ended up on the floor and Michael ended up in his lap. It was even nice when Michael bit into his shoulder to keep quiet.

“Okay, so we have 4x²+12x=135, so how does that factor?”

Alex was laying in Michael’s bed, half naked and body still a little hazy as he focused on the homework that he came over to do in the first place. Michael was distracting, but he was going to at least pretend to help with his homework.

“Hmm,” Michael hummed, flopping down beside him after replacing his briefs, “Both factors start with -2x, right?”

“Right,” Alex confirmed, smiling a little to himself. Michael was a math genius and algebra was his specialty, but Alex quite enjoyed when he was able to fog up his brain to the point he had to actually think. “So factors of 135 are 3 and 45, 5 and 27, and 9 and 15, so which of those pairings help you get the factors of the equation?”

“What was it again?” Michael asked, voice genuinely a little lost. Alex rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling as he felt Michael roll closer to peer over his shoulder.

“4x²+12x=135,” Alex repeated. In the middle of his reading, though, Michael had gone back to kissing on his neck. “Hey, pay attention.”

“I am, I am, keep talking,” Michael urged, his hand sliding down until it started to edge past the waistband of Alex’s unbuttoned jeans.

“Keep talking?” Alex laughed, playfully nudging him before squirming a little as Michael's thumb pressed against the hickey he'd left on his ass that was still a little sensitive, “Are you getting off on me reading you equations?”

“You’re just so hot,” Michael breathed, but Alex wasn’t too stupid to hear the concealed yes in his words. He laughed and rolled onto his side, shoving Michael gently.

“You are! You fucking weirdo,” Alex teased, still laughing as Michael rested his head on the bed now that Alex had rolled away. He had that endlessly fond smile that he only gave when they were alone, his curls flopping towards the bed because of gravity. He was ridiculously gorgeous and overwhelmingly sweet. But that was too close to feelings, so Alex looked back to the math. “And you say that I’m a nerd.”

“What if I read you some Shakespeare, would you get turned on then?” Michael questioned. Alex just rolled his eyes and did his best to focus. Michael settled against his back, peering over his shoulder. “Okay, where were we?”

“Yeah, where were we?” Alex echoed.

Thirty minutes passed as Alex talked over Michael's homework. A few minutes in he'd resigned to the understanding that Michael wasn't really listening. He'd rested his head against Alex's back, his eyelashes brushing his skin as they closed and didn't reopen by the time Alex reached the third question. The only reason he knew he hadn't fallen asleep was because, at some point, he'd begun to play with Alex's fingers and he hadn't stopped.

It was weirdly peaceful between them. They didn't do this. They didn't cuddle or touch unless it was leading to something else. That made it feel less like convenience and more like he actually wanted to be here. It made things blurry in a way Alex wasn't prepared for. So why wasn't he putting a stop to it?

After a moment, he found himself not even focusing on the math anymore. Instead his eyes stayed on the way Michael's rough fingers rubbed against Alex's precise calluses that came from playing a stringed instrument every day for years. It was a drastic contrast, similar to the one that came with Michael's torn up nails and Alex's neatly painted ones.

"You need to stop biting your nails," Alex told him softly. Michael breathed in heavily like he was being woken up, lifting his head off Alex's back and leaving him cold.

"Paint them for me and maybe I'll stop," he said, voice rough and sleepy in a way that struck Alex in his chest.

"Wouldn't you get made fun of?" Alex asked.

"Fuck 'em," Michael said. That paired with the cuddling and the whole dream comment from before was... a lot. Alex cleared his throat.

"Okay."

Within a few minutes, Alex found himself perched on Michael's lap and a bottle of nail polish balancing on his math homework. It was a pretty compromising position, both of them shirtless and disregarding the homework he was here for, but Alex couldn't bring himself to mind.

"I wish I could see the look on Valenti's face when he sees this," Alex said, painting the black varnish over his nails. They were short and torn up, the skin around them just as bitten, and Alex knew his work would be messed up within a couple days, but he kept on nonetheless.

"Nah, he won't actually care. The dude tries so hard to fit in that he forgets to have his own opinions. He won't react until someone else does first," Michael told him. He looked dazed and sleepy, his cocky walls thrown to the wind. It was Alex's favorite version of him.

"Still. I don't know how you deal with all of that shit."

Michael shrugged. "It's not like I'm out or anything, so it’s not at me."

"Yeah, but doesn't it bother you hearing them say homophobic shit? I don't think I could stay quiet all the time," Alex said, raising Michael hand closer to his lips. He blew on his nails gently before swapping hands. His freshly painted one rested on Alex's thigh.

"It's easier to stay quiet," Michael admitted. Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Then aren't you just doing the same thing Kyle does?"

"I don't conform so much that I lose myself," Michael said, shifting a little bit as his eyes focused somewhere to Alex's left. "I, uh, I just spent so much of my life in foster care and bouncing around to shitty houses where silence was the best option. It's not an easy habit to unlearn."

"Oh," Alex said, eyes widening a little, "I didn't know that."

"Yeah," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "Once you hit a certain age, they just start putting you in group homes because most families don't want to foster teenage boys. I get it, I guess, but the one I was in last was hell. Everything I did was wrong and I paid for it."

"How'd you end up with Old Man Sanders, then?" Alex asked.

"Long story," Michael said, "But basically he found out I was sleeping in one of the abandoned trucks in the junkyard and instead of sending me back, he went through all the work to get certified to foster and went through hell to get me in his care. I basically just got really fucking lucky."

"Sounds like it," Alex agreed. He didn't have the right words for it and, honestly, he wasn't sure he'd say them if he did. Michael was sharing more than he usually did. They were still in this weird middle ground of doing things they didn't do and Alex didn't want to pop the bubble.

"But my point is that it's not as easy as just speaking your mind," Michael said. Alex nodded, switching hands again to put a second coat. He thought about doing a third coat just to have an excuse to stay in his lap.

"Reminds me of my brother," Alex admitted. Michael laughed and Alex glanced at his face for a second, that easy smile on his lips.

"Your brother? That's a funny way to say you don't think I'm hot," Michael teased. Alex rolled his eyes.

"I meant the whole conformity thing. He used to have a personality, I think, and sometimes he’s still cool, but somewhere along the line he just stopped fighting. It was easier to keep his mouth shut and do what my dad said. Even now he does that, goes where my dad tells him to. I never really got it, but I guess you have a point," Alex said, “I’m just not a fan.”

"You've just got massive balls, dude," Michael said, shaking his head, "Seriously, I know I joke that you're just a band geek, but it takes balls to be you and refuse to conform no matter what. It's... It's really impressive. Sometimes I wish I could be like you."

Alex stared at him for a long minute. He didn't know what earned him this version of this man but he didn't want to go back. He let himself be a little reckless; he let himself fall just a bit.

He leaned in for a kiss and it was welcomed. Michael wrapped one arm around Alex and placed his free hand on his cheek. It felt so natural to be with him in this way and that in itself was overwhelming. But, in the morning, they'd go back to normal. Tonight was a fluke.

Michael tightened his grip on him and moved so Alex's back was pressed into the mattress. Alex weaved his hands into his hair and wrapped his legs around his hips. Michael was warm and relaxed, just comfortable with being with him. Alex had an unhealthy attachment to it. He needed to put space between them before he got his heart broken.

He pulled Michael closer.

They shared breath as Michael kept the pace slow, each kiss seeming to hold their own distinct and equally important purpose. Alex's heart was slamming in his chest and he didn't mind.

He dragged his hand over his back. Michael had scars all over him, almost as much as Alex, and he kept them covered with clothes as often as possible. But here he was bare and Alex could feel them. He put his hand flat against the small of his back, pulling him down even more. Michael smiled.

It was all ruined by Alex's alarm going off.

"What the fuck is that?" Michael asked, lifting his head just barely. Alex shoved his shoulders gently.

"I gotta go," Alex said, sitting up and reaching for his shirt after he turned his curfew warning alarm off.

"Go? Dude, it's late, just stay," Michael urged softly, that same voice from earlier that day when he asked Alex to come over despite not needing his help. A hand crossed over the front of his chest, trying to push him back into bed. Alex pushed his hand away, hoping it would also push away the butterflies that filled his stomach at the request to just stay.

"My dad would freak out if I did that," Alex said.

"What happened to not conforming?" Michael asked. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Not the same thing," Alex told him. Michael still had that look on his face like he actually didn't want him to go. And Alex really didn't want to. "I gotta go."

"But…" he said, his eyes darting around the room as if it would give him an excuse to make Alex stay. "At least let me drive you home."

"I drove here," Alex laughed. Michael scowled and gave an irritated pout. Alex made the questionable decision to kiss it off his face. When he pulled away, Michael's eyes were still closed and he signed.

"This is torture, you know that, right?" Michael groaned. Alex stood up and Michael collapsed onto the pillow. It was only then that Alex realized the bottle of nail polish hadn't spilled. He didn't comment on it as he reached over to grab it and closed it.

"You already got off tonight and you have two whole hands, so I don't consider it torture," Alex said decidedly, slipping the bottle into his pocket.

Michael wrapped the pillow up in his arms, cuddling into it as he stared up at Alex with those eyes that were hard to deny. Part of him wanted to cave and crawl back into bed, but a much bigger part knew that would only be bad for him. He needed to take a day or two away from him and reset so he didn't end up catching feelings. Or, more feelings.

"You're so mean to me."

"Shut up," Alex laughed, stepping into his shoes. He picked up his bag and pulled it over his head. Michael still looked utterly pathetic. "You know, for a jock, you're pretty whiny."

"Fuck you."

"I know you want to," Alex teased. Michael breathed in deep.

"God, I really, really do."

"I'll see you whenever," Alex laughed, grabbing his keys.

"Tomorrow," Michael corrected. Alex smiled and opened his bedroom door.

"Tomorrow."

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #rnm fic #my fic #verse: from a whisper to a scream

82 notes · View notes

missorgana · 3 years

Text

and they were roommates

pairing: alex/willie, background julie/luke

fandom: julie and the phantoms

rating: general

word count: 2383

warning: swearing

summary: Luke and Reggie make a bet about who can set up their dumbass, pining friends, Alex and Willie, first. What could possibly go wrong? (everyone lives au, matchmaking friends)

(my 12 days of fanfiction event is back with another willex fic for the gays! thank you to my babe @georgiawarrs for the prompt, really hope you enjoy this 💖 uwuuu. and don’t forget, you can still send me prompts if you haven’t already!)

read on ao3

“So it’s a deal, then.”

“Bring it on, dude. I’m so gonna win.”

“Not in a million years, Reg!”

…

In short, Luke and Reggie’s bet is about who can set up their shy, stubborn best friend Alex with his roommate, who he’s been crushing on for God knows how long, first.

Not as simple as it sounds.

Before you ask, no, this is not something they usually do. Or they’ve ever done before.

But honestly, Luke’s had quite enough of the blonde dancing around Willie, previously mentioned roommate, when he’s voiced his feelings for the other boy to his friends multiple times.

Their friend’s only argument when they bring it up is, “No way he’d ever date me. I’m way out of his league.”

And best friends just can’t let each other talk like that about themselves, can they?

Also, having met Willie a handful of times, it’s clear to Luke, Reggie and their moms, probably, that he’s head over heels about Alex.

Even the time Luke met him alone in the cafeteria, all he talked about was Alex. It’s honestly adorable.

And annoyingly stupid.

So, the mission’s clear: get the two dumbasses on a date, ASAP. And since Reggie insisted he could do it more effectively than Luke, they decided a bet didn’t hurt, not when they were helping their friend out.

What could possibly go wrong?

…

Reggie’s first move happened to be during the boys’ usual lunch plans, and obviously, Luke ain’t gonna miss it.

Sometimes Julie and Flynn join them, but she texted him they were late for band practice, sadly so. He totally didn’t mope about it. But Reg’s right he��ll see her after class, anyway.

Just, that’s a long time, you know? Flynn’s told them they’re too codependent on each other, but he just thinks she’s joking, truth be told.

Anyway, the boys are currently seated on the grass, giving them a perfect view of the football practice, not that they were into that sort of thing. They had to discuss the next Sunset Curve gig, which is fucking huge, and Luke can’t wait.

Julie’s written another perfect song. All her songs are perfect. Just trust him, okay?

But just as Alex’s phone pings with a text, “Hold on, it’s Willie.”, he casually throws the statement out, and Reggie looks at Luke with a spark in his eyes.

Perfect opportunity, he gotta give him that.

“Y’know, Alex,” he starts, trying painfully hard to not be suspicious, “Why aren’t you having lunch with Willie?”

The blonde discards the phone in his hoodie and blinks at his friends.

“We always have lunch together.” he answers, varily, oh God, Alex almost looks disappointed.

Thankfully, Reggie picks it up just as quick as himself, shaking his head, “I know! I know, just… uh, I mean, you’re roommates. Would be weird if you never spent time with him.”

Then he nods. Winks in Luke’s direction. That boy is the least smooth person he’s ever met.

And Alex frowns, “We did homework together last night.”

Oh, yes, the study dates. Emphasis on study, not dates.

The blonde always seems perpetually nervous when he’s brought them up in the past, which was another reason why Luke was sick of him not making a move. Although, he hasn’t talked about them for a while, surprisingly.

He steps in, Reggie should be thankful, “I just think, Reg too, you could invite him to lunch tomorrow.”

“Really?” Alex asks, looking a mixture of shocked and excited.

“Yeah, man. Julie eats with us all the time, why not?”

Reggie’s quick to add, “And Flynn!” and Luke nods eagerly in agreement.

And although their friend seems convinced, shyly smiling, picking up the phone again, he still continues the questioning, “Well, they’re in the band.”

Ugh, he’s impossible.

“But they’re also our friends, and-”

“Hey, and my girlfriend!”

“Yes, yes, dude, we know.” Reggie draws out the last syllable and pats his shoulder, “And Luke’s girlfriend. But your friends are our friends, Alex.”

Subtle argument, he likes it. Well, it’s a start.

And the blonde finally shrugs, so he thinks they’ve won him over, “Alright. Thanks guys.”

Good thing he’s texting again, not catching the two boys’ smug eye contact.

Luke knows this is Reggie’s victory, but hey, same end goal, right?

…

Two days later, Luke’s prepared to start his own plan.

In case you’re wondering, Willie was supposed to have lunch with the gang on Tuesday, however, Alex let them know he had to help out his dad and cover a waiter’s shift at the café. The blonde’s disappointment about the situation was obvious.

So it’s Thursday, and when Luke spots Willie on the way to campus, on his skateboard, alone, most importantly, he decided to act quickly.

“Willie!”, it’s hard to yell when he’s running, because, damn, he really should do something to better his shape, at least so he’s not dying after a few minutes of jogging. Luckily, the other boy hears him and slows down.

He chuckles and pats his back, not funny, “Hey, man. You okay there?”

Luke’s totally fine, of course. Just hopes he’s not totally red in the face, is all. If that’s the case, Willie’s got heart enough to not mention it.

“Definitely. Ya mind if I walk with you?”

The shorter boy looks surprised. Fair enough, he supposes, Luke always picks up Julie on the way here normally, but she’s got early classes today, so. A bit rude of the school planning, or whatever, honestly.

Maybe he misses her, which doesn’t make him cheesy, okay? It’s only been two days, but like, even when he has a bad day, when he plays wrong, or his parents argue with him, she smiles at him like it’s all gonna be okay.

Luke can’t think about her without getting sappy, so he’s gotta focus on the mission, for now, and Willie’s nodded in response, casually rolling down the sidewalk so he’ll catch up.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he tries as casually as possible, keep it cool Luke, don’t give away your true motive, “You like Alex, right?”

