#I’ll probably write the full fic tonight lol

[gojonanami]

thinking about tending to nanami’s burn wounds after shibuya and helping him change his bandages and he’s somewhat self-conscious and afraid of you seeing them, trying to insist on having Shoko change them. But you want to help. you couldn’t help him in that fight but you can help him now. and as he relents, he asks you if you think any different of him — he wouldn’t blame you. and to his surprise, you press a light kiss to his bandaged cheek, and tilt your head, as you smile, “they only make me love you more.”

and he knew, more than ever, he wanted to marry you.

and he would.

[belqva]

₊˚⊹౨ THE MORNING (R.C.) ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: drugs, alcohol, toxic friends, intoxication, language, dealing, one mention of reader skipping meals

summary: At a wild party, you confront a tense reunion with Rafe Cameron, your best friends ex, while reluctantly buying drugs for a friend. The events of the night leave you more confused than ever.

pairing: rafe cameron x female!reader

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I definitely wanted this to be longer but oh what can I do 😔🖐️ it’s becoming a habit of mine to write fics and leave them on a cliffhanger lol sorry !! I feel like it gives me motivation that I’ll write a sequel in the future yk? Anyway the reader is in a really toxic female friend group and two of the girls are named Taylor and Anya but you can just ignore that if u want to <33 as always I hope u enjoy!!🤍

The overwhelming smell of weed, alcohol, and expensive, overly lavish perfume filled the dimly lit room of the massive mansion hosting another one of the infamous Friday night parties. A party isn’t a party without booze and molly, right? Some spoiled rich kid was celebrating nothing in particular, just throwing a party because they could. The entire house was packed with girls in their skimpiest outfits and boys flaunting wristwatches that probably cost more than your monthly salary. You could barely hear yourself think as loud trap music pounded over the constant chatter and drunken shouting. The dim house flickered with occasional strobe lights, the only real illumination being from the ceiling light, modified to shift between dark blue and red.

It wasn’t really your scene. You weren’t a party animal or particularly popular. You hovered somewhere between the Pogue and Kook worlds. Your family wasn’t exactly poor, but they didn’t have enough money to land you the "full Kook" status either. However, most of your friends were full-on Kooks—girls who got Range Rovers for their sixteenth birthdays. You had known them since kindergarten, and despite your differences, you’d tagged along with them throughout middle and high school. You fit in well enough, thanks to your natural looks and careful attention to fashion—even if it meant skipping meals to buy a nice dress.

So here you were, like many Friday nights before, out with the same group of girls. Most of them were either drunk, high, or both. The only one who wasn’t fully wasted was Anya. She was the closest thing your group had to a leader and the main reason you hadn’t been kicked out of their tight-knit circle. Anya was smart and stunningly gorgeous, with her silky blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was effortlessly perfect in a way that made everyone want to be her. And, as you’d noticed tonight, she was completely off her game.

She sat beside you on the expensive beige couch, her mood noticeably different from usual. She’d had a few shots and maybe smoked a little, but nothing more—uncharacteristic for her at a party like this. Concern tugged at you, and you leaned toward her.

"Is everything okay, Ani?" you asked, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders and resting your chin on her.

She shrugged, her icy blue eyes avoiding yours. Anya was wearing a pink tube top, a mini leather skirt, and platform heels—an outfit far too gorgeous for a casual party. It was obvious she was dressing to impress someone. You knew her well enough to see that something was wrong.

"Come on, tell me," you pressed, trying to lighten the mood. "Future Anya will be mad if I don’t cheer you up because, as you’d say, 'we only have a limited number of Friday nights in our short youth.'"

Anya cracked a small smile. "Yeah, you’re right," she said softly, "she would be mad."

"So, what’s going on?" you asked again. "You can tell me. I won’t say anything to the others."

She hesitated, fidgeting with her fingers. You watched her closely, sensing her inner turmoil. Finally, she sighed. "Did you see who's selling the sugar tonight?" she asked quietly, referring to the drugs.

You shook your head. "No, I haven’t really walked around much." You felt uneasy. The last thing you wanted to get involved in was drugs, even if most of your friends were on a first-name basis with dealers.

Anya bit her lip. "It’s Rafe."

Your heart skipped a beat. Rafe Cameron. The name brought back a flood of memories. He was the golden boy, the heartbreaker, and for a while, he was Anya’s. They had dated for a few months during senior year, and she had been head over heels for him. But Rafe had shattered her heart, and she had never fully recovered. Now it made sense why she was acting out of character tonight.

"Rafe’s here?" you asked, not sure how to feel about the revelation.

Before Anya could answer, Taylor—one of the drunker members of your group—stumbled over and collapsed into your lap, giggling uncontrollably. You caught her before she fell completely, but the interruption was enough to break the moment between you and Anya.

Anya’s expression hardened immediately, her walls going back up. "Great," she muttered under her breath, getting up from the couch abruptly. "I’m going to get a drink."

"Anya—" you started, but she was already weaving through the crowd.

Taylor, oblivious to the tension, grinned up at you. "Why so serious, babe?" she slurred, patting your cheek playfully. "Come on, have some fun!"

You sighed, helping her sit up properly. "Maybe later," you mumbled. Your mind was still on Anya, on Rafe. You couldn’t just let it go. If he was the one dealing tonight, no wonder Anya was upset.

As if reading your mind, Taylor handed you a crumpled hundred-dollar bill. "Can you grab something for me? He won’t sell to me anymore, I’ve been back too many times."

Normally, you would’ve refused. But this was your chance to figure out what was really going on. "Yeah, sure," you said, standing up.

"Really? You?" Taylor blinked, surprised at your sudden willingness. "Well, okay! Don’t get lost, babe," she teased, giving you a playful shove.

Ignoring her, you made your way through the crowd toward the back of the mansion where the drug deals usually went down. Your heart pounded in your chest as you neared the area. And then, there he was — Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was seated at a table surrounded by his usual entourage. His shirt was crisp and white, his hair neatly shaved, and he looked more muscular than you remembered. He had a dark, commanding presence, the kind that made it hard to look away. He was cutting lines of powder, expertly dividing them into neat little baggies.

You swallowed hard, your nerves on edge. This was a bad idea, but there was no turning back now.

As you approached the table, Rafe’s sharp blue eyes locked onto you, freezing you in place. He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting you.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was cold, and for a moment, you wished you could disappear.

"I—uh—I’m here to buy," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the music.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, scanning you from head to toe. You felt vulnerable under his gaze, like he could see straight through you. After a tense moment, he leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Since when do you do this shit?" he asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.

"I don’t," you blurted. "It’s not for me. One of my friends asked me to—"

Rafe cut you off, holding up a hand. "Let me guess. Taylor?"

You nodded, feeling even more ridiculous. Why was he making this so hard?

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Of course. Always sending someone else to do her dirty work." He leaned forward, his eyes still trained on you. "You shouldn’t be mixed up in this, Y/N."

His use of your name surprised you. You hadn’t thought he even knew who you were. "I—I’m not. I’m just doing a favor," you muttered.

Rafe reached for the hundred-dollar bill you were holding out, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. His touch was electric, sending a jolt through you that you weren’t expecting.

"Here’s the thing," Rafe said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don’t want to see you coming back here again. Got it?"

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. "What?"

Rafe leaned in closer, his gaze piercing. "This isn’t your scene. You don’t belong here, and trust me, you don’t want to get involved with people like me. Stay away from this stuff, Y/N."

You didn’t know how to respond. There was something unsettling about the way he was looking at you, something that made your pulse race for reasons you couldn’t explain. Was he really concerned about you? Or was this some twisted game he was playing?

Before you could say anything else, he handed you the tiny baggies. "Take this to Taylor. And remember what I said."

You nodded quickly, snatching the drugs and turning on your heel, eager to escape the intensity of his gaze. As you weaved your way back through the crowd, your mind was racing. What had just happened? Why had Rafe Cameron, of all people, decided to lecture you? And why did it feel like he cared?

Back at the couch, Taylor greeted you with a sloppy grin, grabbing the drugs from your hand. "You’re the best!" she slurred, not noticing the dazed look on your face.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. The way he had looked at you, the way his voice had dropped to a low, dangerous whisper—it all left you feeling more confused than ever. You shouldn’t care about him. He was trouble, the kind of trouble you had no business getting involved with.

Yet, deep down, you knew this wasn’t the last time you’d find yourself in front of Rafe Cameron.

-

The night drew on, but you couldn’t shake the encounter with Rafe. His words echoed in your mind, conflicting emotions pulling at you. You should have been worried about Anya, about her unresolved feelings for him, but your thoughts kept circling back to his piercing gaze, the way he warned you. It was almost as if he had seen you, really seen you, beyond just another party girl.

And that was dangerous.

© COPYRIGHT BELQVA 2024

SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!

THE PLOT OF OUTER BANKS OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS, EXCEPT FOR THE ONES CREATED BY ME, DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!

tags:

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another little focus on dad drei! no worries, we’re moving on to some smut and the early years of the relationship with the next few fics lol. hahah i literally did not think this would be done today but work was quiet so i got to write and post and be the superstitious bitch that i am. so here we go, posting right before i watch the isles/caps game (on tv this time). i love love love the headcanon prompts and i will 100% be getting to all of them at some point, so be on the lookout 🥰

word count: 2.3k

tw: nothing really, a little innuendo

summary: andrei took care of all four kids while you were out and you come home to delightful chaos

“Hey, Nykki, I’m at the door, I have to go,” you wedge your phone in between your shoulder and cheek and juggle your bags. “I hope D’s awake because my boobs are ready to explode.”

Your friend laughs on the other end of the line, “oh my god, better get inside then. I’ll talk to you later about coordinating the kids for game day this week.”

“Perfect! I know I said I wasn’t going to, but I’ll probably bring D along, like it’s just easier to strap him to my chest and go,” you shrug as you push the front door open. “Fourth kid problems, just have to come along everywhere. Thank god he sleeps anywhere.”

Nykki wishes her own youngest would sleep anywhere and says good-bye, promising to text later about the plans. You slide your phone into the back pocket of your jeans and step inside the house, immediately hit with the soundtrack to The Little Mermaid. The movie is blaring, echoing around the house. You set your bags on the floor and kick off your sneakers and pad into the den, the source of the movie’s noise.

The movie’s playing on the big screen TV, Ariel singing about wanting to be where the people are, and your husband and kids are sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. You giggle, muffling the noise behind your hand, when you get a good look at Andrei and the kids. The girls are in full princess regalia - Evie as Sleeping Beauty, Alina as Belle, and Kira as Rapunzel - the costume dresses swishing around as they move. Andrei has two pairs of fairy wings strapped to his back, the elastic armholes stretched to their limits. Dimitri is in his arms, draped face down over one of Andrei’s forearms, his little cheek squished to the side against the crook of Andrei’s elbow. You can see that the three-month-old is awake, watching his crazy big sisters dance around.

