#the way the fight with billy in particular is turned into a joke is just... really upsetting to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feeder86 · 2 years

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Billy’s Bad Boy

“Good morning, Rob. The usual?” Billy asked with a smile, as his favourite customer waddled in: a giant, 450lb burly and handsome guy in his mid fifties, with a particular love of all Billy’s tasty treats.

“Yes please!” the greedy guy grinned, swallowing back saliva as he glanced at everything on offer.

If Rob had been gay and twenty years younger, Billy would have been after him for sure. The guy was so friendly and charismatic; supporting Billy as he worked his way up from owning a little mobile take-out truck, to the large premises he now inhabited in the middle of town. It hadn’t been easy to get the business up and running, but there was clearly a gap in the market for tasty snacks in this town, and Billy was sure going to fill it.

“Are you working out in this hot sun today, Rob?” Billy asked as he plated up Rob’s usual selection of cream-filled donuts. “You’d best have another one of these - on the house,” he winked flirtatiously at him as he put out another donut on the man’s loaded tray of food. “You’re going to need your energy!”

Rob smiled back, always enjoying the way Billy playfully flirted with him, despite Rob being happily married for thirty years. “You know, my pants don’t quite fit like they used to since I started coming here every day,” the big man joked, rubbing his large, deliciously rounded gut.

“Good! That’s exactly what I like to hear!” Billy nodded back. “You can buy new pants, but you can’t get donuts like mine anywhere else!”

Rob chuckled and mumbled in agreement. “Quite right,” he replied, handing over his card to pay.

“YOU NEED TO KEEP CONTROL OF THAT BOY OF YOURS, ROB PARRY!” shouted a sudden angry voice. “How can you live with yourselves? You need to put him on a fucking leash! He’s an animal! My husband’s car is a fucking wreck because of him!”

Billy turned and looked frantically at Fran, stood behind him, pointing an angry finger at Rob. “Fran!” he shouted, mortified that one of his employees was screaming at a customer. “Get back in the kitchen area, now!” he ordered.

Fran exchanged a few more bitter words at the man before she finally followed her instruction and slid back into the kitchen, every bit as angry as she had been when she burst out.

“I’m so sorry about that, Rob. I’ll be having a word with Fran. There’s no charge today,” he offered apologetically, handing back the payment card.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Rob countered, passing back his card to be charged. “My son’s been in trouble with the police again. I know he has a lot to answer for around here. He’s slowly becoming ‘Public Enemy Number One.’ Smashing up that car the other day is the least of it. Trust me, I’ve heard a lot worse than what Fran had to say in the last couple of years. I just don’t know what to do with him. I’m at the end of my tether.”

“Who is your son?” Billy asked, wondering why this was the first he’d heard about the renegade offspring. After all, Rob had been coming for donuts from him for a couple of years by now.

“Jensen Parry,” Rob sighed. “I’m sure you’ve heard the name about town before.”

“Jensen is your son?” Billy asked, hardly believing it. He certainly knew the name. Jensen had earned a somewhat notorious reputation for troublemaking, fighting and joyriding. Billy had been in the year below him in high school, before Jensen had been expelled in his final year, without graduating. There really was nothing about him that seemed in any way connected to Rob. Jensen was a smart-mouthed, arrogant jerk who worked his way from one bed to another with his pretty face and large-framed, overly muscular body; the bad boy that girls knew they should avoid, but never could; even if it was obvious to everyone that he was holding a one-way ticket to prison through all his wild antics.

“He’s not a bad lad,” Rob sighed. “He’s just a little lost. He hangs out with a rough crowd; guys he knows through his gym. But he’s always been easily led and he thinks his ridiculous behaviour is incredibly hilarious. I was exactly the same when I was younger; before I met my wife. I fell in love with her cooking and that was it for me!” he joked with a forced smile, whilst patting his oversized belly. “That’s all my Jensen needs; someone to love and calm him down a bit, in the same way my wife did with me.”

Billy nodded sympathetically at Rob. He couldn’t imagine how much stress it must have caused being the father of Jensen Parry. Despite Rob’s optimism, Billy was inclined to share the opinion of the rest of the town: Jensen was a lost cause.

A few weeks later, Billy was enjoying the opening night of the brand new bar across the street from his store. As a local entrepreneur, he was often invited along to events such as these, and he was more than happy to support local businesses where he could. The bar looked great, although the selection of alcohol on offer was perhaps a little mismatched with the clientele here in town.

“Jensen Parry has just barged his way in,” fretted the girl behind the bar, looking over Billy’s shoulder. “That’s the last thing we need on our opening night! I knew we should have hired someone on the door. He’s going to ruin everything!”

Billy looked back and saw the man they were so worried about, sneering as he looked around, knowing that he wasn’t invited. “Leave him to me,” Billy sighed after downing the last of his beer and standing up. Perhaps something was missing in Billy’s brain, but guys like Jensen didn’t intimidate him like they did most people. His parents had never been much use to him and so he’d learned the fine arts of charm and tact could get him a lot further in life than anything else could. It was how he had survived high school completely unscathed by guys like Jensen, and the reason why so many people came into his store on a regular basis. “Jensen! Hey, buddy!” he called out with his hand outstretched and ready to shake. “Long time, no see!”

“Do I know you?” Jensen asked; a little caught off guard by Billy’s friendliness; seemingly insulted by it perhaps.

“I was in the year below you in high school. But, trust me, buddy, everyone knew who you were!” he chuckled, patting Jensen on his broad back, as if congratulating him on a job well done. “You know, I was telling a friend of mine about the cafeteria stunt you pulled back in the day. She thought I was making it up! She didn’t believe a word of it!”

Jensen’s smirk was full of nostalgia and his suspicion of Billy seemed to be dissipating.

“Care for drink?” Billy asked. “I’d love to know how you did it.”

Jensen looked around, as if searching for a better offer, and finding none. “Sure. Why not?” he nodded, starting to head to the bar when Billy politely stopped him.

“Not here,” Billy whispered. “Shitty, overpriced cocktails are not really my thing. Let’s go somewhere we can get a proper beer.”

Clearly already a little intoxicated, Jensen nodded and started to leave the building, fine to go wherever in order to get a free drink. Billy looked back to see the girl behind the counter mouthing ‘thank you’ to him across the room; clasping her hands as if she had been praying.

Billy’s satisfaction at having lured Jensen out of the bar was soon spoiled by the fact that the security standing outside the next bar simply raised their hands and barred Jensen from entering. “You know you’re not allowed in here,” they explained gruffly. “Beat it!”

Jensen hurled back a barrage of expletives and on they walked to the next place, where, unfortunately, the same thing happened once again. Billy cringed to be seen with such a loud and openly aggressive guy; no less than two hundred and twenty pounds of giant muscle and taller than any of the security folks. More than once he thought Jensen might start using his fists to get what he wanted. But, even so, Billy still wanted to play his part and keep Jensen from going back to the cocktail bar and spoiling their opening night.

“I know somewhere we can go,” Billy stated, forcing a smile onto his face. He led Jensen back along the street to the front of his store and opened the door.

“This is your place?” Jensen asked, obviously surprised.

“It sure is,” Billy nodded. “Take a seat.”

“My dad talks about this place all the time,” Jensen mumbled, taking his seat as instructed. “I think your donuts are the reason why he’s so fucking fat!” he laughed.

“I know your dad,” Billy smiled, heading into the back for a couple of beers. “He’s a funny guy. And as much as I would love to take credit for how big your dad is, I’m pretty sure he was already enormous, even before he started coming in here every day!”

Jensen accepted his beer and chuckled back. “Yeah, dad’s always had a sweet tooth!” There was a warmth in his eyes, as if he truly did love and admire his dad, despite everything he was putting him through. “Mom overfeeds him. He’s like one of those fat, spoiled house cats to her!”

“Well, thanks in part to your dad’s sweet tooth, this place is turning into a little goldmine,” Billy joked, clinking his beer bottle with Jensen’s as if making a toast. “I’m looking into opening another store a few miles away. Then I’ll be able to fatten up a whole load of other folks, just like your dad!” he chuckled.

Jensen seemed a little restless and he was taking his beer down in long, gulping strides. Before Billy would know it, he’d be finished and out that door; back harassing the rest of the town in no time at all.

“You want to try some of the stuff I sell?” Billy asked, trying to hide his desperation to keep Jensen where he was. He didn’t wait for a response before he got up and headed to the kitchen area. “These are the ones your dad likes best,” he explained, returning at lightning speed, holding a plateful of donuts.

Jensen reached and took one, stuffing it into his mouth in the same way his father did. It was the first similarity between the pair of them that Billy had ever noticed. “So, how many calories are in these things?” Jensen asked suspiciously, taking his second helping.

Billy laughed to himself. “Oh… these things are absolutely PACKED full of calories!” he replied wickedly. “How else do you think I get them to taste so good? Just, keep it to yourself… I don’t want folks getting put off coming here! If they all gain a few pounds, that’s just too bad!” he teased.

“So you really weren’t kidding when you said you were fattening everyone up around here,” Jensen nodded with strange approval. Undeterred, he picked up the next donut and fed it into his mouth. Now that Billy was looking properly, the similarities between Jensen and his father really were quite striking.

Despite everything, Billy found that he had quite enjoyed his conversation with Jensen that night. After discussing school days, the conversation had turned to Jensen’s dad, since that was the only other connection they shared. It really seemed to Billy that Jensen looked up to his father in ways that most people wouldn’t be able to identify. And for that, Billy found that he actually quite liked the town’s ‘bad boy’ after all.

“How did Jensen’s court case go?” Billy asked a couple of months later as Rob came in for his morning coffee and donut.

“A suspended sentence with community service,” Rob sighed with relief. “We’re all so relieved the judge went so easy on him. Now he’s just got to keep his nose clean for two years,” he grumbled pessimistically.

“That’s excellent news!” Billy beamed, surprising himself with how much better he felt, knowing that Jensen wasn’t sitting in a prison cell right now.

“You’ve been a great help these last few weeks, you know,” Rob went on, looking with the utmost sincerity into Billy’s eyes. “He likes coming in here and having a chat with you. You’re one of the few people in town who actually bothers with him. It’s what he needs, you know; a level-headed friend. Not one of those stupid gym buddies of his. A bunch of jerks, every one of them!”

“Jensen’s a nice guy,” Billy nodded. “Sure, he’s made mistakes. But who hasn’t?”

“I’m glad you think so,” Rob smiled, looking around to see if anyone else was listening in. “Because I think you might be the key to keeping him out of trouble for the next few months.” With that, he reached into his deep pocket and brought out a thick wad of rolled up notes, passing them to Billy.

“Rob? What the hell is this?” Billy gasped, wanting to pass it back immediately.

“I know you give him free donuts and coffees when he comes in. You don’t have to do that and you shouldn’t be out of pocket because of it.”

“Well… that’s just… me being nice,” Billy mumbled. “But this is…” His eyes boggled at how much cash was in his hand still. “Rob, there’s no way he’s eaten enough for this amount of money.”

“No, I know that,” Rob admitted. “But the more time he’s in here with you, the less time he has out there, getting himself into trouble with the scum that he hangs around with.”

Billy tried to protest, but Rob was having none of it. And, not wanting to argue with his favourite customer, Billy eventually slipped the bundle of notes into his pocket with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Rob really was counting on him to help keep Jensen on the straight and narrow. However, that was probably going to take a lot more than just a few donuts and coffees.

“If I get this job, I’ll be able to start paying you back for all these snacks and coffees you give me,” Jensen smiled as he bit into his third donut of the day.

“If you get that job, you’re going to start paying back your mom for trashing her car first!” Billy laughed. “I love that you thought about giving me something, but these donuts cost almost nothing to make. You don’t need to feel guilty about having a few lousy treats.”

The guilt of having so much money handed to him still weighed heavily on Billy’s mind. Two or three donuts a day didn’t seem enough to cover it all and he found himself upping his game on a daily basis; an extra coffee here, a milkshake there, with more added whipped cream,. But just the fact that Jensen was talking about the idea of holding down a steady job was such a huge step for him. Before, he had crashed from one employment to another, exhausting his dad’s many contacts within the construction industry until he was no longer welcome anywhere.

“How’re things going with that second store you wanted to open?” Jensen asked. “You’ll have a whole new town to fatten up with your treats soon!”

Billy smirked. He’d only been joking when he’d said that he was fattening up the neighbourhood, but Jensen had seemed to hang onto that idea as if Billy really was that wicked. Then again, perhaps he was, Billy chuckled to himself. “I’m still looking for the right premises,” he explained. “So, for now, I’m just going to focus on fattening up everyone in this town first,” he winked.

“That’s fine by me!” Jensen nodded. “One of the guys my dad works with says he’s gained thirty pounds since you opened up here.”

“Which one is that?” Billy asked, trying to think of the many construction guys he’d seen with Jensen’s dad.

“Steve. The younger one with short brown hair.”

“Oh, yes! I know who you mean,” Billy laughed to himself. “Yeah, that one is getting proper little man boobs and everything! He clearly doesn’t work out in a gym like you do and I get the impression that he’s fairly lazy in work; so of course it’s going to stick. But he orders the orange cream donuts and they really are VERY fattening indeed! Plus, I may occasionally slip him a couple of free ones, which partly explains why his ass has got a bit of width to it recently,” he joked. “I’m sure his wife wouldn't thank me!”

“The orange cream one? I don’t think I’ve ever tried that,” Jensen pondered cheekily.

“Coming right up!” Billy smiled with delight, pleased to offload as much as he could to relieve his conscience for all the money he had taken off Rob.

The more Billy’s business brain thought about the town, the more he realised that there were loads of opportunities for extending his menu with things that you couldn’t really get anywhere else: waffles, local ice creams, pancakes. There were so many ways he could expand his operation. He spoke at length about the ideas to Jensen who really was nothing if not encouraging.

“Are you still seeing that Bethany girl behind your friend’s back?” Billy asked disapprovingly. “You know it’s only going to cause a whole load of shit when he finds out?”

“She’s the one who always comes on to me!” Jensen smirked indignantly, thinking himself blameless. “Like I’m going to say no to a free blowjob?”

“She’s bad news!” Billy cautioned. “When it all comes out, there’s going to be a massive fight and her boyfriend is going to do his best to make you break your probation and have you sent off to prison. You know none of those guys from the gym really care about you. Is a quick fuck with Bethany really worth going to prison for?”

“You really don’t like my gym friends, do you?” Jensen laughed.

“Not one bit,” Billy replied honestly. “If I had one wish, it would be for you to walk away from those jerks down at the gym and never look back. It would be the best move you could ever make.”

Jensen sat back a little in his chair, raising his eyebrows at the idea of giving up his whole social group. “You really do give a fuck about me, don’t you?” he asked, a little thrown by how the conversation had turned.

“You know I do,” Billy nodded sincerely. “I just want the best for you.”

A small, playful grin came to Jensen’s face and he sat up again, as if he had had the most marvellous idea. “Tell me to quit the gym and I’ll do it,” he stated with a sudden rush of enthusiasm.

“Just like that?” Billy laughed sceptically.

“Yeah. Just like that!” Jensen nodded. “Go on. Tell me to quit!” he insisted, as if daring or seducing Billy in some way.

“Quit the gym then,” Billy relented. “Cut up your membership card and never see those meat heat buddies of yours again.”

Jensen sat back, looking pleased with himself. “Your wish… is my command!”

With the introduction of Billy’s new expanded menu over the coming weeks, Billy found he was playing host to Jensen more than ever before. It seemed, rather remarkably, that Jensen had been true to his word. He’d not been down to see his old friends at the gym once and there hadn’t been a single complaint about him in town.

“Whatever you’re doing, just keep on doing it,” Jensen’s father smiled, passing over far too much cash for his impromptu evening visit and spotting his son in the corner; his back turned and watching videos on his cell phone while nibbling on things that Billy had brought over.

“Rob, not that I don’t love having Jensen here, but is there anything you could do to help him find some work? He just sort of hangs around all day and I’m a bit worried that all this food is…” He looked across at Jensen just as he scratched his side, lifting his shirt and giving a glimpse of a fleshy, budding love handle.

“People won’t hire him because of how much he’s dicked around in his jobs in the past. It’s his own fault,” Rob grumbled unsympathetically. “And if you’re worried that he’s getting a little chubby - good! Just let him. His mother and I have no intentions of becoming grandparents anytime soon, so the fewer chances he has to get some crazy girl pregnant, the better!”

“But…” Billy tried, looking over again as Jensen started a fresh plate of food, biting in with as much gusto as his father.

Rob went back into his wallet and pulled out a few more notes of cash, stuffing them into Billy’s shirt pocket. “Trust me,” he whispered. “Just let this play out…”

Jensen’s body was changing. It was obvious to anyone that the guy had done steroids in the past to get his body so packed with muscle, but now that his gym had been taken away from him, he seemed to be softening up with quite remarkable speed. Billy had noticed the little love handles starting to sprout and the way his pecs were beginning to look ‘full’ rather than pumped. But there was also the slight puffiness to his face and the softening of his jawline and buttocks to think about too.

“How was that? Do you think it would work on the regular menu?” Billy asked as he picked up Jensen’s plate.

“Very nice!” Jensen beamed. “I think it worked really well. Maybe just add a little more cream at the side though.”

“More cream?” Billy asked in surprise. Jensen really had inherited his father’s sweet tooth. “Okay, good suggestion,” he nodded unconvinced. “Do you want to try something a little more savoury now?”

“I’d love to,” Jensen nodded, going straight back to playing a game on his phone.

“He’s getting fat, that one,” Fran grumbled as she looked over at Billy bringing back Jensen’s plate. “Look at him! Sat there all day on his cell phone, stuffing his face. It couldn’t happen to a nicer person!” she sneered sarcastically. Billy could tell from her tone that she still couldn’t bear the sight of him, much like the rest of the town. “He’s going to end up just like his idiot father in no time.”

Billy tried to breathe a little deeper and calm himself down. He’d always loved chubby guys and hearing Fran comment on Jensen’s changing appearance, like she was doing, only seemed to be arousing a strange desire within him. “Bacon and cheese waffle for table eight, please” he ordered simply.

Fran looked straight over to Jensen again, sat on table eight. “Fuck me! Not more food? Hasn’t he got somewhere else to be?”

“Bacon and cheese waffle for table eight,” Billy repeated, not wanting to engage in any sort of conversation with her right then.

“Fine!” Fran grumbled, knowing that she and her boss would never agree when it came to Jensen. “I’ll feed the fatso!” she complained, starting to walk back to the kitchen area. “I’ll pile it up with that really greasy cheese; see how the pig likes that!”

Billy closed his eyes and took a second to breathe behind the counter. He was supposed to be helping Jensen turn his life around,and yet, his boner for him seemed impossible to quash of late. The guilt of taking money from Jensen’s dad and now these feelings of arousal; Billy started to feel like the most morally corrupt person on the planet. His eyes popped open as he heard Jensen’s chair scrape along the floor and he watched as the town’s bad boy took himself off to the bathroom; leading with a stout little paunch and displaying his wider, overly padded rear as the door closed behind him. He didn’t know where all this was going, but he suddenly felt like he had lost control of it entirely.

“How would you like a job in the kitchen of my new store?” Billy asked triumphantly. It was the perfect solution. Jensen needed a job, Billy wanted to help him, and it was the best way to keep the guy busy all day without overloading him on fat and calories. Getting him out of town was also bound to help the guy find himself again; away from the scornful faces and shady characters he had mixed with in the past.

“Seriously?” Jensen asked; his face lighting up. “You want to give me a job?”

“It’s yours if you want it?” Billy smiled.

“Yes! Absolutely!” Jensen beamed, suddenly getting up and enveloping Billy in a massive hug that quietly made Billy flush bright red with unwanted lust.

“It’s in Clinton though. You think you could make it there for your shifts? I know you’re not allowed to drive for quite a while still.”

“I’ll get the bus. And I’m sure my dad will help me out every now and then.” He was beaming from ear to ear and pulled Billy in for yet another hug. “I’m so glad I met you!” he smiled, never using his gruffer, defensive tone around Billy anymore.

“Well, I’m very glad I met you too,” Billy nodded, not making eye contact and looking for a way to retreat back to the kitchen before his erection pressed too firmly against his pants.

There was one major flaw in Billy’s plan. Outraged by the idea of Jensen working in the new store, Fran declared that she would have nothing to do with training him up to work in the kitchen. If Billy was going to put everything he’d worked so hard for at risk, she wasn’t going to be a part of it. And so, in the hours after the store closed, Billy had no choice but to invite Jensen in to show him how to prepare all of the deliciously fattening treats he had gorged on for the last few months. But if Billy had found himself aroused by Jensen as he simply sat down at the table to be served, having to stand beside him and see him from all those different angles was even more of a challenge. Perhaps it was because Billy knew Jensen’s father’s shape so well, he could see how Jensen’s body was swelling in an all too similar fashion. The extreme height, the awkward way his pants were starting to fit across his broad butt which had always been so tight and athletic looking up until a few months ago. Under his broad chest, it was undeniable that a firm-looking, rounded pot belly was beginning to push its way out, just like it must have done all those years ago on his father, before that monstrous ball gut had finally taken hold of him.

Jensen was a good student, listening carefully and taking it all in as Billy demonstrated some of the dishes. He completed one and Jensen would greedily offer to consume it while watching the next. Even the sound of his chewing and swallowing was getting to Billy as he tried his hardest to stay focused. Jensen had always been a large man, but it was so incredibly arousing to know that with each bite, the greedy boy was just going to get bigger… and bigger.

“Jensen is really excited about his new job,” Rob smiled the next day as he came in to order even more snacks than usual for all the guys working on a job not too far away. Billy knew that such a spending spree was the guy’s way of showing his appreciation.

“I think he’ll be great at it,” Billy replied. “And, hopefully it will get him up on his feet a little more than he has been recently.”

“Yeah, he’s starting to take after his old man!” Rob chuckled, rubbing his enormous gut as if he was proud of it.

“Well, maybe just a little bit,” Billy conceded, wondering why even this conversation was getting him aroused.

“His mom is worried about how fast he’s piling on the pounds, but I say leave him to it. I remember how exciting it was for me, back in the day, getting a belly for the first time. Jensen is just the same, I’m absolutely positive.”

“Exciting?” Billy asked, captivated by Rob’s use of the word.

“Oh, absolutely!” Rob nodded, passing over his payment card. “I think we’re just wired differently in our family. My father was the same, my two brothers, a few of Jensen’s cousins, his older brother. Let’s just say, he’s been around a lot of extremely fat guys his entire life.It’s not hard to feel a little envious at times.”

Billy had always wondered about his strange fascination in watching his customers slowly pile on a few pounds. He’d made a joke of it to Jensen more than once. But was it possible that someone could appreciate it from the other perspective as well. Was Jensen’s father right? Was gaining weight something that Jensen actively… enjoyed?

Watching from a distance, Billy studied Jensen keenly in a way that he hadn’t allowed himself to in the past. He’d never noticed how often the guy’s hand reached down to rub his little tummy, or the way his face only seemed to get more and more excited with each item he ate. It also appeared, judging by the heavy sighing and strained pauses that came later on, that Jensen was in some way forcing himself to eat; as if the act of eating was no longer about the enjoyment of the taste, but a task that had to be completed at all costs.

“It looks like we’ve already got a good bunch of regulars,” Billy smiled after their first two weeks in the new store. “I think we’re a hit!” he declared, looking at the sales for the week whilst Jensen boxed up the last few items left over from the day. “Take those home with you,” Billy pointed at the leftover raspberry cream donuts which had not sold well all week. “They obviously don’t like them so much here. I’m taking them off the menu.”

Jensen’s piggish eyes lit up and he immediately grabbed one to take a large bite, nodding his head in appreciation, like he hadn’t eaten all day long. In truth, Billy had allowed him to consume as much as he wanted all day long; remembering the additional large bundle of notes the guy’s father had given him not so long ago. He’d ordered Jensen an extra-large work shirt with the company logo on, but already it was looking overly stretched across the almost constantly bloated stomach.

“Did you notice that blonde girl came in twice today? You know, the one I said was checking you out yesterday,” Billy teased playfully. She;d seemed like a nice girl: pleasant, well spoken and together; exactly the sort of girl Jensen needed. “I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

Jensen shook his head. “No chance!” he chuckled between bites. “I have other priorities at the moment.” With that, he pushed the remainder of his donut into his mouth and prepared the next one ready, while his other hand gently rubbed his stomach, as if soothing it.

“Oh yeah?” Billy asked curiously. “And what priorities are these?”

There were a few moments of quiet as Jensen chewed and swallowed the oversized piece that he had put into his mouth. “I’m just focusing on improving myself at the moment,” he answered.