The other boy jumps down from the rail he used as a ramp, landing with the same surprised face as before. He also does this thing where kicks the skateboard up and catches it under his arm.

It possibly confuses the hell out of Luke, to be honest, then again, one might feel the same about him playing the guitar, or, you know, any skill you don’t have. Too much thinking.

“Of course I do.” the skater tells him simply, and confidently so.

In his mind, he can easily picture himself winning this. Huge applause, cake, the lot.

“Good! I know, but you know, you should totally invite him to one of your skating…” he pauses, because Luke’s honestly sure where he’s going with the sentence, regardless, when nothing else works, freestyle, “Gigs?”

Willie looks at him with a weird expression, then laughs heartily, turning his eyes to the ground. He hopes that’s a good sign.

“Competitions?” the shorter boy helps, to which Luke nods, but the other keeps going, “He’s come by in the park sometimes, but you might have a point with that. You think he’ll like it?”

“Uh, duh.” he says with a click of his tongue, “Not that he’ll admit it, but trust me.”

And although it sounds settled and set in stone, the skater gives him another weird look. Luke brushes it off, because really, getting dating advice from your crushes’ friend is a bit ridiculous. What’s he supposed to do when they’re so stupidly stubborn, though?

“Alright, I’ll give it a shot.”

…

Guess what? Luke’s earned himself a point ahead of Reggie, due to the brilliant idea he voiced to Willie last week. Yes, brilliant, obviously!

“We’re in a tie, you know that right?” Reg tells him, which isn’t true at all, because his lunch proposal only half worked, and that’s exactly what he tells his friend.

The boy rolls his eyes. “Not fair”, his ass!

Anyway, Alex was excited going to his crush’s skating show on Friday, and they both consider that a win regardless. The blonde’s raving about it over band practice, well, less the show, more how pretty Willie looked when he tied his hair up in a bun.

Needless to say, they both find their friend adorable, almost can’t contain some self-satisfied smiles. So far, so good.

Their nosy attempts at figuring out if Alex then got himself together and made a move crashed devastatingly, however.

“Couldn’t talk long after, curfew.” he told them, and damn, he looked like a puppy kicked to the curb.

So goddamn annoying, but alright, this time around it was out of their power.

Luckily, it’s Sunset Curve’s next gig in two days, and Reggie’s got the perfect countermove, Luke’s gonna give it to him. This move being inviting Willie to previously mentioned concert, and since it’s the first round of Battle of the Bands, tension’s high.

Their best friend pales when they announce the exciting news.

“This is a good thing, dude! He’ll love seeing you play!”

“And us- Ow!”

“You deserve it.” Luke simply tells Reggie, crossing his arms.

“Guys!” the blonde interrupts, fiddling with the drumsticks and looking like he just saw a ghost, “I can’t just play knowing Willie’s there! What if I fuck up?”

And so Luke has to shake his head at his dear, overthinking boy. Not that Luke’s haven’t had that consideration before, hell, his mom and dad hearing their tape terrified the shit out of him, but that fear’s getting in the way of the matchmaking.

Besides, those two are meant to be. Seriously, he knows they’re barely halfway in their young lives, all of them, but they’re perfect!

Smiling at each other all the time like idiots. Luke’s got a feeling he does that with Julie, too.

“You won’t,” Reggie interrupts his own train of thought, “You never do, Alex.”

“Besides, he looked thrilled, man! We’ll leave you alone after the show.”

“Promise!” Reg chimes in, and they wink in semi-unison, just to get the point across. It’s almost worrying when Alex sighs, but he shrugs nonetheless.

“If you say so.”

…

So although the gig went fantastic, and Alex and Willie were annoyingly cute but even more so awkward as hell around each other after, Luke’s maybe going a bit crazy.

Okay, alright, it’s only the third week, but neither of the boys seem to be giving clues that they’re finally realising how stupid they are.

Maybe Luke doesn’t know, explicitly, if Willie crushes on Alex too, but it’s obvious! 99.9 percent!

It’s ridiculous how much their best friend’s pining leads up to nothing, and both of them start to understand some of those slow burn fanfictions out there. Which Reggie made him read, by the way. If anyone asks Reg, he’ll blame it on Julie, probably.

Thankfully, an opportunity presents itself on a silver platter, when Carrie Wilson throws her over the top birthday party.

To be honest, Luke’s not sure how to feel about her, given the past long feud, even though Julie’s assured him she’s changed. He’d trust her with anything, so it’s fine. And seriously, he swears he overheard Flynn asking Carrie on a date, but their friend denied it straight up to his face.

Regardless, since guests (meaning, the entire school) are usually allowed a plus one, Reggie and himself figured it was their job to arrange Alex bringing Willie along.

One weird detail to it all, before they could even bring it up, Alex chimed in, during what feels like their 500th Star Wars marathon night, “You guys… you- uh, you think I should invite Willie to Carrie’s party?”

Did the universe just thank them for their service, or something?

Of course, both boys eagerly nodded, practically jumping in their bean bags, while simultaneously making a little of a deal of it as possible.

Literally proof that soulmates exist, Luke thinks. Yes, that is melodramatic, but he doesn’t give a shit, frankly.

Only problem?

They’re at the very party, the center of the mission now, and Alex and Willie are acting just as shy as usual. The blonde’s even fiddling anxiously, like he always does around his crush, and given that they haven’t lost sight of either of them yet, Reggie voices another sigh to him.

Maybe this is a sign from the universe to not intervene, then, he supposes.

They’re at the ping pong table, the two boys, who apparently are determined to remain clueless for eternity, left for the kitchen to get more snacks.

Seems like Julie’s noticed his own beated demeanor, cause she appears at his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. He can’t not smile, just a little bit.

“What’s got you two losers down?” Flynn asks, suddenly in front of them, and Reg will probably mopily deny he jumped.

“Ugh,” is all Luke says.

“Alex and Willie are impossible.” Reggie adds, nodding in agreement, and instead of the expected understanding, Julie frowns up at him.

“What do you mean?”

Maybe Luke’s sort of embarrassed admitting the plan to her, sensing she’ll find it silly, but really, he can’t hide anything from her, and they’ve given up by now, anyway, “We’ve been trying to get them to admit their feelings for each other.”

Flynn’s frowning now, too.

“We actually had a bet-”

“Yeah, but! Like we love Alex, and he’s so lost on him. But we’ve tried everything.”

“They’re too annoying.” adds Reggie for good measure.

And all of a sudden, Julie’s giggling. Her best friend too, and judging by the look Reg’s giving him, he’s just as confused as himself. She’s so cute when she’s laughing, though, despite this boggling his mind.

“How do you guys not know this?!” Flynn’s saying, and when they’re only scratching their heads, because how do they expect them to understand that, Julie smiles her sunshine smile and pokes Luke’s chin, “They’re roommates, you know.”

That doesn’t make any sense. Whatsoever.

Not until Alex and Willie return with a bucket of popcorn, the skater hanging on to their friend’s hoodie sleeve. Of course, he makes his leave for the bathroom, kissing the blonde’s nose on the way.

Reggie looks at Luke. Oh my god, they’re roommates.

35 notes · View notes

random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

Promise Me {Reggie Mantle One Shot}

Requested by: @13reasonswhystan Wordcount: 3292 Summary: After your bad break up with Sweet Pea, Reggie Mantle tries to get your attention.

You’ve been in bar brawls at the White Wyrm, you’ve been in fights at Riverdale High School - but no bruise, cut or bone break hurt more than the betrayal that you had at the hands of your best friend and boyfriend, Sweet-Pea. It felt even worse because you liked Josie, after having seen her perform a couple of times. She was a sweet girl, a very pretty girl, both things you felt like you weren’t. You were just y/n Jones, sister of the highly inquisitive and weird Jughead and daughter of the King of the Snakes. That earned you the nickname Snakling, though you hated it. It sounded like a cross between a snake and a duckling which was some Griffons and Gargoyles type shit. Add that onto the fact that you were best friends with Toni Topaz - all anyone thought of you was 'Snake’. What they didn’t know was that you had a heart underneath the hard exterior and now it was shattered.

“Oh wow, the snakling emerged without her boyfriend!” Reggie Mantle, the loudmouth of Riverdale High said on the first day back to school after Summer. You didn’t retort - he was never worth your time. You continued to walk past him and to your locker, which unfortunately wasn’t that far from where he was standing, right by the prime vending machine. There goes your chance of having a bag of chips for breakfast. He didn’t follow that up with anything, which was slightly surprising. After you got your locker open and started to replace your old books with your new ones, you peeked over at the football player. He was staring past you, down the hallway.

Josie McCoy was walking into the hallway, wearing a cute little sundress, her curls perfectly bouncy and all. And beside her was Sweet Pea, who kept his eyes down on his feet. Clearly he was trying to avoid you. The two of you haven’t had a conversation since you had caught him with the pretty dark girl, and had just straight up said that it was over between the two of you. You felt like there was nothing more for you to say apart from that. But though you had no words for him, you had a certain finger that you wanted to wave in his direction.

You slammed your locker door shut, making a couple of other students jump because of how loud the impact was. You performed the role of the angry ex perfectly. Even Reggie didn’t dare to say anything as you walked past him towards your first class of the semester, but looked from the new couple over to you with confusion and finally with understanding. His eyes narrowed at Sweet Pea, though no one noticed this motion.

“Y/N, can we talk?” Josie asked from the end of the hall before you disappeared into the classroom. You didn’t stop, not even for a second. God, it hurt even more because she was just so nice. You would have preferred her to be bitchy or smug or anything other than the sweetheart that she was. It would have been much easier to hate her.

“We can but we won’t,” You shut her down. “Unless you’ve been living under a rock this whole time, you might have noticed that we’re not friends.”

“You should hear her out-” Archie said from across the hallway. You rolled your eyes at him - the redhead always intruded on everyone else’s business.

“Do I look like I wear a stupid hat and listen to you?” You shot back, making Reggie grin. “I’m not my brother, so you don’t get to tell me what I should and should not do.”

“Y/N...” Sweet Pea said with a frown. He truly didn’t mean to hurt you, that much was obvious, but you weren’t in the mood for dealing with his guilt. He dug his own grave.

You took your cellphone out of your pocket. The cellphone with the pictures of the both of you, the cute text messages, the phone case that he ordered for you online. You let it drop to the floor and stomped on it with your boot. “Oh look, deleted our history. Feel free to pretend we never happened. I know I will.”

There were looks of shock from other students as you walked into the classroom, kicking away the remnants of your cellphone. You weren’t exactly well off and it would be hard to get a new phone but that felt damn good. You kept up the tough exterior until you were at your desk by the window, turned your head to gaze out at the sunny day, and let out a groan you were holding in. This year was going to be fucking tough.

You weren’t in a rush to get a new phone. There wasn’t anyone that you really wanted to talk to. Toni, your best friend, was busy with Cheryl all of the time, and Fangs was glued by Sweet Pea’s side at all times. Instead, you used a small amount of money to buy a tape recorder, and you recorded all of your classes so that you could doze off, then listen to the lecture back later. You needed an education if you were going to get the hell out of Riverdale like your mother did.

A strange effect of your breakup with Sweet Pea was Reggie Mantle. Ever since your public dispute with Josie McCoy, everyone knew what had happened. And most people took the young musician’s side, if there were sides to join. You had a reputation for being a hardass, for being unfeeling, for being intimidating. You guessed it didn’t surprise them that your boyfriend, someone who was supposed to love you through all of that, would choose someone who poured out her emotions through music and stupid little cat ears. But Reggie actually seemed to take this opportunity to get closer to you. It started slow, such as him calling out flirtatious things as you walked past his vending machine. Then the words took on actions as he’d walk beside you to class, despite not having the same schedule. You didn’t encourage this behavior, and didn’t talk to him much, but his presence was actually somewhat comforting during these lonely times.

Just because you weren’t particularly fond of him, didn’t mean that you didn’t think he was extremely hot.

“It’s my birthday next week,” Reggie said, joining you on your way to your first class after you switched out your books in your locker. “I was thinking after football practice of going to Nuit Blanche for a drink, and I want you with me.”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” You asked, in your usual flat tone. He was surprised to actually get a response, but extremely pleased. His million watt smile was saved for this occasion.

“Both.”

“Then I’m saying no, and don’t tell me what to do,” You brushed him off, walking faster and disapparing into the classroom. Reggie stood where you had left him, his smile somewhat fading. It was very rare that a woman challenged him like this but damn, he was kind of into it. He walked faster to the classroom and stood in the doorway, leaning against it, giving you his best smoldering expression.

“Then you decide what we do. I’m putty in your hands,” He winked.

Half of you wanted to groan, but the other half of you was flattered. In order to keep up your facade, you smirked, looking him up and down. “We’ll see how much you can handle being stretched apart, boy.”

There were way too many people invested in seeing what you had planned for Reggie’s birthday. The fact that you had said yes to planning it was a surprise to a lot of people, considering how different you and the Riverdale Playboy were. When Reggie went to his usual spot in the morning to talk to his football friends and get presents from the adoring cheerleaders, there was a bigger crowd than usual. It was his birthday, but it was you getting all of the attention! The fact that you didn’t even show up and a quarter of the school were late to their first classes made it all the more interesting, and frustrating to Reggie.

When lunch time came around, you still didn’t show up. Reggie’s mood was getting worse and worse, and he was snapping at anyone who even asked about you at this point. He sat with the rest of his football team in the cafeteria, and was tearing his way through the shitty sandwich that he had bought but wasn’t all that hungry for. He felt like you had really let him down, and nobody did that to Reggie Mantle.

He was just about to take another bite of his sandwich when a hand went on his shoulder and pulled him off of his chair onto the ground. The cafeteria went silent as he hopped back onto his feet and turned to face Sweet Pea. The two of them never got along, but there was a lot more tension since the first day back. “What sort of game are you playing with her?” The serpent hissed.

“You’re one to talk about games, player,” Reggie shoved the serpent away from him. “She’s none of your goddamn business anymore.”

“Okay guys, let’s take a breath-” Jughead attempted to get between the two of them. “She’s nobody’s business.”

He was ignored, and pushed out of the way by the two bigger teenagers. “If I hear you’re going after her because you think you can be some sort of rebound...” Sweet Pea said, speaking slowly to give himself time to think of something to threaten him with.

“Who is the one who left her that way, huh?” Reggie said, remaining cool, and smug. “I can’t wait to see what she has planned for my birthday. See how far I can stretch, she said.”

That made Sweet-Pea see red. He pulled back his fist and was getting prepared to punch Reggie in the face, but Jughead managed to grab hold of it and bring him down. “Cut it out Sweet Pea. You messed up. Just let it go.”

“Just let it go,” Reggie repeated, pushing on Sweet Pea’s shoulder once more, and laughed when the Serpent stormed off, out of the cafeteria.

After class, he went straight to Football practice, which was a good place to let out the frustration that he was holding. Padded up, he ran straight into the heavy dummies that were supposed to represent the other team, slamming it down onto the ground. A whistle blew and he got back up onto his feet and started to set it right, when his eye caught on a form sitting on the bleachers. Not many people came to watch the practices, so you stood out like a sore thumb. When your eyes caught, you gave him a subtle nod, which he returned with a wink. When he turned around to go back to the starting line, he was grinning again, all of his doubts disappeared. As if anyone would give up the chance to spend time with him, especially on his birthday. He could have asked any one of the cheerleaders or the other girls in school and they would have latched onto him all day, but the fact that it was you who was here made it special. You were out of place here, but you still came. That meant more than he would ever express.