“Looks like I missed quite the party,” you tease, drawing four pairs of eyes to you. Andrei grins and you can’t stop the laughter that escapes when you see the smears of kid make-up all over his face. There are butterfly clips in his hair, holding back the overgrown strands in a haphazard style.

“Mommy!” Three little voices combine into one as they rush you, hugging at your legs.

“Hi, my little loves,” you lift Kira onto your hip and kiss the two older girls on top of their heads. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Daddy’s pretty,” Kira chips, smiling widely. Andrei laughs, adjusting Dimitri in his arms.

You smile a crinkle-eyed smile at Kira and agree, “Daddy’s really pretty.”

Evie pipes up, “he came to the salon today and got the works!” You smother a laugh because where did she even hear that?

“He needs to look pretty because he’s got a date tonight,” Alina chimes in and you lift an eyebrow at your husband and kids.

“Oh, a big date, huh?” You tease. “She must be someone special, for you to go to the salon for the works.”

Andrei nods, the glittery eyeshadow smeared across the top half of his face catching the light, “the most special. She’s the love of my life.”

Your stomach flutters with butterflies, still affected by this man after all these years. Just when you think you can’t love him more, you come home to this sight, Andrei with your babies surrounding him and being the best dad in the world. Tears well up in your eyes and you wonder if the postpartum hormones are still wreaking havoc. You wipe at your eyes with the side of your index finger and grin. “Well,” you pause, still emotional, “I think she’s just going to love what your stylists have done.”

“Mommy,” Evie whispers, looking at you like she feels bad that you’re so dumb, “Daddy’s date is you!”

“Oh!” You fake gasp, making Kira giggle. “Really? You guys got Daddy all fancied up for me?”

Alina cracks up, dancing around the couch cushions that have somehow ended up on the floor. “Daddy says that he’s takin’ you to dinner tonight and me an’ Evie said we needed to make him pretty ‘cause you get pretty before dinner. I did his yipstick!”

You love the way she mispronounces words and have basically forbidden anyone from correcting her. “I love his yipstick,” you tell her seriously. The hot pink smudged all around his lips is probably going to stain his face and beard, but he puckers his lips at you, making kissing noises.

“Tell Mommy that she should kiss me,” Andrei says. “I’ll share the yipstick with her.”

Alina’s mispronunciation in his accent makes you laugh and the girls tug at your hands, chanting “kiss Daddy! Kiss Daddy!” Unable to resist your kids and the prospect of an Andrei kiss, you lean down, holding Kira with one arm and cupping Andrei’s cheek with the other hand so you can kiss him chastely. One of his hands reaches out to curl around your thigh, squeezing gently. He laughs when you pull back, “hot pink is your color.”

“Mommy’s pretty now!” Kira giggles, patting your cheek. You press a smacking kiss to her cheek, blowing a little raspberry and she shrieks with laughter. There’s a hot pink smudge on her cheek now too.

Andrei looks between you and Kira and his eyes twinkle with mischief. “I think that Ev and Alya need some yipstick too,” he says and reaches out with his free hand to pull Evie in close. He kisses her cheeks and forehead, making her laugh, and getting kiss marks on her skin.

You do the same to Alina, who struggles and fights like she’s fighting for her life. Her laughter is the only sign that she’s enjoying the kiss attack. “No, Mommy! No more kisses!” She wiggles away from you, grinning her little gap-toothed smile. You love that little smile.

Dimitri babbles in Andrei’s arms and you feel bad because you had almost forgotten about him while you were teasing Andrei - that seems to be a negative of being the fourth kid. But now that he’s made his presence known, your overly-full boobs ache a little and you remember exactly what you needed to do when you came inside, before you were distracted by Andrei’s makeover. You settle Kira on the couch and she immediately slides off to run after her big sisters where they’re performing a little show in front of the TV, giving you and Andrei a minute to breathe.

“Give me my baby,” you say. Andrei hands him over and gets to his feet, shaking out the arm that Dimitri had been resting on. He struggles to get his arms out of the fairy wings, getting tangled in the two pairs for a second before finally freeing himself. He folds them carefully and sets the costume pieces on the couch. You cuddle the baby close and shift him to one arm so you can pull down the neck of your shoulder and pop one boob out of the top of your bra. Once Dimitri is comfortably latched, you head for the kitchen, needing just a little privacy because the girls are way too honest with what they see around the house. You’re not really looking for a commentary on your pancake boobs right now.

“Feeling a little more steady?” Andrei asks quietly, kissing the top of your head when you sit down on one of the counter stools. He moves around the kitchen easily, making you a turkey and cheese sandwich as you talk.

“Mhm,” you hum, watching him move. After an overwhelming few days with Andrei on the road, he’d noticed that you were short-tempered this morning and ushered you out the door, reassuring you that he would handle the kids for a few hours while you did whatever you wanted. “I needed to get out of the house without eight little hands attached to me.” You chuckle a little, but the sensation of being touched out is definitely a real thing.

“Good,” he says, licking the mustard off the butter knife when he’s done with it. You hate that habit of his - one day he’s going to slice his tongue off and then where will you both be? “You look calmer.”

You shrug a bit. “Looks like you had everything handled,” you say and it’s not even a tease, because the house has definitely looked worse when it’s just you and the kids.

Andrei sets the sandwich in front of you and you take a huge bite, starving. “I ran them around outside for a bit,” he says. “The play set got a lot of use and Alina tried to swing herself to the moon. Dimka was getting cranky out in the cold though, so we came inside, had some lunch. The girls wanted to watch a movie and Evie wanted me to paint her nails. Which turned into this,” he grins, gesturing vaguely at his face and hair with one hand.

“I really like that,” you reply, waving your free hand in front of his face in the same vague gesture. “And what’s that I heard about taking Mommy on a date, Mister Svechnikov?”

His eyes twinkle dangerously and he leans forward, palms flat on the counter, veins in his forearms bulging. The glittery makeup and hair clips really should ruin the image, but only add to his appeal. “Daddy,” his voice deepens and grows raspy, “wants to take care of Mommy and show her how much he appreciates everything she does for the family.”

Your thighs clench together instinctively, a rush of warmth filling your body. Your cheeks heat up and you chew on your lower lip. “I like the sound of that,” you whisper, casting a glance over your shoulder at the girls. They’re totally absorbed in the movie, little mouths hanging open and eyes wide and focused.

Andrei smirks at you, cradling your jaw in one hand and titling your chin up so he can lean down and kiss you. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip and your mouth falls open for him. His thumb and index finger tighten around your chin gently and you squirm in your seat, letting out a soft gasp. Dimitri stabs at your chest with those sharp baby fingernails and you yelp, pulling back. “Ow,” you grumble, squinting down at the baby. It’s not like he was getting squished in between the two of you.

“Spoilsport,” Andrei jokes, brushing the tip of his finger over the slope of the baby’s nose. Dimitri wrinkles his nose and his mouth falls off your breast with a little pop. “Whoops,” Andrei winces and you quickly shuffle around, switching him to the other boob before he can start to cry.

“Crisis averted,” you sigh at the relief of the baby eating. Your breasts already feel less achy. “So, where are we going on this date?”

Andrei helps you get your other breast back in your bra, taking an extra few seconds to fondle you, your sensitive nipples reacting to the touch of his fingers. “I thought the new Greek place downtown,” he says.

“That sounds like a fantastic plan,” you grin, already thinking of how delicious the food is going to be. A thought occurs to you. “Who’s watching the kids?”

“Marty and Nykki,” Andrei replies, a smug smile frown on your face when he sees the implication dawn on your face.

“You had this planned? Nykki didn’t say anything when I was talking to her earlier!” You laugh at the surprise. “They’re going to watch our four and their two?”

Andrei nods. “I asked them two days ago and they’re happy to chip in. Half the kids should be asleep by the time they get here anyway,” he leans in to kiss you sweetly. “I told you, solnyshka, I want to show you how much I appreciate the sacrifice you make during the season. A little planning ahead is nothing.”

“Drei,” your voice catches on emotion, “you’re the best husband. Honestly, what did I do to deserve you?”

“You’re just you,” he replies simply. “My best friend, love of my life, mother to the best kids in the world.”

“Stop it,” you cry, waving a hand at him. “I just stopped feeling like I’m going to cry at everything. Don’t be so sweet to me.”

He laughs and grabs your hand out of the air, squeezing your hand gently before kissing the tips of your fingers. “Would it help if I said I wanted to get you pregnant again soon?” His smile is cheeky and you know he’s not entirely joking.

You scoff, wiping at the last of your tears. “Yes, that does help, you lunatic neanderthal,” you deadpan.

“I’m not kidding,” he says. “I think the boys are outnumbered here, Dimka needs a brother.” He traces the tip of his index finger over the lines on your palm.

It is something you’ve wondered about, but not really discussed, whether Andrei would want to give your son a little brother. It’s not an entirely terrible thought. The Svechnikov Brothers, 2.0. Splitting time watching hockey in two different cities in another eighteen years. Following in Dad and Uncle Geno’s footsteps.

You shake your head. Nope, that has to be the baby hormones talking.

“Let’s see just how good dinner is and then we’ll talk,” you say faintly. Dimitri grumbles in your arms, done eating and ready to be burped. Andrei takes him while you fix yourself up and he knows exactly what he’s doing - displaying extreme paternal expertise and looking downright edible with the tiny baby in his arms. Damn him.

“Mommy! Alina said a bad word!”

“I did not! All I said was stupid head! That’s not a bad word! Evie’s a bad word!”

You look at Andrei with a raised eyebrow. “You want to add a fifth kid to this?”

“Why not?” He grins back, showing off his stupid dimple. “We make cute kids.”

“Alina,” you call back, shaking your head at Andrei and trying to tamp down a smile, “stupid head is not a nice word and it’s especially not nice to call your sisters stupid.”

[oldiesstationlover11607]

BROO I saw you want to write MCR fics can you please do anything involving the Danger Days characters x reader?? I'd be so happy if you did<3

Girl - Party Poison x Reader

Warnings: bit of angst lol

Word Count: 1853

A/N: Hello! I wrote this last year and thought I'd revive it so hopefully this is decent :) Enjoy! Hopefully you'll request something else :)

“What time did Dr. D’s broadcast start again?” Fun Ghoul shouted from outside the diner. He had been out there for nearly an hour, working on the Trans-AM—our car.

“7:30,” I called back. “Party’s out with Jet getting the bonfire set up. The Girl’s taking a nap, but she’s bringing the radio.” Kobra and I had been sitting inside the diner at one of our favorite tables, sketching in the notebook we bought last week from Tommy Chow Mein.

“You know, the Girl thinks you don’t like her,” Kobra mentioned as he sketched a draculoid. “She told me last night during our late-night chat. I think you should tell her the truth.” He knew I wouldn’t, though.

“Did she really say that?” I looked up from my drawing, feeling upset and disappointed. Kobra nodded. “You know I like her. It’s just… weird. I don’t know how to act around her, K. What did you tell her?”

“I told her you do like her, but you show it differently than the rest of us,” Kobra replied with a knowing smile.