“Does that include giving yourself a sixty-five inch gut like your dad?” Billy asked, his eyes popping open with shock the second the words left his mouth. For the briefest moment, his tongue had simply run away with itself.

Jensen simply smirked and looked across at Billy as if he was impressed by the comment. “What do you expect when your boss insists that you eat the leftovers every night after work?”

“I hardly insisted…” Billy chuckled, enjoying the playful way he and Jensen had become accustomed to speaking to each other.

“You just told me to finish all the donuts or I’m fired!” Jensen teased, pushing the next one, almost whole, into his mouth.

“You’re ridiculous!” Billy laughed, watching the guy’s puffed up and bulging cheeks and he tried to chew the massive quantity of donut. “All right then!” he chuckled. “If that’s how you want to play it… those chocolate brownies need to go as well tonight. Eat them up, or you’re fired,” he joked.

Jensen grabbed the leftovers as well as the large carton of whole milk they had been using that day, taking a long long swig to stop his mouth from getting dry. Then he burped, loud and long, like a man more than double his size. “No worries, boss!” he declared; enjoying their game. “I’ll have them all cleared away within the next five minutes!”

Over the coming weeks, Billy found that he had never threatened to fire an employee more than he had with Billy. It was their own private code; their way of playing. Billy would come over at the end of the shift to help close up and then he’d watch as Jensen stuffed himself as if his job really did depend on it. But the results of their little game? Well, those were truly the best part of all. Billy’s butt had ballooned out, along with his thighs, and he often arrived to work looking a little underdressed in sweatpants that were more accommodating to his developing shape. Some might have said he was less striking without that strong jawline, but Billy simply adored the way his employee was getting such a double chin and puffier, rounder cheeks on his face. The outrageous muscular definition gained from years at the gym had slowly been masked by a creeping layer of fat, settling all over Jensen’s body. As that layer thickened, it was increasingly difficult to tell that the guy had ever been anything but doughy. Billy could see the blubber ripple in his love handles as he trotted about, and the depth of Jensen’s belly button was a constant presence, visible through the way his undersized and poorly shaped shirts fitted across his torso.

“How would you feel about staying in the little apartment above the store here?” Billy asked the large, remarkably altered man that stood before him a few months later. “It would save you having to get a bus here, or dragging your dad out to pick you up. You’d be doing me a favour, having someone here at night. I wouldn’t charge you.”

“Seriously?” Jensen asked in disbelief. “You’d just let me just have it?”

“Sure,” Billy smiled, finding a true joy came to him whenever he spoiled Jensen in any way that he could. “I think it would be good for you.”

“My own place…” Jensen murmured, picturing it in his head. It had been just over eighteen months since he’d been on the edge of going to prison, and now here he was, holding down a steady job and about to have his own place. “You are like my guardian angel,” he smiled.

“I’m glad you think so,” Billy chuckled, feeling suddenly embarrassed by Jensen’s sincerity. “Now, there are a load of cream cakes over there that I can’t refrigerate tonight. Get them down… or you’re fired,” he teased.

“We’re not used to seeing you in our store these days,” Rob smiled a few weeks later, surprised to witness Billy behind the counter and not in his new store with Jensen. “I’m used to the ever delightful Fran serving me these days, and she’s not so generous with the freebies,” he whispered so that the grumpy woman wouldn’t hear him.

“Oh, well, we’ll have to sort that out!” Billy beamed, already thinking what he should give to Jensen’s oversized father. “Are you enjoying the peace and quiet now that Jensen’s moved out?”

“Very much so!” Rob nodded; his piggy eyes watching keenly as Billy picked out his complimentary offerings. “Joyce and I finally have the house to ourselves again for the first time in thirty years! It’s like we’re newlyweds again! She’s giving me all her attention like she never could once the boys were born. I’ve gained twenty-five pounds in two months!” he laughed at himself, patting his enormous gut.

“Lucky you!” Billy grinned, deciding to give the man two free extra helpings instead. “I’m sure you’re having the time of your life.”

“After all Jensen’s put us through over the years, I never thought we’d get to this point where we could just sit back and relax like this. And I know Jensen is having just as much fun being away from us.”

Billy smiled and couldn’t help but agree with Rob. Judging by how round Jensen’s stomach had been getting in the last couple of weeks, Jensen was enjoying himself immensely.

It was gone midnight when the alert came on to Billy’s cell phone. Something had tripped the alarm in Jensen’s store and a message had automatically been sent to him. He got up and tried to call his live-in tenant to investigate whether it was the system playing up again, but when there was no answer and Billy knew he’d have to drive over to see for himself.

Pulling up, Billy could see the lights still on in Jensen’s apartment and he tutted to himself that the guy hadn’t answered his phone and saved Billy the trouble of having to come over here so late at night. The shutters were down on the store and there was no obvious sign that anyone had broken in, so Billy simply rolled up the shutters and opened the door to head in and reset the system. He punched in a couple of numbers and the software was reset. The clunky old thing needed changing if it was going to keep playing up like this, Billy grumbled to himself. But as Billy looked around, he saw that the door to the hallway leading upstairs, the one that was usually locked, had been left open, triggering the alarm. Had Jensen come down and carelessly set off the alarm himself?

“Jensen?” Billy called up the stairs, seeing that the lights were on and, as he got closer, the door to the apartment upstairs was wide open. “Is everything all right?”

Billy hadn’t been up here since he’d handed the space over to Jensen, and it surprised him how awkward he felt walking in. The television was on, and as Billy turned the corner, he saw the shape of Jensen sat up in a kitchen chair with his back to Billy. “There you are!” Billy sighed in relief. “I’m sorry to pop in, it’s just the alarm system…”

Billy stopped talking the moment his eyes took in the vision of Jensen before him: completely naked, the man sat, tied to the chair with leather straps. A kinky gag was resting between his teeth to prevent him from speaking and, even more bizarrely, a plastic pig snout was resting over his nose. Without his clothes on, the evidence of how much weight Jensen had gained was all too clear. Billy had no idea that his nipples had grown so pointed, nor that his fat belly could cover up his crotch as much as it was doing now; slowly becoming every bit of the ball gut his father had. People might have been surprised to learn that Jensen was well over four hundred pounds, but it really was obvious once all those concealing clothes were stripped from him. He was so tall, so broad and large-chested, yet he had still amassed the most shocking of bellies.

Jensen’s eyes were wide with alarm at having been caught as he was right now. Billy stuttered, wondering what to say, when his composure faltered and the urge to laugh became all too much for him, “Jensen Parry, you bad boy!” he teased. “Just what have you been up to now?”

As Billy went to unclip the gag, he noticed a tattoo on Jensen’s shoulder; that of a pink, round and plump pig. Jensen had many tattoos on his body, but this one had to be new, for Billy had never seen it on any of the shirtless gym selfies Jensen used to post. Billy was sensing a theme…

“I’m so sorry!” Jensen gasped the moment his gag was off. “I was with a girl and she… well, she thought she was being funny and kinky, leaving me here like this. I knew the moment I heard her open the wrong door downstairs that she was going to set off the alarm.”

Still strapped by his ankles, knees and wrists to the chair, Billy didn’t rush to remove the pig snout. It was far too amusing and entertaining seeing Jensen trying to explain himself whilst wearing it. “She sounds charming!” Billy chuckled, seeing the predicament Jensen had been left in. “Have you known her long?” he asked, enjoying seeing Jensen squirm as he tried to engage in simple chit chat, dressed, or rather, undressed, as he was.

“I met her on an app,” Jensen mumbled, trying to gently shake the straps on his wrists. “We’ve only met up a couple of times. She’s kinda into bondage,” he explained sheepishly.

“That’s not all you’ve been up to!” Billy grinned, looking around the space surrounding Jensen. Wrappers and soda cans were discarded on the floor, while a gallon of full fat milk sat, half-finished on the table, next to a strange looking funnel. He bent down and picked up Jensen’s t-shirt, surprised by the weight of it, given how much material was becoming necessary to cover the man’s swollen form.

Jensen blushed. “It was nothing,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. “She wasn’t very good at it anyway.”

“Is there a key for the straps?” Billy asked, deciding that Jensen had suffered enough.

“Over there, on the counter,” Jensen motioned with his head.

Billy collected the small key, wondering how on earth the girl had ever expected Jensen to free himself without help. As he bent down to unlock the ankle lock, he tried wedging the key in to find that it wouldn’t even sit properly inside. And, upon further inspection, the same was true of the other side. “You’ve busted it when you tried to free yourself,” he sighed, looking up and suddenly catching an eyeful of Jensen’s erection, visible as Billy crouched down; the added ropes around the man’s knees preventing him from hiding anything.

“Sorry!” Jensen shot, mortified that Billy had seen his boner. “I just wasn’t expecting you to… I’m not…” he faltered. “Try the wrist straps!” he finally insisted, in an attempt to change the subject altogether.

Billy half-heartedly tried to unlock the wrists, before he declared that the key simply wasn’t going to work. “I think you might be stuck like this for a while,” he teased.

“You’re enjoying this!” Jensen complained, starting to realise that his saviour wasn’t about to free him anytime soon.

“And you’re not?” Billy chuckled, stepping back and deciding to crouch down with his knees outstretched, back at a level where he could see Jensen’s hardness again. He heard the guy squirm, but under such scrutiny, it was obvious that the man’s dick was only filling with more and more blood. “So, what was the deal? She came over and indulged her bondage kink, and in return, you got her to feed you all this stuff?” Billy asked, picking up a selection of empty wrappers that littered the floor.

Seeming to accept his situation more, Jensen nodded.

Billy smirked, pleased that he had guessed correctly first time. He really did know Jensen inside and out by now. Maybe even enough to push their invisible boundaries just a little more… “But, you said she wasn’t very good at it. So, I’m guessing you’re still hungry?” he smiled, finding a few still wrapped Twinkies on the floor and starting to get one of them out.

Jensen swallowed back saliva and he nodded with his greedy eyes fixed on the sugary snack. Without prompting, he opened his mouth once Billy’s hand drew nearer. As Billy sat the edge of the Twinkie on the guy’s tongue, he noticed that Jensen wasn’t biting into it. He pushed it in a little further, but still the guy left his mouth wide open. Finally with the tips of his fingers, Billy crammed the entire thing in until Jensen’s mouth was completely filled and he began chewing at last. Then he moaned, as deeply and passionately as if they were having sex; gazing up into Billy’s eyes.

“Careful, buddy!” Billy chuckled, starting to sense that something deeply sexual was happening between himself and Jensen now. “If you keep eating like that, you’re going to get absolutely enormous.”

Jensen chewed faster and swallowed. “That’s exactly what I want to happen,” he moaned. His gluttonous eyes looked down at the next Twinkie in Billy’s hand, but seeing that it wasn’t so forthcoming, he carried on explaining himself. “Do you know how much it fucks you over when you grow up knowing that all you really want in life is to become a gigantic ball of lard? I tried so hard to fight it. I wanted to find my thrills in other ways: stealing cars, getting into fights and not giving a shit. I got involved with the wrong crowds and I pushed myself to get massive in the gym instead, but…”

Billy grinned wickedly, feeling more aroused than he had ever been in his life. “But, you’re just a fat pig!” he finished with a smirk, prodding a finger into the shelf of belly fat that had formed under Jensen’s broad and increasingly fleshy chest.

Jensen moaned louder than ever as his fat was pressed and poked. “Oh, I want to be!” he insisted. “I want to be taken and fattened. I want to be someone’s gigantic, greedy pig!” He looked into Billy’s eyes again, as if searching for that connection he knew they both shared. “I wanted it to be you, so badly!” he insisted once more. “I wanted you to order me to stop going to the gym and stuff me full of all your most fattening treats. I wanted you to get hard as you watched my body transform for you; as you saw me grow fat and soft.”

“Trust me, that’s definitely been happening,” Billy grunted as he tried to adjust the thick boner that had swollen down one side of his pants. His body tingled with energy, his brain lighting up with arousal. It seemed to build into a crescendo, until his hands gently ripped open the next Twinkie and stuffed it into Jensen’s mouth whole. With one hand, he steadied the back of Jensen’s head, and with the other, he pressed it over the guy’s mouth, not allowing a single crumb to escape as he chewed. “Come on then, Piggy!” he breathed, giving himself over entirely to the lust inside of him. “Let’s do it! Let’s turn you into the fattest pig out there!”

When Jensen had swallowed enough of the large Twibkie in his mouth, Billy took his hand down to rub the amazing, sweaty gut that was taking over Jensen’s form. It had always looked so firm and packed, but up close like this, it was clear how blubbery and lardy it was beneath the skin. He grabbed at it, finding that it rolled easily into a pinchable handful and used his grip to gently rock the entire mass of fat. Then, out of curiosity, he reached under Jenen’s fat gut and grabbed at the exposed hardness between his enormous thighs. It was so hard and only started to pulse further as Billy began stroking it. “Oh, yes!” Jensen encouraged him. “Yes!”

Billy grabbed at the key again and forced it into the locks on Jensen’s wrists. With enough brute force, the click finally came and they released. With their freedom, Jensen’s fascinated hands immediately began rubbing Billy’s hardness over the material of his pants as Billy leaned over him, untying the ropes across Jensen’s knees. Once they were free, Jensen stood and the legs of the chair were lifted easily from the shackles, though the leather straps remained wrapped loosely around the fat man’s ankles. He pulled off the little pig snout and threw it onto the floor.

“I love you,” Jensen whispered passionately after the pair of them fell into their first kiss. “I’ve loved you since the first night we met. I just knew that you were the most special person I would ever meet in my life. I just never dreamed that I could be good enough for you.”

Billy shook his head in sadness at hearing that Jensen saw himself as being unworthy. “I love you too,” he shot back, realising that he had been feeling this way for quite some time. “I just want to give you everything I possibly can. The best of everything!”

Jensen sighed in happiness. “Make me enormous then!” he whispered. “Don’t stop until I’m completely unrecognisable! Until I’m nothing but a big, fat pig!”

The pair fell into another, even more passionate kiss, and gently slid backwards into the bedroom area as Billy felt his clothes being pulled off him. He wondered what people would think once they knew he was with Jensen Parry, the bad boy that they had once so despised.

But Jensen hadn’t been a bad boy in quite some time now. Quietly, and at his own pace, he’d been transforming himself into what he’d really needed to be all along: the biggest, fattest pig in town. Now Jensen wouldn’t have to make that journey alone anymore. For, as they both came that night, Billy knew that he was going to be there for every delicious, blubbery step of the way.

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anintrovertwriter · 1 year

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Embry Call imagine - Campfire

It was already nighttime when I got back to Forks, but just in time for me to get changed before heading to the res. Tonight was the campfire night held by the ancients and I was invited by my boyfriend Embry. People like me, who were not from the tribe, weren’t supposed to be here, but because I was Embry’s imprint I had the right to come.

I was getting closer to my friends group, and Embry was amongst them. Sensing my arrival, he came to meet me.

“ Hey

Hey baby, he said, holding me in his muscular arms. Everything okay on the road ?

Yeah, a bit of rain at the start, but that’s nothing new. But it was okay”

I just came back from a conference in Seattle that I was really looking forward to and I couldn’t miss it under any pretext. This long day must have been tiring me, especially the three-hour ride my mom and I did, because I started to yawn. Which made him laugh as he joked

“ Don’t you dare fall asleep during the stories! You’ll offend Billy and Sue.

I wouldn't dare ! I said,laughing.”

But obviously, the opposite quite happened..

We were all seated around the campfire, listening to the Quileutes legends, and were told by Jacob’s father and Sue, who took the place of her late husband at the council since poor Harry Clearwater passed away.

Another particularity of this night was the presence of Bella. Jake took her and I was not the only “pale face” present tonight. It was Jake’s turn to protect her, because, as Embry told me, Edward was gone hunting to get some force before the upcoming fight. Which was getting me nervous.

I went to say hi to her when I saw her coming. We were at the same high school and had the american literature class in common. We get along pretty well and I was happy to see her even if her relationship with a vampire and the pain Jacob was getting from it made me feel awkward.

Even Though I knew the secret around the Quileutes and their transformation into wolves, and being Embry’s imprint, I never heard the legends of the tribe. This is why he took me there and I was delighted. The explanation due to their mutation related to the presence of their longtime enemy, the vampires of course, made me turn to see Bella, who was seated next to Jacob. Embry followed my gaze, chuckling, even though I knew deep down that he was simmering with hate towards these creatures of the night.

However, when Billy Black mentioned the tense atmosphere in the area and the transformation of more and more young Quileutes, such as Leah or Seth and the fact that we got to be ready for whatever was coming made me quickly hold my boyfriend’s arm while hearing those words. The idea of the fight got me so stressed. He placed his hand on my thigh and gently kissed my forehead.

He didn’t seem afraid, unlike me. I leant my head on his shoulder and he reassured me, or at least tried to, telling me in my ears that everything will be alright. But I couldn’t stop imagining the worst. My life without him will have no meaning.

The more the legends were being told the more my eyelids were getting heavy. I did exactly what I promised myself not to, the tiredness of the journey to Seattle got the best of me.

Those were Paul and Quil’s laughs who woke me up. Embry started to growl by way of disapproval but they still continued their teasing, calling us ‘lovebirds' '.

“ I really fell asleep ! Oh no !” I said, rubbing my eyes.

I gave an embarrassed side look to Sue and Billy and also to Embry because I really wanted to hear those stories. Just as he read my mind he told me

“Don’t worry it’s no big deal that you fell asleep. They know you really wanted to listen, after the countless time you asked them to

Yeah but still…

No worries, you’ll come back next time.”

With this he took me in his arms as if I weighed nothing and carried me to his place, not without saying goodbye to his packlates. It was clear that I was fighting against sleep on the way, only to talk with my man. But I was so good and cozy, my body against his warm chest, him who did not fear the cold, unlike me. I closed my eyes of contentment.

“ We’re home my love”. He dropped me on his bed and helped me put my pajamas on, which was one of his shirts. It was way too long for me but it really did the job. There was his scent on hit, which made me think of home. He was everything to me, my home, my universe, my life.

“ Are you going on patrol tonight?, I worried

No Sam gave me the night but I should go at dawn. But I’ll be back before you know it”

I only could make a “hum” in appreciation, my head against his torso and him stroking my hair, which only emphasized my sleep.

“Stop this ! If not I will fall asleep baby”

Go to sleep, I’ll be back when you wake up and you’ll tell me about Seattle.”

I love you Em’, I said, kissing him tenderly and got back in my sleeping position, my head on his chest, his heartbeat bullying me to sleep.

I love you too princess”

#embry call imagine #twilight imagine #embry call

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blueeyedheizer · 3 years

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hotel room - four/billy (smut)

REQUEST: Billy or frank fake dating?? Maybe fluffy and a bit smutty?? Haha love your stuff💙

A/N: there isn't much fake dating but I tried to keep it fluffy and smutty. Thank you for requesting !

•••

"One room please." you smiled at the receptionist, feeling Four's hand on your waist pulling you closer. Taken aback by the sudden gesture, you had to fight the startled look on your face as you were forced to make eye contact with the woman in front of you.

"Would you like a single or a double room?"

"Single."

"Double."

Your eyes widened and you gave a discreet yet harsh kick to Four's foot, side-eyeing him with a cold glare.

"We'll take a single room. Thank you." Fortunately, the receptionist only chuckled as she typed on the computer, seemingly not finding your disagreement suspicious.

"Under what name?"

"Jones." you blurted out randomly. The receptionist then reached behind and grabbed a key off the wooden shelf before handing it over to you.

"Here's your key; room 305, second floor. Enjoy your stay!" you both thanked her and made your way to the stairs, Four's hand leaving your waist as soon as you were out of sight.

"Two rooms, are you serious?" you whisper-yelled.

"Hey, we never discussed that!"

"We're supposed to be a married couple, of course we're taking a single room!" you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as you reached your room. Four opened it and cautiously looked around to make sure no one was around before locking the door behind you.

You tossed your bag on the bed and rubbed the heel of your hand against your forehead in frustration. Four watched your reaction and let out an amused scoff.

"She's just the receptionist, Eight, it's not that big of a deal."

With one last glance his way and a tut you fell on the bed, sighing loudly. You were glad it had a decent amount of room for you both.

"We're inside. Room 305" Four spoke through his mic.

"Alright. Two and Three are room 280. I'm going in with Five." One's voice answered on the other side. There was a pause. "Hey, Four?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't have too much fun."

"Oh, fuck off." he mumbled, rolling his eyes before turning the mic off and tossing it on the bedside table. A slight tint of pink began to color his cheeks and he cleared his throat, trying to brush the thoughts that accompanied One's words from his mind.

"This has to be the worst idea One has come up with so far. Who the hell decides to spend a night in a hotel where some crazy psychopath is planning his next attack?!" you complained, rubbing your hand over your face and sighing loudly.

"Are you afraid?" Four asked and you stayed silent for a moment, sighing softly as you turned so that your back was facing him.

"Of course i'm afraid." you admitted. There was no point in denying it. "Who knows what he might do while everyone's asleep?" You felt Four sit on the bed and closed your eyes, dreading the conversation awaiting you. You hated showing your vulnerable side, especially now that you had joined the Underground; there was no room for weakness. But after all you were still human and very much alive, avoiding your fear wasn't the easiest part of the job.

"He's not going to do anything. We're tracking him, we know his every move. One gets an alert every time he leaves his room."

You shrugged in response, pouting as your hands hands slipped under your head on the pillow. You inhaled then exhaled deeply, trying to calm your nerves as you still weren't fully convinced.

"Hey, you're safe here. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise." you turned to lay on your back again and gave him a small smile, mentally apologizing for snapping at him.

"Promise you won't help him murder us in our sleep?" you joked and he let out a laugh, moving to lay down next to you.

"I'll spare your life, promise." he teased. You scrunched your nose at him, feigning a mocking expression before raising your eyes back to the ceiling, smiling. A couple of seconds went by and you felt him tentatively poke a finger into your side, causing you to jump.

"Don't even think about it, Four."

"What? You're ticklish?" he tried again and you slapped his hand away, biting down on your lips to try not to let any giggle out of your mouth.

"Fuck off!"

"You're ticklish."

Without warning he climbed over you, his legs on either side of you and pinning you to the bed as his fingers dug into your sides. You squealed and immediately burst out laughing, tears quickly forming in your eyes as you tried to push his hands away, squirming underneath him.

"Stop!" you shout between laughs as you tried to push him off, punching his chest with both hands. "I can't— breathe!"

"What? Isn't that what happy married couples do?"

"Fuck off! Stop, please!" He laughed at you and his hands eventually stilled, allowing you to catch your breath. But he didn’t move from his position, body hovering yours as he looked down at you with a grin. Your laughter gradually died down, both your smiles fading and cheeks heating up quickly as you suddenly became very aware of the proximity.

Four's eyes searched yours for a moment, looking for a sign that you and him both wanted the same thing. Your gaze darted back and forth between his eyes and his lips and you answered his unspoken question with a gentle nod, giving him your consent. Within the next seconds he leaned forward and pressed your lips together in a soft kiss, letting out a sigh of relief when you lips touched. You leaned up into the kiss, enjoying the feel of your lips moving in sync against each other, your breathing coming out slowly through your nose as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

By the time you parted from the kiss you were both panting, foreheads still pressed against one another as you smiled sweetly, a slight blush tinting your cheeks. Then Four leaned down again, kissing you once more before letting his lips move down to your jawline and neck.

You tilted your head back, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth when he nibbled on a particular spot, a soft moan leaving your mouth as your hands tangled in his hair.

"Can I touch you?" Four asked almost shyly, pulling back enough to look into your eyes. Your lips tilted up into a smile and you nodded your head, whispering the word "yes". Then you leaned your head up to close the gap between you again, your hands soon leaving his neck to unbutton and unzip your jeans just enough for him to slide his hand down into them.

"Shit..." you moaned out in a whisper, closing your eyes as his hand came in contact with your center, his fingers beginning to rub circles over your clit. Your hands moved behind his neck in response and your hips started to move, seeking more friction as you panted softly against his lips. Four tilted his head down to nip at your ear as he slipped his hand past your underwear and glided two fingers into you, effortlessly angling them just right and pumping them at the perfect pace, drawing a soft gasp out of you. You managed to tug your pants and underwear lower to give him easier access to your body, moaning as he pushed his fingers deeper in response.

It felt euphoric, the pleasure rapidly spreading to every nerve of your body. The coil in your stomach tightened embarrassingly fast, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

"Four, I— fuck." you tried to speak but all you could manage were whimpers and moans as your mind blurred with pleasure, your body tensing up as your right hand came to grip his hair while the other fisted onto the sheets. It didn't take long for you to continuously gasp and moan in the rhythm of his movements, and with a couple more thrust of his fingers you came with a drawn out cry, mouth falling open and head thrown back against the pillow, back arching while your fingers gripped the sheets. Four guided you through it all, whispering words of praise in your ear, kissing down your neck and only removing his fingers once you were completely finished.