“Knew you couldn’t resist,” He said, walking over to the bleachers once the practice was done. He took his helmet off and ran his fingers through his dark hair, knowing that he looked damn good. But he didn’t get a reaction out of you. You weren’t the swooning type but come on - not even a giggle? Not a blush?

“I’m only bringing you out tonight because I have no one else,” You said with a shrug. “Jughead’s always with the blonde, and Toni is with the redhead. They both apparently need to bone all the time so I’m on my own.”

“Did you seriously just say bone?” Reggie asked, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the first thing that you said since it didn’t match his confidence.

“Bone, bone, bone,” You repeated, straight faced. “Also, I heard that you almost fought my asshole ex boyfriend in the cafeteria today.”

“Almost,” He said, that grin coming back. “But he wasn’t worth it, so I let him go.”

You nearly snorted, getting onto your feet. “You should have punched him right in the nose, I’d say it’s worth it,” You shrugged. “Go shower and get dressed, I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

“What are we doing?”

“Oh Reggie, you’re going to get stretched in ways you never dreamed of.”

Okay, so Reggie put up with riding bitch on the back of your bike. He didn’t like it, but he strapped on the helmet and he held onto your waist, which was the only good part of it. He put up with leaving his car behind in the parking lot of Riverdale High, though he didn’t trust that it would be safe when he got back. He put up with the fact that you raced past two counties to get to a third.

But asking him to come inside of the obviously gay nightclub? On his birthday of all nights?

“For the record, this is not what I thought you had planned.”

“I know,” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you looked up at the neon lights. “But your idea was stupid.” Before he could say anything to protest that, you continued. “Veronica’s speakeasy? Where McCoy performs all of the time? You can be an asshole sometimes Reggie, but even suggesting that was too much.”

“What about your shitty Southside Bar then?” He asked, trying to find an excuse to get out of this.

“Sweet Pea,” You concluded as if it should have been obvious. “It’s drag night, so no one will even pay attention to us. But if you’re scared, I’ll take you back to the safety of Riverdale.”

Reggie knew that it was a challenge, and that your teasing was just to get him to go along with the plan, but still, the word scared was an affront to his pride. “Oh, I’m not scared,” He assured. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t get too jealous when I have the Queens all over me,” He smirked, adapting his attitude to the situation.

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” You said, going ahead and opening the doors. Inside was very high-energy, with neon colored lights just about everywhere. Music was playing loudly from a stage, where a drag queen was doing her act, lipsyncing to Rhianna’s ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’ and doing a damn good job of it too. You waved at the bartender, then went to one of the tables near the back.

“Do you come here often?” Reggie asked, noting how the bartender had waved back.

“Once in a while,” You admitted. “It’s my safe space, away from the Serpents. None of them would ever dare come here.”

“I can see why,” Reggie said, looking around. There was no way that any of the North Siders would be here either. He thought about just leaving out the door and calling for a ride home but you got back to your feet.

“I’ll get our drinks,” You said, leaving before Reggie could even tell you what he wanted. The bar could be in big trouble for having a couple of minors here, but they were at least wise enough to not give you alcohol. Instead, they gave you virgin cocktails that had the full flavors that you liked, and were sugary and fizzy enough to give you a rush that was close to alcohol. You came back with two tall glasses filled with a purple liquid. “Just try it. As much fun as it would be to torture you, even I wouldn’t do that on your birthday.”

Reggie eyed you but then took a sip of the drink. It tasted almost like blue raspberry, but with some sort of soda added. “It’s not bad,” He admitted. You showed him a true smile, one that you didn’t show many people. It made you look like a whole different person, he realized. He liked the person that you were when you smiled. And it was all the more special because it was just for him.

“Drink up, then we’ll dance. I can’t guarantee that one of the beautiful Queens won’t flirt with you or feel you up but ... I have the feeling you won’t mind.”

Reggie laughed and took another sip of his drink. “The more the merrier.”

Reggie had never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. You weren’t trying to be sexy like all the other girls that he’s danced with. You were having fun, and bouncing along and moving, and not caring what anyone thought. But there still seemed to be a shy look to your eyes when they met his. The lights that were going all over the place made him feel a bit dizzy, like he had stars caught on his pupils.

The way that you interacted with the drag queens and the others in the bar was unlike a side of you that he had ever seen. You were softer, you were giving out compliments, and hugs, and love and just positivity. He liked your snarky self of course, and this was still you but ... it was hard for him to grasp. You were not at all like anyone that he knew. You were in a league of your damn own.

After a couple of hours, you two stumbled out after last call. There was no alcohol in either of your veins, but you still had the giggles as if you were tipsy. That much sugar could do it to a person. “Promise me something, Reg,” You said, letting him put his arm around you to keep you warm on the way back to your bike.

“What’s that?” He asked, taking in the cool night air and the feeling of you wrapped up beneath his football jacket. “That you’ll never hurt me the way that Sweet Pea did,” You asked, looking at him, staring right into his eyes. “Because I might have to take off your clothes and throw you to the Queens if you do.”

“I promise,” Reggie said without the slightest hesitation. You both got to your bike and he was about to put his helmet on when a question came to him. “Why not do that with Asshole Pea?”

You laughed at the nickname, and how almost dirty it sounded. “As if I would ever want him to know about this place. It is, or was, my little secret. Guess it’s ours now.”

You winked then put your own helmet on. Reggie did the same, put his legs around the bike, then held onto you as you started back towards Riverdale.

Ours now - he really liked the sound of that.

#Reggie Mantle #Reggie Mantle x reader #Reggie Mangle oneshot #Riverdale #Riverdale oneshot #oneshots #ReggieM #x reader

173 notes · View notes

psyleedee · 4 years

Text

The Equation of Love.

dean/castiel, jock!dean, nerd!castiel, smart!cas, love at first sight, footballer!dean, high school au, fluff, boys in love.

1.5k words. drabble.

-psyleedee.

It's a sunny summer morning, and Coach Singer has just blown the whistle, signifying their break from football practice.

That's when Dean really notices the boy sitting at the bleachers.

He noticed him first, when they were lined up and Coach Singer was explaining to the team about the upcoming finals, and their match with the rival high school from their neighboring county. The boy, with messy dark hair, as if he'd been electrocuted, with round, big blue eyes behind those thick black rimmed glasses, peering passionately into the pile of notebooks scattered around them, and his plush, pink lips mumbling to themselves.

Dean had found the boy odd. Firstly, owing to the fact that no one sat at the bleachers unless they wanted to smoke, make-out, or ogle at Dean and his team shirtless.

And this guy is studying? Wow.

Now that Dean has some time to himself, he decides, eh, what could possibly happen? Might as well go talk to the guy.

So here he is, standing at the edge of the bench the weird guy is sitting on, with his jersey shirt flung over his shoulder rather than draped around his chest, as it should be. What, Dean likes showing off his abs, he didn't work out for years straight to keep them hidden.

The boy doesn't spare him a glance. At first, Dean thinks he doesn't know Dean's there. But then there's a voice.

"I'm sorry, are you waiting for me?"

A deep, low tenor sound, and Dean is caught off-guard with how it sounds way deeper than it is supposed to. They're only eighteen, for god's sake.

"Erm, I, uh, I guess."

Then, the boy whips his beautiful, angel face up at Dean.

"Hello Dean."

"You know my name?"

"Are you not captain of the football team? Of course I know you're name."

Dean smiles, and considers it alright to slide onto the bench, next to Castiel, his thigh only inches away from Castiel's. The books around them are notebooks, composition notebooks, but they look old, overused, and part of Dean wants to grab one and read through it, but he knows better than to be disrespectful.

"I think you have me at a disadvantage then. Since you know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Oh," The boy grins with an awkward, hesitant smile, and quirks his glasses on his nose, drawing his shoulders in as he glances up at Dean, "-I'm Castiel. Castiel Novak."

"It's nice to meet you, Castiel. Mind if I just say Cas? Y'know, cause Castiel is too big. And I mean, I don't know, I just–"

"You like using single syllable words as nicknames. I noticed."

"Hm?"

"Just now, a while ago," Castiel starts, blue eyes meeting Dean's with a soft blush, "-you're brother, Samuel, and my friend from Robotics club, you called him Sam. Benjamin Lafitte, over there, you call him Ben, even though everyone else settles for Benny. Your other team member, the one you were passing the ball to, Victor, you call him Vic. So naturally, you must have some sort of weird attachment to reducing people's names to a single syllable. Of course, I admit, it provides much more ease, and it goes with the right flow of a sentence."

Dean falters. His lips hang open, his eyes are wide, and he's staring at the guy, Castiel, like a complete idiot.

He's also kinda' in love with him.

"Erm, sure, you can call me Cas. Heh."

Castiel smiles, and looks away, once again nibbling on his plump bottom lip with his eyebrows furrowed, and Dean feels a warmth unravel in his chest.

"Right, Cas. Whatcha' got there? Y'know, people generally come here to do... more inappropriate stuff."

Castiel's eyes go wide, and he freezes.

"Erm, what do you mean?"

"I mean, y'know, people they uh," alright, why am I of all people blushing like a goddamn baby right now, "-they uh, make out, get railed, y'know, high school shit."

"Ah. Oh. Oh, no, no, no, no, I'm not here to make out."

Castiel yelps, almost offended as he looks up at Dean. In response, Dean can only chuckle.

"Naw, you don't look like you have anyone to make out with either."

"You're here."

Castiel points out, and Dean gulps, trying to push away the image his mind brings to him in an instant, of the young, dark-haired boy disheveled and pink under Dean.

"No, I mean, as in, a girlfriend. Or boyfriends. Not me. Not strangers."

"Ah, right."

An odd, weird sort of silence ensues between them, before Dean silently reaches out and grabs one of the notebooks. He thumbs through the pages before flipping it open right in the middle. To his surprise, there's some bizarre, mad-scientist-esque equations and theories written in there, dotting almost every inch of the page, with random scribbles, random doodles, random words and–

"Hey," Castiel scolds, pulling the book out of Dean's hands.

"Easy tiger, not like I understand any of that chicken shit, and even if I did, trust me, I wouldn't steal your theories Einstein."

Castiel blushes, a soft, pink hue on his cheeks, and somehow, Dean wants to touch the warmth on his skin. He holds himself back though, but can't help staring at the boy in front of him.

"They're not– I'm not– it's just– argh–"

"Woah, what's wrong?"

Dean asks, scooting closer, and he slips an arm behind the boy to stretch his torso a bit.

"It's just... I've been working on this equation for days now. And it's just. Look, I'm trying to calculate a kick. Y'know, to a football. So, basically," Castiel shifts closer, unwittingly pressing into Dean's arms, and it sends a spurt of warmth unfurling within Dean's chest as the boy groans, and points over to the field.

"See, I'm assuming that's a constant position, and I'm assuming the average velocity of the ball, with your average kicking speed, but somehow, I can't manage to figure out where I'm going wrong with the, with the, with the, ugh."

Castiel sighs, and slumps back against Dean's shoulder, his lips turned down in a small pout, and some how, Dean can't help the small grin tugging at his lips.

Yup, Dean is kinda' in love.

"Look man, I'm not–"

"Of course."

Castiel pipes up, eyes going wide, as he rises, and stares down at the field. It seems like his Eureka moment, if Dean's being honest, and he can't help how adorable he finds the boy's excited grin. Castiel turns with a jerk, almost falls into Dean's lap, and before Dean knows it, he's being dragged onto the football field, and only when Castiel pauses, he turns to Dean.

"You stand right here, no moving."

Dean furrows his eyebrows, his face heating up when he catches Benny and Vic staring at him with a weird expression, not to mention the strange look Lisa Braeden and her band of girls is giving him from across the field. But then, Castiel is running back to him, a notebook in his hands, and he's mumbling something to himself.

"... velocity... thrice divided... speed... Got it."

Bright blue eyes meet Dean's for a moment, before Castiel slips under his arm, nudging him until he's leaning back, crouching down to measure something between his thigh and the ground, and Dean can only pretend he has any semblance of an idea of what Castiel is doing, but the boy just... he just looks so damn cute.

Dean is pretty in love with him.

"Got it. Got it. Got it!"

Castiel yells, gaping at his notebook, before he laughs, loud and rumbly, and flings his arms around Dean.

One moment Dean's standing frozen to the ground, the next moment Castiel Novak is hugging the life out of him.

Dean trips on his ankle, struck by Castiel's sudden weight on him, and both boys go stumbling down with a grunt, Castiel's notebook falling beside them with a thud. All at once, there is a puff of soft, warm breath on his face, and big, blue eyes staring down at him.

Dean is in love.

Tiny, soft hands press into Dean's chest as Castiel jolts up, his legs straddling Dean's hips. Dean sucks in a breath and pushes himself up until he's sitting on the mud, his eyes lost within Castiel's. Castiel simply smiles, clears his throat and blinks in confusion. Castiel's glasses are set awry on his nose, and as endearing as he looks, somehow, Dean gives in to his urge to reach up and fix them, only to be fixed with a gentle, dazed stare.

"Dean."

"Cas."

Dean gulps, and finds his hands sliding around Castiel's hips. As if the mere touch or Dean's skin burns, Castiel blushes, and pulls his hands off Dean's chest.

"Sorry, erm, sorry, I didn't mean to, uh–"

"Hey Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

Castiel's jaw drops open, and all he can do is gape at Dean.

"What?" He croaks.

"Too late," Dean breathes, hands reaching up to cup Castiel's face, "-I think already am."

#castiel #destiel #dean winchester #supernatural #casdean #deancas #love #destiel fanfiction #destiel shippers #destiel fluff #jock!dean winchester #nerd!castiel #high school au #highschool destiel #boys in love #fluff

61 notes · View notes

solecize · 4 years

Photo

EIGHTEEN FOREVER - PT 1.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. it all starts off when the bad boy greaser with a heart of gold, wong yukhei, almost runs you over with his beat up chevy on your way to school. your love story is immortalized through pen and paper, midnight ink and bloodstained envelopes spanning months on end. the sixties are a time of freedom and heartbreak—the time of your life. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lucas x reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. period au (1960s) / high school au / slice of life / fluff / angst 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mature language, alcohol use, violence, drug use, light sexual references, mentions of death, themes of war, implied toxic family relationships, probably some historical inaccuracy but only if u squint 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 7.3k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. not proofread, as usual <3 all of the poems do not belong to me. in addition, smoking is normalized in this fic, in addition to slight tinges of sexism. i do not support either, but the elements were added due to the time period.

for the one with the pretty eyes:⠀ ⠀ 555-968-84 ⠀ ⠀ call me. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ (in the blue chevy in front of you)

on your side of town, graduating high school was as rare as a teenage male walking around with clean knuckles and hair that wasn’t slicked back with thick pomade. you were proud of yourself for making it this far, while all of your other friends dropped out early and had babies or began to work full time. books weren’t for everyone and not everybody could afford it. college was a long shot for most of the graduating class, or at least the ones from your neighbourhood.

“who are ya taking to prom, huh?” kunhang was relentless in sticking his nose all up in your business, bothering you for weeks on end about your date. he began kicking the passenger’s side from the backseat to annoy you further and you flipped him off with a growl.

sicheng watched the two of you with a snort, muttering something about you two being geeks and proceeded to kill the engine of the car, once finding a suitable spot at the drive in.

you rolled your eyes. “why do you keep assuming that i’m even going? why’re you going?” kunhang was your only friend who was going to be graduating at your side.

“because i can. i think that’s more than enough of a reason.”

just a fraction of the kids you knew from your neighbourhood attended prom, most preferring to hit the watering holes to party with fake ids rather than stand under hot lights and drink bland punch. then again, only a fraction of those kids had the privilege of being able to go. however, the event was a waste of time, if anyone asked you.