“Good. I do like her. Probably more than all you killjoys,” I muttered, looking back down at my drawing.

“Ugh, this damn car won’t hold paint for longer than three days in this radiation!” Ghoul yelled, kicking the ground in frustration.

“Just wait for Jet to get back, Ghoul,” Kobra shouted back. “They’re gonna be here any minute.” Jet always knew what to do with the Trans-AM. It was his car, after all.

“Who’s gonna be back any minute?” a voice rang from the garage. Party Poison, with his fiery red hair, ran into the diner, grinning. Jet Star followed close behind, walking into the back room where the Girl slept.

“Party!” I smiled, jumping up and running into his arms. He hugged me tightly, pressing his lips to my forehead.

“Hey, baby. Did Kobra take good care of you?” Party asked, glancing over at his brother.

“He sure did. We just did some drawing, nothing too wild,” Kobra laughed.

“Guys, the sun’s about to set. Can we get going?” Ghoul called from outside again.

“Yeah, we’re coming. I’ll grab the Girl,” Kobra said, heading into the back room.

“See any dracs?” I asked Party as we walked toward the car.

“Not really. A few in the distance, but we’ll be fine tonight. We always take shifts,” he said, full of energy, as usual. That was why he led us—he kept us together and safe with that boundless drive.

“There she is!” Ghoul grinned as Kobra, Jet, and the Girl got into the car. “How you doing?” Kobra and the Girl climbed into the back with Party and me, while Ghoul and Jet took the front. The car was built for four, but if I sat on Party’s lap, Kobra could squeeze the Girl in next to him, allowing us all to fit. 

“I’m sleepy, but I’m ready to party tonight!” she beamed up at Kobra.

Those two had always been close. The Girl’s mom was my sister. Not that she knew that. Her mom left as soon as the Girl was born, post-Analog Wars, never telling us who the father was. Both of us had been captured by BLI and stuck in Battery City. We escaped and reached the desert just a week after she found out she was pregnant. No one had ever asked about the father. None of us wanted to know the horrors Better Living put her through. After we arrived, Kobra looked after the Girl while Party and I grew close. The others liked her, loved spending time with her, but I struggled. She was too much like her mom. I couldn’t stand watching my niece act and look just like her mother—it killed me. That’s why Party was always by my side. He knew how I felt.

“That’s great ‘cause we’re definitely ready too,” Jet smiled as we arrived at our spot. The sun finally set, leaving the desert peaceful and dark. The bonfire crackled as we got out of the car, Kobra holding the Girl’s hand. She smiled, looking happy, clutching the small boombox she’d decorated the night before.

“Wait!” Party whispered, quickly pulling out his blaster. I followed his gaze over the sand dune. Korse.

“Fuck,” I muttered, pulling out my neon purple blaster.

“This is gonna suck the life out of me. There are dracs everywhere,” Jet said, scanning the area. Blaster rays lit up the air, striking the sand and the Trans-AM. Ghoul and Jet opened fire, taking out as many dracs as they could.

“Keep the Girl safe, Kobra!” I shouted as I ran. Korse went after me first—he knew exactly who I was. Jet got knocked out by a drac with a bottle, but Fun Ghoul kept firing, then ran to check on him. Party charged toward Korse, aiming his blaster, but had to retreat when he got shot at. Two dracs grabbed my arms, holding me back as Korse stood there, smug.

“Your little girl is coming with us, Y/N,” Korse sneered, using my real name—one I hadn’t heard since I left the city. “I don’t want to hurt you, but we don’t have much of a choice.”

“You’re not taking her!” I struggled against the dracs. “We won’t let you!”

“We?” Korse smirked. “You and your little band of Killjoys? Look around—they’re all down. You’re lucky we haven’t killed anyone yet.” The dracs dragged the Girl over, and she kicked and screamed.

A yellow ray cut through the air, dropping the dracs holding me. Party. He was alive.

“Party Poison! Get the Girl to the car!” Korse shouted as the surviving draculoids swarmed her. Party dodged Korse’s shots, inching closer. I managed to break free, fumbling to pull out my blaster. But Korse was faster, firing at me and missing deliberately. I dashed toward the others, watching as Party and Korse exchanged fire, each dodging the other’s shots. Finally, Korse knocked Party’s mask into the sand, then made his escape, driving off in the Trans-AM.

“Party? Are you okay?” I asked, crawling over to him. He lay motionless, not making a sound. “Party!” I screamed. For a second, I thought he was dead. I felt like I might throw up.

“Vinyl, I’m okay,” he groaned, reaching out to hold my hand.

“You saved me back there… You didn’t have to. You could’ve been killed—”

“I’ll always choose you. You should know that by now,” he chuckled weakly, coughing as he sat up.

“Jet, Ghoul, you guys okay?” I called, helping Party to his feet.

“I’m alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ghoul groaned, rubbing his back. His vest had a fresh smoking hole where he’d been hit.

“Me too,” Jet called, grabbing his blaster. I looked over at the Trans-AM, where Kobra lay unconscious. Party rushed over to his brother, helping him sit up as Jet fetched some water. Once we were sure Kobra was okay, the weight of what had just happened hit me. I felt sick.

One minute I was standing in the desert, and the next, everything went black. The last thing I saw was Party running toward me before I collapsed into someone’s arms.

Bright lights. The diner. Party lying next to me. Kobra sitting above us. The Girl. Gone. I sat up as fast as I could, obviously scaring the hell out of Party, who fell off the mattress.

“The Girl! Kobra, where is she?” I shouted, looking around, tears burning in my eyes. “Where is she!?” I screamed. A pair of arms wrapped around me, holding me back. Jet and Fun ran into the room, worried looks on their faces.

“Shit, is she okay?” Fun asked, sitting next to Kobra, who shook his head.

“Where is she? I’m going to kill you, Kobra,” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. He just sat there, expressionless.

“Hush, calm down, Vinyl. Breathe,” I heard Party say softly. I looked up and found him, kissing my temple.

“I won’t be calm, Party! She’s gone. My—my niece. She thinks I hate her. She’s my only family, and she doesn’t even know it. She’s like my daughter,” I wept.

“Don’t you think she’s like my daughter too, Vinyl? I spend all my time with the Girl, trying to convince her that you don’t hate her,” Kobra muttered. He had no right to say that to me. My sister might’ve loved him, and I might love his brother, but he was supposed to protect her. He was in charge of her.

“I’m going to get her,” I tried to wriggle out of Party’s arms, but he held me tighter. “Let me go, P. I’m calm,” I said, looking at him.

“You’re not going to get her. We’re going to make a plan. Together. In a few days, we’ll find her and bring her back. In the meantime, we’ll take shifts to look after you. I’m not letting you stay up alone, and I know you’re not going to sleep—not after this,” Party said as he gently let me go, helping me sit down on our shared mattress.

“We’ll find her, Vinyl. I promise,” Kobra said, sitting down next to me. “It’s going to be okay. And if we don’t find her, then we’ll end up dusted trying.” He wiped the tears from my face before getting up and heading into the diner with Jet and Fun to start planning.

Party lay down next to me, facing me. I stayed quiet, lost in my thoughts. She thinks I hate her. She doesn’t even know we’re family. She’s probably so scared. They’re probably experimenting on her right now.

“Vinyl, breathe. She’s going to be okay. We raised her right. She knows how to look after herself,” he said, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“She thinks I hate her, Party. I can’t live knowing that she thinks I hate her,” I murmured, pressing my face into his chest. He pulled me closer.

“She knows you love her, V. I know she does. We were just talking a few days ago about you. She was asking about us, about you. Asked what you were like before she arrived. Asked if you and I were in love with each other. She notices everything between us, everything about you. Kobra and I sat her down, and we had a big conversation about you. Told her that you did like her but that she reminded you of someone you lost. The Girl understood, V. She understood. And I know she still does. She knows we’re going to come for her,” he said, cupping my face and making me look into his eyes.

“God, how is it that you always know exactly what to say to me, Party Poison? It’s like you’re made for me,” I smiled.

“Because we are made for each other,” he said, pressing his lips to my forehead and wrapping his arms around me affectionately. “We’re going to find her, V, I promise. And when we do, we’re going to tell her the truth about who she is.”

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[danielfuckingricciardo]

All I Want For Christmas Is You - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Pairing - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (University AU)

Word Count - probably around 3k ish?

Content Warnings - swearing, smutty references, but just fluff

Synopsis - You and Daniel had been dancing around one another all year, and so at the Christmas party hosted by your lecturers, he finally decides to make a move via your favourite obscure Christmas song.

Author’s Note - I don’t write a lot of AU fics, except for the massive one that will be coming your way in the new year!! Keep your eyes peeled for that!! But this goes out to all my fellow former emo kids. Congrats, you made it, though like me you probably still have some MCR in your Spotify playlists. Anyways, enjoy this one, and I’m sorry it wasn’t actually posted on the day I said I would post it! I am battling against the seasonal plague (I have a sore throat) and so I got an early night last night instead of staying awake to write till 2am lol 😂

Inspired by the My Chemical Romance cover of Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas is You

You had only begrudgingly agreed to attend the Christmas party your lecturers had arranged to celebrate the festive season. All of your favourite outfits were stashed away in your laundry bag ready to take home, allowing you to take advantage of your parents’ washing and drying facilities. After all, the laundry room was always full, and it never really left your clothes smelling right, and you had to pay £7.50 for the privilege.

But your friend Yasmine had dragged you out shopping as she searched for an outfit for the party, and so when you spotted that one outfit in the window, you thought ‘fuck it’ and drained your bank account to almost empty. It wouldn’t be until January when your next student loan dropped, but you wouldn’t exactly be spending much while stuck back at home.

Besides, the party would be your last chance to see Daniel before you all left, travelling across the country, and in his case, across the world to spend Christmas with your families.

It was your second year of university, and the small group of students who hadn’t dropped out during first year were all eager to celebrate and say goodbye, especially to your lecturers who were all pretty chill and had become like friends themselves throughout the past semester.

The group chat had been filled with people sharing their eager anticipation for tonight, letting you know who would be bringing what drinks, who would be hosting pre’s and afters at their flat, and all manner of other things.

George had been the one to organise most things, after all, he was the most eager to say goodbye, having to return home to his stuffy home in the country where the only company would be cows and the odd sheep for the Christmas season. He wanted the first half of the year to go out with a bang, and so, you found yourself pressing the buzzer to the gate to be allowed into the boys’ flat to get a little drunk, before going out to get even more drunk, and then returning again to get progressively drunker and to inevitably end up passing out on the sofa again.

“Who goes there?” The voice on the intercom says, and you roll your eyes.

“George, for fucks sake, do we have to answer three riddles before you’ll let us in? It’s fucking freezing out here.” Yasmine says, and you chuckle, pulling your jacket tighter around your body to protect yourself from the cold winter air.

“Not this time, I’ve had too many to think of a riddle, never mind three. I’ll buzz you in, Daniel’ll be down to let you in.” George says, and the gate beeps, slowly swinging open.