You smiled as you calmed down from your high, your hands coming up to rest on his cheeks. Then you pulled him closer to you and reconnected your lips with his for a passionate kiss. His hand that wasn't holding him up above you went down to his belt, undoing it before pulling it off all while never breaking the kiss.

But before this could go any further, you were interrupted by three knocks on the door. You cursed under your breath, eyes growing wide in panic as you quickly pushed him off your body to get dressed. Four's expression mirrored your panicked one as he pulled his pants up and fixed his hair, trying his best not to look suspicious in case someone from the team was behind the door.

Then you ran to the bathroom and locked yourself there, running the shower water while Four answered the door.

About a minute later your heard the door close and cracked the bathroom door open, carefully peeping through the small gap before walking out.

"What was it?" you frowned, noticing the blush that was forming on Four's cheeks.

"Someone complained about the noise."

you froze, jaw dropping and gaping at him with wide eyes.

"But I— I..." you paused, unable to find a good combination of words. Then you let out a breath you were holding before speaking again. "...please tell me you're joking."

Four gave you a half amused, half apologetic smile as he shook his head which caused you to curse and hide your face in embarrassment. With a smile, he walked up to you and removed your hands from your face, chuckling before placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Do you think they believe in the married couple thing now?"

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fanfic #billy/four #billy/four x reader #four/billy x reader #borhap x reader #borhap boys x reader #ben hardy smut #6 underground x reader #6 underground imagine #ben hardy imagine

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trashmouthkid · 2 years

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Bill Denbrough sees him mostly just on Tuesdays. Sometimes Wednesdays, sometimes Thursdays, an occasionally Sunday—partial to Catholic nostalgia—but always, always Tuesday.

He’s never thought about why, and doesn’t need to. Doesn’t need to know that Tuesday was the day it happened, only that Wednesday was the next day, and Thursday came afterwards. That somehow the week went on until it ended, and then a new one began.

Yesterday was Monday. Bill knows this, too, and staggers in an off-campus library, a Shyamalan cliché watching a gray hand pull a book off the shelf.

“English test tomorrow.”

The hand is always gray, always dead. Probably the entire arm, but Bill never sees—the boy always wears jackets. The rest of him is fine. Clean. He’s older, in a cruel and taunting way that makes Bill miss the waterlogged body of a four year old he sometimes sees instead.

Not one of those days, he guesses. Maybe because he’s flunking out of psychology and still lying to mom about it, or because he avoided the mirror when he washed his face this morning. So he turns away from the nightmare, gripping the book in his own hand a little tighter, and walking towards an empty table.

Georgie follows, because Bill gives him no other choice.

“You know much about Catcher in the Rye?”

He collapses into the chair across from Bill, tilting his book slightly to catch his attention. Bill glances at it briefly as he flips his book open and shrugs.

“Think that was a little after my time,” he says plainly, not sure if the joke is bitter or sweet. Georgie leans in a little, his elbows on the table, and smiles.

“Come on, I know Mrs. Barlow asked to submit your work to Derry’s SLM,” he presses. “All four years. You can’t lie to me, Billy. I’m in your head.”

Bill decides the joke is bitter, after all. He often wonders if Georgie would have grown up to have this bite, or if he would have stayed the same, kind and soft on all edges. It was a particular kind of sweetness–not something young boys just have and then grow out of.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Bill mutters, somewhat to the convoluted words of Daniel Kahneman in front of him.

“You never want to talk about anything,” Georgie says, a whine in his voice that makes Bill ache for annoyances he never had.

The letters in front of him are starting to blur together, and a headache is forming in the back of his head. He’s about to argue when wetness touches his white-knuckled grip, the hands he’s pinching the book on the table with.

The water, again. It slips beneath the cover of the book and spills over the edge of the table into Bill’s lap. He doesn’t want to look, but it’s not about wanting.

He fights the current back to Georgie, and Georgie is gray all over. Gray and utterly dead. Eyes black holes, neck bent unnaturally to the left (Bill’s left, Georgie doesn’t have a left–he’s dead). The water is falling from his mouth, a dark and muddled honesty.

Today, Bill’s in the library. Some days, he’s not. Some days, he’s in his dorm. Some days, he’s at home in the kitchen, where his dead brother’s room is just above him. And he wants to drown in that water. Georgie’s water.

But today, he’s in the library, and he knows the uselessness of it. He doesn’t even try.

“Cut it out,” he says instead, quietly. His voice comes out cracked and uneven. “Georgie.”

Georgie’s face comes back for a moment, still discolored, still wet. But he smiles.

“I miss you, Billy.”

He is all water, and then he is all gone.

Bill bites down on the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, and keeps reading.

#body horror #bill denbrough #fanfic #mine #yes i did cut this short i got tired sry

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cherrydreamer · 3 years

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Soda

My entry for Day 12 of the HarringroveApril challenge!

(2.7K Fluff) (Read on Ao3)

Steve’s been talking with Billy for a few months now.

He’s not sure why. Not sure if it’s some self-imposed penance, some way of dealing with the guilt that bubbles through Steve everytime he thinks of Billy dealing with all that shit. The monsters. Suffering through it all without anyone trying to help. Or maybe he's just that damn bored now.

Either way, it’s not much of a conversation.

Billy just sits there, adding nothing and staring into space, his fingers occasionally picking at the loose threads on his blanket.

Steve knows he can talk. He’s heard him give one word answers to the nurses. Caught the tail end of one of Billy’s heated conversations with Max.

But Billy doesn’t talk to him.

It’s eerie, really, and Steve thinks he preferred Billy in those first weeks, when he was still asleep. It was easier to talk, to unburden himself, when he knew that Billy couldn’t hear him.

Then again, Steve thinks, he’s probably not even listening now.

Steve lasts for another agonising ten minutes before the awkwardness gets to him and he rises to his feet, grasping for an excuse, "Hey, I, uh, bathroom. You want anything while I'm up?"

Steve doesn’t really mean to say the last part, just hears it slip out. He’d said it a few times while Billy was asleep. Unconscious. Comatose. Whatever. Just some dumb joke that fell flat even to his own ears.

But this time, he gets a response from Billy.

"Kinda thirsty?" It comes out small. Weak. Steve can hear the cracking of the words and the rasp in Billy’s throat.

"Yeah?" Steve tries, and fails, to hide the surprise in his voice as he pauses in the doorway, "Anything in particular?"

"Surprise me," Billy says, and Steve swears he can see the slightest hint of a smirk appear on his face.

“Sure,” Steve nods, but Billy’s eyes have already fluttered shut.

Steve starts thinking as soon as he's out of the room.

Keeps thinking about it in the bathroom.

He’s still mulling it all the way along the corridor.

And then he starts to panic at the vending machine.

It's dumb, he knows, but that croaked out request was the first thing Billy had said to him since...well. Probably their fight at the Byers’.

It feels significant. Like a test that Steve could fail. And he wants to get it right. Choose something to make Hargrove happy. He’s not quite sure why. Maybe some lingering guilt, or some innate desire to please. Maybe he just wants to see if he can make Billy’s lips quirk up again. Make him look like Billy again, rather than the shell of a man he’s been talking to. At.

Steve eyes the limited drinks options with his head cocked, trying to make a decision

What would Hargrove want?

In all honesty, Steve guesses, he'd probably be happiest with a beer and a half naked chick to bring it to him.

But Steve only has a pocketful of quarters.

So. A can of Coke from the vending machine it is.

Because everyone likes Coke, right?

Steve second guesses himself all the way back to Billy’s room. Shaking his head at his own idiocy when he opens the door to find that Billy's already fallen back to sleep.

He’s all curled on one side, face smushed against the pillow, and a little patch of drool already growing by his mouth.

Steve watches him for a moment. Watches as Billy’s chest rises and falls slowly. Consistently. And then Steve smiles to himself and leaves the Coke can within easy reach on the table by Billy's bed.

The next time Steve comes in, Billy’s a lot more talkative. More than that, he’s being an asshole. Insulting Steve and rolling his eyes and just generally acting like Hargrove again.

It’s not long before he asks for a drink. The same, dumb little 'surprise me' routine as before, and with a definite smirk this time.

This time, Steve takes a little less care over his selection, and decides to have a bit more fun.

He hands the can over without a word, grinning as Billy eyes it warily, turning it over in his hands before staring up at Steve with narrowed eyes, "What the fuck is this?"

"Cream soda?" Steve leans over to tap the curly writing on the can, the letters he knows Billy's already read but, hey, ask a stupid question...

Billy doesn't look amused, "Why?"

"Because...that's what it...is? I don't-"

"No, why the hell did you pick this?" Billy throws the can back at him, smirking when Steve fumbles it, "Does anything about me say that I'm a cream soda guy?"

Steve just shrugs, tossing the can between his hands, "Beggars can't be choosers,"

Billy snorts, "Fucking...guys who nearly died getting their chest impaled by a monster can though, and I choose Coke. Or Dr. Pepper. Yeah, damn, Harrington. Bring me a Dr. Pepper."

Steve stops throwing the can and drops it down onto Billy’s table with a clang, "You wanted a surprise."

"And now I want a better one," Billy shrugs, that damn smirk back on his face.

Steve huffs, "I literally just got back!" and Billy tilts his head, makes his eyes all wide and innocent and puts on some soft, simpering voice,

"I guess I could call a nurse, but don't you think those poor angels have got more than enough work to do? And yet, here you are, sitting there on your ass and not-"

"Fine!" Steve doesn’t even try to hide the annoyance from his tone, knows Billy will only find it funny, "Fucking. Fine, Hargrove. Dr. Pepper. Anything else, your highness?"

"Surprise me," Billy smirks again. Bigger. Wider. Paired with a wink

And Steve can't help it. Because Billy did ask for it.

He licks his finger, gets it all shiny with spit, and then jams it into Hargrove's ear, wiggling it a little.

It's gross. Juvenile. It has Billy yelping and squirming and calling him an asshole over and over again.

And Steve can't stop giggling all the way to the vending machine and back.

Steve starts coming in more and more. He doesn’t always bring pop ‘ definitely pop, Hargrove. Soda’s what my Grandma puts in cakes,’ trying to switch things up with piles of candy and burgers from Rosie’s Place and homemade cookies from Joyce. Bringing things to turn Billy’s smirk into a softer, realer smile and make him push a curl behind his ear when Steve hands them over.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve sees a drink so perfect that he can’t resist.

Like this one.

Steve’s throwing the can at Billy before he’s even fully through the door, whooping when Billy catches it one handed,

"Have you seen this?” he crows excitedly, “Jolt! It's new! It's got like way more of a kick than Coke. I've had, like, three already and I'm all...I'm buzzing! Buzz buzz!"

He is. He feels giddy. But he's been feeling like that a lot around Billy recently so he's not sure it’s entirely down to the cola.

"You're sugar high," Billy groans, reading the small print on his can, "And...shit, caffeinated. Oh fuck, Harrington. No. I can’t deal-”

But Steve's already tugging at his arm, "It's too nice to stay in here, we should go out! Hey! You wanna go skating? There's a new rink out near- no, wait, duh. You're still all...yeah? But what about-"

"Harrington, calm the fuck down. Jesus. OK."

Billy pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking for a minute, "There's a little garden just around the back, I do my physio there but it's...it's kinda nice."

It is nice. And there is a garden. All nice and neat and calm. But Steve immediately looks past the flower beds and the well spaced benches, to stare at the neighbouring play park instead.

It’s not the most exciting set up. Just two swings and a slide attached to a shitty rusting climbing frame. But Steve's eyes light up as soon as he sees it, and he's off, leaving Billy to stumble by himself as he runs towards the entrance, stopping only to point at the 'Paradise Park' sign above the gate.

It’s high enough to be a challenge. And Steve can’t resist. He turns round, waves at Billy shuffling behind him, and points upwards as he yells,

"Think I can touch that? I bet I can! If I jump like-" Steve leaps. Reaches. His finger tips just graze the edge of the sign and Steve whoops, running straight over to Billy and holding his hand up for a high five.

Billy obliges, grudgingly, and then Steve’s off again, grumbling at monkey bars that are so low that his feet stay flat on the floor, and then crying with laughter when he gets his ass stuck halfway down the slide.

They end up sitting next to each other on the swings, Steve spends the first ten minutes trying to swing himself over the top of the set, while Billy alternates between explaining why it isn't physically possible and then creasing up with laughter at Steve's frustration when he fails. But eventually, Steve starts to feel calmer. Mostly. His leg's still bouncing, there’s a twitch in the corner of his eye and that fluttery, churning feeling in his tummy is still there.

But he doesn’t want to run anymore. Doesn’t need to shout. Instead he wants to sit and just stay here, swinging gently into Billy and knocking their legs together as they talk about… everything. Big things and bad things and little things and good things. Things that seem too much to talk about in the too-white sterile room, but flow easily when there’s the sun on their faces and the creak of a swingset and the occasional brush of Billy’s hand against his when they both sway into each other.

Steve’s one who comes to pick Billy up on the day he gets discharged. It just makes sense. He has a car. He’s not got work that day. It seems right.

He’s surprised when Billy directs him back to Cherry Lane. Concerned, really. Because he’s heard a little from Max. Heard a bit more from Billy. Put it together and he didn’t like the picture.

He tries to keep his voice from wavering when he asks, "You gonna be OK living back at home?"

But Billy just shakes his head, "Fuck that, I put that government bribe to good use. Got a home of my own now. But, yeah. Need to swing by the old place first. Got a few things to grab.”

It turns out that the few things are a stack of cardboard boxes, neatly packed and labelled by Max and then a single smaller one which had obviously been packed a long while before and hidden deep in the closet.

Billy holds that one close while Steve packs the rest of them into the car. And it’s the first one he carries into his new house.

They’re just about done unpacking when the exhaustion hits Billy. Steve sees him start to stumble, start dropping things and tripping over his words and just generally...slump.

So Steve waves him onto the couch. Makes him sit. Grabs him a glass of water and tells him to chill and insists on sorting the rest out himself.

Not that there’s much to sort. The first box Steve grabs is labelled 'Miscellaneous' in Max's neat handwriting and, from what Steve can see, it’s a whole damn mix of stuff from protein powder to a Rubik’s Cube. He dumps it on the kitchen counter for Billy to look through later.

The next box, the one with Billy’s bathroom stuff, is easier and Steve tries not to grin when he notices that Billy’s got quite a few of the same bottles as he does. He lines them all up carefully recreating the order he has at home, feeling a warm glow at how good it all looks when he’s done. How right.

And then there’s just the little box. The one Billy had been keeping hold of in the car. It's been placed carefully on the wobbly table in the entryway, and Steve narrows his eyes as he tries to decipher Billy's messy scrawl on the cardboard. It definitely starts with an 'M', but the rest of it may as well be German, for all Steve can make it out, so he opens it, figures if he sees plates or pyjamas or another random hodge-podge, he'll at least have a clue where it needs to go.

There's a few tapes in cracked cases, one with a handmade cover and the words ‘Bill & Theo’ outlined with a heart; a couple of folded up shopping lists, written in elegant, loopy cursive; a yellow, chiffon scarf and a tube of lipstick, worn down to a stub.

And there are four soda cans.

Coke, Cream Soda, Dr. Pepper and Jolt Cola, all empty and clean and nestled down right at the bottom of the box.

Steve puzzles over the collection for a moment, then he closes the lid and carries it through to Billy,

"Hey, is this, uh, is this another-" he glances at the box on the counter, "another Misk-El-Anoos one?"

Billy's lips quirk up at the corners, "Miscellaneous," he corrects gently. And then he notices the box Steve has in his hands, and he jumps to his feet, reaching out for it, "No, shit, no. That's, uh, that's...shit. Give it here."

"Nah man,” Steve pulls the box closer to his chest, “It's the last one just tell me where-"

"Bedroom.” Billy’s eyes dart from the box to Steve, and he looks wary. On edge.

"This does not say bedroom," Steve grins, fingers tracing over Billy's scribble. And Billy sighs, shoulders slumping like he can’t hold himself up anymore.

"Memories," Billy says softly. "It says memories. It's all special things. Or, things from special people, I guess."

"Oh." Steve's silent for a moment, lips pursed, "But there’s...there’s like old cans in there."

Billy freezes at that and his face pales, goes from pink to white to practically grey in an instant, "You looked?"

"Uh, yeah.” Steve ducks his head, rubbing at the back of his neck as he feels a prickle of shame, “Just to kinda...to figure out where to put it. But, yeah. Sorry dude. Are they, uh, are they supposed to be in there?"

"Yeah," Billy nods, slowly, "Yeah. They are."

"O...K?" Steve grins, trying to get the joke, but Billy doesn't smile back. His face is serious, mouth pressed into a line.

"They're the ones you got for me," Billy says quietly, wrapping his arms around himself, "The sodas."

"Huh?" Steve scrunches up his nose as he thinks, "Oh right! That's right, I...I did. I-" And then the implication hits him. "Oh."

"Yeah," Billy's hugging himself even harder now, biting his lip, and Steve hates the worry, the fear that's crossing his face.

"So. I'm…special?" Steve's hesitant, almost too scared to voice it. Because it might not mean what he thinks it means. What he hopes.

If anything, Billy’s face creases even more. He looks on the verge of tears, face screwing up in pain, "Yeah. Fuck. Steve. Yeah. And it's...it's OK if you wanna leave cause I know this is weird and-"

"Hey. No,” Steve steps forward, shaking his head, “No...it's not weird."

He watches Billy's face carefully. Sees the worry turn into confusion as Steve gently reaches out and takes hold of both of Billy's hands.

"I just can't believe you kept them."

"It's dumb, I know. But..." Billy swallows, and Steve hears the click of it, loud in the otherwise silent room, "They were the first things you ever gave me."

And that comment goes straight to Steve's heart, filling him with a warmth that seems to spread all the way through him. Because it's just so damn romantic. So soft and sweet and thoughtful and a whole side of Billy that Steve didn’t know he had.

Steve kinda wants to see more of that side.

“Yeah?” He steps even closer, letting go of one of Billy's hands to grab at his waist and tilting his head to one side to whisper, "Anything else I can give you?".

And he's standing so close that he can feel the breath against his lips when Billy whispers, "Surprise me."

#harringrove #harringrove april #yeah a day late on here BUT tumblr formatting hates me recently and I gave up last night #cherrywrites #fluff #do i write anything else atm?#saving ALL my angst for mean steve fics cause SOMEONE got me onto that now #corrupting me #BUT my fluffy heart shines on

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years

Note

sorry this is LONG but i feel like an issue for each of the boys would be feelings like they were a third wheel in the relationship of some sorts.

for bill he’d see these two childhood best friends turned lovers and feel like he’s invading on their destiny. with all their history and memories and inside jokes, he feels too new sometimes like he’s temporary. like one day he’ll end up a side character in their story, someone they’d wonder about in old age. yet the feeling always subsides and he realizes how loved he is.

for steve he finds himself feeling like a drag on billy and tommy’s fun relationship. he fears one day they’ll get sick of his worrying and his fussing and his neediness and realize they’d be happier with each other alone, with no one around to cry wolf when it comes to danger or simply cry all the time. but then they’ll soothe his tears, or cuddle up to him and thank him for stopping their impulsive decisions and he realizes they need him just as much as they need him.

for tom though, the feeling never really goes. it’s just stronger or weaker depending on the day. he feels inferior to both of his beautiful boys in every way, and fears that one day they too will realize how undeserving he is. he looks and steve and billy and they way they love one another as being starcrossed soulmates and himself as some stupid tag along, taking as much as he can get before what he believes is the inevitable. the breakup, the reveal that he meant nothing to them. that they’ve known all along that he was ugly, worthless, annoying and that very other dark thought he ever had about himself was true. he pulls away to lessen the hurt for himself, and it takes a lot of anger, frustration, and heartbreak before steve and billy realize what the true reasons behind tommy’s coldness really is.

i got it, dove 😏. and don’t apologize! thank you so much <3

</3

steve always saw how well tommy and billy just- linked. they were both so smart and impulsive and temperamental and fun. which meant that safety and caution was rarely considered between the two.

they never told steve shit.

one of the worst cases steve had to deal with was when they’d decided to key the principal’s car. all fun and game because the guy was an asshole. steve knew that, wouldn’t have cared all that much.

except the principal had his lunch at 1:15pm every day. and every day he drove down to the diner for a coffee.

any guesses as to when steve’s particular idiotic boyfriends decided to go on with their diabolical plan?

to put it simply. steve got the call that they were in jail. and steve would do anything for his boys. anything.

even call and beg his own father for the funds to bail them each out.

tommy and billy were grateful. hugged and kissed and praised and served on steve once they were released. celebrated and made sure steve stayed relaxed.

except he wouldn’t relax. not after tommy gave a massage. not after billy made steve’s favorite, dulce de leches.

nothing. worked.

so they asked. and steve eventually mumbled.

“i have to work for my father this summer. full time.”

tommy tucked some hair back and out of steve’s eye, “why? you said you wanted to go into—“

“to pay it back,” steve responded. ashamed. ashamed that he was complaining, that he was so banged up for being fortunate enough to have a job. no matter how much he thought about the waste it was going to be. mad. that “tommy and billy quality time” ended like it had. with steve a step more out of the loop and a whole summer of tense lack in communication. and he knew what that led to.

in the end. no one needed to ask what he meant by it.

</3

tommy and steve were close. they didn’t consider themselves closer than either of them were with billy. even if it was a tug at the truth. they wouldn’t accept it. they had a long past but their love was billy’s before it was anything other than.

they told their stories occasionally. and billy felt left out. so he annoyed and rattled the other two more and more until he got their attentions back.

he spat water at steve’s bare back and threw a balled up wet sock that was either billy’s or tommy’s at tommy’s crotch. he missed. just barely. and they two tossed their popsicles off to the side and ceased their conversation about third grade. hopped in and started gulping and spitting water right back at billy.

he was proud. that he managed to pull them out from the times without him. sometimes he wanted to cry because he felt he had to.

</3

now they never left each other for good. they eventually did learn that it was all three of them or nothing.

but before they really became set in stone. before all their silt settled and they grew and little older and wiser.

tommy was the first to lose his balance.

he’d been gone from the room for ten seconds. ten. and when he came back billy and steve were already making out. passionately. tongues out and hands around each other’s shoulders. something churned in his gut and he sat on the opposite end of the couch.

tommy regretted not growing his hair out more. as he ignored how billy and steve rolled and crawled over like puppies, he somehow took notice to how steve twirled billy’s hair between his fingers. billy kissed his temple and it made him feel a little better. but he felt his heart temper up to boiling water as steve watched him. either suspicion or annoyance. both of which tommy couldn’t handle.

they didn’t mention it. tommy leaned more into the couch. and he didn’t speak to either of them for a week and a half.

didn’t return until he saw billy and steve fighting outside the public pool. after hours. tommy had just wanted to sneak in.

“it’s your fault!” billy screamed at steve. he was snotty and his cheeks were wet. steve was blotchy red and his eyes had that hollowed look he got when he was about to break down.

“you’re the one that mounted me! he came back and saw that, how is it my fault. he felt left out. you should have waited until he came back!” steve stumbled over his sentence structure. tommy stayed planted on the gravel.

“you didn’t tell him goodnight before he left,” billy mentioned. tommy thought about it. steve actually had said goodnight that night.

“what are you talking about?” steve asked, incredulous.

“i don’t know!” billy yelled. steve took a step back. a full one. tommy took one forward. watched billy’s shoulders shake like he was a scarecrow in the wind. then he asked in a whimper, “why is he doing this to us?”

steve didn’t have an answer, but he nodded, “it hurts. like he…he took every tendon in my legs and half my heart all at once.” billy dashed to steve, hugged him tight just as steve started crying. both sobbed as the force on both their chests caused collapsed collision.

“i miss him so much.”

tommy took a slow breath. and returned with much more understanding and too much regret to fully acknowledge at once.

#you’re my dove anon now for no reason other than i feel a need to call you dove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tommy hagan #keg boys #kegboys #stranger things

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omegatheunknown · 3 years

Text

AEW Double or Nothing 2021

In which the spirit of WCW is alive in confusing and delightful ways and we are left to parse whether overbooking and extracurriculars are offset by having actually very good wrestling happening at the same time.

- Lessons learned from Revolution on the production side? Maybe just cool it on pyro, though the rappelling adventure in the Stadium Stampede showed some of that now-characteristic 'trust us it'll look better on TV' flair. Hot crowd tends to paper over most woes, and the crowd was pretty hot. My one gripe is that the casino theme is hanging around like yesterday's takeout containers. Nothing wrong with clinging to a theme, I just think it's time for season 2. My suggestion? Under the Sea.