“i have other things to worry about,” you retorted. “like exams.”

you carried a lot of pride on your shoulders. you were the only child in your household to make in this far in academics, with your mom long gone in the cooler behind bars and your father leaving this world when you were young. your older sister lived the glamorous housewife life and barely spoke to you, turning her nose up at the family that she left behind for fortune. it was just you and your older brother fending for yourselves in that tiny house that was always empty, with you constantly out and your brother always working out of state for his truck driving job.

“it’ll be a gas, c’mon,” kunhang began to pout. “i’ll even let you dance with me.” between the girls that nearly broke their necks whipping around to get a good look at him in the school hallways, you doubted he would be able to.

pretending to gag, you replied. “ew, no.” you laughed and exited the mustang to avoid him swatting at your arm.

the clementine sky was just about dipping into the horizon, brightening the small lot with warmth and comfort. chatter and laughter wafted in the air, along with cigarette smoke and the hug of youth. june’s summer beast was just about creeping in, as other attendees pulled up in miniskirts and wife beaters to beat the heat to a pulp. it was the perfect evening for a crappy movie and an ice cold coca cola.

sicheng teased, “i’m surprised you’re even making it out of that hellhole with a diploma, much less going to the prom.” he poked kunhang’s side and the other male yelped, pulling him into a headlock as the three of you walked. you rolled your eyes.

weaving through the crowd of people making their way back to their cars, you were heading towards the concession area with the boys. as always, sicheng insisted on arriving just a little bit later because he liked being parked far away from the screen.

you were lost in the thoughts of buttery popcorn and a cream soda when you stopped in your tracks, frozen. sicheng and kunhang noticed this, having just released each other in their psuedo fight, and looked at you strangely. you wanted to facepalm yourself.

you exclaimed, “aw, fuck, we’re a whole buncha idiots. we forgot!”

the two boys looked horrified, as they slowly realized what you all had done. immediately, your group scurried back to sicheng’s mustang and tried to avoid shoving into people. the outing had just begun and the last thing you needed was kunhang’s hothead smacking into someone’s jaw.

“chenle! chenle, you good, buddy?”

upon closer inspection, you could hear the sounds of thumping up against the inside of the mustang. sicheng nearly fell over when he reached for the trunk, heaving it up to reveal the red-faced younger male. he dramatically gasped for air and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

sicheng’s body folded and doubled over, as he tried to catch his breath in laughter. “holy shit! dude, you fucking idiot!”

“me?” kunhang was wiping tears from his eyes, body rumbling with his snickering. “who’s idea was it to bring the kid?”

you loved having chenle around, your younger wisecrack of a neighbour who often tagged along with the three of you. he was an absolute ball of sunshine. unfortunately, being the youngest meant being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

obviously, the boys meant no harm, but you were the one with the softest heart between all of them and was far more gentle towards him. “aw, we’re really sorry, chenle,” you managed to sputter out between your laughter.

“why do i always end up going in the trunk?” chenle frowned, shoulders drooping. “and i ain’t a kid!”

and of course, chenle and kunhang began shoving each other, albeit playfully at the very least. you sighed and came to the conclusion that you were friends with a bunch of goddamn zoo animals and that you needed some female friends. they stopped when you yelled at them to knock it off.

sicheng replied, “sorry, buddy. you’re the smallest one, so you luck out.” of course, it would never be him because it was his car, even though he was the bright one who suggested hiding one of you in the trunk to avoid paying for an extra ticket.

“can we just get our popcorn now?” chenle had officially given up, though his pout stained his face.

you all murmured in agreement, though everyone shared the same shit eating grins for accidentally abandoning chenle in the trunk of the mustang. he continued to claim that he was suffocating the entire time, as you lost yourself in the daydream of a refreshing drink from the concession stand amid the intense humidity.

then, kunhang called your name and that’s when you realize you’d walked ahead when everyone else stayed behind.

the three boys were inspecting something on the windshield of the mustang. sicheng remained neutral, so you figured it couldn’t have been a scratch or crack or something. you jogged over to peer over at what they were all looking at.

“when did someone leave this. . . .?” sicheng trailed off, trying to remember if he saw any figures approach in car. it must have been right after they initially left.

it was a piece of lined paper, likely torn out of a notebook and tucked underneath one of the wipers. the handwriting was clear and you cocked an eyebrow. pretty eyes?

“wow, someone left a note for me,” kunhang grinned.

chenle cleared this throat, looking elsewhere. “uh, actually, i don’t think it’s for you, man.”

you followed his eyes, realizing that he spotted the said blue chevy. a handful of guys lounged around the back of the pickup, some you even recognized from school and others you just knew. there was the former football team linebacker, yangyang. your once upon a time lab partner, xiaojun. even your older brother’s best friend, kun. there was ten, who worked at the ice cream shop that you frequented.

then, there was the one who was looking straight at you.

everyone knew yukhei, but nobody really knew him. he had a shield of mystery in between himself and the rest of the world, only truly with the same four guys at all times. that’s how you saw him as, anyway. otherwise, to the rest of your town, he was the bad boy with a heart of gold, the boy with witty retorts and the brightest smile that you’d probably ever laid eyes on. something seemed so off about the way he portrayed himself to everyone else, though.

of course, to the rest of the girls at your school, he was the top candidate on everyone’s list for a prom date. you knew that enough, from the explicit whispers from girls that you overheard in the middle of class. everyone wanted him.

that’s why, if he hadn’t locked eyes with you, there was no way in hell you’d believe that yukhei wrote that note for you.

the idea scared you and you weren’t thrilled by the possibility of having wong yukhei. that’s why you immediately crumpled up the notes and tossed it to the side. he watched your every move as you did so.

after all, yukhei nearly ran you over the week before and he clearly could not remember your name.

the week before.

“are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

so, you were a little sleep deprived. you’d been up until the early morning hours finishing an essay worth a chunk of your grade, which shouldn’t have taken so long if it weren’t for the fact that you had to deal with the constant distractions that were your friends. at some point, chenle and sicheng dropped by and decided to make you cookies in the kitchen to cheer you on as you reached the end of the school year—obviously, that escalated into a disaster. you spent a few hours cleaning before you could finally kick the two knuckleheads out of your home.

that morning, you literally rolled out of bed onto the floor when you woke up. this was upon realizing that you slept through your alarm clock for school, snoozing off into the deepest sleep of your life after finishing your assignment. that’s how you found yourself sprinting from street light to street light, hoping to at least make it before the end of second period.

then, there was the baby blue chevy pickup speeding in like lightning from your left. you honestly should have heard it from a mile away, with the gurgle and sputter of an engine humming the disgusting tune louder than anything else on the street. however, you were too lost in the daze of fatigue and trying to remember if you packed yourself a lunch.

you noticed the truck a little too late, as it was a few away from you before you yelped and attempted to hop away, but ended up landing straight on your bottom. the impact nearly knocked the wind out of you and you braced yourself for the crash. thankfully, the driver had enough sense to come to a screeching halt, just about to touch you. this is when you yelled at the male behind the wheel.

the features of his handsome face knitted together. “aw, shit, shit shit—are you alright?” he yelled.

it took half a second to process what just happened, ignoring the stinging ache oozing in your backside. you took a sharp inhale and everything exploded like a volcano. shooting right up in a sitting position, you were met with the eyes of wong yukhei.

“do i look alright?” you snapped and he opened his mouth to reply, but you didn’t let him get even a word out. “you almost killed me, running that stop sign! i’m freakin’ exhausted, probably got three hours of sleep and i had to deal with my brother’s idiot cat almost clawing my eyes out on my way out! i’ve been running for forever and my legs ache like hell and i have to go to work straight after school! and. . .and, worst of fucking all, i’m late for school!”

yukhei simply blinked, staring back at your state, with dark crescent moons slapped underneath your eyes and your chest heaving for air. you were, in all simpleness, a mess. he smiled slightly, running a hand through his precisely twirled up, slicked up hair. you narrowed your eyes at his response.

he simply replied, “you wanna hop in?”

“i—what?”

“c’mon sweets, i’m sorry. i fucked up, at least let me give you a ride to school,” yukhei said, unbuckling his seatbelt. he began to exit his vehicle, gliding over to you and extended his hand. a smile remained on his lips and your head started to spin.

that was definitely not the response you expected. the only reason you went off on him so harshly was because you were used to dealing with the idiot hoods from your block, who seemed like they were raised without a lick of manners in the very few braincells in their heads. as a woman, you knew that you were going to automatically be treated lightly and built strong walls for that very reason. to have yukhei respond with such quietude was foreign to you and you felt a weight drop at the pit of your stomach for your reaction.

reluctantly, you grabbed his hand and he helped heave you up. you stumbled slightly once you rose a little too fast and you instinctively grabbed for leverage, which happened to be a handful of his leather jacket. yukhei didn’t seem to mind, though, which astounded you because other guys like sicheng and kunhang carried their leathers like their pride and joy, with even the slightest crinkle driving them mad. you apologized regardless.

yukhei attempted to steady you, both hands on either side of your shoulders. “s’okay, no worries. you kinda took a hard fall there.”

you gulped down the ball forming in your throat, trying to look anywhere but into his deep brown eyes. these were the same eyes that girls cursed for tearing into their hearts and bringing on permanent cracks. the same eyes that girls cried over in the washrooms at school. school. you were late for school.

“um, yeah, let’s. . .let’s just go.” you’d been counting time in your head since leaving your front door and knew exactly what time it was, but you still pulled up your sleeve to glance at your watch. anything to avoid looking into his eyes.

something must have creeped in under your skin and taken control of your muscles because you were not the type of person to get into a stranger’s car. alright, wong yukhei was no stranger, but he had a reputation that you were well aware of. it was just as bad. or maybe it really just because you were—

“—late for school again, but i guess i’m used to it and you’re not,” yukhei had been saying, but you were zoned out and had just opened the car door.

it seemed to had only occurred to you then, but you sometimes forgot that yukhei still went to your school. he had a distinct group of friends that he spent time with, all of which had dropped out quite some time ago. he never really struck you as the academic type and as far as you could remember, you never ran into him in the hallways or in class. the only reminders of his existence in the place were the indecent fantasies written about him on the inside of the girls’ bathroom stalls.

“you sure you’re okay, y/n? it is y/n, right?” yukehi glanced over at you from the driver's seat, roaring life back into the pickup with the turn of his key.

you thought you heard incorrectly, but then he repeated it. yukhei actually knew your name and it wasn't just because he was this popular boy that all the girls went after, but you were in shock be ause you'd never even exchanged words before as far as you knew. he seemed to read your mind and gave you a look that read "surprised you, didn't i?" with the raise of a single eyebrow.

yukhei continued as a further explanation,“i sat behind you in history class last year before i transferred out of it.”

clipping in your seatbelt, all you could reply with was, “yeah.” your eyes darted over to the way he mindlessly gripped the steering wheel with one hand, with a beautiful swirl of reds and blues staining his otherwise immaculate knuckles. he let the other one hang loose out of the window. “you promise to drive safe?”

a goosebump inducing grin, one bright enough to outshine a sun, stretched across his lips. “yeah, cross my heart.” yukhei said this, even as booked beyond the speed limit. you didn’t say anything. “to be fair, sweets, you weren’t exactly lookin’ out when you were sprinting earlier.”

you awkwardly twirled the ends of your hair hanging down your shoulder, but tried to keep an annoyed expression. “i was counting on drivers following road signs, yukhei.”

he smiled even wider. “ah, so you do know my name.”

that was a pretty ridiculous thought, there was no way that he wasn’t just teasing. yukhei had to be even just the slightest bit self-aware enough to see the way he’s flanked by girls at school. he was popular, enough so that quiet kids like yourself who never talked to him knew him. besides, you all lived in a town where everybody knew everybody and chances are, their kids come to know their kids and so on. nobody escaped the little bubble and routine that you all settled in.

something tugged at your heartstrings, though, at the way yukhei lit up.

“what’s the story behind those bruises?” you finally said, cocking your head to the side.

“hmm?” yukhei murmured, as the sight of your school building came into sight. “oh. just a badge of loyalty. you know how it is.”

unfortunately, you did know. around here, boys seemed to travel in packs and each one had each other’s backs to the grave. some found it silly, but there was an air of unspoken understanding.

“some kids from the south side give y’all trouble?”

if you had to guess, you would have probably gone with the reason being yukhei’s hothead of a best friend, yangyang. there was one particularly bad outburst last month, when you and kunhang went to the diner after school, only to be interrupted by a fight erupting between yangyang and some rich kid from the south. of course, the prep had his boys with him to back him up and bring the fight outside, prompting yukhei and xiaojun to get involved automatically. you had watched in amusement from the other side of the window with your strawberry milkshake, as yukhei beat a guy up against his own car.

“not me, my little sister. that shit don’t ever sit right with me, runnin’ their mouths on an innocent girl like her.” something in your brain clicked and you remembered that yukhei had a kid sister, only because she was in chenle’s grade and he used to have the biggest crush on her. “it’s just the two of us and our grandpa, so i feel extra responsible for her.”

that was the way your brother used to be with you, when he turned legal just before your mom got sent behind bars. you’d always have appreciation for him and in turn, you gained a new wave of respect for yukhei.

“what’s the story behind ms. honour roll being late to school?” it took you a second to realize that he was talking about you and you snorted.

you replied, “i’m surprised you asked. if i were you, i’d be scared of me going off on another rampage.”

“yeah, i’d bet you’d really get mad the second time. maybe even beat me up?” yukhei smirked, making sure you were paying attention to the fact that he’d obeyed the next stop sign they crossed paths with. you rolled your eyes.

“you’d end up just like one of them roman emperors,” you mused, watching a trace of confusion emerge on his handsome features. “c’mon, that’s from like the second week of our history class.”

yukhei merely shrugged. “i was too distracted.”

“distracted? by what, the teacher’s droning voice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nah, this real pretty girl that sat in front of me. so much so that i had to transfer out because i would have probably flunked out.”

before you knew it, he pulled into the parking lot of the school. before being able to announce the arrival, you’d already nearly ripped off your seatbelt and zipped out of the car, yelling a thanks as you scurried off with a deep rouge tinting your cheeks. there was still ten minutes left before the end of second period. yukhei only chuckled, watching you.

dear yukhei,

remember that first night at the drive-in? honestly, i thought you were a real fox. someone i had no chance with. the fact that you gave me a chance scared the hell out of me. you know how many restless nights i had, tossing and turning because i wanted to know why you chose me? out of the girls in the world, you made me feel like a goddamn diamond in a pile of dirt. i’ll never forget that. i’ll never forget the way you made me feel that summer, the first and last one we spent together.

love, your sweets.

after ignoring yukhei at the drive-in, you were positive that was going to be the last you heard from him. however, he still plagued your thoughts like a ghost. you had no idea why, but you knew that it scared you. it was the day after and you arrived to school early, trudging to your locker with a yawn. you thought your eyes were deceiving you, when you pulled open the door to be met with a note flying out of a random crook.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

and, to a lightning shock to the middle of your chest, you looked over to your side to find yukhei. he leaned against a wall of lockers, not even pretending to listen to the two girls talking to him. he was looking straight at you and smiled. you let out an exasperated scoff, wondering if you were dreaming.

you’d received a few more of these love poems before you decided to take matters into your own hands. or, really, it was chenle who forced you to do so. you didn’t dare confide in either sicheng or kunhang about your new admirer. there was no doubt that they’d turn their lip up at the idea of love poems, would probably go on and call yukhei some emasculating name. they also knew of yukhei’s reputation and were a tad over protective.

alright, a “tad” was an understatement. kunhang was furious when he realized yukhei was trying to make a pass at you at the movies and sicheng had to shove him back into the car to prevent a fight. it also seemed that it was so that he could find a different parking spot, away from yukhei and his friends.

although he began courting you from a safe distance, yukhei was not one for subtlety. you noticed that right off the bat when he boldly gave you his number in front of all your friends. the poems in your locker was another thing, as he was always just around the corner to ensure that you knew they were from him.

she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies.

the latest of them, discovering the folded up note in your locker once again, had particularly swept you off your feet.