You walk over to block B, your heels clicking on the ground as you walk past a group of students sharing a spliff.

“Alright?” Daniel says, his head peeking around the door.

“I’m fucking freezing and these shoes are hurting already.” Yasmine says, pushing past Daniel into the warm corridor of their building.

“I’d lend you mine, but I think they’d be too big for you. But hey, you know what they say about men with big feet?” Daniel says, a cocky smile on his lips as you enter the building.

“Big socks?” You respond quickly, as he guides you down the corridor towards their flat.

“You betcha.” He says, and he opens the door, which was already leaking sounds of voices and some pop song you didn’t recognise.

The boys all cheer as you enter the kitchen, setting down the bottle of vodka you had been carrying onto the counter.

“Ah, you legend!” George exclaims, “you want a drink?”

“Sure!” You respond, and George pours a large measure of cheap vodka into a plastic cup, topping it off with some coke.

“I’m taking my shoes off, they hurt like a bitch, no one look at my feet!” Yasmine yells, steadying herself on your shoulder as she pops off both shoes.

“Be careful, Lando has a foot fetish.” Daniel says, and the boys erupt into laughter.

“I do not! Besides, I’ve seen your feet enough to put me off them even if I did.” Lando says, poking Daniel in the chest.

“So you admit, you did have a foot fetish.” Daniel says, his head tilted slightly as Lando turns a dark shade of red.

“No matter what I say, I’m not gonna look good after this, am I?” Lando says, turning to you with a chuckle.

“No, he’s backed you into a corner there, Lan.” You say, rolling your eyes at Daniel as you pat Lando on the shoulder to put him at ease.

You throw yourself down on the sofa next to Charles, whose head was buried in some textbook you vaguely recognise.

“The grind never stops, eh Charles?” You ask him, and he looks over at you.

“It’s interesting! I was just getting to the end of this chapter before I joined in with whatever those idiots are doing.” Charles says, his eyes returning to the page and scanning quickly downwards.

“I’ll go and pour you a drink, you’re going to need it if the music playing in here gets any worse.” You say, standing up and wandering over to the counter.

The rest of the guys were already several drinks in, and George was trying to convince Alex to try the local IPA he was drinking by describing the taste in excessive detail. Alex was smiling and nodding along, but clearly checked out of the conversation. George had simply had too many drinks already to notice.

The boys flat consisted of George, Daniel, Lando, Alex, Charles and Max. The six of them had decided to live together following the first year after all hating their original housemates. They had asked you and Yasmine to join too, but you decided against it, instead opting for a small two bedroom flat a few streets away, ‘the boring flat’ the boys had dubbed it. You were sure they would have driven you crazy, just spending time with them during lectures was enough, and you didn’t fancy having to put up with their antics 24/7.

You had however ended up sleeping on their sofa more than once as the club you often frequented was right next door, and the boys were always far too drunk to walk you home. But you found that Daniel was always sober enough to pass you a blanket each and every time. The blanket that smelled just like him, and your drunk self would often wrap up within it and pretend he was right beside you.

It was so embarrassing, but you had a big crush on Daniel. You had from the first day you met him, when he showed up in his ripped black skinny jeans and Bring Me The Horizon t-shirt, with chipped black polish on his habitually-chewed fingernails. He liked all the same bands as you, he played guitar, and he had a wicked sense of humour. To you, he ticked all the boxes, he was perfect. You just wished that he felt the same way about you.

Daniel wasn’t one to shy away from flirtation, and received a lot of attention from the other people on your course, and he always managed to pull someone whenever you went out. You minded, of course you did, but what could you say? You’d only make a fool of yourself. So you would just glance at him every so often, his tongue lodged down some other person’s throat in the club, and wish he’d see you that way. You wished he wanted to kiss you like that too.

What you didn’t see, was that whenever you turned away, he would look at you too. Knowing that whoever he may or may not go home with that night wouldn’t be you. But you weren’t interested in him, right? You were just a friend, a friend with their life together who was so much better than he was in every respect. You’d never waste your time with someone like him.

“Lando’s playlists are shit, aren’t they?” Daniel says as he slides in next to you at the counter.

“You know I prefer something a little heavier, but you know how it was when we dragged everyone to emo night… They did nothing but complain and then went for a kebab at 2am.” You say as you empty the remainder of the cheap vodka into Charles’ cup.

“True, I started playing Slipknot earlier and they threatened to go on cleaning strike unless I turned it off. And no song is worth being forced to clean Max’s jizz off the shower screen without moral support.” Daniel says, and you burst into laughter.

“And you wonder why I didn’t want to live with you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes as you top up Charles’ cup with sprite.

“Did someone say my name?” Max says as he enters the kitchen, a vodka red bull in hand.

“No, no, must have been the song.” Daniel says, firing a quick wink in your direction before taking a sip of his own drink.

“Yo, Charles, time to get drinking, you’re lagging behind!” You say, leaning over the back of the sofa to pass Charles the cup.

Charles sets his book down beside him and takes a sip, his mouth twisting as the drink which was mostly vodka hits his palette.

“Did you actually put any mixer in there? Fuck.” Charles says, his face still slightly twisted.

“It’s the (y/n) special, 3 parts vodka to one part sprite. You need to catch up with the rest of us.” You say, and Daniel laughs beside you.

“We are going to a Christmas party with our lecturers in ten minutes, you know? I don’t think we want to be pissed before we get there, might not be the best impression, eh?” Charles says.

“I think it might be too late for that.” Daniel says, gesturing over and Alex and George who were already considerably drunk.

“Well, we’d better get going anyway. Yasmine, get your shoes back on. Alex, Lando, scrape up what’s left of George from the sofa. Charles, down that drink. Max and Daniel, let’s go!” You say, grabbing your bag from the counter and holding the kitchen door open.

“Yes, ma’am.” Daniel says, saluting you mockingly as he squeezes by, his hand brushing yours for a split second as he does.

You managed to herd the boys into the university building and to the large room your lecturers had booked to host the Christmas party.

You were all offered a glass of Prosecco on arrival, which you took graciously and nursed as you talked to your lecturers about the previous semester.

“Next semester we’ll be doing the pairs presentation. We wanted to make it interesting, so we’re assigning the pairings.” Sebastian, the leader of the course says, and you nod your head.

“Any hints on who I’m partnered with? I’m not all that keen on surprises.” You say, tilting your head inquisitively.

“I’m not allowed to say names at this point, but if you list off some names I may nod if you say the correct one.” He says, and you rack your brain to try and guess who you might be paired with.

“Yasmine?” You say, and Sebastian remains still.

“Charles?” He doesn’t move.

“Max?” Sebastian takes a sip from his glass of red wine.

“Alex?” Yet again, no movement.

“Daniel?” You finally say, and Sebastian tilts his head up and down ever so slightly.

“Really? Why him?” You say, and Sebastian places his finger to his lips, shaking his head at you slightly.

“I thought you’d be stoked to be paired with someone of my level of genius.” Daniel says, appearing from behind you with two glasses in his hands.

“Eavesdropping, are we?” You say, waggling your finger at Daniel as you would a naughty child.

“Nope. I just have keen ears.” He says, a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll leave you two be. You’ll have a lot of work to be doing together after Christmas.” Sebastian says, before walking away to talk to some of the other students.

“Okay, so, you, me, a weed brownie, a PowerPoint presentation, and a perfectly curated playlist made by yours truly. Doesn’t that sound like the all-night library session from heaven?” Daniel says, and you roll your eyes at him.

“You see, this is why I’d rather be paired with Yasmine or Charles. They’d take the assignment seriously!” You say, downing the rest of the sparkling wine in your glass.

“Hey, doing things the Daniel way hasn’t failed me yet.” He says, gesturing openly with his hands.

“Yet being the operative word.” You fire back.

“Oh, you know you love me really, you big nerd.” He says, and how desperately you want to exclaim ‘yes! Yes I do love you! I want to kiss you and do lots of kinky sex things with you!’ But instead you roll your eyes again.

“Here, I have a spare, you want?” Daniel says, gesturing to you with the full glass of Prosecco in his left hand.

“Sure. God knows next semester I’m gonna need it.” You say as you take the glass and swallow half of the alcoholic beverage.

“Look, DJ Lando has taken control of the playlists here too. I think he’s actually playing his own stuff now.” Daniel says, pointing to where Lando and George are stood beside the speaker in the corner of the room.

“If he keeps up with this DJ shit then Yasmine might actually jump his bones later.” You say in Daniel’s ear and he looks at you with a shocked expression.

“Lando? Really?” He says rather too loudly, and you shush him.

“She loves a DJ. Now, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but apparently she had a lot of fun with a DJ when she was out in Thailand on her gap year. He still replies to every one of her Instagram stories.” You say, and Daniel laughs.

“Really? I didn’t have her down as the gap-year-romance type.”

“Well, she wasn’t, she just loves a guy with a big deck.” You say, lifting your glass to cover your laughter at your own stupid joke.

“What about you? I’m sure Charles would be down if you just asked him, y’know?” Daniel says, and you look at him, perplexed.

“Me and Charles? Please! What the fuck gave you that idea?” You say, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know, I suppose the way you always gravitate towards him whenever you visit.” Daniel says, suddenly seeming rather awkward.

“Usually it’s to ask him about what I missed when I snooze my alarm too many times before a 9am lecture.” You laugh, “no, but Charles is nice, he’s just not my type.”

“Oh really? So what is your type?” Daniel asks, and you tilt your head to appear deep in thought.

“Hmm.. I like a guy with a good sense of humour. Aesthetically, I like the tall, dark and handsome types, y’know? Also goth guys, goth guys are really hot. And they’re extra hot if they play guitar.” You say, and Daniel raises his eyebrow.

You feel your cheeks begin to heat up as Daniel leans in to say something in your ear, but he’s interrupted as Lando begins to play a Christmas song, and Alex and George steal him away to dance.

You take a seat on the edge of a table and watch on as everyone dances on the makeshift dance floor, swaying and singing along to the lyrics of that Ariana Grande Christmas song you couldn’t remember the title of.

Daniel pushes his way through the crowd as the song comes to the end and stands in front of you, blocking your view to the rest of the room.

“I put in a request with DJ Lando, this one’s for you. Dance with me?” Daniel says, offering you his hand for you to take.

“You know I don’t really do Christmas songs.” You say, shaking your head at him.

“Oh, I know you like this one.” He says, and you hear that familiar voice begin to play over the speaker system, and gasp. He remembered? But how would he remember such a trivial thing as that from last year?

“Okay, I’ll dance with you.” You say, taking his hand and walking to the dance floor, where many of your friends were confused at the song that was playing. It was familiar, sure, but they hadn’t heard this version before.

You hear the drum beat kick in and immediately start to jump as the guitar plays. Daniel takes your hands in his and spins you around, and the confused people that surrounded you give in to the beat. Eventually, the two of you had formed a mosh pit on the dance floor, and even Lando was pumping his fist aggressively beside the speaker as he stared at his phone.