*Pre-Card Serena Deeb (C) v Riho for the NWA Women's Championship (***1/2) - Serena Deeb's star has finally risen. She's a remarkably consistent technician and she can get a match out of anyone at this point. She's working at the level of Mercedes Martinez or Madison Eagles at this point, it's amazing that she was overlooked or considered fit only to be a coach for so long. With the NWA belt she has this new swagger, she's basically everything Tessa Blanchard might bring to the table with none of the downsides (Serena has a lot of friends and seems like a lovely person, even!) - Riho's back and here to stay. Her time in Stardom didn't do much for my evaluation of her, which is that there are many better wrestlers that would be better representatives of the joshi style and she's merely pretty good. - The match was very good. Serena showcased a champion's aggression against a sympathetic Riho, they really work well against each other, Deeb's technical prowess against Riho's flexibility led to a very dynamic finish.

*Main Card Hangman Adam Page v Brian Cage (***1/2) - Here the shenanigans start. Brian Cage is on Team Taz, Team Taz has nothing else much to do tonight, so why wouldn't Team Taz flex their muscles, bait us with HOOK, etc? (Because it would be nice to have some variety in the card in terms of a match where one competitor stands across from another competitor?) - Hangman is (checking notes) yeah, still over as fuck, as befits the Anxious Millennial Cowboy. Cage terrifies me, he's a child's drawing of a body builder. He do be very agile for a man of his immense musculature tho. They match up well, Page is biggish for a flyer, Cage loves to play catch. Nothing much to write home about, other than Hangman's beautiful moonsault to the floor and what was overall a very good curtain jerker. - Okay fine, I am curious about Cage's reluctance to lean on the goons, Starks can't come back soon enough.

The Young Bucks v Jon Moxley & Eddie Kingston (***) - I will not be referring to Mox & Eddie as (The) Wild Things because it gives me 'he calls it the wacky line' flashbacks for some reason. - The Bucks have to cheat and abuse Rick Knox's attention span constantly to be on even footing with Mox & Eddie, which is a clever sort of thing that gets washed out by the appearance of LG and Karl Anderson, which again, is cool in a vacuum but was the story of the evening. - Pace was weird - repetitive in eliminating Eddie, then Mox fights back, failed hope spot, Bucks team up, Eddie saves x2/3 in a row. - Mox, unlike Cody (in so many ways,) will probably actually be taking some time off with Renee, which is the kind of thing I would prefer not to know in terms of booking, but they really uh, put him down on the canvas here, and it felt pretty finale-esque.

Casino Battle Royale (n/r, but on the balance pro) - Any changes to the theme of the PPV would likely include changing up the nonsense suit format of these largely joyless slogs. - Obviously anticipating a NJPW talent, or... I dunno, actually -- Lio Rush was a surprise. Got in a quick demonstration of his otherworldly quickness, and you know what, there's probably a fun place for him in AEW. He'll need some friends, of course, feel like Team Taz might fit his temperament. I wonder if he was aware of the Mark Henry news... - Christian does not need to win this kind of match to get a title shot, obviously, but that said it was super lovely to use him to give Jungle Boy the shine. Jungle Boy would be a license to print money if he was even as big as Hangman. - Could register some continued griping about how Penta is not getting his due in AEW but he also literally was dressed as the Joker so I'm low on sympathy on this one particular night.

Anthony Ogogo v Cody Rhodes (*) - I did not like this. It's hard for me to read jingoism as a face move to begin with, and Cody's was egregiously tone deaf and kinda silly yet delivered without a trace of irony because Cody doesn't do irony on purpose, ridiculous neck tattoo aside. - Great argument to be made that Ogogo just isn't experienced enough to be winning matches against Cody. But like, what are we doing here? Cody needs to take some time off, maybe. I thought that's what was happening when he had his mini feud with Penta that really just ended in quick decisive Cody win. I though maybe Cody was being turned when QT and The Factory snapped-- sure, they're a group of impotent player 2s, but Cody is an out of touch elitist with a callous and manipulative streak. Alas, also no. America #1. - Cody is approximately 8 times as tough as Billy Gunn based on his weathering of the one punch man. Match ran a bit long given how little there was to go on. Cody gigged? Quelle surprise. - Cody had the best match on the card like, 3 out of the first 4 AEW events or something, and that was all booking and storytelling. I do hope Cody follows Moxley's lead into a little sabbatical.

Miro (C) v Lance Archer for the TNT Championship (**1/2) - Card's hossiest hoss match, a quick burst reminiscent of a car wreck. Absolutely hit on what it should've hit on but a little slow moving considering it went all of 10 minutes. - I will not complain about Jake the Snake, who I love. And also the gimmick spot, with Miro very astutely yeeting what was definitely a snake in a bag (surely.) back down the tunnel.

Dr Britt Baker, DMD v Hikaru Shida (C) for the AEW Women's Championship (***) - Picked up a lot of steam toward the end but seemed a little toothless (heh) until the last five. - Shida 'deserved' some more time as champion in front of crowds but also it's time to let heel Britt reach her peak, I can't even imagine how obnoxious she can be as the champ, it's going to be great.

Sting & Darby Allin v Ethan Page & Scorpio Sky (***1/2) - Such is the power of STING that I feel like I might be underrating this match... I mean it was an okay match about very simply getting some revenge and the sixty year old man did a very subdued Code Red and a slightly less subdued dive. He's also Sting. They missed an opportunity in calling it the 'Scorpio' Death Drop, but the main takeaway here is you see something like this where it's The Icon and you start to understand why WWE trots out their legends to come out of incredibly still kick ass without bending their knees. - The difference, I guess, is that Sting is absolutely being used to build up Darby Allin, whereas it's not like the fed brought back Goldberg and his attendant aura to pump up... anyone but Goldberg?

Kenny Omega (C) v PAC v Orange Cassidy for the AEW World Championship (****) - Off the top I have to say I'm very sad that the rest of the Galaxy's Greatest Friends were seen only very briefly, nice of them to bring OC's backpack. - Also have to point out that PAC's promo featured one of my favourite jokes, that Kenny must be short for Kenneth as a sort of legal/birth name belonging to a professional wrestler. (See also: Samoa Joseph) - And Mr Cassidy certainly did try in this match, ragdoll sells and all. Kenneth and PAC are absurd talents who bring aerial, power and technical maneuvers in equal measure and OC is not doing any of those on the same level, but he picked his spots, showed his genre savvy and hung in there to the point that he wasn't just the fall guy. - The extracurriculars continue in a match that was already a little overboard for silliness due to asymmetry... I think if you're the Invisible Hand it would've made sense to save up all your tricks for this match, but who am I to question the golden goose? - Sure, Kenny and Don ran the classic heel manager interference spot and taking out the ref in desperation spot but having to take out the ref because PAC wouldn't break the hold is fun, as is the stupid/inspired sense in running the 'smash opponent with the belt' spot four times so as none of your heavy gold prizes feel left out. (I love that AAA Mega Championship, they weren't on TV so we get to see it?) - "Fuck You, Don," indeed.

The Inner Circle v The Pinnacle in 'Stadium Stampede II' (***1/2) - This one had to grow on me for two reasons, first that it's usually pretty unforgivable to co-opt the main event spot from the championship match, and second to law of diminishing returns on dumb gimmick matches. - But grow it did. There's a full on meat locker? Commentary will refer to a cardboard cut-out of Shahid Khan as Tony Khan's father (that's canon now,) and Jericho will lovingly pat it? Konnan happened to be the DJ at whatever night club there is a Jaguar Stadium? Spears surrounds himself dramatically with chairs and his hoisted by his own petard? - Ultimately it comes down to letting Sammy shine. His involvement with the Inner Circle has sometimes come at the cost of being able to showcase that prior to AEW he was an ascendant talent in PWG, on his way to Ricochet level feats of acrobatic excess. Still feel like Sammy could've/should've been the one tossed off the cage a few weeks ago, but even better is being the guy getting the pin in the ring.

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

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The kitchen’s Steve’s favorite part of the house.

It has this odd shape. Trapezoid. “Fuck, Stevie, so goddamn weird”. Doesn’t make sense in a, on the other hand, perfectly rectangular house (or, well, it does but, they’ll only find out about that later). The cabinets are ceiling-high. The tiles of the wall white and cracked under the repeating pattern of light mint-green-stemmed, yellow-petaled lilies. The whole backdoor is painted on that same shade Billy calls Ripe banana dreams, both so terribly old-fashioned and fiercely cute none of them says a word about repainting it. There’s a wooden piece, built into the farthest end of the counter. It looks disgustingly juicy and mercilessly stabbed when they move in, but Billy insists on keeping it, and sanding, and treating, and varnishing it. Manages to get it back up on shape because “Better than anyone, darling you should know what a little touch of class can make”. And for more than two weeks straight the only goal of his life is to learn to cut vegetables at high speed because “I have to live up to this level of professionalism. Impress our most un-impressionable guests”

(And, to Steve’s surprise –and probably hers– when she finally deigns to pay them a visit, his mom is, in fact, pretty much impressed.)

He learns how to make good casserole. Tries his luck with Mexican and Italian. Fails miserably with Japanese. Will never-ever admit it but, he loves it when flour ends up staining every single surface, making the biggest mess around himself when he bakes. Steve knows why it is. It’s a shared feeling. Floats up till it reaches the ceiling and bounces back down to them, heavy with the warm smell of cooking pie and cinnamon. Tastes docile and tamed like “Maybe not so much vanilla next time. Whaddaya think, babe?.” Tastes savage and daring, like the overwhelming tang of freshly squeezed lemon lingering on Billy’s tongue, when he crowds Steve against the fridge and kisses him, nibbles a shuddering laugh out of him “How the fuck are you able to even think about putting your mouth near that thing, Hargrove?. That was––ugh. That was disgusting”, “Well you know me, whatever it takes to make you squirm” leaving Steve with absolutely no option but lick the sugary dough stain over his cheek to “Cover up that foul flavor” and maybe because he wants to make Billy squirm a little too.

It’s a heart-warming, welcoming feeling. Like the vivid smells of green tomatoes and parsley and mustard sauce. Like the taste of love on Billy’s lips. The way he loses his breath when Steve kisses the sugary flavor into Billy’s mouth with his:

This place smells like home, tastes like home. Like finally, finally. Home.

It’s Billy’s favorite place, too. But Steve doesn’t think it’s just because of that. But also because maybe,

maybe.

He has also noticed that–

There’s this particular, particular moment. It happens around seven on autumns, right when the day starts to fade. It happens between six and six past twenty-eight on winters, and holds the sleepy cheeks of the newborn tulips on Steve’s garden till they fall asleep on springs, sun already sinking behind the horizon by the time both hands of the clock meet over the spiral of the eight, pointing towards infinity. And then grows bigger and bigger and bigger from there, flooding into summer: the golden sunlight seeping through the wide, double-paned window facing the backyard in an oblique angle, making the yellow flowers of the tiles look like they’re re-blooming in gold.

It’s the moment the day turns into a fire.

It’s their favorite moment in time. And in this particular, particular day of July, it happens at ten past nine.

Billy is making Spaghetti Carbonara. The kitchen is damp with the rich smells coming out of the boiling water. Mushrooms and oregano, black pepper and lime. A song is cooing at them from the radio, the beat of the drums a boneless memory of that one echoing around the quarry on faraway almost-night on a faraway July. Water rippling under the quiet sigh of the breeze. Trees cutting the liquid rays in asymmetric halves.

Billy takes off the apron. Turns the stove down.

Reaches out to Steve, fingers wavering come, come, come.

To me. Come to me. “C’mon, Harrington. Do I scare you or what?“

He has this way of looking at Steve that makes the space between them narrow, narrow: the whole unknown world. And aseptic, non-lived-in flat in downtown Florida. This tiny, tiny town. A mysteriously-shaped kitchen––

“¿Can I have this dance?”

Steve walks to him, takes his hand.

––Their bodies, pressed flush.

Inside his chest, Steve’s heart is running.

(“Can I at least have this dance, before we say goodbye?”

Mazzy Star was playing. The corner of Billy’s eye felt wet where his skin brushed against the corner of Steve’s mouth. They danced till the daylight faded, till there were teardrops falling from the night sky.

“Billy, I don’t have to––”

“Don’t, pretty boy. Don’t say it. I’ll make you stay if you do. And I can’t do that”)

They made lovelovelove on the back of Billy’s car.)

In this light, they fell in love, they fell apart. Ran away. Ran back.

Steve nudges at Billy’s chest, makes him move backward till he’s far enough to tug, draw him in between their tangled arms, hands intertwined. Steve curls himself around Billy’s back, noses at the warmth trapped between his curls. He smells like BillyandSteve, like this home, like past, like future. Like us.

Steve whispers in his ear. Three words. Billy’s neck curves towards him. An instinct. Tickled by their warmth. Steve kisses the curve of his ear. Tugs the collar of his shirt aside, bites where shoulder meets neck and up, up.

“Easy, Prom King” Billy teases, grins at him tender and wild. Knows when to use the one that gets Steve every time “Or you’re gonna make me think we’ll become picture-perfect from this magical moment onwards. A bunch of kids. White fences. You know, the whole shebang”

(Billy crashed the Camaro into a tree in the winter of two thousand and fourteen. Had left the house in a frenzy. Something happened Max wouldn’t talk about. But she was scared, so she had called,

“Find him. Please.. Make sure he’s alright”

When Steve found him, Billy was in the middle of the Brookville road, feet stumbling on the twin yellow lines, following them nowhere. So weary, so impossibly small like this: head hanging, arms wrapped around himself. A crooked shape, carrying the weight of the shadows the tall pine trees cast on his back.

So unlike him.

Steve stopped the car at his side, engine oozing steam, shaking in the icy mid-May air “Billy” he said. Low. Careful. Careful. Billy’s eyes looked wet in the moon-silver night, pupils blown, deceivingly calm, “What are you doing? This is dangerous” And Billy’s spine had bent even lower, forearms finding rest on the window frame. Leveling with Steve. Looking wasted, looking tired, but still, he flashed a grin at him, teeth-shark white, never going down if he wasn’t going down swinging. And Steve–– hadn’t known at the moment, but the blood staining his cheek, the screaming-purple mark around his eye.

Those weren’t from the crash.

“I was sleepwalking, Harrington” he said, voice dry, laugh harsh. Shrugged “Waiting for a lucky strike”)

“What does it make you think that’s not what I’m aiming for?”

(When he took Billy to his house Max was already there. Had sneaked out. “Neil will kill you if he finds out,” Billy said and she nodded, white knuckles peaking red with how hard she was gripping the handler of her bike, and Steve hadn’t seen her cry before, not ever, but her eyes were swollen and wet and,

“Are you––”

“I’m alright, kiddo. You know me. I’m always alright”

And the lie sat heavy, between them. Two lies, covering the truth. Poorly stitched. But Max had called Steve for help, so that’s what he did. Help. Sent her back home. Took care of Billy’s face. Billy’s hands. Nodded at those same lies, let them do their work while taking care of wounds he didn’t know, back then, couldn't have been for a crash. Made him spend the night.

Billy still hadn't woken up when Steve left the next day, leaving food and a note on the nightstand ‘I’ll be back soon. Stay’.

Retraced Billy’s steps down the yellow lines splitting the forest in half. To find it.

The Camaro wasn’t done yet. Howled like a wounded beast under Steve’s touch, but stayed together all the way to Donny’s garage. And Steve paid for the repairs. Covered it all up. Max has said “His dad can’t know, Steve. Can’t know. If he finds out he will--” and steve was starting to put two and two together. To realize some billy was, maybe, running away from something. Someone. When he crashed his car.

Woke Billy up when the hands of the clock met over the spiraling infinity of the eight. Seventeen hours straight of sleep and still looking like he could use a lifetime. Told him “The car will be ready in two or three days. ‘Til then, you stay'' covered his mouth with his hand. Didn't let him complain “And If whatever happened last night happens again, you take it and you run. Back here. And you stay again, ok?”

Two weeks later, Billy showed up at his door. Lit him a cigarette. Offered to teach him how to fight.

“I cannot give you back your money, but I know you don’t need that”

Made him laugh.

They spent almost the whole summer together, after that. Some days. Most nights.

Wasting time. Fighting. Joking. Driving.

Falling.

No ‘what ifs’. No promises. Just,

“Leave the light on if you can’t sleep, pretty boy. If I manage to sneak out of the Old fuck, I’ll pick you up. Promise I won’t stop kissing you until dawn. Gotta make up for what you paid for that ca, uh?”

Because Steve was gonna leave. Wasn’t gonna throw a single glance behind his back.

That was the plan.

And he did. He did. But––)

He spins Billy out. Tugs him back. When their chests bump, his laugh bursts, bubbles up. Weightless. Happy. Because all that matters to him, to them, it’s between these four irregular walls now.

And God this, this, is Steve’s favorite part.

(–ended up coming back running, hoping the love would re-stitch itself as he followed the road’s yellow lines.

Hoping Billy was the one letting his light on this time.)

Because the sun’s gonna keep on shining. They can keep on dancing in here, in their weird trapezoidal kitchen (in their house, in their home), for as long as they want. Hearts touching. Lips brushing. Bodies swaying, spinning, cutting through the golden light.

#harringrove #and #this is the end #!!#i know is not too goo but i'm happy i finished #it #and also #i wanted to have something for this #1 year anniversary so :D #thank you again fandom #i wouldn't have make it this far without you #also! ns*w anon. i don't know if your're still around but #i published this part for you long ago #and it my head its now for you so <3 #xharringrove #xfluffy

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

Bedside Manner

AN: Lockdown is always hellish but it does leave you a lot of time to think. Characters: Marcus Arguello Pairing(s): Marcus x reader Spoiler(s): None Warning(s): Swearing, unhealthy coping mechanism (Smoking/drinking)

Prompt: this post I saw from @write-it-motherfuckers

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When the monks rushed in and started pulling people out of class, you weren’t sure if you were terrified or relieved. On one hand, you could hear the fight happening in the corridors, the sound of Saya and Maria yelling at one another, kids cheering something on, and you were scared of what they might do to one another if no one intervened. On the other, the school itself getting involved was almost never a good sign and, as a staff slammed into your back, ushering you forward, you couldn’t help the rising tide of panic in your chest. The corridors were packed with students being pushed and shoved towards their rooms and you searched through the chaos, without much hope, for a familiar face.

“Y/N!” You heard someone call, “Y/N!”

“Marcus?” You shouted back, turning in the direction of the voice, “Marcus where are you?”

“I’m here!” He shouted, closer now.

The kids next to you pushed and shuffled forward, blocking your view and, no matter how much you twisted and turned, you couldn’t see past flashes of navy blazers and anonymous patches of skin. It was horribly claustrophobic but, just as the panic started to get too much, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and caught sight of a familiar mess of brown curls.

“Got you,” Marcus assured, still several people behind you, “shit Y/N/N I thought-shit, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Maria and Saya?” You asked.

Marcus shook his head, “I’ll explain later. What’re the monks doing?”

You opened your mouth to explain but, before you could, Master Lin did it for you.

“Everybody back to your rooms,” Master Lin’s voice boomed, “We’re officially in lockdown.”

Marcus’ eyes widened. The monk at your back shoved you hard, forcing you forward and through the first available door. You stumbled in, tripping over a backpack on the floor, and just managed to catch yourself before you fell. From behind you you could hear Marcus being pushed into the room and, beyond that, just for a second, the sounds of your fellow students yelling and complaining before the door to your room slammed shut and you heard the lock click into place. Your heart sank and you swore under your breath, turning to face Marcus, who was tugging uselessly on the door handle.

“It’ll be locked from the outside,” you told him, “always is during lockdown.”

Marcus Arguello was almost a friend of yours. Almost. You liked him well enough. He was smart and funny and caring, he was friends with all of your friends, he was helpful and interesting, he respected boundaries and he always knew how to get a smile out of you. All in all, he was an incredible person, but that was kind of the problem; you liked him a lot. Too much. Since his first day at King’s, Marcus had done nothing but make you smile and blush and generally make an idiot out of yourself at every available opportunity, which, at this particular high school, wasn’t just embarrassing, it was dangerous. Trouble followed him like a lovesick puppy, putting your life at risk more than once but, no matter how many times you told yourself to just forget him and move on, you couldn’t. You just kept coming back, every time. You wanted to believe that some part of you was distancing itself from Marcus and that that was why you were hesitant to call him a friend but, if you were honest, you just weren’t keen on lying to yourself. You were in too deep, he meant too much to you.

He sighed, “Fuck.”

You hummed in agreement, trying to hide how nervous the idea of being stuck in a room with Marcus made you feel. There wasn’t much else to say about lockdown anyway. They didn’t happen often, but this was by no means your first, and you knew there was no real point in fighting it.

“This is bullshit,” Marchus continued, “they’re not really just gonna keep us locked in here, are they?”

“Yup,” you answered, collapsing onto the bed and picking up a book, “no leaving except two bathroom breaks a day and meal times. You might as well get comfortable.”

“This isn’t even my room,” Marcus complained, “what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“No, it’s my room,” you explained, gesturing to the other twin sized bed, “you could start by sitting down and telling me what the hell is going on.”

Ever since that trip to Vegas, where everything had gone so horribly wrong, things had been different. Marcus had been different. He was more somber, vacillating between being on edge and being extremely happy and relaxed. He was stressed, of course, you all were but there would be moments when you would look up and catch him just watching you and then, when he saw you looking, he would just smile a bit, like he was sad about something. It always made something in your chest pinch. What made the situation worse was that, outside of those moments, he’d been distant with you. More distant than what was usual for Marcus. As far as you could tell, he was avoiding you in class, sitting next to Petra or Lex at lunch and just generally keeping you at arm’s length. You hadn’t had a real conversation in weeks. You wanted to be indifferent to it but, in reality, it had hurt more than you wanted it to and you wanted an explanation.

He wasn’t smiling at you now. If anything, you noted as Marcus folded himself onto the floor with his back against your roommate’s bed and buried his head in his hands, he looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days and it was wearing on him. That thing near your heart pinched again and you cursed your own selfishness. Marcus had obviously been dealing with a lot, more than the rest of you combined probably, and all you could do was think about your bruised ego. Typical. Cautiously you swung yourself upright, sitting cross legged on your mattress to face your friend.

“Marcus, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” he answered, his voice thick with exhaustion, “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine Y/N/N, don’t worry about it.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief but didn’t push, knowing he’d open up in his own time.

‘How long do you think we’ll be in here?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Until Lin gets what he wants, I guess.”

“What if-” he paused, “what if he doesn’t though? What happens then?”

You leant forward, “What’s going on, Marcus?” you asked gently, “You can tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Before you’d even finished the question he was shaking his head, “No. No, Y/N/N trust me, you can’t help with this.”

“I can try,” you argued, giving him a small smile, “I’m pretty smart, you know?”

For a second it looked like Marcus wanted to cry. His eyes watered up and you had to fight the instinct to reach down and pull him into a hug.

“Yeah, I know that.” he said softly, sniffing and wiping his eyes to force back the tears, “Okay, Y/N, I’ll tell you.”

Satisfied, you leant back on your bed, waiting expectantly while Marcus collected his thoughts. He sighed again, running his hand through his already messed up hair. His dark eyes darted around your room, taking in every inch of the place like he’d never seen a dorm before. It made you feel strangely unsettled.

“This really your room?” he asked, pulling out a cigarette and sliding it between his lips, “It’s nice.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, it’s my room and you,” you started, leaning forward and pulling the cig out of his mouth, “can’t smoke in here.”

“Wha-really?” Marcus complained, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

His hands were fidgety, which meant he was nervous.

“Yes, really, Now stop deflecting and tell me why I’m stuck in my room with no one but you for company, and why you look like you haven’t slept in a month, will you?”

He met your eye and you felt, more than saw, his resistance crumble.

“Well, I should probably start with how I blew up my old roommate at the boy’s home,” Marcus started, leaning back against the bed, “and why he wants to kill me for it.”

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

When Marcus finally fell silent you were shocked. You felt like a tidal wave of information had just knocked you over and you were just drowning in it all. How had so much been happening without your knowledge? Some things you’d known about, of course, like Maria killing Chico and Billy killing his dad but, all this other stuff? Chester and El Diablo? Maria killing Yukio? Juan going after Saya in the middle of the hallway?

“Jesus Christ,” you said.

Marcus snorted, “You can say that again.”

You reached behind your bed and pulled out a bottle of vodka that was still mostly full, left over from some house party or another that you’d managed to smuggle in. In one fluid motion, before you could think better of it, you twisted the cap off and took a deep swig, sloshing a little bit on your uniform by accident. The alcohol burned like fire on the way down and you grimaced as you passed the bottle to Marcus.

“Thank fuck,” said, accepting the bottle gratefully, “Y/N, you’re an angel, if you ever need anything-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smiled, “shut up and drink, Arguello.”