“what if he’s like this with every other girl?” you began to worry, fiddling with the phone cord in your hand.

you were seated in your living room one tuesday night, crossed legged on the ugly floral couch with a joint in between your lips. sicheng and kunhang left just minute prior, leaving you with chenle. he was watching television in your dad’s old armchair, in an identical position as you. neither of you were in the mood to go out, having being burned out by final exams. meanwhile, chenle made your house his second home when he couldn’t get a foot in his own door without his parents yelling at him for any reason they could find.

chenle snorted. “if wong yukhei wrote love poems to every girl he’s been with, i’m pretty sure we would’ve all heard by know.” he took a drag out of his joint. “besides, he only has eyes for you, even when he has other broads hangin’ off of him. everyone’s been noticin’ that the girls’ve been backin’ off of him lately, too.”

at this point, you were no longer scared of the idea of wong yukhei. in fact, it excited you. maybe it was the marijuana doing its usual duty, but you had a sudden surge of energy flowing through your veins.

reaching into the back pocket of your capris, you uncrumpled the first piece of paper that started it all. you hadn’t thrown out the note from the drive-in after all, recovering it just before sicheng insisted that you guys were to move. letting go on the deep breath that was imprisoned in your throat for what seemed like an hour, you slowly began to dial in the number.

“hello?” a familiar deep voice rumbled.

“hi,” you managed to squeak out and you gave chenle the middle finger when you caught him snickering. “i’m looking for yukhei.”

you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “this is him. who’s calling?”

“um, y/n.” you wedged the phone in between the side of your cheek and your shoulder, unconsciously beginning twirling a loose strand of hair.

there was a pause on the other line and you weren’t sure what to make of it, possibly disbelief. “oh. hi, sweets.” yukhei chuckled. “i see you’ve decided to give me a chance.”

“does this mean the notes are gonna stop?” you teased, but deep inside, you were hoping the answer was going to be a no.

he simply replied, “’course not. unless you say the word.” there was some fiddling on the other end and you could’ve sworn you heard the sound of a lighter. “when are you free?”

“you askin’ me out, yukhei?” you giggled and chenle rolled his eyes at you, throwing a pillow in your direction. you covered the phone with one hand, telling him to fuck off, before sweetly bringing it back up to your ear.

“how’s friday?” the male exhaled a little loudly—was he smoking, too? you wanted to feel a little bit powerful, so you convinced yourself that it was out of nerves.

you responded a little bit too quickly. “yes. friday sounds good.” swallowing down the realization, you proceeded to give him your address.

“good,” yukhei repeated after you, slowly drawing out the word like molasses. “i’ll pick you up at eight. see you then, sweets.”

the call ended and you sat as still as a statue. closing your eyes, you lost yourself in the daze of smoke and the thought of yukhei. were your ears ringing? the faint hum and static of the television faded out, as you leaned back into the couch with a stupid smile playing at the corners of your lips.

someone cleared their throat. you cracked one eye open and lo and behold, chenle was looking at you like you were a lunatic. in that split second, your face dropped back into annoyance and you hurled the nearest cushion in his direction.

“hey!”

“what?” you snapped.

chenle continued his earlier snickering. “guess that went well, then, huh? i told ya so.”

you put out the joint in front of you and proceeded to bury your face into your hands. your state of disbelief felt permanent, like you were stained with the thoughts of wong yukhei forever. without a word of warning, you began to screech uncontrollably and the younger male nearly jumped out of his seat.

“ahh!! what the fuck, y/n?!” chenle heaved, holding his hand on his heart like he’d been shot. he accidentally knocked over the bag of pretzels that he’d been munching on, spilling it all over the carpet. normally, you would have freaked out over the mess, but you were too entranced in the fact that you had a date with the most handsome boy in school.

that’s when chenle knew you were either: possessed or completely smitten.

the grin on your face was so wide that it hurt, but you blocked out the pain. “we have a date!” with that, you nearly jumped onto the armchair and hauled chenle in a bone crushing hug that left him without any oxygen.

“can’t. . .breathe. . .” he was blue in the face at this point, struggling to even get his words out.

you giggled and released him, patting his cheek as he did so. chenle gasped dramatically for air, coughing as he did so. he shot you a glare.

“so, when’s the day of this stupid date?” he grumbled, settling back into his spot and began picking up his mess.

returning to the couch, you said, “friday. he said he’s going to pick me up.” you once saw that chevy of his as the devil machine, but now, you were swooning at the thought of it pulling up in front of your house.

“friday?” chenle’s eyebrows suddenly reached his hairline.

you gave him a questioning look. “yeah, it’s a little soon, but—”

“no, no,” he shook his head. “it’s not that. uhh, don’t you remember what’s happening on friday?”

you began to search your brain for any important dates, like a test or a birthday that you should’ve jotted down. “huh?” you came up empty and tilted your head slightly to the side.

“that’s prom night, stupid.”

if you hadn’t been hit with a ton of bricks before, this was an entire goddamn building raining down on you. wong yukhei had not only chased you with love poems and asked you out on a date, but he had asked you out to prom. this was really happening.

you didn’t give a damn about prom night, but you knew what it meant to other girls and it seemed like you just won a year long race between the class of seniors itching to get their hands on yukhei.

he wasn’t the only reason for your disbelief, but it was also the fact that you managed to get roped into attending prom anyway, after months of complaining about it. you groaned, lying down on the couch. this meant you had to go out and buy a freakin’ dress.

my love,

there are two times in my life when i was left absolutely breathless. the first time was when i first met you and i mean really met you. i always knew you in my heart. we were about fifteen when you moved to this town, this town that i’d grown to resent all of my life. i associated these streets with violence and hatred and i wanted nothing more to get away as fast as possible. i was hanging out with ten, loitering at the ice cream place, while i waited for his shift to end. that’s when you came in and you asked me about what flavour was best. i had a crush on you ever since that day, but could never seem to work up the courage to approach you first. yeah, i’m a fucking idiot, i know. i had those other girls following me around, but i could never quite shake off that feeling of, well, you. i’d never felt so damn. . .shy? when a girl made me feel that way, i knew you were special.

the second time was on prom night.

"ah, ah, don’t open that yet.”

you pouted and put the note back in its place, nestled in between the dozen of peonys. they were the colour of the sunset, a soft peach that brought butterflies to your insides. when yukhei had arrived to your front door with these, you nearly gasped out loud because they were so stunning.

the colour was identical to the sky above, as the clouds faded into one another and touches of navy loomed at the base of the point where the land met the heavens. yukhei’s windows were rolled all the way down and you let the wind penetrate against your being, caressing the locks of your curled hair. you’d applied an absurd amount of hairspray to keep it that way, so you weren’t concerned about the wind ruining the style.

yukhei glanced over to your side. “you can open it at the end of the night. promise.” the more you saw him smile, the more charming it became each time.

when the two of you pulled into the school parking lot, you immediately spotted kunhang and his scratched plymouth. he was leaning against the hood, sweet talking his date, some girl named meixiu that you didn’t know. probably an underclassman, you had no idea. he waved at you and probably just you, as you failed to miss the way his upper lip slightly twitched when yukhei exited his vehicle.

kunhang was the only person you guys were meeting, since both of your friend groups consisted of drop outs. you gave a polite wave to meixiu and gave kunhang a quick side hug. meanwhile, he and yukhei exchanged curt nods, as the parking lot began to reek of testosterone from the stares between the two alone.

“nice threads,” meixiu broke the silence, peering at your dress.

thankfully, you rummaged far enough into the last of your sister’s things that she left behind before moving out and came out with something decent. it was a boatneck satin dress with an empire waist and went down to just above your ankles. under the glare of the sunset, its baby blue hue contrasted beautifully. definitely pretty and saved you money and time. considering your lack of female friends, it would have been a real pain in the ass to have to drag either sicheng or chenle to a boutique.

“thank you,” you smiled at meixiu.

when you opened the door to greet yukhei, he had looked like someone just slapped him. he looked absolutely stunned and began drinking in the way you had dressed up, like an angel appeared in front of him and breathed the word of god. you were just as stunned when you were met with his put together appearance. you always had a soft spot for a tuff leather jacket and calloused hands, but seeing yukhei in a tuxedo made you rethink your preferences.

“wow,” the two of you had sputtered out at the same time and after a pause, began to laugh together.

meanwhile, kunhang merely blinked at your appearance. “turns out you’re a woman after all.” he yelped when you smacked his arm for that comment. “what? just because you walk around in a miniskirt doesn’t mean you’re a lady—” you hit him again.

“a pretty damn fine one at that,” yukhei snaked an arm around your waist and you relaxed slightly. “ready to head in?”

that baby blue dress. the way you lost yourself in the music on the dancefloor without a care in the world. my god, i wish i could capture that memory in my mind forever. i was still so goddamn shy and the only way i could express my feelings was through letters. some things never change, huh?

yours truly, yukhei.

the rest of your night was just as you imagined it would turn out. some lame music, bad refreshments, and glares from literally every girl on the dancefloor when they saw who you arrived with. all eyes were on the two of you when you walked in through the doors, though you knew it was partly out of curiosity to see who wong yukhei would bring to prom.

suddenly, you were beginning to be treated different. guys you’d never spoken to for four years cornered you into conversations that you had no interest in. girls complimented your dress and not in the way meixiu did, but like panthers sneaking up to stalk their prey. you nearly finished the contents of yukhei’s hidden flask out of annoyance.

“easy there, sweets,” he said, eyes wide when you slipped him his almost empty flask.

you laughed a bit. “sorry. i’m just slowly starting to get tired.”

“sleepy?” he asked, brushing a stray curl of hair out of your face.

the two of you were leaning on a wall, silently bopping your heads to the tune of the bluesy guitar playing throughout the school gymnasium. yukhei, you discovered, was a really good dancer. although shy at first, the majority of your night was spent on the dancefloor. you were sure you picked up on a few of his moves, even. you teased him about it on your way to the back, after he declared that he was parched.

“no, not that kind of tired. i mean, like—” you gave a quick side glance to a group of girls to your left that had been glaring in your direction all night,“—tired of that.”

it wasn’t as though you were overly concerned with the other girls, but it was really starting to get on your nerves.

“then, let’s get out of here?”

sure, the night was still young, but something twinkled in yukhei’s eyes and you knew that the date was far from over. you looked over at the crowd, not being able to find kunhang. he’d live if you didn’t tell him a goodbye. you shrugged and tapped your nails against your clutch.

“get out here, where?” you asked reluctantly, wincing as you did so. the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was make an assumption, but you also wanted to set clear boundaries before the night went on.

yukhei raised his eyebrows. “i mean, like, we could go grab a burger or somethin’. i’m starving.” he chuckled, but you smiled at his response.

“alright. i’m good with that.”

you didn’t even notice yukhei grabbing your head and lacing your fingers with his own—it just felt so natural. he gently led you back to the main entrance and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles ever so slightly flexed underneath his suit and the way he styled his hair into perfect swirls with gel and the crystal clear confidence in his eyes and—

“oh, ho, so you ended up working up the nerve to ask y/n out after all?” there was no mistake about it, that voice belonged to your old history teacher. it was the voice you heard in your nightmares, after all. “gimme some skin, yukhei!”

the old man sat in front of the entrance, where the tickets had been checked at the beginning of the night. presumably to catch any drunk teenagers stumbling out of the gymnasium, he was the only chaperone outside of the main floor.

you furrowed your eyebrows together. yukhei awkwardly shook hands with the teacher. then, you remembered what yukhei had told you before when he gave you a ride to school. your lips parted slightly.

“you stole away one of my favourite students, you know that, ms. y/n?” he continued.

turning to yukhei, whose ears began to transform into a brilliant bubblegum colour, you said, “you weren’t joking about that?”

“why would i be joking?” yukhei chuckled.

you paused and shrugged. “i dunno. i thought it was just one of them cheesy things guys say. like you were just trying to make me swoon or somethin’.”

“what? aw, c’mon, sweets, i can do better than that!” yukhei exclaimed and poked your side, causing you to giggle and yelp.

your old history teacher rolled your eyes at the two of you. “just go on, go home!” he began shooing the two of you away like some puppies.

yukhei continued leading you out of the building, only until you stopped in the middle of the parking lot when you heard a familiar song. it was unmistakable, you would have recognized the record from miles away. he froze, noticing the way you had done the same.

“are you alright?” he stepped forward, reaching out to touch your arm.

you felt a little silly, but you said it anyway. “they’re playing my favourite song. you think we could. . .?” you trailed off, hoping he would agree.

there wasn’t a guy you knew that absolutely detested the beach boys. sicheng whined like he was in pain every time you put one of their records one. you had to basically hide all of their music from your brother, taking them away from the main living room shelf in fear that he would eventually trash them one day. yukhei pressed his lips together, listening to the song—clearly he was no exception.

“you’re into these fools, too?” he teased.

yukhei began stripping himself of his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders and you immediately revelled in the warmth and faint scent of his cologne on the fabric. the night had fully set in and a dull chill kissed your bare skin. under the moonlight, the man looked immaculate.

you scoffed. “they have good music!” and that they did, but it was something about the group that made you sway in place and felt like you were high on love.

“why don’t we just dance here?”

the parking lot was empty save for the two of you and the countless of cars. even the streets were dead silent and the only sounds in the air were the beach boys telling you to not worry and the soft rustling of the leaves. then, there was yukhei. his same damn charming smirk that seemed to have already captured your heart, but was not nearly as powerful as the thoughts he spilled out into words for you on paper.

you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands found a place on your waist, like the two of you had done this millions of time before in another life.

dear y/n,

you are the stars.

yukhei.