“How did you remember I liked this version?” You shout over the music at Daniel.

“You told me you liked it, last year, when I asked what song you were listening to.” Daniel says.

“Yeah, I remember, but how do you?” You say.

“I guess I wanted to. I remember everything about you, (y/n).” He says, and you feel yourself blushing as he takes a step closer to you.

“That’s really sweet Daniel.” You say.

“I can be sweet, sometimes, when I want to be, especially for someone I-“ Daniel stops talking as the song transitions into a slow 80s song. You recognise the melody as True by Spandau Ballet, a song more commonly played at a wedding disco than a college party.

Lando looks over at Daniel, giving him a thumbs up with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh I’m going to kill him.” Daniel says, shaking his head.

“Go on, finish your sentence.” You say, looking up at Daniel as you sway your body to the music.

“I can be sweet, for someone I love.” Daniel says, and without thinking, you pull him in closer, crashing your lips to his.

“And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I am the greatest DJ who ever lived.” Lando says, and both you and Daniel stick out your middle fingers at him almost simultaneously.

By midnight, you were all kicked out of your university building, with plans to return to the boys’ flat to continue the party with a few more drinks and more of Lando’s DJing talents.

“What even was that version of the song? I’ve literally never heard it before.” Alex says.

“It’s a cover, from a while back now. All I Want For Christmas is You by My Chemical Romance. It’s more to my taste than the original.” You say as you walk briskly beside him, trying to keep warm in the cold night air.

“Oh, it’s very you. But how did Daniel know to play it?” Charles interjects.

“Because he’s embarrassingly in love with her, and remembered she liked it after she told him last year. Get with it, Charles.” George yells, his verbal filter completely gone as a result of his drunken state, and Daniel blushes.

“He’s not the only one embarrassingly in love, (y/n) has wanted to lick whipped cream off of his surprisingly toned body since day one.” A very drunk Yasmine chuckles as she wobbles into Lando on the pavement.

“It was a dream I had one night, don’t read too much into that.” You say, and Daniel looks at you with his eyebrow raised.

“We don’t have any cream, but you’re welcome to the caramel sauce and sprinkles in my cupboard.” Max says, and you jab him in the back.

“I feel like I’m being ganged up on here. Just wait till you guys hear about Yasmine’s thing she has about DJs.” You say, and it’s Yasmine’s turn to blush.

“(Y/n)!” She exclaims, running up to you in her heels to slap you on the shoulder playfully.

“Hey, you might be in there Lando, unless she only likes good DJs.” Alex says, and you chuckle as Lando shouts an ‘oi!’ from the back of your walking party.

You reach the gate of the boys’ building and stop as Daniel pulls out his keycard.

“Oh, we’re going to go to the club next door, do you wanna join? Or are you two going to be occupied with Max’s caramel sauce?” George asks, and you scoff.

“Do you wanna go out? I don’t feel much like clubbing right now, my ears are ringing after George’s rendition of Sweet Caroline.” Daniel asks.

“I’ll stay here with Daniel, you guys have fun though!” You shout as they begin to walk away, sending a herd of whoops, cheers and wolf whistles in your direction.

You shake your head at them as your enter the courtyard and Daniel opens the door to his flat for you to step into.

It was surprisingly quiet without the other guys in it, and the situation you found yourself in suddenly felt all too real.

“Would you like to join me in my room?” Daniel asks, and your eyes go wide, “I’m not trying to sleep with you, I’m not that sleazy, it’s just, the radiator in the lounge is broken so it’s warmer in my room.”

“Sounds good. I don’t think I’ve seen your room before, and I like being nosy.” You chuckle as you follow him to the door marked with a number 3.

He pushes the door open and you follow him inside, noticing the guitar resting against the desk, a half-dead succulent beside his laptop, and an arrangement of photos stuck on the wall.

“Did you take all these?” You ask, studying the photos one by one.

“Yeah, it’s a little hobby of mine. I’m not very good, but I like to capture important moments so I can look back on ‘em later.” He says, standing beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“It looks nice. Australia, I mean. I’d love to visit some day.” You say, turning to him.

“You could come and visit me in the summer, I’m sure my mum wouldn’t mind making up the spare room, or you could share mine?” He says, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“You know, for someone who I regularly see making out with strangers in the club, you’re quite shy.”

“You’re not just a stranger in a club, (y/n).” Daniel says, reaching out to caress your cheek gently with his fingers.

“All this time I thought you’d never give me a second glance, and yet, here we are.” You say, stepping back to take a seat on the edge of Daniel’s bed.

“Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous, (y/n), you’re kind, you make me laugh, and you have a killer taste in music. And, as it turns out, excellent taste in guys too.” Daniel says, sitting down beside you.

“So you really do like me? You’re not just having a laugh?” You ask, and Daniel offers you a small smile.

“Why would I be joking? I really like you (y/n), and I’d like it if you stayed with me tonight.” Daniel says, and you place your hand gently on his thigh.

“I’d love to, Daniel.” You say, and he presses a small kiss on your temple.

“This is going to make that presentation much easier to organise next semester.” Daniel says, and you laugh.

The truth is, all you really wanted for Christmas was Daniel, and this year, your Christmas wish had been very much fulfilled.

[madsworld15]

New #Britin fic in my Diabetes Universe: I know you’ll be a beautiful surprise (Reposted with Edits)

So, recently I added a fic to my Britin Diabetes universe on AO3 in which a middle-aged Brian and Justin discuss the idea of having kids together. I thought that was the end of it for me and my creative brain. But, then a few days ago an idea entered my head and I was compelled to write it up. 9.2k words later I'm convinced this might be a cool idea to expand into a full multi-chapter fic idea for the universe. As of right now I only plan to post it here.

The premise is this: It's March 2018. Gus is a freshman in college and still living at home with Brian and Justin. It's been almost a year since they discussed the idea of kids. Then, Justin starts feeling sick and Daphne jokingly asks him if he could be pregnant. Which leads Justin to take a test. That is where we find ourselves at the start of this.

BE WARNED THIS FIC IDEA IS MPREG. (Don't worry about the explanation of how it's possible just believe it lol)

This isn’t a trope I write for so any feedback would be great!

Chapter 1.

Justin stared at the test in his hand. On the display screen were two distinct lines.

Fuck.

Justin rubbed his hand across his mouth. He had taken the test after Daphne had joked that he could be pregnant. They’d been hanging out the day before on their mutual lunch break when Justin had suddenly vomited. He figured he was just catching something from one of his students. Daphne, the doctor that she is, asked him if he was pregnant with laughter in her eyes.

Sure, male pregnancy was a thing, but he and Brian always used condoms. He guessed a condom must’ve broken in the last few months. But, he didn’t recall Brian mentioning it. He had no idea what they were going to do. It wasn’t as if they had wanted this. In fact, just last year they’d had the conversation about kids and decided it wasn’t something in the cards.

Gus was a freshman in college, Brian had been struggling to keep his blood sugars steady for months now resulting in a few ER visits, and Justin had just switched from teaching high school art to elementary school art. In short, it was not a good time for an upheaval such as this.

Fuck.

Justin slipped the test into a wad of tissues and walked it from the bathroom to their bedroom. He opened the drawer of the end table on his side of the bed. Justin glanced at the test once again before shoving it inside and shutting the drawer. One glance at the clock told him it was almost 6 pm. He needed to get dinner started.

Justin was standing in their kitchen, his thoughts on the test hidden in their bedroom, while he chopped up veggies for a salad. The lasagna he’d pre-made over the weekend was in the oven heating. His phone rang pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Gus. What’s up?” Justin wiped his hands as he cradled the cellphone between his ear and his shoulder.

“Hey, I am going out with some friends tonight and then I plan on crashing at Isaac’s dorm.” The teen practically yelled, loud noise in his background making it hard to hear.

“Alright, I’ll let your dad know you won’t be home. Have fun. Be safe.” Justin hung up.

He stared at his phone again, contemplating his next move. He should probably get an official test done before telling Brian, just to be sure. With that he dialed his best friend.

“Hey, Daph.” Justin bit his lip.

“Wow. Twice in as many days. What’s wrong?” Daph laughed.

“I took a test.” Justin muttered, pausing to gain the courage for what came next, “I’m pregnant.”

“Holy Shit! Are you sure? Have you told Brian?” Daphne asked her questions calmly despite her obvious surprise.

“Not yet. I was wondering if I came by the ER tomorrow during your shift if you’d run a blood test so I can be sure. I don’t wanna freak him out too if it’s not real.” Justin ran a hand through his blond hair.

“Of course. I could also get the lab to rush it so you’d know by the end of the day if you come in before you go to work.” Daphne reassured him.

“What if it’s also positive?” Justin was back to being worried.

“Then you and Brian will have a decision to make. Justin, you're only 35. It's not as though it’s physically dangerous. And you and Brian are financially stable. It will all work out.” Daphne answered him. She always knew how to keep Justin from spiraling.

He heard the key turning in their lock. Brian was home. Justin needed to pull himself together so Brian wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Thanks, Daph. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Justin replied and hung up just as Brian’s arms wrapped around Justin’s shoulders from behind.

“Hello, honey.” Brian teased as he nipped at Justin’s ear before kissing his neck.

“How was your day?” The older man added, pulling away from physical touch.

“Fine. The kids wore me out though. I’m exhausted.” Justin rubbed his face as if to prove a point. Then he pulled the lasagna out of the oven.

Just then, the smell of bubbling cheese hit his nose and he felt nauseous. He tried to hide it by breathing through his mouth and drinking some water, but Brian was watching him closely.

“Still feeling under the weather? I told you to stay home today and sleep it off.” Brian braced his arms around Justin, locking him in against the counter next to the oven.

“I’m fine, Bri. Nothing a good night of sleep won’t solve.” Justin smiled despite the rolling feeling in his gut, and kissed his partner on his cheek.

“Well why don’t you rest. You don’t need to stay up on my account.” Brian reached up and cupped the back of Justin’s head.

Justin decided to take Brian’s gentle out and headed to bed. He nodded against Brian’s cheek as they embraced.

“I’ll drink some ginger ale and sleep.” Justin could feel his bone deep exhaustion more acutely now that Brian gave him the permission to.

Then, just as he reached their bedroom door he remembered Gus’ call.

“Oh and Gus called. He said he’s crashing at Isaac’s dorm tonight.” Justin yelled over his shoulder. Brian didn’t respond, but he knew the man had heard.

Hours later Justin realized he must’ve fallen asleep when Brian getting into bed brought him back to consciousness. The brunet apologized, placing a hand on Justin’s back as the blond drifted back to sleep.

—————

“Alright, I will get this over to the lab and call you when I have the results.” Daphne pulled off her gloves and put the vial of blood into a canister to take it to the lab once she’s done talking to Justin.

“Do results usually take a long time?” Justin was so nervous to know the answer. “I don’t end up in the hospital very often so I’m not sure how all this works.”