“If I must,” he joked with a melodramatic sigh, taking a massive gulp.

As he drank, you watched Marcus as inconspicuously as you could. He seemed lighter now, like the act of opening up to you had taken a huge weight off his shoulders. You still weren’t exactly sure how you felt about it all. Were you confused? Angry? Terrified? Did you wish he’d never said anything? Were you happy he’d trusted you? You didn’t know, probably a little bit of all of it but, despite the craziness and confusion, you were glad you’d been able to help, even if it was just by listening. Talking to Marcus had always been one of your favorite things to do and, sadly this was the most genuine conversation you’d had with one another since Vegas. It was nice, in a weird, messed up sort of way.

“Is this why you’ve been so off with me lately?” you eventually asked, “You were trying to keep this all a secret?”

Marcus grimaced, whether from the alcohol or embarrassment you weren’t sure, and passed the bottle back.

“I’ve always been shit at lying to you and, yeah, I wanted to keep you out of it,” he admitted, “I thought if I just waited long enough everything would just sort of die down.”

“But it hasn’t?”

“But it hasn’t,” he agreed.

“So, we’re all basically fucked.” you said simply.

“Unless I can get to Saya, convince her not to gut Maria and explain what happened before anyone else does, yeah.”

“Well,” you sighed, pushing yourself up onto your feet and sliding your secret stash of contraband from its hiding place in the ceiling, “you know, whatever happens I’ll fight by your side when the time comes,” you said, avoiding his eye, “but for now, since this might be one of our last chances, we might as well enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Marcus looked up at the contraband and smiled, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

Blood rose to your cheeks and you broke his gaze, tossing a bag of cheetos at him, “Shut up.” you said fondly, “And don’t ever keep me in the dark like that again.”

The teasing glint in Marcus’ eyes softened and he reached out to catch your hand, forcing you to look back at him from where he sat on the floor.

“Never.” he promised.

You passed the first few hours of lockdown in a bubble of serenity. While you lay on your bed reading and listening to music, Marcus doodled in his journal all the while maintaining an easy conversation with you. You avoided the hard topics, focussing instead on music and comic books and which teachers you thought would win in a fight as you passed the bottle of vodka back and forth. It felt good, easy even, joking with one another like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed. And maybe it hadn’t, you reasoned to yourself, maybe this is how it had always been at King’s; a little bit messy, a little bit terrifying but better than what your life had been before. Maybe this was enough, maybe this was the trade off you made when you agreed to go to a school for assassins and, maybe, you could be okay with that.

At some point Marcus had moved and was now leaning up against your bed instead of your roommates so that you could play with his hair while he drew. It was something you’d discovered that he liked entirely by accident, sitting on the roof together one night when he was still fairly new at King’s. Back then he’d been so touch starved that he’d almost cried the first time he felt your fingers carding through his hair and you’d wondered, not for the first time, what exactly had happened in that boy’s home to make him so afraid. You’d never do it in public of course, people would get the wrong idea and pick on you both if you did but, in private, you’d gotten used to just reaching out and twirling one of his curls around your finger whenever you wanted. As you gently let your fingers scrape against his scalp you could hear Marcus' pencil as it scratched against the paper, and you fought the urge to lean forward and see what he was drawing. Journals were private shit, you reminded yourself, if Marcus wanted to show you what he was doing, he would.

“What’re you reading?” He asked, breaking the comfortable silence you’d fallen into.

“The color purple,” you replied, “my mom sent it to me.”

“I didn’t know you and your mom were close like that,” Marcus said, a note of confusion in his voice, “in fact,” he stopped drawing suddenly and twisted his head to look at you, “I don’t really know anything about your family.”

You shrugged, “There’s not much to know, really. My parents are smugglers and I’m at King’s, end of story.”

“End of story? Just like that?” he retorted, “Come on Y/N/N, you know everything about me and I know almost nothing about you. Tell me something.”

“That’s ‘cause you are a chronic oversharer and a terrible judge of character,” you teased, ruffling his hair and returning to your book. Marcus sighed, all melodrama and betrayal and you could feel his eyes burning a hole through The Color Purple. You swore loudly and sat up, “Fine, whatever, you win,” you conceded, “what do you want to know?”

“Yes!” he sighed, laughing at his own cleverness before continuing, “Okay, do you have any siblings?”

“I had an older sister, she died when I was eight and we’re not going to talk about it,” you answered, “next.”

“Favorite colour?”

“Blue or grey.”

“Where were you born?”

“In a tiny little city you’ve never heard of,” you said.

“Have you ever been arrested?” Marcus pressed on.

“Twice, have you?”

“Never,” he replied.

“Okay square,” you joked, “my turn. What’s your biggest fear?”

“Jesus, alright,” Marcus laughed, reaching for the vodka, “if we’re going there we both need to be like 15% less sober.”

You snatched the bottle back, “How about this, for every question we choose to answer we get to drink. If we pass on a question then the other person gets to ask two more which we then can’t pass on, agreed?”

“A drinking game version of twenty questions? What are we, seven?” Marcus complained, but he shook your hand anyway, “Agreed.”

“Good, so back to my question,” you started, “what, Marcus Lopez Arguello, is your biggest fear?”

Marcus looked at you for a long moment, like he was sizing you up and, instinctively, you fought back the urge to shiver under the weight of his stare. He was, of course, incredibly handsome; the sort of handsome that you couldn’t help but notice, even when you were trying not to, but that wasn’t what made it so difficult to meet his eye. No, what made it difficult was that, despite what he thought, Marcus really knew you. He saw past all the bullshit showboating, all the carefully constructed facades. Every single defense mechanism you had was worthless against him because, at the end of the day, you didn’t really want to keep Marcus out. If anything you wanted him closer and, when he looked at you like that, you felt like he might see right through you, into that secret part of your heart that you kept hidden. So you did what any self respecting coward would do; you looked away. Marcus sighed and reached for the bottle.

“Dying without really having lived,” he admitted, taking a swig from the bottle, “and dying alone I guess. You?”

You wrinkled your nose, “Pass.”

“What?” Marcus laughed incredulously, “You can’t pass! I just bared my soul to you and you’re just gonna opt out? Boooooo! Booooooo Y/N!”

“Fine,” you laughed, “fine I’ll tell you. I uh-I’m afraid that I’ll never find somewhere to belong. Like maybe I’m just always gonna feel like an outsider wherever I am until I die, maybe even after that.”

“You belong with us,” Marcus said, “with me and Billy and Petra and the others.”

You shook your head and drank deep, wincing at the vodka’s burn, “Nah, I don’t. Not really at least, not like you and Billy. I’m sure they all like me just fine but, at the end of the day, I’m nobody’s reason for being there, you know?” Marcus looked thoughtful but, just as he opened his mouth to answer, you cut him off, desperate to avoid hearing whatever kind, pitying lie he’d come up with, “Anyway moving on, it’s your turn Arguello. Hit me with your best question, I’m an open book.”

You traded questions back and forth like that for quite some time, laughing and joking and drinking as you did. Marcus was ruthless in his honesty, laying himself bare in front of you and refusing to pass on even a single question. You passed on many. Not all of them were deep and personal, some were funny or nonsensical, but enough were deep and personal that, by the time the alcohol had started to really kick in, you were feeling a little raw. It was like Marcus was desperate to wrap himself up in his own honesty, clinging to every shred of emotional intimacy he could find like it was a lifeline and flinging himself ever deeper into his own vulnerability. Usually you would have pulled back so fast at the idea of being that open that you’d have given yourself whiplash but now, with the alcohol making you feel warm and light, and Marcus smiling at you like there was nowhere else in the world that he would rather be, you revelled in it. There was a sort of tension building too, not exactly something but almost something….very nearly something, and part of you was just excited to see what it was. Marcus laughed at something you said, you didn’t even remember what, and the sound made you so happy that you actually had to stop and catch your breath. He was still leaning against your bed but now his back was to the cupboard next to your headrest so that he could face you while you talked. Unfortunately this also meant that you could study his face more conveniently, mapping every dip and curve and scar like he might vanish if you looked away. Dangerous territory, a voice in your head whispered, sharp turns up ahead.

“Shhh, stop, it’s my turn,” Marcus asserted, still breathless from laughing, “Okay, no shhh-Y/N-listen, here’s my question; have you ever been in love?”

Dangerous territory! Your brain shouted, Abort, abort, abort, abo-

“Nope,” you answered, which felt like a lie even though it technically wasn’t, “have you?”

“Is that your question?” he asked, which some small part of your brain noted was strange since, up until now, you’d both been answering every question.

“No! Well-yes-but I have a different, better question so just answer this one anyway.” you said, pushing the thought away and looking down at Marcus expectantly.

He held your gaze for a second longer, took a deep, deep drink and nodded before saying, like it physically pained him, “I’m in love now.”

Your heart stuttered and dropped into your stomach like a stone, but you kept your face neutral, “Saya?”

Marcus gave you a wry smile that hinged on sadness, “Is that your question?”

You blushed and shook your head, trying to recapture the fun, carefree energy you’d had just moments before. Somehow, your drunk brain noted, you’d made Marcus sad. Or he had made himself sad. Or the question had made him sad, maybe? It was confusing and thinking about it made your chest feel tight so you just pushed forward.

“No, here’s my question-are you ready? It’s a good one-here it is; what is your most precious recent memory and why?”

Marcus frowned, “Most precious memory? What does that mean? Do you mean my best memory?”

You shook your head, “See, that’s why it’s so good; a precious memory is like a good memory, only more. It’s a memory you play over and over in your head whenever things get tough because something important happened there, something you didn’t realize was happening when you were in it. So you have to keep remembering it, you know?” you explained, “So you can figure out what happened and why it was so important.” you continued, “And I say recent because, well, we’ve talked about our families a lot, and the people we’ve lost, but we’re on our own now, and we’ve gotta start making new precious memories.”

“Oh,” Marcus said softly.

“It’s good right?” you continued, distantly aware that Marcus was looking sad again, “Like mine is that day that I tried to stop Viktor from stealing that girl’s kit kat.”

“You mean when he and his goons beat you to a pulp?” he asked dubiously.

“Almost to a pulp,” you corrected, “but while he was wailing on me, the girl got away. I knew when I went in that Vic would beat the shit out of me, but I did it anyway and it worked. It was the day I realised that the choices I make can have some positive effect on the world, so long as I’m willing to take the consequences of them.” you finished, shifting so that your head was resting on your hand, “So, what’s yours and why?”

Marcus shook his head and took another sip from the vodka bottle, “You’re killing me here, Y/N/N. Pass.”

Your jaw dropped, “What!?! NO! You never pass on questions, that’s like your thing.”

“Yeah well I’m passing on this one so just-” he waved his hand, shooing away your berating, “ask me something else.”

“Fine,” you sighed, mulling over the possibilities in your head for a moment, “okay well, since you apparently are in love and I’ve never been in love, what does it feel like?”

“Hmm?”

You met his eye, “Being in love,” you clarified, “what does it feel like?”

In the dim light of your dorm room it was hard to tell, but you were pretty sure you saw Marcus flush deep red.

“It-uh-” he started, fiddling with his hands, “it’s kind of hard to describe.”

“Try,” you encouraged softly, mesmerized by the shift in his demeanour.

“Well I-” Marcus cleared his throat, “for a long while I wasn’t sure it actually was love. I thought maybe it was just general teen stupidness you know? You want what you can’t have, projecting onto someone you admire, that sort of crap but then one day-after Vegas actually-it just,” he shrugged, “changed.” you listened intently as every word burrowed itself into the small secret part of your heart like a knife, and he continued, “Suddenly everything made sense. It’s like my whole damn life was leading me to that moment, like maybe this was why all the shitty stuff happened, so that I could be here, feeling like this.” he explained simply, keeping his gaze focused on his hands, “And now it’s fucking crazy ‘cause all this shit’s going on and all I can think about is keeping-is not losing this. My heart feels like it’s gonna explode half the time, like it’s too damn big for my body and it hurts but it’s a good hurt, like stretching a stiff muscle. I’m not even really worried for myself anymore, but I’m so fucking scared that something I say or do is gonna come back and mess everything up and-” he shook his head, his voice quivering, “and I’m terrified, but I also don’t ever want this feeling to go away. It’s scary having someone hold your heart like this but, at the same time, I think not feeling like this, now that I know what it’s like, would hurt a million times more.” he finished, tensing his jaw and fidgeting like he was nervous, “Sorry, bit of a rambling answer. I owe you another one, don’t I?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” you answered, snapping yourself back into focus. It felt like the air itself was heavy with tension now, like all the things you wanted to say were swirling around your head, invisible but always present because you knew that feeling. You knew it all too well and for him to feel that way, to talk that passionately about someone else...you just couldn’t take it. “Okay for my second question;” you continued, “tell me your most precious memory and why.”

This time all the blood leached out of Marcus’ face, like he was becoming a ghost right before your eyes. You felt mean, it was a total bastardisation of the rules and you knew it but there was a little voice in the back of your mind telling you that this was the only question you wanted answered, that this was what you needed to know.

“That’s so against the rules.” Marcus tried, lightening the atmosphere considerably.

“No it’s not,” you argued, “it’s a dick move for sure but there was nothing specifically forbidding it in our original agreement.”

“You suuuuuuuck,” Marcus whined, leaning into your arm where it hung off the bed.

Instinctively you threaded your fingers through his hair, playing with the soft curls like you always did. You felt Marcus arch up into your touch, humming with pleasure as you scraped your fingers through the baby hairs on the back of his neck. He shivered, but the tension slipped out of his muscles and he relaxed with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked softly.

“I really do,” you replied.

“Okay then” he breathed, “honestly, it’s that time on the way back from Vegas when everyone else had gone into the gas station for food, and it was just you and me in the backseat of Willie’s car.” he continued, “You had your hair pinned back and I was telling you some story about my childhood while we waited. You had a red sweater on, and bright blue nails. It was dark out, but the lights from the gas station were shining around your head like a halo.”

“I remember,” you told him, your voice hardly louder than a whisper, “but why? Why that memory?”

Marcus looked up, his dark eyes filed to the brim with the kind of vulnerable sincerity that made you feel breathless and afraid. Slowly, as though he were approaching an injured animal, he reached up and pulled your fingers from his hair and held your palm in both of his. You were frozen, like a deer in headlights, but you still felt the shiver as it ran up your spine at his touch.

“It was the first time I saw you smile, for real, since we’d arrived in Vegas,” he explained, studying your hand, “up until then I was pretty sure I was never gonna see it again but,” he shook his head and shrugged, “I made some awful joke about wishing I’d known then what I knew now and...you laughed. You really laughed and you rested your forehead on my shoulder and-boom-just like that...I knew.”

“Knew what?” you asked, half terrified of the answer.

Marcus gave you that smile, that sad little smile he’d been shooting you for weeks, the one that made your heart hurt just to look at and, before he even said anything, you were already shaking your head.

“Don’t make me say it Y/N,” he whispered, “surely by now you know?”

“No.” you said, pulling your hand away and leaning back, “No, you don’t. You can’t, Marcus.”

“Y/N/N-”

“No, you don’t understand,” you insisted, “it’s not possible. You aren’t-you don’t think of me that way. No one does, I’m not like that. I’m not lovable like you are.”

“Like I-?” Marcus started, following you up and sitting gingerly on your bed, “Y/N you’re infinitely lovable.”

“No I’m not!” You asserted, sure that this had to be some sort of trick, some sort of sick joke, “Who could love me? Who could possibly be fucked up and unlucky enough to love me?”

“I could!” Marcus promised, “I do, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Marcus, you’re the only person I’ve ever felt this way about,” you admitted, “please don’t joke.”

His answering smile was gentle and understanding, like he saw the pain you were in, like he understood. You couldn’t hope for this, you had never let yourself believe for even a second that-

“It’s not a joke, Y/N,” he promised, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to meet his gaze, “I’m just-I’m in love with you. You were wrong, you’ve never been an outsider, you’ve always belonged with me.”

You searched his eyes, his dark, beautiful eyes, for some trace of deceit, some hint that this was too good to be true and that he was waiting to take it away from you, but found none. Maybe he was right, a small, hopeful voice in your mind chimed in, maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe just this once, you didn’t need to be afraid, maybe you could let yourself want this, want him.

Because looking back, it made sense, didn’t it? All those things you’d written off; months of secret smiles and gentle touches, of seeking one another out when you didn’t need to, this was what they were leading up to. As you looked, Marcus blushed, his cheeks flushing a pale shade of pink as you both realised, for the first time, how close you were, how open and vulnerable you were to each other in that moment.

“Y/N/N,” he started softly, “Y/N/N I don’t want to be an asshole or anything but-” he let out a breathy laugh, “but I really want to kiss you right now. Would it be alright if-”

You were kissing him before he could even finish his sentence.

#deadly class #deadly class syfy #deadly class aesthetic #deadly class imagine #deadly class fanfiction #marcus lopez arguello #marcus lopez #marcus arguello #marcus arguello imagine #marcus lopez arguello aesthetic #marcus lopez arguello imagine #marcus x reader #marcus arguello x reader #marcus lopez arguello x reader #marcus x you #marcus arguello x you #marcus lopez arguello x you #jordsie #jordsie writes

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weasleysprincess · 3 years

Text

New Flame chapter 2

A/N: I had writer’s block for a good week or so and worked last weekend. But finally I did it, 6k+ word fic! feels like 12k after editing and prof reading. Hope you enjoy and I’m already writing chapter 3!

Warnings: Cussing, drinking and implied smut(not Y/n and Bill, it’s coming thou), arguing, a tiny bit of fighting. Hopefully that covers everything, if not I’m sorry I didn’t catch it.

The first task was going to start on Saturday and just about everyone was pissed at Harry for putting his name in the goblet. It’s odd, Harry is just 14 and the twins are closer to 17 then Harry is. Something doesn't sit with me about his situation. It was getting closer to the end of the day, my prefect duty was tonight. Sorta worried I’ll run into Cedric tonight, but then again I’m not worried, Charlie wrote me and said Bill was coming too.

I looked at Hufflepuff’s robe and saw a pin “CEDRIC DIGGORY, THE TRUE HOGWARTS’ CHAMPION'' She grinned, showing the Slytherin girl. “That’s great, I love it,” I looked again. “POTTER STINKS” I rolled my eyes and walked along. “I don’t give a damn about your father, Malfoy!”, Harry yelled across the courtyard. “Harry”, I sighed. I walked out, getting a better look. Suddenly Malfoy was turned into a white ferret. “Oh my god”, I snickered along with the crowd. Cedric winked at me. Harry was sitting with Hermoine at dinner, “Harry”, I said sitting next to the boy. “What happened with Malfoy?”, I asked. Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna report you, besides Malfoy an annoying git”, I rubbed his back. “You answered it'', Harry said, with a huff. I stood up, “Hey, good luck Saturday. I’m pulling for you” Harry blushed, “Uhrm, thanks Y/n” George pulled me next to him, “Hi George'', I giggled. Ron had a Cedric pin, I rolled my eyes. “Molly, would be ashamed”, I thought. Professor McGongall gave me my instructions for tonight, it was 10 not long before I was off duty. I made the corner and was face to face with a certain Hufflepuff, “You’re joking”, I sighed. “Sorry”, Cedric backed up a little. I moved past him, but grabbed my hand. “Can we talk? Please just hear me out” I looked at his eyes, the ones who charmed me for years. “Fine, five minutes and I’m out of here”, I rolled my eyes. “I know last spring, I fucked up hard. You didn’t deserve any of that, I wish I had just talked to you instead. Y/n, you are a wonderful, amazing girl and I treated you like shit. I’m sorry, truly. The next person who gets you is one lucky person and again I’m sorry for how I treated you and did you in the end”, Cedric had tears in his eyes.

“Ced, thank you for realizing what you did and I appreciate the honesty. Just promise me, you’ll treat Cho better than you did me. I know you two are a thing, don’t lie. Oh and I guess good luck this weekend”, I said. Cedric smiled, “Thanks, she’s pretty cool. I’m thinking about asking her to the ball, you have a date?” “Uh no, haven’t really been thinking about the ball”, I played with my ring on my finger. Cedric nodded, “Night, Y/n” “Uh night Cedric”, I swallowed. I came back into the common room, there was a single lamp on. “Really? We don’t know how to turn a damn lamp off”, I walked over to turn it off when suddenly, a pair of big hands grabbed my waist, pulling me towards them. I was fixing to scream until their scent filled my nostrils, “Bill?”, I asked. “Hi Princess. Miss me?”, Bill kissed my cheek. “You have no idea”, I smiled, turning to hug him properly.

I woke up in Bill’s arms around my waist, “Mhm, I gotta get up”, I mumbled. “Stay a bit longer”, Bill whined in the pillow. I smiled at him. His long ginger hair was sprawled across my pillows, freckled toned chest rose with each breath, the warm heat off his body. “I gotta, Billy. If it makes you feel any better, I have a half day today”, I grinned. Bill had one eye open and a curious look on his face, “Maybe so. What time?” “I’m free after lunch”, I finally got loose from his grip. “Meet me at Hagrid’s hut, don’t wear your uniform. I’m helping Charlie, this afternoon”, Bill laid on his elbows, propped up some. “Y/n, wake your lazy ass up!”, Fred yelled from the other side. “I’m zipping up my skirt, chill”, I said back. I walked to my nightstand to grab my wand, Bill grabbed my waist. “Are you mad? Let me go”, I pushed his chest. Bill smirked, “Just wanted a few kisses, love” I kissed him, but knew Fred was standing out there. “I gotta go now,” Bill pouted. I opened the door, “Finally”, Fred sighed. The curtain facing the door was pulled, no way he could his brother in my bed. “Morning Georgie”, I smiled. “Morning, what’s got you in such a good mood?”, George asked. “Nothing particular, Weasley”, I said, grabbing a piece of toast. “I’m gonna find out why, you’re usually hateful in the mornings”, George said. “Oh, you’ll be surprised for sure”, I giggled. “Who is it?”, Lee asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Mind your own, Jordan”, I giggled. “Freddie, hold me I’m scared”, George hid in Fred’s shoulder. “Would you knock it off, git”, Fred pushed his younger twin away. I was coming from Flitwick’s class, when someone pulled aside. “What is it now, George? Oh Adrian, hi”, I smiled. “Hi love, how are you doing?”, Adrian asked. “Pretty good and you?”, I asked, smiling. “Do you have a date to the ball? I know it’s early but it never hurt to be early”, Adrian grinned, laying his hand beside my head by the wall. “No, I don’t actually”, I replied. “Well, how would you like to be my date to the ball?”, Adrian smiled. Couldn’t deny he wasn’t handsome, because I would be lying or blind. It isn’t like I can bring Bill, surly he won’t mind. “A slytherin asking a gryffindor to a ball, isn’t gonna cause a scandal, Pucey?”, I smirked. “I think I'll be forgiven because of your beauty, love. So what do you say?”, Adrian ran his hand through my hair. “My dress is silver, your dress robes should be able to match”, I smiled. “Perfect, darling. See ya around”, Adrian smiled, running his thumb over my cheek. “Bye”, I smiled. I walked towards the great hall, but decided to go meet Bill and Charlie. “What do you wear to see dragons?”, I asked, throwing my sweater off. “No, Y/n! What are you thinking?”, I threw off the yellow sweater. Finally I decided on, pair of light washed jeans, black sweater and maroon combat boots. “Uh jewelry” a silver ring and my first initial necklace and my ring that always stays on my other hand. I had to sneak out with a professor or one of the Weasley kids finding me. “Bill, who are you waiting for? Fred and George are still in class like the rest of them”, I heard Charlie sigh. “Go see what Hagrid wanted with you”, Bill said. Charlie stalked off, mumbling something about Bill. Bill was watching Charlie, “Hi Handsome”, I smiled. “Well hi there, baby. How’s classes?”, Bill kissed me. “Alright, thanks for making my bed back”, I smiled. “You’re welcome, baby. Just habit”, Bill smiled. “Hello Y/n'', Hagrid stood behind Bill with Charlie, whose mouth was hanging open. “Hi Hagrid, nice seeing you Charles'', I looked behind Hagrid. Charlie rushed over, “When? How? Why? She's still in school” Bill and I rolled our eyes, “The summer” Bill said. “It just happened and nobody broke it off before school started”, I finished for Bill. “Does anyone else now? What about the twins?”, Charlie asked. “I’m planning on it”, I said, holding Bill’s hand. Charlie looked at us and our hands, “Bill, you’re my brother and I love you. But if you break her heart or hurt her feelings, I’m kicking your ass” I smiled, letting go of Bill’s hand. “I knew you would approve”, I giggled as I hugged his torso. “Charlie!”, Someone yelled for the tall ginger. “Do you want people knowing?”, Bill asked. “Yes, I do but not until you’re ready”, I replied back. “I’m staying until the new year, maybe before christmas?”, Bill asked. “Up to you, love”, I smiled, grabbing his forearm as we walked. “Have you ever seen a dragon?”, Bill asked. “No, you?”,I asked. “Unfortunately, they sent me to Greece for a job. Guy that was also there, we went into a cave, accidentally ran into one. Don’t think I’ve ever ran so fast in life or needed Charlie so bad either?”, Bill grinned. “I won’t be surprised if Charlie has pictures of the dragons he has raised in his wallet”, I giggled. It was a couple hours, until the other Weasley children came to find their older brothers. “Y/n, what are you doing here?”, Ron asked. “I invited her like I did you guys”, Charlie answered his little brother. Fred looked like he was trying to piece everything together. “Can we see a dragon now? You promised”, Ginny asked, looking up at Charlie. “I promised you, Gin. Boys don’t play around, you’ll scare them”, Charlie said. Ron and the twins nodded, “Okay come on”, Charlie said, picking Ginny up as he took his siblings. I followed behind but Bill caught my wrist, “what is it?”, I asked. Bill leaned down and kissed me, “I needed another kiss” “Act like we didn’t make out earlier”, I sassed him. Bill grinned, “Don’t act you don’t like it” “Whatever, loverboy”, I grinned, walking behind Fred. Fred looked down at me, furrowing his brows, but he looked back at Charlie. Charlie had Ginny on his shoulders, letting her pet the Green Welsh’s neck.