#neowritingsnet #neowriters #nct-writers #nct fic #lucas x reader #nct au #nct imagine #wayv imagines #lucas imagine #yukhei x reader #wayv x reader #wayv fanfic #nct scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop au #— EIGHTEEN FOREVER .#i had to repost ughh

83 notes · View notes

reginaofdoctorwho · 3 years

Text

weird shit that would probably have something to do with me in a horror movie

no one wanted this but i’m bored and found a bottle so you’re all getting it. yes these are all true. check the tags, if u think i’ve missed something please let me know!

there was a murder (technically, i don’t really count it as a murder) next door when i was four years old on christmas morning

the weird antique glass bottle i found half-buried in the woods in the woods yesterday with living bugs in it that made no attempt to leave it once i uncovered it

there is a local cult in the next town over. this is not the same as the local cult that was in the other town over where my mom grew up

random completed animal skeletons in the woods behind our house, i’m talking prey and predator, both laid out like in a goddamn scientific diagram. for a while there’d be ones in the middle of our yard, always the same type of animal, always just the bones and nothing else, laid out like it was posed. this has been happening for over half a decade and we have no fucking clue how, why, or who is doing it

the screaming from the woods that i’m going to assume is a fox

my sister almost dated a murderer. his niece or something is in my class

there is a house that is now part of a “local ghost tour” that belonged to my great+ grand parents during the civil war where my great+ aunt died allegedly murdered by her husband who is actually blood related to me. family history says she died of childbirth, which given that it was the 1800s... probably is true

there was an actual murderer in our family a few generations back but he married in and killed his wife and her sister. they didn’t find out about it until they read his journals after he died where it apparently told everything he did and they decided. “well, that wouldn’t look good for the family, and they’re already dead anyway” and just kept it hidden??

the fact we have my great great grandmother’s dress from probably 1890s or 1900s. even more so the fact that i fit in it. if this was fantasy horror (vampires, some immortal thing or ghost) i’d be fucking dead or cursed

fairly certain i was possessed by the ghost of a puritan as a kid

my family seems to have a curse with babies and nurses? my great uncle died when he was born because long story short, hospitals were the new hot thing, he was perfectly healthy, then a nurse dropped him and he died instantly. my sister died when she was a toddler and the hospital actively tried to delete her hospital records to cover it up and ended up getting fined by the state for it. the nurses responsible were not arrested or punished in any way.

my family all has fucked up connective tissue, in my brother it was bad enough he had to get a steel bar in his chest so it wouldn’t cave in.

the many times i have almost drowned, sometimes due to intentional actions by humans (my dad, it was my dad)

this in addition to the other fucked up shit he did before the divorce when he still lived here, including but not limited to: killing my mom’s favorite pet goat, hanging its skull in a tree, and leaving the body in the woods. not letting his kids learn how to cook. anytime someone asked him to cook he’d put as much pepper/hot sauce in as he could (even for like, scrambled eggs) and give it to the youngest person, usually a toddler. this was me at times. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening murder. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening burning. purposely locked the basement from the inside so we couldn’t get the gaping hole in the stairs leading to one of three kids rooms fixed. tearing up pictures of the kids whenever my mom did something he didn’t like. i had more here but i tried to cut it down a litttle

people have threatened to murder me before. one time a girl didn’t threaten, and actually acted like she was starting to like me, but her cousin read her diary or something and found out she was planning to commit a lot of murder, and told her parents and she got sent to a psychiatric ward for a couple weeks

my mom lived down the street from a family that got axe-murdered by one of their two sons when she was a kid. the murderer did get out on an insanity plea and is still in the area. also their neighbor’s mom “lost her mind” (how the story was told) when she had to protect their kids while her husband went over to try to protect the non murderer son when he got home from school and ran over screaming about his brother trying to kill him and had killed their parents

also she knew a girl who almost got kidnapped by this really fucked up traveling serial killer that has his own wikipedia page that is,,, lengthy. the girl had [alleged] mafia ties, and the guy ended up dying shot by police despite them being told to bring him in, which sounds kinda suspicious

long story short i’d probably be the sequel where one comes back

apparently i go to the “bad” school, which i found out in a coffee shop when i overheard two girls talking about how one’s dad went there and how horrible and dangerous it is

school fights are weird. either they don’t happen or they come freakishly close to murder. people slam heads into lockers, stomp on bones, drag people by hair along the ground. one time in my brother’s class a 4′9″ girl sent a 6′2″ football player to the hospital. there was video of a fight a couple years ago that’s still around. it was brutal, but also one of the girls fighting was taking one for the team in it and got the other kicked out

we don’t have a ceiling in all of the third floor, and the cafeteria has 2. this is not relevant in any way, but it’s important to me that you know this

also the guys kept ripping the heating vents/radiators/whatever off the walls in their bathrooms and got almost all the bathrooms locked. including the girls’ ones.

also everyone kept punching holes in the walls so on some of them it’s just,,, metal sheeting down the whole hallway

there are so many fucking shootings in the next town over. literally five years ago it was this nice place where kids would go on history tours, i did when my sister worked for that group. now there is pretty much one business that has not been held up at gunpoint, and if u look up to the serial killer bullet point, it is for v similar ties. it’s a pizza place and if u ever stop by u gotta try it

women in my family have weirdly good intuition but every couple generations we get doubtful. my great grandma didn’t want a hospital birth but decided “hey it’s the hot new thing for a reason”, my mom switched churches based on nothing but intuition and it turned out someone was a pedophile there (found out years later), i instantly could tell my friend’s boyfriend was a pos and wasn’t surprised later when he told her he’d murder and dismember me in front of her, and upon meeting him told him he was a fucking coward and couldn’t do it. he broke up with her a month later.

i was really good friends for a while with two guys that burned a building down. yes they were arrested. i was friends before and after the fire. they’re pretty nice, but this girl they used to date (at different times, they were brothers, yes it was fucking weird and uncomfortable for everyone involved except her but that’s it’s own thing) said some fucked up shit and it was the closest i ever got to starting a fight. anyway i’m still friends with both on facebook. one of them shares a lot of king of the hill memes

speaking of that fight, i 100% would’ve tried to kill her in that moment. u know that john mulaney quote like “i didn’t understand how a person could want to kill another person. then i got cheated on, and i was like ‘oh, okay.’”? that was me, but replace “cheated on” with she told me it was good my five year old sister was dead because she was a waste, and told me she hoped i’d die of covid”. it was mainly the sister thing. i couldn’t move because if i did i’d start a fight with the [way] above mentioned shit.

my family has a literal feud with a local farming family. i mean, we keep farm animals (sheep, goats, chickens), these people have that, pigs, and crops too. the feud was because their great uncle (or great grand uncle, i’m a little fuzzy on the details) published an autobiography (despite not being anyone famous/important) and in it talked about when he was friends with my grandfather and how creepy my great grandfather was (this was the one with the dead firstborn son) because he kept newspaper clippings of the Lindbergh baby’s kidnapping and murder pinned to a board on the wall of his office/basement. also because he was a child of german immigrants who wanted to fight against nazis in WW2 (how suspicious [sarcasm]). members of their family are in my grade. they charged my sister for almost half an extra pound of goods, too, which just revitalized it.

i live by corn fields. i am surrounded by cornfields. (joke one)

i was friends for a while with this girl whose baby teeth,,, didn’t really fall out completely? she was 17 the last time i saw her in person, she’s probably 19 now and judging by her facebook pictures they’re still Like That. she had a very symmetrical mouth/teeth, which made it weirder. just to clarify, she had some of her baby teeth pushed forward and up, so they kind pointed out a little? and all her adult teeth. she was literally so pretty.

a teacher who is v sexual with his female students came into my english class (he is a science teacher) to demand why i wasn’t signed up for his class. we then both became increasingly passive aggressive and he told the whole class where i live with specific directions and landmarks. the guy sitting next to me had to try to tone things down despite being obviously confused as to why it was even happening (me too buddy). he lives down the road from my sister. when my niece had her birthday party at our house i was outside setting things up and he slowed his car down and honked at me. fuckin creep

#tw child death #tw animal death #tw arson #i guess?#tw shooting #tw murder #a lot of that one actually #tw child abuse #tw violence #let me know if u think i should tag anything else #no one wanted this #except for me #tw cult

8 notes · View notes

ninzied · 4 years

Text

things you said when you were crying

for @fortysevenswrites. [ao3]

The first time Frank brings Karen over to the Liebermans’ for Friday night dinner, he could swear David’s eyes almost pop out of his goddamn skull. Sarah is more discreet – if you can call that discreet when she pours out twice as much wine for Frank and Karen, while leaving a more modest-sized glass for herself.

The kids, at least, act more normal about it.

Of course, there’s nothing normal, exactly, about how Frank had come into their lives. But in the last few months since he started coming over with some regularity, they’ve fallen into a routine that feels like the closest to normal – the closest to family – that Frank’s ever going to get.

And then, Karen.

He doesn’t know what he and Karen are. All he knows is what Karen means to him, and for now, that’s enough. The last thing he wants is to fuck it all up. There’s no rush – only that sensation of the floor bottoming out when she looks at him a certain way, or that slip of warmth in his chest when he says something that makes her laugh.

The Liebermans let him off the hook for a while. He doesn’t offer them any status updates, and they don’t pry either – much.

“Listen. Frank,” David says to him one Friday, as they’re unloading the dishwasher. Karen and Sarah are upstairs with the kids, picking out the evening’s activities. “As great as we are at board games, you know this doesn’t count as a double date until you ask her out on like a regular date, right?”

Frank picks up a particularly sharp-looking knife and makes a point of drying the edge. “You want to run that by me again?”

“Nope,” says David. “Not at all.”

The kids are rightfully curious about her, but seem satisfied enough when Frank first introduces her to them as “just an old friend of your Uncle Pete’s.”

Leo ends up being especially impressed with Karen’s board game prowess.

“Got a lot of practice growing up,” Karen explains to her over Risk one night. “I used to play with my younger brother too, just like you.”

“Cool,” beams Leo. “So how old’s your—”

But Frank clears his throat, and says something about ice cream if they want to take a peek in the freezer. They’re bouncing off into the kitchen faster than he can say mint chocolate chip, and he squeezes Karen’s arm for a second before getting up to join them.

Zach, on his part, seems to go selectively mute whenever Karen’s around. He gets more agitated than usual if a game isn’t going his way, and turns fire engine red whenever Karen offers some kind words of encouragement.

Zach, it appears, has a crush.

“Good,” is all Sarah has to say when Frank mentions his theory to her. “You could use the competition.”

“Get out of here,” he scowls, and doesn’t make the mistake of bringing it up again.

…

But it turns out Zach’s not the one in this family that Frank should’ve been watching out for.

It’s early June, just after school’s let out for the summer. David and Sarah have been making threats about moving their Friday night dinners down to the beach.

“I don’t do the beach,” says Frank.

“What Frank means,” Karen cuts smoothly in, “is that he only owns things that come in black hoodie sizes.”

“Easy enough to fix,” says Sarah, looking sly.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Christ,” mutters Frank, just as Leo’s coming into the kitchen. “Hey, sweetheart. Want to go outside for a bit?”

“Sure!” says Leo, and runs to grab a ball.

Zach’s at some all boys’ camp for the week, so it’s just him and Leo in the front yard, kicking a soccer ball back and forth to each other. It’s not really his thing; he’d grown up with a football practically in his hands at all times, but Leo’s trying out for the team, she tells him, so he’s game for whatever.

As they’re kicking the ball around, she tells him about school, how her favorite classes had gone, what she’s looking forward to with starting a new grade in the fall.

She’s really come into her own this year, he thinks. She’s fierce, and feisty, and it’s maybe more than a little bit terrifying to him, just how much she’s grown.

He can’t look at her these days without thinking of Lisa, and how she would’ve been at this age. But it’s a welcome kind of pain, more of a tender ache in his chest than the thousand-pound weight that he’d gotten so used to carrying alone.

Now, he has the Liebermans. Now he has Karen, and—

Leo’s making a run for the ball when she steps wrong on her ankle – out of the corner of his eye, he sees it twist unnaturally, and then she’s going down with a cry, and Frank’s heart just about stops right there.

He’s by her side in half a second. There’s a rock in the grass that must have tripped up her footing, and he tosses it out of the way before reaching gently down for her ankle.

“It’s okay, shh, shh, shhh. Hey.”

There are actual fucking tears in her eyes, and Frank cannot handle seeing her in any kind of pain. If that rock had been human, he would’ve skinned the thing alive by now.

“It – really – hurts,” she hiccups.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

He carefully examines her ankle.

“Listen, you’re gonna be just fine, all right? Nothing’s broken – it looks like a small sprain. We’ll get some ice on it, once we’re back inside.”

He’s crouched down next to her, pulse still hammering up in his throat somewhere. He’s about to ask her if she wants to try putting some weight on it when he notices her looking up at him shrewdly.

He also notices that she’s no longer crying.

“While I have you here,” she says, in a very different tone, “I have a few questions for you.”

“Shoot,” says Frank, rocking back on his heels and trying to decide whether to laugh or shake his head and sigh. He’s probably going to regret this.

“So, you and your friend. Karen.”

Yeah, he’s definitely going to regret this.

“Are you two, like…hanging out?”

He scrubs a hand over his face and says, “Don’t know what you mean by that.”

“I’m fourteen, not four. I’m not stupid. I know what it looks like when two people—”

“Whoa, okay, okay,” says Frank. He stoops down lower so that they’re level with each other. “Don’t say anything that’s gonna make it hard for me to look your mom in the eye later.”

“Fair enough,” says Leo. Then, after a moment, “So if you’re not…hanging out, then what are you doing?”

Frank lets out a sigh. “Your mom and dad put you up to this?”

“Nope,” says Leo, looking smug. “They’d only wish they had.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

Leo stretches her legs and gives an experimental roll of her injured ankle. “Just suck it up and buy a swimming suit, okay? It’s not that hard.”

“That so?” Frank muses. “Why does it matter so much to you, anyway?”

Leo shrugs. “When I grow up, I want to be just like Karen.”

“Yeah? I don’t blame you, kid.”

“And I want to be loved the way Dad loves Mom. Or the way that you…well, you know what I’m going to say.”

Frank pulls her into a hug, kissing the top of her head as she snuggles into him for a moment. “You will be, sweetheart. You will.” He ruffles her hair before pulling away. “So it was that obvious, huh.”

“Yep,” says Leo, matter-of-factly. “Well. Except to Zach. You should probably break the news to him, after.”

Frank glances up toward the house, and tries to imagine walking back in there, facing Karen like nothing has changed. For all the Liebermans’ endeavoring, it’s their fourteen-year-old daughter who’s going to be the one that refuses to let him off the hook.

“All right,” he says. “You ready?”

“Are you?”

“Smartass,” says Frank. “Don’t tell your parents I said that.”

Leo laughs. He helps her stand, and she puts a foot gingerly into the grass. “Oh, it’s totally fine now,” she says, and Frank shakes his head, retrieving the ball on their way back inside.

Leo goes to help her mom in the kitchen as Karen walks up to Frank with two cold beers in hand.

“Hey,” he says lowly.

Karen gives him a bemused sort of smile. “…Hey,” she says back. “Drink?”

Frank takes the bottle, just to have something to do with his hands. “Look, I was thinking about the, uh – the beach.”

She’s shaking her head. “Frank, it’s fine. I was only teasing earlier. If you don’t want to go—”

“Actually,” he says, “I was thinking maybe we could. Go. Just the two of us.”

Karen blinks at him, disbelieving. “You’re serious.” Her smile is slow-forming. A sunrise. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Frank feels his heart back up in his throat, for entirely different reasons this time. “Okay.” He holds her gaze a moment longer, and realizes he can’t stop smiling either.

Somewhere, there’s the sound of the table getting readied for dinner, and Karen touches his arm before going to help Sarah set up.

Leo catches his eye from across the kitchen and gives him a double thumbs up. She’s grinning from ear to ear, but schools her features into something more neutral as David walks in with a fresh plate of steaks off the grill.

“Here, Dad,” she says. “Let me get that for you, too.”

Jesus.

“Thanks, hon,” says David, none the wiser.

Frank takes a swig of his beer and goes to help man the grill for a while, wondering how to break the news to the Liebermans that they’ve been raising no less than a teenage assassin in their goddamn home.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastledaily

88 notes · View notes

thomas-reynolds · 3 years

Text

CAUGHT UP // 001

WHO: Griffin x Jamie x Thomas WHERE: The apartment. TW/NOTES: Nsfw. Griff and Tommy-boy come home early from the bar thanks to Griffin’s heavy drinking, and catch Jamie in the act with some dude. Things get heated and not in the fun way, and they end up a little worse for wear.

JAMIE ::

"My place doesn't work." Those four fateful words would normally leave Jamie shrugging and moving on to the next guy. It was a night out, after all, and he didn't have to take home the first hot guy he found. But this one was so hot. Taller than him, but just slightly. Bright blue eyes and a come and get me grin. Maybe it was more the attitude than the looks, and maybe James had downed one too many gold rushes. Maybe it was the fact that it was the beginning of summer, and hot was taking on multiple meanings here. James couldn't put his finger on what the hell it was that made him say these bolds words, but he heard himself saying them all the same. "Let's go back to my place." A husky whisper in the other guy's ear, and the two of them tumbled out of the club and into a cab.