“After years of dealing with Brian’s diabetes I would’ve thought blood work would be old hat for you.” Daphne smiled and rubbed Justin’s shoulders, “Usually blood work takes a few hours when sent from the ER, but since you didn’t officially register as a patient it will be run at the typical speed.”

Justin nodded, staring at his hands. Daphne stepped closer and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Justin, are you okay?”

Justin looked up and took a deep breath. “I just worry this will ruin things with Brian or he’ll be angry.”

“When was the last time Brian got angry instead of talking things out?” Daphne gave the blond a knowing look. “Sure, when we were young and you guys were first starting out he wasn’t likely to communicate, but he changed all that years ago.”

“I know.” Justin bit his bottom lip and shrugged, “But we also had a discussion about a kid of our own when Gus was about to graduate high school. So, not even a year ago.”

“And? How did that conversation go?” Daphne sat down in the chair next to Justin.

“We agreed we didn’t need a child. We had Gus and Isaac.” Justin shrugged. At this point he was nearly in tears and trying to hide it.

“Doesn’t sound to me like he’s fully opposed.” Daphne shrugged and pulled Justin to his feet as she stood up.

“He’s not officially for it either. You remember how he was when Gus was a baby. Brian doesn’t do well with small children.” Justin grabbed his coat and put it back on, “Anyway, I gotta get to work. Thanks, Daph.”

“Jus, this isn’t the end of the world.” Daphne tried to reassure him.

“So you say.” Justin mumbled on his way out.

For the rest of the day, Justin volleyed between being stressed about the results of the blood test and worrying that the relationship he’d spent half his life in was coming to an end. He was in his final plan period of the day when Daphne called him.

“Hey, please tell me I’m worried for nothing and that I’m not pregnant.” Justin answered the phone without any preamble.

“Let’s talk about this in person. I’m almost at your school. Meet me outside and I will buy us some coffee and we can talk.” Daphne responded. “See you in about 5.”

Justin walked out of the school after informing the principal he was leaving a bit early. Daphne was waiting for him on the sidewalk. She was wearing a purple peacoat and matching hat, scarf, and gloves. Justin rubbed his hands together regretting that he’d accidentally left his gloves in his classroom in his rush to leave. Daphne immediately wrapped him up in a hug.

“Here.” She handed him a computer printout of his test results.

Justin’s eyes scanned the page until he found the word, “Positive” toward the bottom.

“Shit.” Justin crumpled the page up in his fist as he stared, stricken at Daphne. “What am I going to do?”

“First, you are going to walk with me to the bodega we both love, grab a coffee and a pastry. Then, we are going to talk about this until you feel comfortable to face Brian.” Daphne wrapped her arm around Justin’s and led him up the block.

“What would I do without you?” Justin breathed a sigh of relief. Caffeine and carb loading sounded like the perfect antidote to his current anxiety.

“You would’ve had multiple mental breakdowns at this point.” Daphne giggled then laid her head down on Justin’s shoulder.

Half an hour later, Justin and Daphne had their hands full with pastries and coffee. Daphne was unlocking the door to her apartment and leading her best friend inside. After ordering, they had both decided it was much too cold for them to eat in the park. So, Daphne told him they could go to her apartment. Her husband and two kids weren’t home so it would be just them.

Once they were settled on the couch, Daphne spoke first. “Just think. If you go through with this Leo will get to grow up with a best friend.”

“Daph.” Justin gave her a warning look.

“Right, I promised I wouldn’t try to sway your decision.” Daphne put up her hands in defense. “I still think this isn’t the end of the world. How many times over the years have you mentioned kids to me?”

“Alright, so I’ve always loved kids. It’s part of the reason I took up teaching. But, Daph, Brian and I have a life we love and a baby doesn’t fit into that.” Justin looked panicked, he was sure of it considering how panicked he felt.

“Maybe, but you guys have Gus.” Daphne tried to point out, always the voice of reason.

“Taking care of a teenager is not the same thing as a baby and you know it. We didn’t have to adjust much when Gus moved in because he was already independently taking care of himself. He just needed guidance.” Justin leaned back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. His stomach was aching like it wanted to turn itself inside out.

“You’re right. 14 is different from a newborn. However, do you think Derek and I were ready for a baby when we got pregnant with Ella? We’d been married for 5 years at that point. We had an established routine and we had to adjust. You and Brian will too.”

“Brian’s been struggling with his health for the past 6 months. We haven’t really told anyone because he doesn’t want people hovering, but I’m not sure now is the time to be making major adjustments.” Justin sighed. If he was being completely honest with himself this fact was holding him back the most from accepting this pregnancy as a good thing.

“Has it been serious?” Daphne leaned over and grabbed Justin’s hand to hold it.

“We’ve ended up in the ER a few times for both low and high blood glucose levels. What has been working for him for years is no longer a safe option.” Justin used his other hand to pick at the stitching of the couch cushion. “He’s been struggling with more migraines and Diabetic neuropathy.”

Daphne was quiet for a moment and so Justin took a deep breath to calm himself. There was just too much happening to him all at once and he wasn’t handling it well. Normally he’d be all for talking it through with Brian, but this time he hesitated because bringing it into the open with his partner made all of it more real.

“All the more reason for you to discuss it with him. Brian’s always been able to dictate what he can and can’t handle. Don’t take this decision away from him because you’re afraid.” Daphne gave Justin a knowing look.

“I’ll consider it.” Justin curled on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest. It wasn’t as easy a position as it had been when he was younger, but he was still nimble enough to do it for a short period.

“Wanna watch some cartoons?” Daphne gently shoved his shoulder. Justin nodded.

The two friends settled into comfortable silence while watching reruns of the cartoons they lived to consume when they were kids. Before he knew it, Justin had dozed off on Daphne’s shoulder only to be shaken awake by his best friend when her husband and kids made it home.

“Uncle Justin!” Ella screamed as she ran across the room and launched her little body into his arms.

“Oof. You have grown a whole foot since the last time I saw you!” Justin laughed, squeezing his goddaughter close to his chest.

“What do you mean? I only have 2 feet. Same as always.” The five-year-old looked down at her legs just to be sure.

Justin laughed, “I meant you’ve gotten taller, little munchkin.” Then he tickled the little girl as Daphne grabbed her one-year-old from her husband’s arms.

“You staying for dinner, Justin?” Derek asked as he pulled a rotisserie chicken out of a grocery bag along with the makings of a salad and a to-go container of macaroni and cheese from the deli down the block.

Justin put Ella back down and reached for his coat. “No, I should go home. Brian’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Tell him.” Daphne squeezed his arm as he passed by her. “Please.”

Justin leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I will.”

But, instead of going straight home, Justin paid a cab to drive him around Queens for a bit before heading over to their brownstone. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do about the wadded up test result in his coat pocket. An hour passed between him leaving Daphne’s and arriving back at the home he shared with Brian. He knew for a fact Brian would be wondering where he was, if not already calling local friends to find him.

Just as he was coming to the front door, Gus approached from down the street. Fuck. Justin hadn’t factored in Gus being home. The teen had a backpack slung over one shoulder and a red tint to his cheeks as the wind blew his brunet hair around his face.

“Hey, Jus. Just getting home? Isn’t it a bit late for you?” The teen smirked, morphing his face into an exact replica of a younger Brian.

“Not that it's any of your business but I spent some time with Daphne and her family this afternoon.” Justin unlocked the door and held it open for his stepson.

“Hey, Dad! Justin and I are home.” Gus hollered the moment they were both in the foyer.

Brian came from the direction of the kitchen, his face morphing from concern to relief. He immediately wrapped Justin up in a hug, ignoring Gus. He kissed the side of Justin’s head and breathed him in.

“I was so worried something happened to you. When I got home and you weren’t here I called Daphne to see if you were with her. She then told me that you had just left. So, I assumed you’d be home ages ago.”

From over Brian’s shoulder Justin saw Gus roll his eyes. Then the teen trudged toward his bedroom and closed the door with a loud thump.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I needed some time to think so I had a cab drive me around Queens before dropping me off here.” Justin pulled out of Brian’s arms and shrugged off his coat. He made sure to grab the crumpled up paper from his pocket.

Staring down at it, Justin let out his breath and forced himself to take another deep one to replace the air in his lungs.

“Good to know my money is being put to good use.” Brian teased, but there was still a hint of concern lacing every word. “So, what did you need to think about?”

Justin closed his eyes, took another deep breath, unfolded the paper and handed it to Brian. “This.”

Then he walked toward the kitchen, not waiting around for Brian’s reaction. He was terrified of what that one little word was going to do to the world they had built together. From an honest standpoint, Justin would never be upset about having a child, but he knew Brian was much more complicated. Justin had just poured himself a glass of orange juice when Brian joined him in the kitchen. His face was completely unreadable, not calming Justin’s nerves in the slightest.

“Is this why you’ve been distant this week?” Brian reached out to place his hand on Justin’s arm, getting the blond to look him in the eye.

“At first it was because I really did think I was sick. But then…” Justin stopped trying to catch his breath as tears spilled from his eyes. “Brian, I’m sorry.”

A moment later, his partner’s arms were wrapped around Justin, pushing him against Brian’s chest. Brian’s hand went up to cup the back of Justin’s head. He kissed him on his temple.

“Justin.” Brian whispered, pulling back a bit, “Justin, please look at me.”

Justin wiped his eyes, “I know this isn’t exactly something we are prepared for. It’s not like we wanted this to happen. I mean our lives are not equipped for a baby. I’m 35. You’re 47. We can’t do this.” Justin started to hyperventilate.

Brian rubbed his shoulders as Justin tried to gain control on his breathing again. “You done?”

Justin nodded.

“This is unexpected and that can be unnerving. And you’re right, our lives are not currently equipped for a baby. But, we can adjust. If that’s what you want.” Brian continued to rub Justin’s shoulders as he fell silent once more.

“What about you? I’m not the only one in this situation, Brian. You’ve never wanted kids.” Justin sniffed, a few more tears falling down his cheeks.

“Do you remember what I said when we talked about this a few months ago?” Brian moved a hand to Justin’s cheek and cupped it. “I said if that was something you wanted we would make it work. I don’t ever do or say anything I don’t mean.”

“Do we really want to even consider this? It’s a huge change?” Justin bit his lip. He looked into Brian’s eyes and only found gentleness there.

“Ignoring everything going on in our lives right now, what is your gut reaction to this news?” Brian dropped all physical contact with Justin and stepped back. It was as if he was giving Justin the space to independently assess his feelings.

Given the time and space to search his heart for his real feelings about it, Justin found the answer right away. His hands gravitated to his abdomen and he imagined eventually feeling the baby move inside him. He smiled despite himself.

He stepped up to Brian, who was now leaning against the counter. Placing his hands on either side of Brian, boxing him in he stared up into the older man’s eyes.

“I love you. I have loved you since I was 17. The idea of having a child that is a part of both of us is beautiful.” Justin leaned forward and kissed Brian, who closed his eyes and moved his lips against Justin’s.