Bill pulled me aside as the kids started leaving with Charlie, “I haven’t taken you on a proper date, I was thinking dinner” I smiled, “Sure, why not?” Bill grinned as Fred and I locked eyes for a moment. I changed into a skirt and switched my boots to black heeled boots. The twins and Ginny were walking to the portrait hole when Ginny gasped. “Y/n, why are you all dressed up for? It’s dinner in the Great Hall”, Ginny looked me up and down. “For you guys it is, me. I have a date with someone”, I smiled back as I threw my black peacoat on. “Who?”, George asked. “You don’t know them, they’re already out of school”, I said naturally. “Okay, come back in a decent time and don’t be drunk. Tomorrow's the first task and we need your help”, George said. “I promise, Fabian. Go eat before Ron takes everything”, I said, kissing George’s cheek. I snuck down to Hogsmeade where Bill said he would be waiting. POV change- The twins followed Y/n bc they’re nosey. “Hogsmeade? Bill is at Honeydukes”, George said watching Y/n walk towards Honeydukes. “It can’t be Bill, they barely know each other”, Fred scoffed. “They did disappear a lot back home, I did hear him walk her back to Ginny’s room one night”, George said. “Bill’s six years older than her”, Fred ran a hand through his ginger locks. “Let’s go”, George said walking towards Hogsmeade. Fred tucked the map in his coat pocket and followed his twin. 3rd pov- Bill was smiling at the girl, who told him about the niffler she had as a little girl. Y/n’s back was at the entrance, anyone who walked in couldn’t recognise until they got closer. “Fred! He’s on a date with some brunette”, George yelled, making his twin stop. Fred pulled out the map to see who was with his oldest brother. “Well who is it, Freddie?”, George asked, peering into the window. “Y/n Brooks, I knew it! They were too cuddly this afternoon, she lied”, Fred furrowed his brows in anger. “Let’s get out of here, George” “George! George! Georgie, come on”, Fred grabbed his twin’s hand. “Why are you mad?”, George asked. “She lied to us, Geo! Hell, I thought it was with Cedric at first, but Bill”, Fred growled. “What’s so bad about our brother? It’s just dinner”, George asked. “He’s twenty-four, she’s a child”, Fred yelled as Bill and Y/n walked out of the three broomsticks. George smacked a hand on Fred’s mouth and pushed them into an alley. “Thanks for the dinner, Bill”, Y/n said. “You’re welcome, princess. Did you get enough to eat?”, Bill asked the girl. “More than enough”, She giggled. The twins watched as their brother and best friend walked by, Y/n was holding Bill’s arm, looking up at him like he hung the moon just for her. The couple turned down a different way as the twins walked out of the alley. “Fred, George! You know you’re not supposed to be down here at this hour!”, a shopkeeper yelled.

The twins were hiding in the common room as they heard Y/n and Bill talking. “Come on, I’ll sneak up on you again, Billy”, Y/n whined. “I can’t, Charlie got suspicious and asked. I’m sorry, love”, Bill said, brushing the girl’s hair back. Y/n knew she was risking Professor McGongall bursting and finding the pair wrapped up together. “Alright not tonight. I had a really good time, Billy. Thank you again”, Y/n smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time now, go get some sleep, princess”, Bill kissed her cheek. “Okay, goodnight, Weasley”, Y/n caught his lips with hers. The portrait hole closed behind Y/n as she snuck towards the girls’ dorms. Fred scooped her up into his arms, throwing her on the couch as George sat on her legs. “Fred, George! What is the matter with you?”, Y/n yelped. “How was your date? With our brother”, Fred asked. “Great actually, How do you know it was with your brother?”, Y/n tried to sit up but Fred’s weight was on her stomach. “The map and we saw you at Three broomsticks”, Fred said. “No input from you, George?”, Y/n asked. “No, just want answers”, George grinned. “Fine, Godric I hate you guys! Bill asked me to dinner tonight, happy now? Let me go”, Y/n broke down. Fred and George looked at each other for a minute. “If you don’t let go now, I’ll scream my head off”, Y/n said. “Are you sure, Princess? Just dinner with Billy”, Fred smirked. “Hermione!!”, Y/n screamed, making Fred smack a hand over her mouth. Y/n bit Fred’s finger, “Oww, you bitch. Okay okay go to bed”, Fred snapped his finger out of Y/n’s mouth. The twins got off of her, “Thank you boys, nice working with you”, Y/n smirked as she walked upstairs. Pov change- Y/n’s

My date with Bill was perfect last night besides the twins and their nosey selves. Sure, this was our first official date and we’ve only made out a few times. I feel something with Bill unlike another partner. “Y/n, you ready?”, Hermoine asked through my door. “No just woke up, come in though”, I replied back. The young curly headed girl walked in, “Morning” “Morning Moine. Sleep good?”, I asked, climbing out of bed. Hermione only nodded her head. “Ginny said you had a date last night” “She was right, I did”, I said slipping a green sweater on. “With whom I may ask?”Moine smiled, cheeky like. “You can’t tell anyone, especially any Weasley child, okay? Promise?” I sighed. “I promise to stay quiet”, Hermoine held her pinky up. I linked my pinky with hers, “Oh Merlin, Bill took me to dinner last night. We’ve been messing around for a couple months” Hermoine looked at me as the gears turned in her head. “That means you’ve been doing him since the death eater attack in the summer. You lied to me that morning when I asked where you were ``''Moine, look I didn’t know what it meant with him. I would have looked like an idiot, if I told you we were together that morning. I don’t know what we are now, sure he took me to dinner and we’ve made out a few times. Charlie knows that we’re something oh the twins caught me sneaking back in last night. I’m sorry for not letting you know but-“ “It’s okay, I understand. Since I’m here can you give me advice?”, Moine held my hand. “Of course what’s up?”, I asked. Hermoine was smiling and blushing, “Um I like Victor Krum and I don’t know how to talk to him. You’re older and have had boyfriends before” I smiled, “The Bulgarian player? The one Ron has a boy crush on? Well, just say hello, I’m Hermione Granger. Wanna go study or something, you don’t even have to start anything just say hi. It worked with Cedric”, I said to the younger witch, on my bed. Hermoine nodded, “Thank you, Y/n. I’ll keep you updated, cole we’re not gonna have good seats” I couldn’t sneak away for Bill like I wanted to. Standing next to the twins and Ginny, the crowd cheered as Krum entered. I looked over to my left and saw a certain redhead, I smiled. He grinned back and waved, making me blush. Krum had got his egg after a transfiguration spell. “Let’s go Cedric!!”, a Hufflepuff student yelled beside Lee Jordan.

Cedric and Fleur had got their egg and it was time for Harry to come out. My nerves were high, I was pulling for Harry and didn’t want him hurt. He was Sirius’ other god child besides me, Sirius wanted me to update him on Harry since he was still hiding. “Come on Harry, make Sirius proud”, I whispered. The dragon tried to burn Harry as Harry flew around the stands. “Come on, Potter don’t fuck up now!”, Fred groaned. Suddenly, I could smell George’s cologne and the warm smell of cinnamon like Bill. I was hiding in George’s chest as the dragon flew up, tearing some stands as it flew after Harry. “Well done, Dragon!!”, I heard one of the twins cheered. “Y/n, you okay? Dragon is gone nowGeorge asked, lifting my head out of his chest. “Yeah, Yeahh I’m good. Sorry George”, I stepped aside from him a bit. “It’s okay, love” George smiled, before talking to Fred. Harry finally got his egg and everyone was heading to the common room. “Hey Brooks!” Draco yelled. “What is it, Malfoy?”, I rolled my eyes. “Did Adrian tell you?”, Malfoy sneered. “No, tell me what?”, I walked closer to the boy. Draco pulled me into his chest, “He asked you out to the ball as a joke, well Cassius betted he wouldn’t ask a gryffindor to the ball” “Adrian asked me two days ago and hasn’t spoken to me since. Stop being a brat Malfoy and mind your own!”, I rolled my eyes. His hands dropped to my ass, “Get your slimy snotty hands off of my ass or you won’t have them anymore!”, I grabbed Draco’s hand, bending his backwards. “Owww let go!!”, Draco whined. “Why? Don’t like being touched somewhere you don’t want to be? Huh?”, I yelled. “I’m sorry just let go, I still need my hands”, Draco cried. “Get the hell of my sight, Malfoy and don’t go whining to daddy about this!”, I pushed Draco to the ground, kicking dirt near his face. I got to the courtyard and saw Adrian with Theo. “Pucey!”, I yelled. “Oh hi Y/n”, Adrian smiled. “Wipe that smile off of your face before I do it myself! Am I a joke to you or hell even a bet? Malfoy told me that Cassius made you ask me to the ball as best, I’m guessing you would have been a pussy to ask a gryffindor if you didn’t!” “Brooks, Draco is being well Draco”, Theo said. “I’m not talking to you, Nott!”, I spat. “So did you or did you not ask me out as a bet? I’m only asking once before I whoop your ass”, I stood tall and got in his face. “Cassius did make a bet with me but I’ve liked you since my 2nd year. After you helped me after a quidditch game when an older gryffindor pushed me. We had won that year”, Adrian admitted. “So you genuinely asked me because you like me or something? I don’t appreciate being a stupid bet”, I asked. “I want to go because I think you’re pretty, smart and you seem like you know how to have a good time”, Adrian said. “I’m sorry for being a bitch and amusing what Malfoy said was true. Do you still want to be my date?”, I asked, feeling like a complete jackass. “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry for being distant and everything”, Adrian smiled. “It’s okay, I’ve been busy”, I said. “You said your dress was black right?”, Adrian asked. Theo had left by now and it was just us. I laughed, shaking my head, “No Silly, my dress is silver. I told you that last week, pucey” “Okay silver! A black dress robe okay? I can have dad send me a different color”, Adrian asked. “No black is fine, Adrian. Hey, the common room is probably chaos right now and I need to get back. See ya around okay?”, I said. “See ya later, gorgeous”, Adrian kissed my cheek.

Little to Y/n’s knowledge Bill and Charlie saw the whole thing between the young students. “Bill, it isn’t like she could have brought you”, Charlie said. “I know and we’ve not put labels on it either”, Bill sighed. “You better go say your goodbyes, Mum is expecting us”, Charlie said.

I walked into my dorm, Bill was standing at the window looking out. The tournament was finished and an English rainstorm started. I wrapped my arms around his torso and laid my head on his back, “Missed you” Bill tensed up but relaxed again, “I’m gonna miss you” I frowned, “I’ll miss you too, Weasley” After some convincing and bringing out my puppy dog eyes, I got Bill to cuddle with me in bed. The rain smacked the window at a peaceful pace, Bill’s heartbeat and body heat was perfect. “Y/n! Y/nn, wake up!!”, I gasped for air, “Uh what is it? Oh Gin, it’s you!” “Yeah, it’s dinner time. You okay?”, Ginny asked. “Oh yeah, just a deep sleep and the rain you know”, I sighed, the side where Bill laid propped up was cold. I followed the younger redhead to the Great Hall. “Hey sleepyhead”, Fred smirked. “Y/n”, George said where I was with Ginny. “Yeah?” “Charlie wanted me to give you a birthday present from last year. Said he found it a year after he left here. You know Charlie is too busy to come home”, George handed me a medium sized box that was wrapped in purple paper with a silver bow on top. “Thanks Georgie, I’ll write him a thank you later.” Dinner was over and thankfully I didn’t have perfect duty tonight. “Y/n?”, someone spoke behind me. “Who’s asking now?”, I sighed, I met the eyes of Draco Malfoy. “What could you possibly need to say now? Thank you for lying about Adrian”, I rolled my eyes. Draco looked down at his shoes, “I’m not lying, Brooks! He’s really pulling your leg, you're being lied to. Cassius and Adrian were laughing about it in the hall tonight.”, Draco said softly. The first time, he had spoken to me or any other Gryffindor with kindness.

I looked at Draco for a second, he had an emphatic look and biting his lip. “I’m not being mean to you either” Adrian and Cassius came out of the hall laughing, “She actually thinks me Slytherin wants to take her to the ball. My parents would hang me by my toes if I took a Gryffindor to a dance”, Adrian snared. Cassius’ eyes were wide as he stopped beside Draco, “Cass, what are you doing? Y/n, hey! How much did you hear of that?”, Adrian’s face dropped and he gulped. “You lied to me twice and you actually had me convinced you put the house rivalry away. I thought Draco was being his rude arrogant self when he told last week. I’m sorry Draco for not believing you both times, Cassius you can jump off the astronomy tower for all I care!” I yelled. People were standing around, gasping, pointing. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe a Slytherin actually liked me for me”, I shook my head, gripping my nails in my hand. “Y/n, I’m sorry honestly”, Adrian tried to stand closer. I saw red as the boy got closer, I felt my fist on his nose. “Fuck you! You’re nothing but a stupid prick”, I screamed. “Alright alright! Show is over!” Fred yelled. Cassius pulled Adrian away as the crowd started to leave. “Y/n, it’s okay”, George said. “No, it’s not! I’m gonna be the biggest laughing stock in all of Hogwarts history. Just leave me alone, the both of you!”, I pushed between the twins as I ran up the tower stairs. The common room was busy, a party was going to start for Harry and today’s match. I slammed my door open and locked it before jumping on my bed.

I cried in the sheets, my hand ran over some soft material. Pulling it out from my pillow, the one Bill laid today. “Oh Billy, you sweet sweet boy! I really need you right now”, I cried, holding his black hoodie. Bill’s scent flooded my senses instantly, sorta calming me down. “Just want this year over with, so I can run away with you Bill Weasley!”, I laid the hoodie on the pillow, before laying on it. The sun was coming up, shining through the window. My head was pounding, not for the reasons the older Gryffindors’ heads are. Bill’s hoodie laid out on the sheets, I traced tiny shapes on the material. “I love you”, I whispered, part of me hoped William had heard it at the Burrow. “Y/n! You up?”, George knocked. “Yeah, just a minute”, I shot up, throwing Bill’s hoodie in my trunk. “Come in”, I shut the trunk. “How are you feeling? Your hand okay?”, George asked, gently shutting my door. “Heads pounding, crying all night feels like. Kinda sorta but nothing I can’t handle”, I smiled. “I’m sorry Adrian’s a prick. You are more than some stupid bet a Slytherin made. Nobody should be a bet, you’re too gorgeous to be'', George said. “Yeah sure, I was embarrassed in front of the student body and people from two other schools. Don’t forget that, Godric that’s icing on the cake!”, I scoffed. “I bet everyone has forgotten about it! Breakfast?”, George smiled. “I’m not showing my face not today, Georgie”, I rolled my eyes. The thought of trying to eat while everyone stared and gossiped about my misfortune wasn’t ever appetizing. George frowned, “Okay so not the day. What do you want? I’ll sneak you some food” I smiled at the tall red head. “Is there something on my face?”, George rubbed his stubble. “No, just thinking is all, Georgie”, I said. “I’ll bring your favorites, now go take a shower okay?”, George smiled. “Okay Georgie'', I grinned. “Love you, Brooks” “Love you too, you big lug”, I smiled as the younger boy walked out.

Four days until the ball, everyone had let go of the fact Adrian asked me out on a bet. Cedric even put his two cents to Adrian and asked if I was okay. At this point, thinking about skipping the ball and heading home early. Great Aunt Sophie, sent the finished dress. It was beautiful but why go to the biggest dance without a date. Nobody dared to ask me to go with them, probably thought it was poor taste or didn’t want to die on the spot. Fred had asked Angelina, Hermoine got asked by Krum, Adrian and Pansy were flirting so they were probably going together. I was in the library with George helping him study for potions. “Y/n, can I ask you something?”, George looked at me across the table. “Sure Geo”, I decided to revert my eyes from the textbook. “I know you’re thinking about skipping the ball, don’t lie. You’re in your last year and the Yule ball isn’t an annual thing. I was thinking if you want I could take you. Y/n, would you want to be my date?”, George asked, while holding my hand. What would Bill think if his younger brother took me? Is it wrong? George is my best friend, who said it wasn’t more than friends? “You don’t have a date? That’s hard to believe, Weasley'', I laughed it off. “Y/n, I’m serious. We don’t even have to miss at the end of the night. I don’t want you to miss the chance of something fun and magical”, George said in a serious tone. “Oh wow, you’re not joking. Ah what the hell why not? Sure I’ll go with you George Weasley'', I smiled. George had moved to the seat next to me, “Of course, I’m not joking” “This better not be a pity date, Fabian! One Weasley asking out of pitty is enough'', I said. “He’s a git!”, George brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “Definitely git worthy”

I snapped the last clip in my hair, now I was done. The dress fit me to a tee, the jewelry mom had sent was perfect! Hopefully George would like it. Walking down the stairs to the ball, a couple Ravenclaw boys stopped to look. Cedric looked for a moment, “Wow” Angelina tapped George’s shoulder, Fred looked with his twin. “Is that Y/n?” George held out his hand as I got to the bottom, “You look absolutely gorgeous, Y/n!” “Thanks George! You look handsome, see that you and Fred do know to clean up”, I grinned, while holding his hand. “Come on, McGonagall is making us lineup for the champions' ', George pulled me with him. “How are you and my dear brother doing?”, George asked. I bit my lip, “Fine” George’s eyebrows furrowed, “Just fine? I’ll kick his ass for you” I giggled, “We’re good, I’m assuming. We haven’t talked about what we are, you know?” George nodded, “You can always marry me or Charlie if you really want to be a Weasley”, George smirked. “If you don’t step on my feet like you did in practice, I might consider you as my husband”, I smirked back at the younger redhead. “You were going too fast and who said you could lead?”, George playfully hit my arm. “I was tired and wanted to go to bed”, I giggled. “Are you still complaining about Brooks trying to lead?”, Fred groaned with Angelina by his side. “I’m giving him another chance to see if I’ll consider marrying him later in life”, I replied back. “Did you and Billy break up?”, Fred furrowed his brows. Angelina turned her head in curiosity. “No! How can you break up if you don’t have labels on it, Frederick?”, I scoffed. The doors to the Great Hall opened and the champions and their dates entered. I smiled at Hermione as she passed us with Victor. The weird sisters were in between sets, I excused myself for a drink.

“Hey”, Cedric said beside me. “Hey”, I slightly smiled and got my cup. “You look beautiful, Y/n”, Cedric said with his famous smile. The one that used to get weak in the knees and sick to my stomach. “Thanks Cedric, you don’t look too bad yourself”, I replied back. Cedric smiled, “Who’s your date?” “Uh George, just friends though”, I looked away for a second. “I’m sorry about the Adrian situation”, Cedric grabbed my hand. I looked at our linked hands, “Uh yeah”, I sighed. “There you are Cedric! Oh hi Y/n”, Cho grabbed Cedric’s arm. “Hi Cho, bye Cedric”, I passed Cho. I noticed Harry and Ron sitting at a table, “Why are we sulking at a Ball that doesn’t happen yearly?”, I stood in front of them. Ron looked at me with a sad smile and his eyes fell to Hermione and Victor. “Bands usually start with a fast song, so come on join the crowd for a couple songs”, I stuck my hand out for one of them to take. They both looked at my hand like it was rotting off the bone. Harry stood up and took my hand, “Come on, Ron. She has a point” The drummer counted in as Harry and I joined the crowd, “There you are”, George smiled, pulling me closer to him as the singer aparted on the stage. A couple songs later and a crowd interaction, a slow song started. “Are you sure?”, George asked as couples started spacing out. “Yes Georgie, come on”, I wrapped my arms around his neck. People were slowly starting to leave but there were couples still dancing. I laid my head on George’s chest as he held my back. “Not to disturb your nap, but wanna get out of here?”, George whispered. My heels were digging my toes and my feet started to cramp, “If you do, sure”, I snuggled my head into his chest. George held my hand as we exited the hall to see Hermione and Ron arguing. “Next time don’t ask me as a last resort!”, Hermione yelled with tears streaming down her cheeks. George and I looked at each other, “He doesn't know girls at all”, George sighed. “He’s fourteen, George. You and Fred weren’t into girls that much yet either”, I said as we walked up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. “He’s a git either way”, George held the portrait open for me. “Most fourteen year old boys are”, I giggled. Fred and Angelina were on the couch making out with a bottle of firewhiskey on the floor. “I’ll walk you”, George said. “You think Fred and Angelina might become anything?”, I asked as we stood outside my dorm. “Maybe, if Freddie plays his cards right and doesn't embarrass himself tonight”, George smirked. “And if you leave the alone. Thank you for tonight, you were right too”, I smiled. “Me? Right about what?”, George asked. “That I shouldn’t have been stuck up here while everyone had a good time at the ball”, I said. George nodded, “So are my chances of becoming Ms. Brooks still stands pretty good, huh?” I giggled, “Better than Fred. Now go get some sleep okay?” “Okay, I will. Night Y/n”, He lent down and kissed my cheek. “Night Weasley”, I said, letting his hand go.

I changed out of my dress and headed to Hermione’s room, “Mione? You still up?”, I asked outside her door. I heard shuffling of feet, “Boys are stupid”, Hermoine opened her door in her pj’s and ruffled hair. “Yeah they are at this age. Can I come in?”, I asked. Moine jumped on her bed and started crying again, “Oh love, it’s okay”, I pulled her on my chest and petted her hair. Hermione cried even more, “Is this just over Ron?”, I asked. “What kind of person asks someone as a last resort? I expected him to ask me but as a last option, I’m his best friend”, Hermione jumped out of bed and started pacing. “Some people don’t realise what’s in front of them no matter how hard you show it to them. Ron’s fourteen and it’s an awkward phase for boys. Girls mature way faster than boys, that’s why we’re smarter and more rational”, I said. Hermione sighed, “When do they finally notice?” I sighed, “Not sure. I thought Bill would see it but he hasn’t and he’s twenty-four for Merlin’s sake” Hermoine shuffled her feet, “Can you unzip me?” “Come here” “Why hasn’t Bill asked you to be his girlfriend officially?”, Moine asked. “Hell if I know, we made out all summer and he took me to dinner. Which I amused was a date, you know? We walked around Hogsmeade and the night before he snuck into my dorm. He left last Saturday without saying bye or he would owl me. Maybe it was just fling”, I fell back on Hermoine’s bed. “He snuck into your dorm? How, I thought the stairs were charmed to turn into a slide?”, Hermoine asked as she changed into her lounge shorts. “Oh Hermoine, my sweet Moine! That’s been uncharmed for years now, it knows the reason for a boy to be up here. George walked me tonight and he didn’t bust his face”, I grinned. “Are all the houses’ stairs like that?”, She asked. “Uh, just know about ours and Hufflepuff’s from personal experience. Your guess is good as mine”, I said back. Hermione crawled into her bed, “Want me to leave?”, I asked. “No stay and cuddle?”, Hermione mumbled. “Course”, I pulled her to my chest as she got under the blanket. Ginny tried to sneak in, I looked at Moine and grinned. “Do you know what time it is, Ginevera Weasley?” Ginny squeaked, “I’m sorry please don’t report me or tell Fred and George” “Gin, I’m not like Percy as a prefect. Get some sleep, okay?”, I said calmly to her. “I hate you” “Loves you too, Gin Gin”, I snorted in Hermoine’s hair as she giggled too. “Night girls”

Sun was shining through the windows, Hermoine and Ginny were still sleeping pretty good. I decided to sneak out and get some food. After, throwing some light washed jeans and George’s old quidditch sweater on, I headed downstairs. Fred was sitting on the couch in some flannel pajama pants, “Morning Freddie. Have a good time last night?”, I asked. “Y/nn not so loud”, Fred winced and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, I’ll bring some food up for you. Go to bed”, I said as Lee walked in with a tray of food. “Here, a greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray. Just what the man ordered”, Lee grinned. “Stop being so damn loud, Jordan”, Fred groaned as I walked out. I reached the Great Hall and Draco appeared in front of me, “Good morning, Brooks. Have a good time last night?”, Draco smiled. “Are you still drunk, Malfoy?”, I had a confused look on my face. “No, just being friendly is all”, Draco replied. “Oh well then, yes I did have a good time. Did you?”, I walked past him. “I did, my date was actually nice” “Who did you take? Parkinson?”, I asked him. “Oh a Beauxton girl, Georgia” I nodded, “Nice talking to you, Draco. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to eat” “Why was Draco talking to you?”, Angelina asked. “No clue, he’s been doing that more lately. What time did you go to bed?”, I asked. She looked down and smirked. “Not exactly, my bed but about two am” “Room of requirements?”, I smirked. She blushed, “I’m not that kind of girl, but Fred and I spent the night there” “Explains the hickeys on his collarbone and shoulders. Pass me the waffles please?”, I grinned. “Y/n”, Katie asked. “Yeah Katie?”, I asked as an owl went by. “Letter for you”, she handed me the envelope.