Jamie lost his shirt at the front door, a solid thud echoing through the place as he was backed against it, and then a moan as his hookup- David? Daniel? kissed along his neck, his hands moving lower. "Don't leave a mark." He was already living dangerously. Odds were that Thomas and Griffin wouldn't randomly end up coming back home, but you could never be too careful. Now that he'd gotten that one stipulation out of the way, it was all too easy to let go and focus on the feelings. This would only ever happen once, and since he was already damned anyway, he might as well make the most of it.

More clothes were shed as they made their way to a bedroom. He didn't stop to shut the door, his hands too busy roaming Daryl's body to think of such a mundane detail. He didn't need to prepare himself much before he situated himself on top, sinking down onto the beautiful man's cock and thoroughly enjoying the view. He was close when everything went south. It was nice, having the place to himself, not needing to bother with being quiet. He was breathing hard by this point, choosing expletives that he wouldn't be caught dead saying in church instead of accidentally moaning the wrong name.

GRIFFIN ::

Getting kicked out of a bar was not new for Griffin Rollins, but getting kicked out just after nine o’clock was impressive. Or embarrassing, if he had any shame left, but he didn’t seem to, not with the way Thomas’ lecture was just rolling off his back. He could probably recite the speech back to him at this point - y’know, when he could string a sentence together without slurring. It probably meant something that the barkeep knew to call Thomas - his roommate, yes; his buddy, sure; but decidedly not a loved one, not his significant other - but that was the nice thing about being this hammered: Griffin could blissfully ignore all the flashing neon signs from the universe that he was, in fact, still a fuck-up.

That same universe was spinning by the time the men reached their front door, the dark-haired one making a valiant effort to retrieve his keys only for his hand to be impatiently batted away. As they stepped into their place, Griffin moaned out a curse - or, he thought he did, but it didn’t sound like himself. And it was coming from the wrong direction.

His eyes flashed over to Thomas’ face, trying to decipher what the fuck was going on, and he looked as far from happy as he had when he’d showed up at the bar, but now the daggers weren’t being directing at Griffin. The blonde was looking past him, and it took a carefully-executed turn to discover what he was looking at: a naked hottie riding a cock in Pearson’s bed. Griffin’s liquor-fogged mind took what felt like an eon to realize that was bad, for two reasons. 1) The naked hottie was not Thomas’ sister, and 2) The naked hottie was Pearson.

Griffin’s fingers immediately fisted in the front of Thomas’ shirt, partially in an attempt to keep him exactly where he was, and partially to keep himself upright. “Hey, hey, Tommy, hey -”

THOMAS ::

Getting the call shouldn’t have come as any sort of surprise. After all, Thomas took more phone calls regarding Griffin’s health and well-being than he’s sure Griffin’s own mother ever took. Picked him up from enough bars, enough gutters, even football practice when they were teens and his mom conveniently ‘forgot’ him at the school. Typically, Thomas wore the eternal baby-sitter badge like a medal of honor - used it to badger and annoy Griffin into some semblance of shame when he was even a modicum of sober. Now though, when Thomas himself had been getting his feet wet at the bar, a young brunette with too dark lipstick and overly straightened hair, but big enough breasts to be worth his effort practically hanging off of his arm - now it was annoying.

Even when it was more tolerable, Thomas didn’t let Griffin think otherwise anyway, but still. The point still stands, he thought, staring at the doors of a crusty old bar that screamed ‘burn your clothes when you leave here’ and definitely had enough bikers and hookers outside to make your grandmother faint on impact. Convincing the bouncer to not knock his friend’s head in was simple enough, it was actually the waitress whom Griffin palmed on the way out that seemed to cause the most trouble - and by the time they were on the way back to the apartment, drunken hands pulling at the collar of Thomas’ shirt (and stretching out the goddamned hole), Thomas had almost begun his ranting on auto pilot.

A little, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Like a fucking gutter rat. What the fuck were you drinking anyway? You smell like fucking paint-thinner --” The words died on Thomas’ lips, cheeks, ears and chest heating in a way that would make him worry that he’s finally going six feet under (and maybe he is, if his blood pressure could go any higher), and it reminded him of the time he got incredibly crossfaded at Brittany Deering’s party back in 10th grade and blacked out in her bathtub for a few hours, barely avoiding being puked and pissed on by fellow students in the same position as him. It took him entirely too quickly, Thomas’ body moving on its own accord, Griffin’s hands pawing at him like a cheap stripper, and Pearson’s wide open door looked like a gateway to Heaven, or at the very least a convenience store with the automatic slider-doors jammed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thomas’ voice didn’t sound like his own, but he supposed that it was difficult to even hear properly with all of the blood rushing through his ears, “I will kill you.” The thump in his chest had nothing to do with the fact that his best friend was clearly cheating on his sister with some...some fruity weirdo with floppy hair and stupidly blue eyes, but he was bound and determined to ignore that little fact - ignore the voice that said just tell him already and instead, encouraged the one that said, he’s got a nice neck for strangling.

“This is what you do when we’re not here? Fool around with discount Matthew McConaughey?” It definitely wasn’t a snarl, if you asked Thomas, but the clenching fist at his side, the one not hanging onto Griffin’s half-dead body, promised something lethal.

JAMIE ::

“Fuuuuck-“ turned into “Oh, fuck” entirely too quickly for Jamie’s liking. He was off that dick quicker than he’d moved in a long time. Hastily looking over his shoulder and seeing Thomas’ face twisted in rage should have killed his hard on in an instant, but it didn’t. He’d blame that on how hot Damon was and how far along into their hookup they’d been. “Fuck off Thomas, you two were supposed to be out, anyway!” He stepped into his underwear quickly, pulling on a pair of pants hastily as well. “What the fuck?” Danny was dazed, understandably confused that all of the sudden their hookup for two was now a foursome. Then, “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No!” James replied immediately, forcing a look of disgust at the mere thought of it. Or at least, his best attempt. “You need to go.” There was no salvaging this hookup, unfortunately, and he was just glad that he’d managed to make it to his own room so sweatpants were readily available. Damian had apparently gotten the point and was quickly getting redressed as well. Thomas was still mad, and honestly it was probably best to just let him be mad instead of trying to placate him. Trying that would only make it worse. Nah, he was gonna let the anger run its course and then let it go. But then it hit him, and all the color drained from his face. “You can’t tell her.” The thought of that happening made him want to throw up, and he moved a little closer, eyes wide and a little scared even as he tried to hide it. “It was nothing. Just blowing off some steam, and it doesn’t even count, you wouldn’t have known because you two were supposed to be out!” His gaze turned accusingly to Griffin for a second, and it didn’t take long to piece together what had happened. “And besides, Griffin is drunk, clearly we have bigger problems to worry about.” Yeah, pull focus. Dawson could sneak out while the two of them had a serious talk with Griffin about substance use. Jamie’s gaze flashed to Griffin again. He couldn’t decide which one of them to look at at this point. Griffin was most likely to take his side here, so he probably shouldn’t have just thrown him under the bus.

GRIFFIN ::

Griffin managed a small, two-finger salute to Jamie’s date as he passed by, clothing in his arms - or maybe it looked like he was putting a gun to his own temple, which also seemed applicable. His eyes followed the stranger’s naked ass until it disappeared into the bathroom, just in time to detect his name tumbling into this shitshow. “‘m always drunk,” he shot back in what he genuinely believed to be a solid defense. “Dsn’t count.”

God, he just wanted to be on a horizontal surface, even if it was Jamie’s bed of iniquity, and he considered making a move toward it until his last brain cell insisted that his deadweight was likely the only thing keeping Thomas anchored in place. If he could just defuse this disaster of a situation, he knew the blonde would get him into his own bed. Or the couch. Or at least onto the kitchen floor with a towel for a blanket.

“Tommy, Tommy, TommyTommyTommy, listen ... listen t’ me ... your sisterdsn’t have a dick!” he offered, finally releasing the other man’s shirt in order to wave his hands in a messy what’re-ya-gonna-do gesture. By his incredibly flawed, alcoholic logic, if Pearson wanted to fuck a dude - and understandably so, dudes being as hot as they were - he couldn’t go to Thomas’ sister. No harm, no ... whatever.

THOMAS ::

Thomas steadily ignored his own feline-reminiscent hiss as Hunky Brewster walk-of-shame’d his way out of their apartment, passing it off as some sort of controlling his temper, or silently letting out a prayer to the God he didn’t believe in but heard enough about from Jamie. The heat turned to ice in the pit of his glorious, god-like abdomen after every single ‘Tommy’ that left his friend’s mouth, “Griff, shut your fucking mouth -- and you,” He practically spit, pulling both himself and Griffin closer to the blonde in the bedroom like a boat and a buoy toward the middle of a storm, “It’s not cheeeeeeating as long as you don’t get caaaaught.” Thomas mocked his friend as the storm seemed to settle inside of his own chest, thunder and lightning begging to be let out through some sort of violence.

“I’m going to kick your ass - and then, I’m going to call my sister, and she’s going to come over here and kick your ass, you stupid, useless moron.” The dark feelings seemed to bubble and burst all in one quick second, and if Thomas could have taken a breath and really looked at the situation for what it was, and the jealousy that seemed to eat at him, the conflict likely could have been avoided. But the thick stench of sweat and alcohol from Griffin, and the same aroma from Jamie’s room seemed to override any sort of consideration that Thomas could have provided. And with that, he dropped Griffin like a sack of fucking potatoes and darted for Jamie’s face, hissing when his hit landed. Thomas was too busy cradling his knuckles to know if he’d even hit his damned target, but the swelling would be worth it if he’d gotten to cause Jamie some sort of agony he’d have to live for the next few days too. Once the blind rage passed and Thomas was left shaking, clutching his wrist like grandmother’s prized fucking pearls, he finally bit words for Griffin instead, “I don’t care that my sister doesn’t have a goddamned dick - she’s - he spouts all of this holier-than-thou bullshit that he doesn’t even follow! He just committed sodomized, pre-marital sex! And he wasn’t even on top!”

The words felt hysterical, and the laughter that left Thomas wasn’t one filled with any sort of joy; it was hollow and empty, or maybe not empty, but only filled with envy and anger. He darted for Jamie again, hissing between his teeth.

JAMIE ::

James wasn’t sure when he realized that there wouldn’t be any coming back from this. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Thomas this pissed, and that was saying something. Hell, in the past, he’d helped talk Thomas down from being this pissed at someone else. Now the fury was totally directed at him, and he fought the instinct to move back as Thomas dragged himself and Griffin closer. He wasn’t a coward. “It’s not cheating if I don’t even know his name!” It was. It absolutely was, but he’d learned from the best how to navigate with a broken moral compass. This was quite literally a situation of how what someone didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He’d done this for years, from hurried hookups behind the bleachers to an empty dugout, sneaking out at midnight and meeting someone he’d used to go to Sunday school with. It was a sin, sure, but he wasn’t gay. He went to confession after every incidence, and he was forgiven. It was just that simple.

“Don’t,” he warned, his expression going from worried to murderous. “Tell her, Thomas, and I swear to God.” Might as well add taking the Lord’s name in vain. Today couldn’t possibly be any worse. In that moment, the bubble burst. It occurred to him briefly that Thomas could have set Griffin down nicely, but then it was too late as he felt pain exploding across his cheek. Thomas packed a pretty decent punch, even if he didn’t much look like it. For the moment, he resigned himself to it, didn’t hit back even though his fist balled up by his side and he wanted to. He’d stumbled back after the initial punch, but he regained his footing. And then Thomas was talking again, listing off all the big sins, sins that were meant to be kept in private, in the confessional booth, just him and the priest. That alone made him itch with rage, but he held back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t really want to hurt Thomas. But then he laughed and it all went to hell. He surged forward at the same time Thomas did, and they collided. “Fuck. You!” He threw the next punch, hoping to land a matching shiner, putting his full force behind it. He didn’t care anymore. “It doesn’t count as pre-marital,” he growled, “if it’s not a possibility to marry.” He still couldn’t make himself use the right pronoun.

GRIFFIN ::

Now, granted, he had been wanting to lie down, but hurtling to the hardwood without any warning hadn’t exactly been ideal. Griffin laid there, still more or less grateful to be off his feet, listening to an argument that probably would have seemed a fuckton more intense if it hadn’t sounded so underwater. He even missed the first punch, arm thrown over his eyes as he willed the room to knock it off with the spinning - but he did here the telltale sound of two bodies colliding, and forced himself up onto his elbows. And then onto his knees. And then onto his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey -“ The man had exactly one word in his vocabulary at the moment, which he repeated as he stumbled over to a mound of limbs made up of his two best friends. He was already pushing it, with the walking, but the attempt to pull one of the guys off the other almost knocked him right back of his feet. He survived, though - until a rogue fist that may or may not have been meant for him caught him right in the gut. He reeled back, taking one, two, three steps towards the door before doubling-over and vomiting in the corner of Jamie’s room.

Well, it had been inevitable. At least now that part of the night was over. “HEY.” There he was. Still just as unsteady on his feet, but with renewed frustration, Griffin threw himself back into the mix.

THOMAS ::

"You probably wish you could! I'm pretty fantastic!" Thomas screamed over the man, attempting to shove Jamie, and petulantly ignoring Griffin until the guy practically took an arrow for him, projectile vomiting in the same space as them. "Nice fucking job - punching the fucking drunk. Want to talk to God about that too? You like things in your ass and you hit your best friend!"

Griffin managed to get between them and Thomas couldn't help the muttered, "You fucking reek, dude-" that left him, his arm reaching out to swing wildly at Jamie over the other man's shoulder. How ridiculous, they must have looked, three grown men throwing punches and shouting expletives at one another in the middle of the night. If the neighbors banging on the wall were anything to go by, they probably agreed with him.

"Don't touch me - don't you fucking," Thomas hissed as a spare slap managed to get him right in the nose, rust immediately dripping over the bottom portion of his face, "I'm going to tell her so fucking hard, you son of a bitch," He whined around the hand cupping his nose and mouth, practically shielding himself with Griffin's larger body. "I can't stand you two - I - it smells like shit in here," The babbling continued, even though he really couldn't smell anything with his nose full of blood clots.

JAMIE ::

“I was on top!” Jamie insisted, shoving back at Thomas. He really hadn’t intended to punch Griffin, but he was the one who’d ended up throwing himself in between the two of them. What did he think was going to happen. “I was aiming for you, asshole!” His blood was really boiling right now, and Jesus, how had this night managed to go so horribly wrong? It had started out hot and fun and devolved into, well, whatever this shit show was.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned as he heard Griffin lose his dinner in the corner of his room. Add that to the list of shit that he didn’t want to deal with. He’d be cleaning it up, of course, because Griffin clearly wasn’t in any state to, and he didn’t want his room to smell like puke while he waited for Griffin to sober up and handle it. The one last slap was admittedly satisfying, but he had to calm down. He had bigger problems on his hands. He had to convince Thomas not to tell her.

It occurred to him way too quickly what he had to do, the only way he was going to appeal to Thomas’ sense of reason. “Fine!” He shouted numbly. “Tell her. But who else do you think is going to be with her? We break up, she ends up an old fucking spinster for the rest of her life. Is that what you want for her? Huh?” He gave one more shove to prove his point. “You tell her, and you break her fucking heart. And for what? Because I’m getting a little on the side that she can’t give me? I’m the perfect boyfriend, Thomas. She won’t get better than me, and you know it.”