“Does this make us heterosexuals?” Brian finally spoke, his joke indicating he wanted this as much as Justin did.

Justin backed away completely and laughed out loud. The stress of the last few days disappeared entirely. He was going to have a baby. Holy shit.

“What are we going to tell Gus? The family?” Justin finally responded.

“That is up to you.” Brian shrugged. “Let’s eat some dinner and worry about the rest later.”

Justin smiled and nodded his head. Brian rarely cooked, stating he didn’t prefer it. So, naturally, Justin was shocked to find that while he had delayed coming home, Brian had taken the time to cook up a chicken and potato dish. Justin was grateful his stomach decided to stay calm for this. Now that he knew for sure he was pregnant, Justin wasn’t looking forward to dealing with nausea for the next few months.

“You know my mom is going to flip out. She’s always wanted us to have a kid together.” Justin commented as he and Brian dug into their meal.

Brian smirked. “Well, she can save it for when it’s just the two of you.”

“You love when she showers you with mom love, don’t deny it.” Justin chuckled at him. Then, remembering that they had a teen in the house he hollered, “Gus? Are you joining us for dinner?”

After a few minutes of silence, Gus opened his door and stuck his head out. “Nah. I grabbed pizza with Isaac while we were studying for tomorrow’s chemistry exam.” Then without another word he closed his door once more.

“I swear your son never eats dinner with us anymore.” Justin pointed his fork at Brian accusingly.

“I love how he’s my son when it’s about something he’s not doing.” Brian chuckled and then with a cheeky grin added, “I’m going to do the same when this kid gets a little older, see how it makes you feel.”

A few hours later, Justin was sitting up in bed, scrolling through various websites on his phone. He was nervous about what pregnancy meant for his body. Now that he knew Brian was okay with the turn of events, Justin had found his anxiety switching to the physicality of being pregnant. Brian came into their bedroom from the bathroom, having just finished his nighttime routine.

“So, I’ve been thinking.” Justin started, placing his phone screen down on his chest, giving Brian his full attention.

Brian pulled back the blankets on his side of the bed and climbed in next to Justin before replying. “I’d say that’s a dangerous sign, but really you thinking is never a bad thing.”

“I’m trying to pinpoint when this could’ve happened. We always wear condoms and you tell me if one breaks because we get tested for HIV right after.” Justin assessed Brian trying to read his face.

The older man pinched his eyelids and sighed, “I was thinking about this while I was in the bathroom. The only thing I can think about was when we got trashed on New Year’s Eve at Daphne’s party. You and I don’t drink that much anymore and we kind of went overboard, who’s to say we didn’t make mistakes that night.”

“We also smoked a joint together when we got home that night.” Justin reminded Brian. “Yeah, I’m thinking this was a New Year’s misstep.”

“Which means you are probably almost two months. Shit.” Brian rubbed his temple again, signaling he was suffering from a headache.

“I will talk to Daphne tomorrow about finding a proper doctor to find out for sure.” Justin put his phone on the charger and turned off his lamp, cloaking them both in darkness. The two men end up in each other’s arms.

“I love you. We will get through this.” Brian muttered against Justin’s head before giving him a kiss.

—----

The morning of their first appointment with Dr. Savarese dawned bright and warm despite the layers of snow still on the ground from last week’s snow storm. It had been a few days since Justin officially confirmed that he was indeed pregnant at 35. Their appointment was at 4 pm, in the hopes that Brian would be able to pull away from work more swiftly than if it were in the morning or middle of the day.

Justin was nervous that there would be something wrong or worse all this had been a lie and they’d find out he wasn’t pregnant at all. Since telling Brian, he’d allowed himself to think about their future as dads to a new baby. It had been both nerve wracking and exciting, mostly exciting if Justin was being honest with himself.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Brian muttered, rolling over to place a kiss on Justin’s cheek before he got up and headed to the bathroom.

Justin smiled to himself and placed his hands on his abdomen. Today was the day they would see their baby. He heard Brian turn on the shower and knew he needed to get up soon. They usually showered together to save time on getting ready in the morning. But, also because it allowed their world to be a small bubble of just them for a little bit longer. Once they were showered, the responsibilities of parenting Gus and getting to work came crashing in and making their world a little bit louder.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Justin asked Brian nervously as he washed the older man’s chest.

“Justin. While kids were never my top priority in life, I don’t hate them. Besides, the idea of a little you running around sounds kind of nice. I always regretted not being around more for Gus when he was developing into the kid he was by the time I stepped up.” Brian smiled at Justin and nonverbally prompted him until Justin smiled back.

“You’re a great dad to Gus. Don’t ever question that. You’ll be an even better dad to this one.” Justin searched Brian’s face for a reaction.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why?” Brian’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“Because when Gus was born you were bound and determined to never let another heart touch yours. You had these steel paneled walls up around you that kept even your closest friends at a distance. But, now, you are open and loving and communicative. You’re already more involved in this surprise baby than I ever saw you in the first two years of Gus being in this world. Just ask Lindsay and I bet she’d say the same.” Justin replied, playing with Brian’s ear.

Moments later, they were both dressed and ready for work enjoying some eggs and toast while standing in the kitchen. Pretty soon, Gus joined them, talking on his phone.

“Don’t worry mom. I’m getting enough sleep, enough food, and I’m focusing on my classwork.” Gus sighed and rolled his eyes at Justin who smirked.

Then, suddenly, Gus’ phone was extended between Brian and Justin.

“Mom wants to talk to you.” Gus directed at Brian. “She’s convinced you’re letting me live a life of debauchery.”

Justin choked on the juice he just swallowed and had to turn around to the sink as he laughed and coughed in equal measure.

“My goodness, Wendy. Are you trying to take away everything I hold dear in my life?” Brian took the phone from Gus and spoke into it after placing it on speaker.

“What?” Lindsay’s voice sounded utterly confused.

“Dad’s only saying that because Justin choked on his drink when I said you think I’m living a life similar to the one he was living when I was born.” Gus laughed and reached over to pat Justin on the shoulder now that he’d returned to his spot next to Brian.

“I did not say that! Gus, I swear to God.” Lindsay huffed. “Justin, are you okay? I’m sorry my kid is a carbon copy of his father.”

“He’s fine, Wendy.” Brian said as Justin turned back to the sink once more to vomit around another cough. “Now, what do you need to speak with me about? I need to get to work and the lad needs to get to school.”

“I just wanted to be reassured that Gus is in fact going to school and doing his best. I worry about him.” Lindsay’s voice was laced with a level of concern that only a long distance parent could have.

“Linds, don’t worry. Even if we wanted to, Gus could never be convinced to skip school. He’s as big a geek as Bri and I were in school.” Justin returned and reassured Lindsay.

“Okay, if you are sure.”

“We are.” Brian cut in, somewhat exasperated. “I swear it’s as if you don’t trust me to monitor my own kid.”

“I do. I just worry. Like always.” Lindsay muttered. Even though they couldn’t see her, Justin knew from experience Lindsay would have a pinched look on her face as she tried to work through her mom guilt.

“Oh, Linds. Speaking of Brian’s parenting.” Justin added, as Brian tried to physically shut him up. But, Justin persisted and wrestled the phone into his hands. “Do you think Brian would be a better parent today if we were to adopt a baby tomorrow?”

“Are you guys thinking about adopting?!” Lindsay screeched.

“No! We were just having a hypothetical conversation this morning and Brian doesn’t think he’d be much different as a dad than he was 18 years ago. So, I told him he should ask you because you aren’t biased by being with him and you’d know.” Justin was quick to shut down any rumors Lindsay might want to spread. They didn’t want people to know yet.

“Shit!” Lindsay exclaimed through the speaker. “Sorry, I gotta go. J.R. just threw up everywhere.”

“Why are you two being weird?” Gus asked his dads after he took his phone back and watched them silently for a moment.

“What? We aren’t being weird.” Justin squeaked. Brian just shook his head and smirked.

“That’ll convince the CIA.”

“What is really going on? Are you guys adopting? It’s definitely strange you bring up kids now after all these years.” Gus shrugged with a knowing look on his face. “Don’t tell me. I’m sure I’ll figure it out on my own soon enough.”

“Have a great day, Sonny Boy.” Brian replied, subtly rushing Gus out the door. “You will probably beat us home tonight. So, just get whatever you want for dinner.”

Once Gus was gone, Justin turned around and gagged into the sink once more. This time nothing came up. Brian rubbed his back, roaming his hand up and down.

“Sorry. The juice must not have agreed with me. Shit that acid coming back up really sucks.” Justin stood up and wiped at his mouth. “We should tell Gus sooner rather than later. He’s right, he’ll figure it out on his own.”

Brian held the back of Justin’s head, running his fingers through the blond hairs.

“Yeah we should. I’ll see you at the appointment. Have a good day.” Then Brian kissed Justin on the lips and was gone, off to work.

—---

Of course, Justin arrived at the appointment only to receive a text from Brian informing him that he’d be a bit late and to not wait on him. Justin was already back to being nervous about everything so finding out his partner wasn’t going to be there on time wasn’t helping him. Justin’s name was called a few minutes after he handed the receptionist back his medical history questionnaire.

“Justin Taylor?” A young woman wearing scrubs with flowers all over it called from across the waiting area. She had a short bob haircut that framed her face and made her look like a pixie.

“Yeah.” Justin stood up and walked toward her. “My partner is running late, could you let him in when he gets here?”

The nurse nodded and leaned over to mention it to the receptionist. Afterward she led Justin beyond the doors toward the doctor exam rooms in the back. They stopped at a scale where Justin’s weight was recorded. He was shocked to find he’d gained 5 lbs since the last time he’d had his weight recorded six months ago. Justin didn’t really ever fluctuate on his weight so even a small amount such as that further proved he was pregnant.

Once they made it to the exam room, Justin sat down on the table as the nurse pulled out the blood pressure cuff. He was used to all after years of follow up neurological appointments thanks to his persisting TBI. Speaking of which, as she tightened the cuff on his arm it triggered the spasm in his hand and Justin grunted from the sharp pain of it. Just as she was loosening things and recording his BP, Brian came rushing in.

The moment he sat in a chair next to the table he clocked Justin’s spasm and reached for his hand to massage it. Justin crossed his arm across his chest to give Brian better access. The nurse finally noticed his hand and looked terrified.

“Oh my goodness. Did I do that?” She pointed at Justin’s hand, her eyes overly apologetic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I usually stop you guys at the head and instruct you to check things on my left arm instead. I have a TBI that permanently affects the function of my right arm.” Justin gave her his prize winning smile and she relaxed.

“I should’ve asked if you had a preference. I apologize.”

“Seriously, no sweat. This happens at least once a day without a blood pressure cuff.” Justin shrugged and chuckled.

“Everything else seems to be in order. Dr. Savarese will be in to talk with you shortly.” She then exited the room, closing the door, and leaving Brian and Justin alone.

“Sorry for being late.” Brian muttered as he continued to massage Justin’s hand.