Bill Weasley- the Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England

The prettiest girl, I ever met in life (a small heart was drawn)

I excused myself and sat on a step, “You better explain yourself, Weasley”

Dear Y/n,

I’m sorry for leaving without telling you goodbye, Charlie was admitted about being on time to return back home. I know I’ve been awkward about what is going on between us. You’re probably rolling your eyes and saying something smart about me. Yes, I’ve never had feelings for anyone like I do for you. You’re an amazing girl, also gorgeous as can be! Your parents did good with you, why lie? So will you be my girlfriend, Y/n?

P.s. Hi, it’s Charlie. Bill left this out in the open, but please say yes to being his girl. He won’t shut up about you to me and pretty positive Dad has heard all about you too. Poor lad’s ear probably hurts. My brother won’t stop talking about you, I get it you’re pretty but I need to sleep at 3am. Have a good holiday, kiddo and keep the twins in line.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley series #george weasley #Harry Potter #bill x reader

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hainethehero · 4 years

Text

BILLY BREAKS THINGS OFF WITH STEVE...

A big grin breaks Steve's face in two, glowing through his cheeks like a beautiful sunrise or something. He can hear the sound of Billy's Camaro rumbling to a stop in his front yard. His skin breaks out in goosebumps and his heart beats wildly, like an animal trapped in a cage.

It was movie night.

Nothing special, since they've been having nights like these since last Christmas. But tonight was different. Call him a stupid girl obsessing over shit that he shouldn't- but he really couldn't. Not after they'd done the Devil's tango for the first time about two days ago. Of course Billy had gone AWOL after that but he'd called earlier today... said he wanted to talk. It's been the only thing Steve could think about since that time... - that and the fact that he'd had sex with Billy for the first time! He stays replaying all the sounds and tastes in his head over and over again like a reel. He hoped to God that it had been as special for Billy as it had been for him.

His insides still felt soft, sore and mushy from where Billy had pounded into him, thighs burning with every movement of his legs. His pale hips sported several deep, purple, finger-shaped bruises and there were dark hickies colouring his alabaster neck like watercolours. And if he thought about it real hard, he could still feel Billy's hands in his hair, pulling and tugging and fucking yanking on it as he thrust into his tight hole.

God, he thinks, chastising himself for being so horny.

Get a grip Steve! Desperation was never a good look, on anyone.

Billy's suddenly at his front door, not even bothering to knock. No.

He just stands there looking all majestic and super chill in his aviators and leather jacket. Steve pulls the door open with shaky hands and just takes in the eyeful of glorious golden skin and Californian blue eyes. His heart flutters stupidly in his chest and Steve glares down at himself as if to berate his own goddamn heart. His cheeks become inflamed as Billy brushes past him, woodsy cologne filling Steve's senses. He tightens up involuntarily at the scent and slowly closes the door, biting at his lip with a nervous smile.

"H- hey," he mutters dumbly, craving the idea of rushing into Billy's arms but somehow restraining himself.

The blonde simply gazes at him; a kind of heat in his heavily hooded eyes. He's got on a white t-shirt under that black leather jacket, cotton pulled taut across his broad chest. God, Steve is going insane every minute his face isn't buried in Billy's chest. That's his safe place... and that white t-shirt is one of his favorites.

"We need to talk," Billy tells him in that raspy, low and smoky tone.

Steve goes molten between the legs and his heart does some weird kind of flip inside him. How the hell did Billy have so much control over his mind and body? Was that what sex with another guy was like? Or was this just a Billy thing? Because Steve has tasted the blonde once already- literally- ...and he wanted more.

"Yeah, we can," he nods with a grin, "but can we do it in my room? It's already warm in there and out here's like, freezing so-"

"Out here is fine," Billy interrupts, mouth drawn in a tight line and haw clenched tightly.

It's the first indication that maybe this was very serious and Steve hadn't noticed because he was too busy thinking about getting dicked down again.

"Wh- ...what's wrong?"

Billy stares at him, thick brows drawing over his darkened eyes. "I can't do this."

Oh God, Steve's gonna have an aneurysm.

"What?"

He forces himself to keep his cool, to not instantly turn into some crying, shaking mess that just wants to go down on his knees and beg the other boy to stay. He keeps repeating in his head that it's all just some sick fucking joke on Billy's part and offers the blonde a pained grin but his heart falters when Billy's expression doesn't change.

"Bill-"

"I'm leaving town. Tonight."

Steve feels the breath get knocked out of him and this time he takes a quick step forward. "Billy what's going on-??"

Billy takes a step back, growling. "I just told you, I'm leaving."

"That's not- ...What happened? Why are you leaving? Was it your Dad?"

"It wasn't my fucking Dad-"

"Well then tell me!"

"Tell you what?!" Billy shouts, getting in Steve's face now, a deep rumble in the back of his throat.

"Why are you leaving? Why now?" Steve snaps, the pit of his stomach hollowing itself. He's so fucking scared and hurt right now but all he can feel is the hot and cold running all over his damp skin. Hot tears prickle and sting his eyes but he doesn't dare blink for fear of missing Billy for too long.

"Harrington-"

"No!" Steve screams, "You tell me why you're suddenly moving out of Hawkins! Tell me why! Tell- wait, is it because of me?"

Something in Billy's expression shifts and he looks away, cursing under his breath, fists clenched hard.

"It's not you, don't flatter yourself Harrington."

And that particular statement puts Steve on notice. This couldn't have been Billy talking. His Dad maybe but he'd stopped calling him Harrington whenever they argued. Apparently it sounded too impersonal and not intimate at all. Which is the opposite of how Billy had been cooing and whispering his name the night they'd had sex. He'd even made sure to hold Steve through the worst of his first time, asking him gently whether or not he should pull out, or if he wasn't ready.

A tear slips down his cheek at the now sour memory.

"Then what was it? Is this town too small for you, Mr California? Not enough clueless hick town boys for you to fuck huh?"

Billy takes a menacing step forward and grabs him by the neck. "You're awfully close but no dice, " he snarls, "Unlike you, I actually got into college, so, I'm leaving. You think I want to stay stuck in this backwater town with some nobody who slings ice-cream for a living?"

Steve fights the strong grip, breaking it and taking a heaving step back, shudders wracking through his body. His breath comes out ragged, and pulls back in with a sob.

"What are you saying?" he mutters softly, too afraid to shout or even get angry, because that'll only make Billy leave faster. It always makes them leave.

Billy grunts, "Jesus Christ you want me to spell it out for you? I'm done, Harrington. We're done."

But Steve shakes his head, tears already falling silently from his eyes. His goddamn heart was in his throat.

"You can't do this..." he chokes, feeling sick to his stomach.

"Why can't I?" Billy growls, his face dry and emotionless.

"Because we-" Steve hisses but is cut off by an unexpected cry. He didn't have the strength to say those words right now- couldn't.

Too bad Billy had caught on anyway. "Because we what? Had sex a few days ago? Jesus Harrington, didn't take you for such a pussy. It was just a mindless fuck, didn't think you'd take it to heart. I'm not actually some fucking faggot like you."

Steve shakes his head, "Why are you doing this to me?" he sobs, feeling utterly betrayed.

Every part of his body felt betrayed right now- every single part of him that he'd let Billy touch, kiss and sink his teeth into. A sharp pain stabs him in the chest and then slowly sinks in all the way to his gut. It feels permanent, yet somehow like a terrible dream that he can't seem to wake up from.

Billy turns to leave and he doesn't have the strength to hold him back. Just watches him go through blurry eyes, body shaking with the massive effort it takes to keep from falling to his knees.

"Wheeler was right about you; you're bullshit Harrington."

Steve's knees only hit the floor when the Camaro rumbles off into the distance.

...............

Hardened blue eyes glare back at him from the rearview mirror.

The only sense of accomplishment he felt was that he'd finally put some distance between the monster in his head, and the one thing he loved more than life itself.

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Ok ok last one.

Poncho x medic reader who helps the team along but ends up getting herself hurt instead of him. And he realizes just how much she means to him

I hope you like this!😊💛

You Saved My Ass.

Poncho x reader

Warnings: death, injury, blood, swearing, spoilers

Masterlist

Poncho hates this more than anything he's ever had to do, this waiting with bated breath in amongst the shrubbery, the perpetually terrified air hanging around the usually fearless group souring his resolve. It is unnatural to him, to them all, the now decreased team unused to feeling entirely helpless, though they all know there is no way of changing this to their advantage at all, the situation being completely unforeseeable, even with hindsight. Cowering in the bushes just isn't their thing, it never has been, and, if they get through this, it never will be again. But he knows now that it is necessary; after all, he doesn't want to end up like Blain or Hawkins. At the reminder, he subtly crosses himself again, still torn over the sights of Blain's mangled body, and the remaining pile of gore from Hawkins.

Beside him, (Y/n) adjusts herself, clutching at her bag of supplies, the medic unarmed for ease of movement, though Poncho feels even worse about this than he does about hiding in the trees, fearing for his life. She has good aim, and she can defend herself, so without the weapon she is vulnerable, an asset he'd rather not lose, not now, not ever. The boys all teased him for having a soft spot for her, but he'd always shaken them off, chalking it up to the fact that his and her personalities seemed to match particularly well. Unfortunately, even after telling himself this for hours on end, he'd found himself clenching his jaw as he watched her patch Blain's arm up, back at the guerrilla settlement, somehow becoming irritable as he eyed her careful movements and teasing conversation with the muscular man. Of course, she'd given the others a once-over, including him, but something about that particular interaction had put him on edge. He knew Dutch had noticed, but the major had been too irritated himself to say anything, though this was more aimed at Dillon rather than (Y/n).

"What's he doing?!" The medic suddenly hisses, keeping her voice low as she stares out at the clearing where the trap has been set up.

"Huh?" Poncho blurts out quickly, before realising what she means.

Dutch has stepped out of cover and into full view, heavy gun held firmly in hand, muscles bulging as he tenses them, clearly nervous despite his bold move. The rest of the group fall silent, eyes wide as they watch their leader walk into sight, the trap ready to spring beneath his feet. The jungle is quiet, unnaturally so, every animal within the near radius having fled from this sophisticated hunter, just as the group are trying to do. Every sound Dutch makes feels amplified: the crack of branches underfoot, the rustle of leaves with each step, any normally insignificant noise seemingly deafening in the tense atmosphere.

His foot catches on a trip wire, the major pausing to make sure it doesn't spring the trap on him, carefully moving his boot off of the tense cord. Taking another step, the muscular man moves further into the clearing, before all hell breaks loose.

There is a blur of movement behind Dutch, the forest seemingly coming alive as a distorted shimmer lunges at him, clicking filling the air as whatever it is tries to take out its next prey. Thankfully, it trips the wire, the net underneath it springing up towards the canopy, closing in on itself around whatever it had caught, an outraged cry of some sorts emitting from the invisible quarry as it writhes in its temporary hold. Leaves cascade down into the clearing as the group rushes to the aid of their leader, guns raised, ready to fire.

A familiar streak of blinding blue light dashes any hope of catching it whilst it's compromised, the energy shearing through the netting around its occupant, falling away completely. Another blast severs the cord holding the counterweight in place, the heavy log swinging down into the clearing, scattering the gathered group as they move to avoid it. Poncho, however, is too late to realize the danger of the situation, and is caught with his back turned, the weight picking up speed as it nears him.

All of a sudden, he hears a cry of his name and he is shoved to the side, his body tumbling to the floor even as another goes flying a few feet away from him, landing much heavier than he does. Confused, he ignores the shouting and gunfire that has broken out, scrambling to get over to the fallen body, recognising the figure lying, motionless, on the floor, his heart dropping in his chest. Eyes wide, he drops to the ground beside her and rolls her onto her back, taking in the limp movement of her body, as well as its sheer lack of muscular strength. (Y/n)'s chest is jerking uncontrollably, the medic struggling to breathe properly as her face contorts in agony, each breath rattling in her throat, uselessly. The log must've smashed into her torso, most likely breaking her ribs and bruising her sternum and collarbones, leaving her in unimaginable pain.

"Shit, (Y/n), this is my fault...I've got to get you out of here. God, I'm so sorry, stay with me! Please stay with me!" Poncho pleads with her, awkwardly reaching down to scoop her up, wincing as she groans out. Internally, he curses himself for letting this happen, his own stupidity having gotten her here.

Panic floods him as her arms hang limply at her sides, head lolling backwards, her conscience clearly fighting to stay awake.

"You've gotta stay awake, (Y/n). Keep fighting, it'll be ok soon. Come on, (Y/n), pull through for me!" He rambles to her, trying not to jostle her too much as he moves, only now realising that Dutch is yelling after Mac, who has raced off into the jungle.

Billy and Anna wait at the edge of the treeline, watching as Dillon goes to follow Mac, Dutch coming over to help Poncho, who gestures to his gun, meaning for the major to take it. Doing so, the two of them follow after Billy and Anna, heading into the sweltering jungle, aware of the fact that they will most likely never see their comrades again. Glancing down at the medic in his arms, Poncho tightens his grip, hoping to hell she'll make it; he doesn't know what he'll do without her, and it's only now dawned on him that she means a whole lot more to him than he once thought.

He'd been wrong. Poncho knew that now. Waiting in the jungle for the predator to find them had been bad, it'd been stressful and he'd been terrified, but it couldn't compare to what he endured now. Sitting there, between the beds of the only two other survivors, slouched in his chair from exhaustion as he waited for them to wake up, he decided that this was worse. In the jungle, he'd stood a chance, however small it was, of ensuring the survival of his friends, but now? Now he had no way of making sure they'd pull through. No, that was in the hands of the bustling doctors and nurses going in and out of their private ward.

Somehow, Phillips had secured a room in the nearest hospital strictly for the survivors of this disastrous mission, sending all four of them there as soon as he had them back in safety. Both Anna and Poncho had healed quickly, and now spent their days waiting for the other two to wake up, both members of the group having entered some form of coma in the twenty four hours after their arrival, being drugged up to the eyes and all to hold off the pain and let them rest. Dutch had been in and out, his slurred ramblings unintelligible yet disturbingly sudden and vivid as he drifted in and out of conscience, but (Y/n) had remained still, as if in a death sleep, never stirring, barely even breathing.

The log had done serious damage to her ribcage and spine, nearly leaving her paralyzed from the simple impact, multiple of her ribs now broken and close to puncturing her lungs. Deep purple bruising mottled the skin disappearing below the collar of her hospital robe, the colour angry and harsh against her natural skin tone, leaving Poncho wondering just how bad it was lower down. Just looking over her now, tired as he is, he knows that she is lucky she survived the blow: had she instantly moved to get up again, the cracked ribs would've driven straight into her lungs, killing her from the inside.

Shaking his head, Poncho climbs to his feet and goes to stand beside her bed, observing her face carefully, mentally kicking himself for not realising sooner how much she actually means to him. How could he have ignored it? She'd always been there for him, dressing his wounds first whenever he got them, unless there were more serious ones on someone else, messing around with him to get him to lighten up, joking with him, being there for him when he needed her the most. In the jungle he'd asked himself what he'd do without her, and he still hasn't found an answer.

Just as he goes to sit down again, (Y/n) shifts, her head twitching a little. Shocked, he stays where he is and watches her again, waiting for another movement, anything to prove she's healing.

He almost can't believe it when her eyelids flutter, her face wrinkling as she goes to open her eyes, blinking to fight off the onslaught of unnatural light blaring down at her. Inhaling sharply, Poncho holds his breath, watching as she clears her vision, taking in her surroundings, brief confusion flicking across her expression before everything comes back to her. Instantly, a look of grief and pain etch themselves into the lines of her face, but she is quick to notice Poncho lingering by her. Her jaw immediately starts working at forming words, but he swiftly puts a finger on her lips, smiling down at her in relief.

"You're awake! Oh my god, you're actually awake!" Is all he can say, elation filling him as he takes in the medic lying on the bed.

A timid half-smile works its way onto her face and she manages a nod, before she winces in pain, the movement sending twinges down her sore spine.

"Take it easy there, you took a heavy-ass log to the chest, it might take a while to heal up properly." He grins at her, lifting an eyebrow at her when she goes to nod again.

For a moment, the two stay in silence, staring at each other, relieved to see the other alive after their ordeal in the jungle, Poncho's hand eventually finding her's. Carefully, he joins them, intertwining their fingers as he squeezes it for reassurance, beaming when she manages to return the gesture, her fingers tightening around his own almost minutely.

"I wish I could tell you exactly how happy I am that you're awake, (Y/n), I've never been so relieved in my life. If you hadn't have woken up, I really don't know what I would've done." Poncho looks down as he says the rest, blushing slightly, "You mean the world to me, and I should've realised it sooner, hell, I'm kicking myself for not realising before you saved my ass, but now I know that I've come to care for you in a way that I haven't cared for anyone ever. I can't lose you."

Her eyes are wide as she looks up at him, her mouth opening as she goes to form words.

"Me...too…" She manages out, voice hoarse but recognisable, her following smile wide and happy.

Happiness floods him as he hears this, the man eager to respond, wishing he could pull her into a hug, but he is interrupted by the sound of a groan of pain from the man behind him, coherent words finally coming from the major's mouth.

Turning, Poncho gives (Y/n)'s hand one last squeeze before he goes over to the veteran, finding a pair of hard grey eyes staring at him from the bed, clearly confused, though the events of the mission are quickly coming back to him. Clenching his jaw, Poncho goes to check up on Dutch, feeling much happier now that he knows the two survivors are awake, though he is even more overjoyed to know (Y/n) shares his feelings.

Glancing back at her, he blushes as he catches her staring after him, a smile on her face.

#predator imagine #predator 1987 #predator #Poncho

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anathewierdo · 4 years

Text

Waiting for Roses

Pairing: Dean x Reader... kind of 😏

Summary: Fridays are special. He waits for her on Fridays... and he waits for her with roses.

Warnings: mention of major character death, Dean’s daughter being cute and sad, Daddy!Dean, overall bittersweet sadness :)

Word count: 2.1K

Extra notes: Dean has a daughter here. Her name is Joanna. He calls her Jo or Joey. Also, I didn’t describe a lot of Jo and Y/N because I want you, the reader, to imagine yourself and the little girl in whatever shape or form you want. Dean loves you both with all he has.

This fic is based on the song “Rosas” by La Oreja de Van Gogh. You can listen to it here!

So, this is my first angsty one-shot here... and if I may say so, I’m pretty proud of it! I hope you guys like it! :D

Special thanks to @percywinchester27, @flamencodiva and @superfanficnatural for beta’ing this little fic. I cannot thank you enough <3

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He’s done the same damn thing every Friday for years now and he’ll do it for years to come. Though, there is a rare occasion when he doesn’t follow through with it, and it’s more likely for him to have no plans on a Friday evening because of this little thing. It’s incredibly stupid (he always takes that thought back) and some days he finds himself swearing that this Friday would be the last, that he should’ve stopped doing this a long ago, but fuck it. It’s more of a tradition now rather than a bitter memory.

A young girl is sitting beside him on the park bench, a bouquet of pink roses lying on her lap. She looks at the matching bouquet of roses in her father’s hands as the people in the park come and go on this particular grey friday. She’s wearing small jeans, a colorful shirt and a pair of light-up tennis shoes that took months of begging on her part, until he gave in and bought them.

“Dad, can we play now?”

Dean takes a deep breath as he takes in the question, eyeing the now almost empty park in front of them. He has to admit, ever since Jo asked him to take her with him on his Friday outings, they’ve become a little less sad, a little less heartbroken and a lot more, dare he say, enjoyable.

He knows how much his daughter likes their Fridays now. She’s made sure that he does more than sit on this very same bench, with no other company than his spiraling thoughts, every fucking Friday until it’s time for the next destination. So he turns to look at her, takes the roses gently from her hands and lays both bouquets down on the bench before he smiles complicitly, “Pit stop at the swings?”

Joanna Winchester wastes no time in dashing out of the bench, “Last one to get there is a rotten egg!” she screams back at him.

Dean has to fight a knot that begins to form in his throat at her little taunt. So much like her mother.

The one thing he can still do at the moment is run, so he does. Dean screams exaggeratedly and loudly, telling his daughter, ‘it’s not fair! You're too fast and I’m too old for this!’

Her giggles in response are music to his ears.

Dean groans in defeat once more as he watches her take a seat in a swing and wave her arms and legs in a little dance, whooping and claiming victory.

He makes a show of falling to the ground, holding a hand to his chest and panting, “One day I’m gonna win, bug. Mark my words.”

Joanna giggles again, teasing him about being a sore loser.

They spend the next hour playing and goofing around the park. Both Winchesters keep looking back at their bench, making sure the roses are still there, beautiful and unharmed.

“Dad, can we go to Mom now?”

Her father stops dead in his tracks as the laugh dies right away. With a quick look at his watch, Dean nods, “Yup, time to go to Mom, bean.”

Bouquets in hand, they start walking out of the park and towards Baby. As soon as Jo has her seatbelt on, they’re out of there.

Dean checks on her every few seconds. She’s caressing the roses delicately, even playing with a few of the petals to open them up a little bit more. She has questions. He braces himself for a bomb.

“Dad, why do we always sit on that bench?”

“What bench?”

“The one at the park. Our bench.”

He has to clear his throat a couple of times as the memories flood back, “That’s where Mommy and I used to meet. For our dates.”

“Really?” her little eyes widened in wonder.

“Uh-huh,” he confirms. “I used to wait for her right on that bench with roses ready for her. Every time. We liked to go out on Fridays.”

Joanna stares down at the roses in silence for the next few moments. The next time he looks into the rearview mirror, his little bug is sniffling and he catches sight of a little droplet falling down her face, “But then Mommy had to go,” she sniffles.

“Mommy had to go,” he croaks in agreement. “But, she loves her roses. And I like waiting for her.”

“You don’t hate that I come with you?”

“Joey, there is nothing that could be better than waiting for Mommy with you.”

“Okay,” another sniffle.

“Bug, look at me,” he pleads softly, giving his daughter his best smile once she does. “I love you very, very, very much, alright? And there is nothing I would rather do than be with my wonderful little ladybug.” Dean takes the last turn, getting into the parking lot of the cemetery. With trembling hands, he kills the engine, takes his bouquet and gets out of the car to help Jo out of the backseat. As she steps out, he gives her a big hug, careful to not ruin her bouquet, “Okie dokie, Joey?” he mumbled to her ear.

Her little fist tightens in his shirt as a trembling and small ‘okie dokie, Dad’ is mumbled back.

They stay there for a few more seconds, clinging to each other with all their strength before stepping away to look at the gate that leads to the graveyard. Taking a hold of Jo’s free hand, Dean smiles down at her as tears begin to run down his face.

“Let’s go, bug. We can’t miss Mommy’s birthday.”

It’s fairly easy to spot that particular grave. It’s unmissable to both of them by now; the path is so familiar that they could find it blind. The funeral was the second worst day of his life, with a trembling six year old Jo clinging to him as she cried, an uncharacteristically quiet Sam, a crying Castiel and the few friends (more like family) they had left. He’d fought tooth and nail to not give her a hunter’s funeral.

Burning her was a point of no return and he couldn’t imagine how he’d live knowing that he’d completely closed the door on the possibility of her coming back. Back then, he’d reasoned that if she ever came back, (if he found a way to do it) she’d need her body.