GRIFFIN ::

Somehow managing to dodge what could have been a really unfortunate elbow, Griffin was perfectly content with standing between his roommates now that things had boiled over and resolved into a simmer; still hot, still able to burn, but not quite as active. The shouting, he was pretty desensitized to. Between the three of them, someone was perpetually shouting at the other two, or two were shouting at each other, or two were shouting at one (he was usually the one, and he was usually inebriated). It was a special occasion when the trio were all shouting, though, which is normally what got the neighbors involved. Griffin reached over to land his fist on the wall three or four times, acknowledging their neighbor’s participation.

His back was turned to Thomas, who, though taller, was probably less of a real physical threat. As a result, he missed the bloody nose, but he did catch sight of Jamie’s split lip and the scarlet mark that was going to bloom into one hell of a bruise. “Better tell ‘er ya got mugged,” he suggested, finally throwing over a glance over his shoulder to survey the damage that was Thomas’ face. “Botha you. Ah, fuck, are you bleedinon my shirt?!”

Griffin was quiet for the rest of Jamie’s tirade, mostly because this was not his fight, but also because he was on both of their sides, so far as thinking the other was a royal fucking asshole. Kate was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he didn’t love the idea of her getting fucked over, but he would have been smart enough to not let an asshole like James anywhere near her to start with. And furthermore, he’d mean what he’d said, inarticulate as it may have been; monogamy was a societal construct, sexuality was a spectrum, and this was probably the best case scenario for both of them, really. Kate got to seriously level up in the boyfriend department, and Jamie got a doting woman on his arm for the sake of appearances.

“I think,” he opined on a big sigh, running a hand through his hair as though he was going to lay down some actual wisdom - but that wasn’t his brand. “I think that we should get nachos.”

THOMAS ::

Clicking his tongue, Thomas swished the copper around in his mouth, glaring daggers at his roommate. He probably looked like he'd been bobbing for apples in fake blood at this point, but it felt oddly satisfying to look a little deranged compared to his normal well-kempt state. "Should I let her be with a cheater and a liar anyway? Yeah, real fucking smart, asshole --" Even with Griffin's knocking effectively breaking the tension, the neighbors yelling back through the wall, there was something still boiling under the surface.

Something volatile, something that went by the name Jade.

"You don't need any nachos," He murmured, somewhat numb, yet manic. Auto-pilot had taken over, his palm running over his face, and Thomas wiped the mess on the back of Griffin's shirt. Eyes never leaving Jamie's, Thomas slowly slipped forward face impassive, blank. "One more thing," Oddly calm, Thomas reached out with a gentle, blood-smeared hand and laid the palm of it on Jamie's shoulder. He let the moment settle, let the silence take over for a moment, until it was bordering on confusing, before throwing himself forward and headbutting the man in turn, immediate pain blossoming behind his forehead, and spraying them both with his now-unclotted nose. "Bitch," he snarled under the waterfall of blood, before groaning and taking a hasty step back toward his drunken friend, ready to use him as a shield again if need be.

JAMIE ::

"Why, so you can throw 'em up in a different part of my room?" He usually had the decency to at least make it to a communal space, and yeah, James was still a little pissed that he needed to be taken home at all when the two of them had planned to be out and about for the night. It was a valiant effort, trying to get the two of them back on the same side so they could stop with the arguing, but deep down, Jamie knew this wasn't the kind of fight that Thomas would just get over. He'd fucked up, big time, and now instead of facing the music, he was doubling down. It had all seemed so innocent, harmless even, when it was just him and the flavor of the night. If what's his name that started with a D hadn't been so fucking hot, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided.

He ventured a glance at Thomas, partially hating himself for the fact that he'd messed up such a pretty face, but a small little part of himself was satisfied at the damage done. Served him right. How fucking hard would it have been to just turn around and go somewhere else for ten minutes? By that point, the hookup would have been kicked out, and they could all pretend that it had never happened. Jamie could have been blissfully ignorant, and honestly, that was one of the most underrated states a person could be in.

When Thomas put a hand on his shoulder, he tried to keep his expression neutral. As much as he hated to admit it, that hand on his shoulder had grounded him many times in the past, and its presence was all tied up with feelings of comfort and safety, feelings he definitely wasn't getting just now. Sure as shit, next came the sucker punch in the form of a headbutt, and the "Ow!" was almost equal parts pain and surprise. "Asshole!" he groaned, and he couldn't even get to him without Griff getting involved again. "Griffin, just get out of here. This is between me and him, and some of us can't take a hit." Unfortunately for him, all of the hits were starting to take a toll.

GRIFFIN ::

“Ahhrgh, God damn it,” he growled as he felt Thomas’ hand smear his bodily fluids down his back, rolling his shoulders in discomfort before yanking his shirt off, rolling it into a ball and tossing it out into the hall. At least the blonde’s shirt was just as fucked, he noticed, attention on the slightly taller man as he approached James. Good, fine, Thomas would say his final piece and then everyone could just - “Fuck!”

Before he could fully process the sudden movement and the accompanying spray of gore, Thomas has slipped behind him and he was staring down Jamie, the youngest of their dysfunctional little crew. “C’mon, Jay, jus-go lay down,” he muttered, intending to give a good-natured push to the kid’s chest, but still intoxicated enough to not know his own strength. The adrenaline he didn’t realize had been streaming through his system turned it into a fully aggressive shove, and Griffin felt the muscles in his shoulders tense as some part of him anticipated retaliation. Blue eyes flashed. “Go ta’ bed, Jamie.”

THOMAS ::

"Suck my dick, Pearson--" Dark pupils dilated at the shove, watching with intense interest. It wasn't often that Jamie and Griffin disagreed wholeheartedly, or at the very least enough to get into a physical altercation. Usually it was Thomas gravitating toward the violence, toward harsh words that stung and bit at insecurities - usually he was the flint and steel basking at either of his friends' heels.

Still, it ignited something in him, to see Griffin shove the younger man, even if unintentionally. While they all agreed to disagree at who really was whose best friend, Thomas liked to believe he was just as much of a fire as he was the glue keeping them together. "You shoved him, man," The words were weirdly tense, odd even to himself, in the quiet of the room. "You gonna take that?" Blue eyes flick to Jamie's.

JAMIE ::

For a second, he considered it. He wasn't going to just lay down, but getting himself to a different room, where they kept the cleaning supplies probably, and doing something else was probably the best way to handle this. But then he shoved him, hard, as if to make sure to drive his point home. "Seriously?" he demanded, his own gaze accusing.

"You're seriously gonna take his side? I woulda come to get you too, and then none of this would have happened." He shoved back, not knowing or caring if Thomas was close enough to catch him. "You go to bed. I have someone else's mess to clean up, as usual." The puke in the corner of the room wasn't going anywhere, after all.

GRIFFIN ::

As he stumbled back into Thomas, Griffin’s ego maintained that he never would have budged if he’d been sober. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t; really, how often was he truly sober, so there wouldn’t be exactly an opportunity to find out. If he’d been sober, he also probably wouldn’t have lunged for Jamie, taking him out at the waist and forcing him to collapse onto his own mattress. “Said, LAY DOWN,” he repeated, scrambling to straddle the man’s hips, and trying to grab at his wrists. “Enough!”

The word was paired with a death glare to Thomas, who may not have been pinned under him, but only because it was physically impossible for Griffin to sedate both of them at once. “You’re both douchebags!”

“I called you,” he muttered after a moment, still slap-fighting James for submission. “You were busy.” It was completely lost on the brunette, of course, that his current position wasn’t terribly different from the way they’d stumbled upon Jamie a few minutes before.

THOMAS ::

Despite the urge to cover his throbbing nose from any more of the crossfire, Thomas stood back from the other two men, eyes dark and irritable. Thomas was the reliable one - was the man you called when you needed someone to get you out of a mess, or pick you up at the bar on a Friday night at 9pm because you were so drunk you couldn't see straight. He was the ultimate provider, the best friend any guy could ask for. Clearly, Griffin appreciated that more than Jamie.

"Am I interrupting?" He blinked his eyelashes prettily, words mocking as they left his lips. His shirt was the only one left on, and it was...incredibly sticky at that point, if he was being honest. With a grimace, he plucked at the collar, hissing when his hand came away sore. He would be bruised and battered, and rough the following day - no amount of cover-up was going to suffice to hide the giant bowling ball of a bruise on his head, or the massive swelling of his nose. He'd talk like a fucking Lollipop Guild member for a week at this rate.

"I went to pick up this clown while you were out here blowing some guy." Thomas stuck his chin up, defiant despite the angry look sent to him by Griffin, who was oddly being the sensible one (not that Thomas would ever admit that. To anyone. Ever.)

JAMIE ::

James was honestly taken aback by Griffin's sudden lunge in his general direction. He was stupidly effective for being drunk, and Jamie wanted to be mad about it, but he was suddenly distracted by how Griffin was just on top of him like this. He blamed that on the surprise of it all as well. Griffin never would have gotten him into this position if James had seem him coming.

Ignoring the insult, he frowned when Griffin mentioned that he had called him. "Well, what the hell." He could have sworn he would have noticed a phone call from his best friend, but apparently hookup's dick game was too strong. Usually he was much more reliable than this. "Shut the fuck up, Thomas," he said, and the only reason that Griffin was still on top of him was because he didn't want to hurt him on accident. Again.

His face hurt and he wanted to either drink or take some ibuprofen or both and clean up the fucking mess that was still in the corner of his room. "Christ, get off me, Griffin." Why was he the one being restrained instead of Thomas? Thomas started this shit. He gave a considering expression before going for Griffin's ticklish spot instead, hoping the sudden distraction would give him some leeway to get out from under him and back toward his original target who couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his own damn life. "I didn't blow him, I was on fucking top!"

GRIFFIN ::

If he’d been able to read the other man’s thoughts, he probably would have chuckled, the low one that was particularly disarming when it was paired with his trademark sideways smirk. Sure, they’d blame it on the “surprise” and not the decade of running tackle drills before and after school, five days a week. Drunk as he was, muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

That, and puking up a stomach full of bourbon.

“Wash up, look like a fuckin’ horror movie,” Griffin ordered in Thomas’ general direction, not moving a muscle, not just yet. If the two of them were going to lunge at each other again, he could sit right there all night - or at least until the hazy, spinny kind of sleep that went along with being this sloshed came to claim him. “You, jus’ stop talking,” he muttered, quieter considering that James was only so far away from him. “Nobody cares ‘fya sucked a dick, Pearson.”

When he eventually slid from the younger man’s waist, Griffin moaned in relief at the feel of a mattress beneath him, bribing his body to move with the promise that if he stretched out just the slightest bit, he’d finally be able to close his eyes. “Why’s yer bed so nice?”

THOMAS ::

A flash of something dark flickered over Thomas' face, his struggle with authority desperately trying to rear its head. With a calming breath, he tried to pull that little voice inside of his head that sounded like his dumb, quack sister that reminded him about breathing exercises and adrenaline. After counting to 10, Thomas gingerly pulled his collared shirt over his head, the polo wet with moisture and a stink of dried blood. Scrunching his nose, he dropped the offending garment into Jamie's hamper, on top of clothes probably covered in some dude's jizz. "Looks like you have a roommate tonight," He pointed out helpfully, making his way toward the bathroom.

He was back a quick moment later, having procured the small cleaning caddy from under the bathroom sink, including the hand-held spot cleaner. It was uncanny, how many times they'd had to clean up 90% alcohol-vomit, and Thomas hated that he'd grown so used to it after 15-odd years of knowing these morons. "Take your shoes off, you heathen," Thomas spit at Griffin without much effort behind it, focused instead on cleaning the puddle out of the corner of Jamie's room.

After scrubbing for a few odd minutes, and one glare in Griffin's direction later, Thomas picked himself back up, knees aching with the effort of the movement. He was getting old. He stored the cleaning products back in the cabinet and found himself leaning against the doorframe when he re-entered the room. "What food do you want, Griff?" Thomas asked, placated and quiet after the fall-out of so much drama. Getting his face bashed in was a reset button, apparently. Annoying, but effective. "I'm not dealing with the whininess when you're hung over tomorrow."

JAMIE ::

"He started it," James muttered in response when Griffin told him to stop talking. It was juvenile, but he couldn't help it. This whole thing could have been avoided about six ways to Sunday. If Griffin hadn't gotten drunk, if Thomas hadn't immediately started raging about it, if he hadn't brought someone home in the first place. It was pretty clear that they were all partially to blame for this shit show, but the petty side of him wanted to be the one that ended it.

He still had no idea if Thomas was going to tell Kate, but that seemed like a problem for future Jamie. For now, he just wanted to wallow in his failed hookup. He figured that since he hadn't even gotten the chance to get off from this one, there wasn't really a need to do any sort of confessional. Jamie scoffed at Griffin's next words. God cared if he sucked a dick, which also, he hadn't. "Don't tell anyone." These words were directed at both of them, quiet, yet deeply meaningful. He didn't know what he'd do if people found out. Hell, his two best friends had just found out, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do about it.

Jamie had no idea where Thomas was going when he headed out of his room, and a part of him wondered if he was going to make that phone call. Anxiety prickled all over his body, and he had to remind himself to breathe. A moment before he was going to get up and follow him, Thomas came back with the cleaning supplies. A begrudging "Thanks," rolled off his lips as he sat up in bed to address Thomas' next words. Rolling onto his knees, he took off one shoe and tossed it out into the hallway, landing with a thunk. The other came next, tossed in the same general direction. "PB&J?" he asked Griffin, knowing that it'd be best to go for something easier on the stomach.

GRIFFIN ::

This was how the world worked for Griffin Rollins, the way it had always worked. He did what he wanted to do, it made a fucking mess, he smiled and fumbled his way into some unintentional wit, and it all ended up being taken care of ... usually by one of the two bloodied men who were currently milling around the room, no doubt accomplishing just that. He didn’t open his eyes to check. That was the way he preferred it, really; if he never fully noticed just how much other people did to save his ass time after time, he never fully needed to thank them.

“Nachooooos,” he moaned at the mention of food, knowing full well he’d likely pass out before anything that required delivery would arrive at the apartment. As it was, he was already slipping in and out of consciousness. The bed smelled like sweat and Jamie’s shampoo, the sortakinda expensive stuff he got frustrated at Griffin borrowing when his own had run out. It still came from the drug store, but from the higher shelf; not the 3-in-1 body wash bullshit that Griffin smeared through his own hair.

“Go shower,” he mumbled to both and neither of them.

THOMAS ::

With narrowed eyes, Thomas turned to retreat into the kitchen, slapping together a few hastily made sandwiches (which were still entirely too neat, cut diagonally into two separate pieces) and brought them back to the bedroom, just in time for Griffin to begin bossing him around again. "What, this isn't doing anything for you?" Thomas pointed to the bloody mess on his face, chest, and arms.

Rolling his eyes, Thomas passed Jamie the plate, their hands brushing as he released the paper to him. Always something unbreakable, when Griffin was involved. Thomas would have loved to frequently use real plates and cups, but when a bumbling, drunk idiot was constantly falling around your apartment, it was better to have something that couldn't accidentally kill you. "If anyone needs a shower here, it's you. The landlady lives 5 miles away and I'm sure she can smell you from here."

Despite his deflections, Thomas really did need a shower. His blood had become caked and sticky on his skin, drying into flakes that made him want to scratch at his skin like a mangy dog. "Just...eat." With a tired sigh, Thomas ran a bruised hand through his hair, closing his eyes for just a moment. How did he always end up back here?

:: END ::

#001 #gjt

2 notes · View notes