But no demon ever agreed to bargain, no matter what he did. Angels were dicks, like always. Billie had gone on about balance and how the Winchesters couldn’t go around avoiding death forever, no matter how much she’d respected Y/N back when she still breathed. Rowena, Castiel and even the Winchester brothers themselves couldn’t find a spell strong enough to bring her back (or maybe Dean hadn’t been told if they ever did). She was gone. After two years, he still wasn’t okay with that, but fuck if he hadn’t learned to brace himself and be there for Joey.

Dean feels Jo squeeze his hand tighter when they’re only a few feet away from it. Her grave is simple, typical gray stone engraved with a name, a date and a quote in front of a large patch of grass where the coffin had gone down. There used to only be one vase for the roses he brought in weekly, but a second one had been added after Joanna began to ask her father to let her buy Mommy flowers, too.

They dust away any leaves or dirt that may have made its way onto the stone. Dean takes out the now dead roses from last Friday before setting the new flowers on the vases either side of the grave and sitting next to each other in front of it. Dean lays one arm across his daughter’s shoulders and takes a hold of one of her hands with the other.

“Happy birthday, honey,” he croaks.

Joey has begun to sniffle again beside him, “Happy birthday, Mommy.”

Dean screws his eyes shut at the way her voice cracks and turns to kiss the top of her hair, whispering how he’s here and mommy’s here as well, and that it’s okay, before looking at the stone one more time.

“We got you your favorites,” he smiles softly. “Most beautiful roses we could find. Joey thought you would be in a mood for pink roses.”

“I’ll try to find white ones next time,” the girl promised.

“I’m sure she’ll love them,” he chuckled sadly. “We miss you, babe. A lot… but we are doing good lately, don’t worry. Joey’s doing great at school. You’d be so proud of our little ladybug; she’s super smart. Like, super duper smart. Just like you. We learned how to properly bake cakes a few days ago, so we can surprise uncle Sammy next year on his birthday,” a little poke on his stomach has him rolling his eyes playfully, though the tears won’t stop coming. “Alright, and so we can also bake Joey’s birthday cake in a few months instead of buying it from ‘the creepy lady’ bakery.”

The kid is quick to defend herself, “I don’t like how she always grabs my cheeks!” she complains. “Dad and I had a flour fight when we made cakes. He even let me watch the Lord of the Rings!”

“She loved it, by the way. I’m telling ya, our kid is super awesome!”

The talks are the best part of every Friday most of the time. Both Winchesters get wrapped up in whatever ducktales they had during the week, or plans and aches and such and they tell her everything about them. Sometimes they stay for hours, sometimes mere minutes, but they visit most Fridays without fail. If they really try, it feels like she never really left. Dean can still hear her laughter, her jokes and puns and all the love she used to give him and their daughter. Joanna told him once that sometimes she gets scared because she can’t remember her clearly, but he’s quick to solve that with a quick trip to the living room in their house –where the photo album lives– and as many anecdotes he can tell her about.

They stay by her side for about half an hour.

Reluctantly, they get up and once again, they tell her they love and miss her. Dean promises they’ll be back next Friday and Jo is quick to confirm it. By the time they’re back in Baby, both Winchesters’ smiles are not so wobbly, not so sad.

Halfway home, Jo breaks the comfortable silence, “You really think mom would be proud of me?”

“Oh ladybug,” he huffs. “I know so. She’d be incredibly proud of you.”

When they get home, Dean feels lighter and he knows his ladybug is feeling better, too.

Fridays are special.

So he claps his hands together and proposes a movie marathon, followed by board games tomorrow morning. Jo’s excitement at the sole mention of the plan has him taking out popcorn and setting it in the microwave. She runs to the living room to pick out the movies they’re watching and get some blankets as well as changing into her pajamas.

Treacherous thoughts begin to invade his head: how he misses Y/N, how he wishes she could enjoy Fridays like always. All the big and little things that used to make this house a home (they couldn’t risk anything supernatural happening to Jo). Dean shakes his head. No. She is gone, but this house is still a home and their family is still loving.

Hunting is thousands of miles behind him; something he never thought could be possible. Joey will grow up. More important than that, he’ll be there for their daughter. He’ll do whatever he can to make sure she has a future and he’ll do it for Y/N, because if she can’t see it then damn it, he’ll be there to raise their little lady bug.

As the microwave lets him know the popcorn is ready, he makes his way to the couch in front of the TV, and Dean finds peace. He can do this. He’ll wait for as many Fridays as he can, with roses in his hands and love in his heart and all the cheesy things Y/N used to love.

He’ll wait to see his wife again even if it means it’ll take decades for that to happen.

Dean passes the popcorn over to Jo as the opening credits for The Princess and the Frog begin and he lays an arm over the back of the couch.

He has hope that next Friday will be good as well.

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I really hope y’all liked it! Please lemme know what you think, whether it’s with a reblog, an ask, everything and anything is welcome! :D

Tags: @katehuntington @winchest09 @emoryhemsworth @talesmaniac89 @whatareyousearchingfordean @deanwanddamons @maximumkillshot @malfoysqueen14 @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @percywinchester27

#dean x reader #dean winchester angst #dean angst #deanxreader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fandom #supernatural fandom

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l8rhader · 3 years

Note

What are your Top 5 Paragraphs from You Can Change...? How about from the Everything Has Changed verse?

ADJFKLSJFGWOIB WHAT A SWEET QUESTION ARE YOU KIDDING ME I LOVE YOU

In no particular order from You Can Change Right Next To Me

1. They stood that way for about a minute. Eddie was astounded. All it took was a little determination and creativity to come up with a simple adjustment, just so that she could do what she needed to do as a mom without hurting them. That was it.

2. It was silly, he knew, but an act of, he felt, bold defiance struck him. He stood up and motioned for Richie to do the same, stripped the top sheet from his bed, and looked around the room for something to use to affix it. Catching his drift, Richie crossed to the bulletin board behind the desk and snagged 4 push pins from their line at the edge of the cork, then walked over to him, pushing them into the wooden frame as Eddie held the sheet in place. It wasn’t much, and he knew it would never last if she came upstairs, but it felt like something.

3. All at once, the weight of everything that had happened to them crashed down around Eddie. He'd been "strong." He'd been "brave." He'd been "mature." He'd been all the things that he thought he needed to be. And one moment of pure vulnerability from Richie and he felt it all. The fear, the joy, the giddiness, the love, the anger, all of it. For the first time in ages, since that day on the floor outside the cafeteria, the world started to spin. His chest started to constrict.

4. “Oh, yeah, that,” Eddie smiled, nodding. “You owe me big time for that,” he added, turning him around and giving him a gentle prod toward the basement. “Such a large inconvenience. Woe is me, however will I go on-” he joked. As he wrapped his arms around Richie’s middle, walking behind him, he pressed another gentle kiss to the space between his shoulder blades. “Having a mildly uncomfortable conversation with my mother-in-law who is, quite possibly, the only one of the four of our parents I'm not currently even a little mad at, to protect my husband from having an even more uncomfortable one? I’m a hero.” He shoved Richie down onto the bed and popped on the TV, crawling in front of him and nestling their bodies tightly together.

5. “Yeah, idiot. You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon or something,” he said gently, looking up at the Toziers’ house across the street. He looked back at Richie, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to help him at all if he couldn't get him to Eddie. “Which means that you’re supposed to be not leaving Eddie’s side. I think being two houses away is pushing it.” He looked around, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to do this. He stood and tried to pull Richie to his feet, but it was like he was made of rubber. “Let’s get you home, man. Come on,” he said, voice belaying a frightened sense of urgency. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do that because if I touch you it’s going to hurt and I know that I couldn’t carry you even if I tried and The Cardinal is in pieces,” he looked over his shoulder and looked for anything he could use; Any way he could get Richie home. “I could probably…” In the corner sat his old bike, abandoned since the day he got his driver’s permit. “Do you think you can hold yourself up on my bike?” He nodded limply and Stan pulled him closer to the car. He turned back to grab it, immediately interrupted by a deadweight thud. “Richie?” he asked, turning back. Seeing him on the ground, he cried out, “Richie!”

Bonus line: While the boys had spent time gaining proficiency in diving into the quarry, Sonia had years on them, but the only thing she was ever good at jumping to was conclusions.

Everything Has Changed is so much harder because there’s just so much of it but:

1. They locked eyes and the whole cheesy speech, full of raunchy jokes and sentimental anecdotes Richie had been working on for weeks flew out of his mind. Recently, memory lapses were jokingly called "The Derry Effect" between them. This wasn't "The Derry Effect." This was "The Eddie Kaspbrak Effect." The breathless, mystifying way Eddie left him feeling had carried through since they were 11 and he dragged him across his mother's house to make him wash his hands before they shared popcorn out of the same bowl. [highest hopes]

2. “Okay, I’m Richie because…” he whispered and huffed, cutting off his soliloquy and quietly climbing toward him. “Hi?” He offered his Eddie a quick peck through the open window, then flicked his eyes upward, exasperation comedically magnified by his glasses, “Who else would I be?” He lugged his upper body in the window and, aided by his still-too-long legs, managed to get inside without falling. “We’ve definitely got the father denying down and we’ll put a pin in the name changing,” he laughed, imagining a day when, maybe, he’d be Richie Kaspbrak or the smaller boy in front of him would be Eddie Tozier, feeling a familiar warmth in his chest, “but like, I’ve got some baggage here, babe. A little help would be nice.” Aided by Eddie, he started untangling his limbs from the straps and setting the bags in a pile in the corner. [coming home]

3. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, trying to capture the last time he’d been that scared. There had to have been a moment. He could feel it. A movie projector and a ramshackle old house. A dead girl floating. But he couldn’t voice any of it. “I haven’t felt that way since…” A hammock. Bikes. Sewers. Paul Bunyan. Shared Ice Cream Cones. Fleeting images fell through his mind and petered out. It was like trying to catch smoke in a butterfly net. “I don’t know why my brain filled in dairy?” He shook his head, trying to figure out what he meant by that. Not dairy. What the fuck? “I haven’t felt that way since dairy? What does that even mean?” He took one of the strawberries from the bowl and bit into it, releasing juice down his chin as he spoke. [mine/yours]

4. Tutting, Pennywise wagged his finger. “Oh. Not so gentile language, pretty bird.” He pointed to the room below, where Bill was fighting against the current to get back to Mike. “See the way this one swims? All of your friends, all the losers, they swim! Just like at the quarry. Jump, fall, swim. It’s fun!” He laughed, licking his lips and reaching in to tease Stan once more. “Soon, they’ll float like itty,” poke , “bitty,” poke , “Georgie!” Stan kicked the clown’s hand and it pulled back. It was not happy about that. “Not you, Stanley! Not you. You can't even tread water,” he snarled, plucking through the ropes that suspended the box in midair. “Let's see if you can fly!” Laughing once more, he broke the final cord and sent him plummeting to the ground. “Don't forget your parachute!” he prompted, littering the ground with blood splattered yarmulke. [feeling like I missed you]

5. (arguably this is 2 paragraphs but like... it’s one of my absolute favorite moments i’ve ever written) Laughing, realizing how ridiculous he must look, a seventeen-year-old boy standing out in the woods cradling a babydoll, he was overcome with an idea. He took to wrapping the doll to look as lifelike as possible. When he’d swaddled her in the tiny blanket she came with, he mussed his hair up to look a little more frazzled. Then, he found a position for her in his arms that looked believable for an actual infant to be in. Finally, he cooked up a little story about a certain redheaded Loser who had popped back in a little while ago to visit and, well, surprise, Ma! He couldn’t believe what he was going to do, but now that the idea was in his head, he couldn’t get it out. “Let’s go see if we can’t give your Grandmonster a heart attack, okay?” He laughed as he moved in through the back gate, whispering to the small bundle in his arms. “Roll out…” // Heart attack was pretty close. Eddie slunk into the house as guiltily as possible, then shook Megan a little harder than what one would classify as a rocking motion. As soon as he did, she let out a piercing scream that he managed to quell. His mother yelled out for him and he quietly edged into the room, keeping his back to the wall and the doll’s face hidden. His mother blanched then turned scarlet and they were off. He worked up some tears and spilled his whole sordid story. “And now she’s here, and she’s mine, and I don’t care. She’s all I have left of-” he trailed off, imagining shaking Billy Crystal’s hand at the Oscars over this riveting and raw performance. “She’s a part of me. I can’t lose that.” [butterflies]

Bonus Line: “ Anyway, ‘Handsome, what the hell do you call that? How are you going to censor a whole building?’[...] This asshole turns to me and goes ‘It’s great, isn’t it? And no one noticed!’” [measuring]

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gayenerd · 3 years

Text

I have literally no source for this interview, but it’s one of my favorites because Billie seems to be really honest about his songwriting here - this is when Nimrod came out

The day I met Billie Joe Armstrong he flashed me his new tattoo, a Chuck-Jones-perfect cartoon character on his right bicep. Above it was some skull or Celtic armband or something, but below was the name "Joseph," exquisitely lettered, for his firstborn child. It's that image of him that I always keep in my head, and what I think of when I hear his band, Green Day: loopy humor and face-punch riffs and sincere sentiment I tight formation, worn as close to the skin as possible, covered in sweat. From the band's first records on the local Berkeley label Lookout, 39/Smooth and Kerplunk!, through the multi-million selling Warner Brothers releases Dookie, Insomniac, and now Nimrod, Armstrong has written dozens of perfect little punk-rock ditties that are probably the most sincere and playful acts of musical aggression since that first punk wave twenty years ago.

But the songs are more than throwbacks. Armstrong writes from a very personal perspective, the perspective of someone born in the Me Decade, raised in the Me-vs.-You Decade, and trying to cope in the Yet-to-be-Stereotyped Decade. His songs are about the current crises of being alive right now, in a society that's used up and marketed all of its counter-cultures, and has little use for its youth except as consumers. The songs are also about how one reconciles anger and rebellion with love and desire to not be so down all the time. It's less political and more personal than its punk rock predecessors, an angry/crying/shouting/fucking definition of self.

It made me wonder how you can take bile directed at you and turn it into a song that gets sold at the local Sam Goody. I figured I'd ask, so I called him up at his home in Berkeley.

Q: Where do you start when writing a song?

A: Most of the time I'll come up with a melody, and I'll do lyrics, but I'll tackle them at different times and not connect the two, you know? So I'll come up with the riffs, and the melody of the song, like a short ditty. I'll put some lyrics to it and bring it to band practice and then we'll just start to pound it out. And then, as things need to be restructured, sometimes Mike [Dirnt, bassist] will have an idea for something, or Tré [Cool, drummer] will have an idea for something, or sometimes we'll just leave it alone and it's sort of already done.

Q: Have there been any particular songs that have stayed the same from the original inspiration to recording, or have they all gone through changes in the process?

A: There's a lot of them that stay the same. "Redundant" really never changed, except we made it a little longer by adding another chorus at the end. And there's this song called "All The Time" that's pretty much exactly the way I had it.

Q: So how much does a song change then, in producing the record? On Nimrod there are a lot of different arrangements: strings on "Good Riddance," horns on "King For A Day." Did you have the ragtime horns in mind when you were writing?

A: No, not at all. I actually demo'd that song and played all the instruments myself and showed it to the band and they're like, "oh, that's pretty cool." We fucked around with it and practiced it a couple of times, but we never expected it to go onto the record. Then when we got to the studio, we said whatever, we'll just put it on there. It ended up being pretty good, but the song was just screaming for horns. We got Gabe [McNair] and Steve [Bradley] and it was so funny. They said, "what do you want us to play?" And I said, 'I'm sure you'll think of something.' And they looked at me like, "aw man!" So they basically wrote all the horn parts to that song.

Q: What's more important, lyrics or the music?

A: I think lyrics are really important, because there are songs that, musically, I don't think are the greatest in the world but lyrically are amazing. I mean, Johnny Rotten never had the greatest voice in the world but he wrote really good lyrics for the first Sex Pistols record, and that goes for a lot of people. But the thing is, a lot of people tend to -- especially in pop songs -- they tend to take the music and put something sappy to it, and it's just a one-dimensional emotion that the rest of the songs has to carry. I was actually thinking about that yesterday. I went to a friend's house, and they were joking around, putting on the Spice Girls records. And it was blatantly catchy, super catchy, but at the same time it really didn't say anything. You could only hold it at face value, there was no depth behind it, you really couldn't tell anything about the people singing it. But I guess there's a need for that. People want to hear songs that don't say anything, they want to go out to a dance club and shake their booty.

Q: That's a good question, then: what makes a good song? Depth, a point of view...?

A: I guess so. I don't know. I know what I like, personally. Like, yesterday I did my top ten favorite songs or something like that.

Q: What's on there?

A: Let's see. "Surrender" by Cheap Trick. "In My Life" by the Beatles. A song called "They'll Never Call It Quits" by a band called One Man Army. Generation X, "Kiss Me Deadly." "Outsider" by the Ramones. Hüsker Dü, "Makes No Sense At All."

Q: How do you deal with writer's block?

A: I write something else, just for fun. I'm just habitual about it. If I can't come up with the song...the great song that you want to write that will leave your mark forever or something cheesy like that, I'll write a polka number if I can't come up with something.

Q: Do you put that kind of pressure on yourself? Do you say "this one's gonna be a statement?"

A: Sometimes I do. Sometimes I'll think way. I just have a really strong work ethic. I have that sort of way about all my songs that, lyrically, every single one of them has to have some subliminal thing going for it. But most people don't really get what you're talking about until 10 years after the fact anyway. That seems to be how people respect songwriters through time.

Q: Do you have a time of day or a place where you write? You say you have a work ethic, how does that manifest itself?

A: Anytime, every time. The other night I was dead tired. All I wanted to do was fall asleep, and me and [my wife] Adrienne get in bed, and we're laying there. I was just dozing off a little bit, and all of the sudden this music was popping in my head, going over and over. And I was like, aw man, I have to go downstairs to put this on my guitar and just write it down. But I don't want to. I was so tired. So finally I got up and I go, 'goddammit! I have to get this done.' Otherwise I would forget it.

Q: When you're writing, do you write with an album in mind or song by song?

A: Song by song. I can't really conceptualize that far in advance. We knew we wanted to change and bring in new elements on the new record. But we really didn't know how to do it. So I wrote, constantly, all kinds of songs. Fifty or something. And you try to find some sort of natural progression within those songs, and try to capture that on the record.

Q: So are the songs you write linked by your state of mind, or thematically?

A: Sometimes if I'll get into a depression, writer's block, where I can't write, I get really bummed out and then I'm not working at all, I'm not doing anything. And then I'll deliberately get myself down to the lowest of the low that I could possibly get down to. And then a song will pop up. And I'll be happy, I'll get ecstatic for like the next month and then all of the sudden another one will pop up.

Q: So you revel in the dark zone and it's useful.

A: Yeah...sort of...I kind of...well...definitely.

Q: But you don't necessarily choose to be there...

A: Sometimes I'll cause problems just so I can get in touch with that emotional side or whatever, you know. Just to see if something will spark up, start a fight or something (laughs).

Q: Can you name a song that has come out of something like that?

A: Umm...a song called "Worry Rock."

Q: Seems like a really personal song.

A: Yeah. I think I got drunk and put my fist through a window. Adrienne called me an asshole or something like that and, I don't know. We just got into some meaningless fight like most couples get into, those fights that don't make any sense. A fight for the sake of fighting, which can be destructive to your relationship. That's how that song came about.

Q: Are you okay with that kind of exposure that comes from investing your personal life and emotions in a song like that? Is your family okay with that?

A: Yeah, I think so. I guess the only problem would be if, say, Adrienne doesn't have an outlet for herself. That's the kind of thing that I worry about. The things that she could say about me could be pretty horrifying.

Q: In what way are you a different songwriter now than you were on 39/Smooth and Kerplunk?

A: It goes in a way of, you know, what kind of person were you at sixteen, and what kind of person are you at twenty? It's almost like two different people in some aspects. I think that most of my stuff is based on infatuations with women. Some are just straight obsession. I mean, nowadays you could call me a stalker (laughs). The quest for that ultimate happiness with another person, which I think started to change, and it changed pretty dramatically with Kerplunk, because I started to talk about other things, like loss of innocence, going out on your own, moving out at the age of seventeen, being a high school dropout, living in west Oakland in a warehouse with fifteen people. Where the first record was more...mushy...the next one you could tell I was going through some pretty dramatic changes.

Q: So Dookie comes out, and where are you there?

A: I think I turned more bitter. I started to realize where my true friendships were, the politics of Berkeley were setting in, drug abuse was starting to fuck with me a little bit. I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me, but I couldn't really do it and that had a lot to do with drugs. I started to get a lot more bitter. Life wasn't how it was supposed to be when you're on your own. There's a couple of different songs on there...I mean, the psychoses that went into that record! Songs like "Basket Case" and "Coming Clean" were blatantly neurotic songs.

Q: That's messed up: amazing success, and it's your bitterness you're being celebrated for.

A: I don't know. It's funny because I feel that once you write a song, and then record it, and then release it, it doesn't necessarily belong to you anymore. I mean, you can hold that piece of work closer to you than anybody else can, and that was one of the big problems for a while. I felt so misunderstood all the time. Which goes with the territory, anyway, of writing songs. Because nobody really understands what the hell you're talking about. Other people have interpretations of whatever, figure out their own plot, make it fit to the soundtrack of their own lives. It messed with me a little bit, 'cause people didn't know where I came from, people didn't know where I came from, people didn't really know what I stood for. People calling us a throwback to 1977, I guess I got affected by that. Because punk rock is a lifestyle for me, and has nothing to do with 1977 or any particular band, but the relationship that you had with and the amount of work that you put into your local scene. And it gets completely misinterpreted as trying to make a buck.

Q: It wasn't a fashion statement, it was a lifestyle.

A: Yeah, a lot of people took it as a fashion statement, even to the point where I think a lot of people thought we were the '90s equivalent of Sha Na Na or something. Some of that's kind of funny, whatever. But now I sort of don't care. No one's gonna understand it anyway. The whole success or fame thing was so new to me at the time, it came so abruptly, and I was like, wow, this is too much. I didn't know all this baggage was connected to all this shit. I thought I'd just have the opportunity to play my songs for people.

Q: Is that why the new album is as different as it is, because you're just doing what you want to do, you don't have to be what people thought you were, or even what you thought you were?

A: I think so. That might have something to do with it. I think when you stop caring and worrying about what people think, even stop caring what you think of yourself to a certain extent, and just sort of do it, it's a release to push your past behind you. I think that's when the best stuff comes out. And, of course, when you're forging ahead really hard. I think this time our songs are much more than just things that you can listen to, but actually visualize at the same time. It's like this guy told me the other day, this friend of mine, he goes, you know I was listening to that song "Platypus," and I can totally imagine this big western stampede of horses and cows. And that, for me, is exactly what I was thinking. Not that I was thinking of a stampede, you know, but that kind of quality.

Q: So you communicated an image and a feeling.

A: Exactly.

Q: Of any of your songs, do you have a favorite?

A: Lately, I like "Walking Alone" and "Uptight" I've been into. My mind changes all the time.

Q: Let's talk about one of those. What are the circumstances around a song like "Walking Alone?"

A: I play in this side project band called Pinhead Gunpowder. This guy Aaron Elliot writes all the lyrics and a lot of the music. And he wrote this song called "I Walk Alone," which is about walking at night, the streets, being a street punk. And so I wrote...I don't know what you'd call it -- an alter ego song? -- called "Walking Alone."

Q: An answer song?

A: Yeah, cause we always work in that sort of way. I wrote a song called "She," so he wrote an article in his fanzine called "She." It's kind of funny, it's really good to bounce things off of each other. So "Walking Alone" and "I Walk Alone" were sort of the same thing. I think Tom Petty could play that song. It's got that harmonica and the big smashing snare sound on it. But it was the first time I ever played harmonica. I can't play harmonica at all. I had to teach myself how to play that.

Q: Hey, you did great.

A: Oh, thanks. We actually tried to get a studio musician to play it, but I think he was a little too hobo for us.

Q: Smelled bad?

A: Actually, he had almost too much soul for it. He was too good at what he did. And I wanted it to come across more loosely. Not as good, I guess. So I played it.

Q: It's not a confident song, or a song about confidence. "Sometimes I need to apologize/sometimes I need to admit that I ain't right."

A: It's sort of like sticking your foot in your mouth sometimes, and thinking out loud, but the lyric changes. It turns into talking about friends and how they change and your friends either become lawyers or the local town drunks.

Q: Any advice for people writing who want to be hit songwriters?

A: Oh God, I don't know. Don't take advice from anybody.

#'The things that she could say about me could be pretty horrifying'#yeah i bet #interview #article #articles #billie joe armstrong

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