“It helps that they were delayed pulling me back here too. I hadn’t been in here with Nurse Ratchett more than ten minutes before you came in.” Justin smirked at his joke.

“Unfortunately, I was late because there is a small Kinnetik fire that I will have to travel to Pittsburgh tomorrow and put out.” Brian sighed. Justin’s fingers flattened out and so the older man dropped the contact.

Justin didn’t mind, it was uncomfortable to keep his arm crossed over his chest for an extended period of time anyway. He fell silent. Brian went back to Pittsburgh all the time for work, but this time his chest hurt at the thought of Brian being gone for a few days. He couldn’t understand why he was reacting similarly to how he had when Brian left him alone right after his bashing.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Brian gently nudged his shoulder, but Justin gave him a small smile and shook his head as the door opened to reveal Dr. Savarese.

“Hello, Justin. I’m Dr. Savarese. I see here you believe you’re pregnant.” Dr. Savarese read from his file before looking up and giving him a smile.

They shook hands and then Dr. Savarese took a seat at the desk.

“My best friend is an ER doctor. She took my blood for some blood work a few days ago and it came back positive for pregnancy.” Justin brought his hands together in his lap and fiddled with his fingers.

“Have you been experiencing any symptoms?” Dr. Savarese looked at Justin. The man was older than even Brian and on the petite side. His eyes were dark brown but filled with warmth.

“I have vomited a few times a day. A few more than that if I find a smell my body can’t handle.” Justin shrugged as Brian smirked.

“Like the orange juice this morning.” Brian commented.

Justin shuddered at the memory of the acidic beverage coming back up. “Plus, I’ve been extremely exhausted.”

Brian didn’t flinch hearing that. Justin had been hiding it extremely well, but he knew that Brian had probably still noticed he wasn’t as energetic as usual.

“Have you noticed a change in your emotional reaction to things?” Dr. Savarese took some notes on his tablet.

“Not particularly.” Justin muttered, turning to look at Brian. The older man shrugged.

“I haven’t noticed anything major.”

“Before we do an ultrasound to attempt to see what’s going on I’d like to go over your medical history.” At the doctor’s words, Justin reached for Brian’s hand.

“You want his book of allergies now or later?” Brian attempted to joke.

“Brian, please take this seriously.” Justin sighed, his anxiety was ramped up and he couldn’t pinpoint why. “They have all that in my patient file because of the forms I had to fill out as a new patient.”

“Yes, it seems you are allergic to quite a few medications, Mr. Taylor. It also says here that you are on an anticonvulsant?”

“Umm. Yeah, I was injured when I was 18 by a bat to my head. I still get minor seizures to my hand. I take the medication to prevent more significant problems.” Justin bit his lip.

“Have you ever had a major seizure?” Dr. Savarese’s face turned pinched and concerned. “I ask because if you are pregnant anticonvulsants can cause problems with the baby. We’ll want to assess the risk of taking you off them for the duration.”

“He had a significant seizure right after his injury occurred and then once more a few years later when he had an extremely high fever due to the flu. That was when he started the medication just to be safe.” Brian supplied as Justin struggled to find his voice.

Just then, Justin’s hand spasmed up again. This time the pain was so sharp Justin had to cradle his hand against his chest. Brian stood up and moved in place against Justin so he could lean on him while Brian massaged his hand again.

“Does that happen often?” Dr. Savarese pointed to Justin’s hand.

“Only when he’s using his hand too much or gets stressed. This is the second one in the past half-hour because the nurse wasn’t aware and checked his blood pressure on this arm.” Brian supplied and Justin breathed through the pain.

“Alright, I would like to confer with your neurologist after we are finished here today.” Dr. Savarese gave Justin a half-smile and turned back to his tablet, scrolling through Justin’s patient file.

“Aside from the TBI and your allergies, are there any other chronic conditions we should be aware of? Heart condition? Diabetes?” Dr. Savarese looked up again and waited for Justin to have the focus to answer.

“No, but Brian is a Type 1 Diabetic and Cancer Survivor.” Justin finally muttered. “Here’s hoping you don’t pass on those genetics.”

“Kid’s got jokes.” Brian commented, his hand squeezing Justin’s shoulder in comfort.

“It is important to note things in your medical history as well, Brian. After all, this child is a mix of both of you.” Dr. Savarese smiled at the couple. “Alright. Now, Justin, I need you to lie back and lift up your shirt.”

Justin did as Dr. Savarese asked. He looked over at Brian who moved with Justin so as to stand near Justin’s shoulder. The two watched each other in silence, the reality of the situation fully sinking in as a monitor was brought over. They were going to see if the blood work was accurate.

“Do we have an idea of when this might have happened?” The doctor asked as he grabbed a squeeze bottle of gel and warmed it up in his hands.

“We always use condoms, but on New Year’s Eve we were extremely inebriated so we don’t remember the state of things as it were.” Brian responded before Justin could even process the question.

“So, we’re thinking it’s around 10 weeks.” Dr. Savarese nodded and squeezed the gel onto Justin’s abdomen. Justin hissed as the cool substance hit his skin.

“Sorry, it’ll warm up shortly.” The doctor apologized, “If the calculations are correct we should be able to see the fetus just fine.”

Justin and Brian smirked at one another as the doctor mentioned the gel warming up. They were well aware how quickly gels could warm up. Then, Dr. Savarese was telling them their child was up on the screen and Justin’s breath caught in his throat.

There on the screen was a tiny little blob that had a clearly defined head and stubby limbs. He squeezed Brian’s hand even tighter.

“Bri…” Justin muttered in a breathless voice. “That’s our baby.”

“Holy shit.” Brian muttered.

“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” Dr. Savarese’s voice floated through their amazement at the image of their baby on the screen.

Justin tore his eyes away and stared at the doctor. “Can we really? Already?”

The doctor nodded, “You are measuring at 10 weeks exactly.”

Then he pressed a button and the room was filled with the sound of their baby’s heartbeat. Justin couldn’t believe the extremely rapid whooshing sounds were his child. The child that he was carrying inside him. He turned to look at Brian and saw the man had tears in the corners of his eyes. Justin smiled up at him and squeezed their hands again. Brian smiled at him and wiped at his tears.

“Guess this is really happening then.” Brian finally muttered. “Part of me thought this was all a hoax.”

“Me too.” Justin whispered. “But, that’s very real.”

—---

An hour later, Brian and Justin were sitting in the back of a cab headed home. Justin held the ultrasound in his hand. He couldn’t stop running his finger over the lines that made up the shape of their child. Holy fuck they were having a whole ass child.

“We should tell Gus.” Justin stated, his voice hushed, still in awe of everything.

“We should. Do we want to do it tonight or in a few weeks when you hit the second trimester?” Brian asked, wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulder allowing his hand to come and rest on Justin’s abdomen.

“I think we should do it tonight. We are going to Pittsburgh this weekend. And the family is bound to realize, considering how often foods make me nauseous.” Justin shrugged.

“Oh, we are going are we?” Brian smirked. “I didn’t know you were tagging along. Don’t you have work next week?”

“Nope. Spring Break. I told you two weeks ago I would be off the third week of March.” Justin finally looked up, making eye contact with Brian.

“I didn’t know we’d discussed this.” Brian replied.

“Do you not want me to go?” Justin’s voice wobbled as tears pricked behind his eyes.

Brian saw Justin was on the verge of tears, so he gathered the man up in his arms. “No, not at all. I’d love for you to come. We just hadn’t officially discussed it.” Then he placed a kiss on Justin's temple.

Just then, the cab pulled up to their brownstone. The two climbed out and Brian handed the driver a few bills to cover the charge plus a hefty tip. Justin waited for him on the stoop to avoid going inside and immediately coming in contact with Gus. Brian wrapped his arm around Justin’s waist and they both entered their home. Justin couldn’t help the mushy smile that graced his face at the intimacy Brian was showing him now that they’d officially seen their baby. The sound of someone in the kitchen let them know that Gus was indeed home before them.

Turning the corner, Brian and Justin came face-to-face with not only Gus but Isaac as well. Justin couldn’t wipe the smile off his face fast enough. Gus clocked it immediately and approached them.

“Hold on mom, Dad and Justin just walked in.” Gus turned his phone around to show that Lindsay was on FaceTime with their son.

“Hello, Wendy!” Brian smiled and then moved toward the bathroom, officially leaving Justin to deal with Lindsay and Gus on his own.

Justin shook his head and ducked to hide his knowing smile. “Hey Linds. How are you guys doing?”

“Mel and I are great. J.R. is feeling better than she was this morning. I was just checking in with Gus.” Lindsay looked as though she wanted to ask more questions, but surprisingly Gus cut her off.

“Alright, ma. I will talk to you tomorrow. Love ya.” Then he hung up before she could say more than just her sentiments of mutual love.

Justin walked to the refrigerator and opened it looking for something to whip up quickly for himself and Brian. He called over his shoulder to Gus and Isaac who were still hanging around the kitchen.

“Hey, did you guys eat?”

“Depends. Are you asking because you just want to know or because you’re trying to decide how much to cook?” Gus quipped back, coming to stand next to Justin.

Justin rolled his eyes, turned completely around to face Isaac, “Did you guys eat and are you still hungry?”

Isaac awkwardly looked down at his lap and shrugged his shoulders. Justin smiled and pulled out enough chicken to feed four people. His mind wandered as he cooked. They hadn’t discussed it, but Justin really wanted to tell Gus and Isaac together about the new development in their lives. The chicken was almost done cooking in the oven when Justin’s stomach rolled. He decided to step out of the kitchen until it calmed down.

“Hey, Gus, could you finish the potatoes and take out the chicken when the timer dings?” Justin looked at the younger brunet.

Gus looked at him quizzically, but didn’t say anything as he nodded. Isaac stood up and smiled.

“I’ll help!”

Justin smiled at the teen and squeezed his shoulder as he passed by the blond. “Thanks, Isaac.”

Justin trudged back toward the bathroom where Brian had disappeared. He knew Brian was probably processing everything they’d learned today. The younger man wanted to give his partner the time and space he needed, but they also needed to discuss how they were going to handle everything. With a soft knock, Justin opened the door to the bathroom. He found Brian sitting on the closed toilet, staring at his hands as his fingers interlocked and came apart in a nervous motion.

“Hey,” Justin knelt down to be on Brian’s level. “Talk to me.”

A silence hung in the air as Justin waited for Brian to respond. After what felt like hours, Brian finally looked up and Justin saw his eyes were stormy, but not in an angry way.

“I never wanted kids. I never wanted to risk becoming the drunk asshole that my father was.” Brian whispered.

“I think Gus is proof that you aren’t him. But, if this isn’t something you want…” Justin couldn’t even voice the quiet part out loud.

Brian reached forward, bringing his hand around to cup the back of Justin’s head, “No. I meant that I never wanted kids, but now I can’t imagine us not having this kid. It’s crazy. I hadn’t felt anything one way or the other about you being pregnant until the doctor turned on their heartbeat. It suddenly hit me that I wanted nothing more than to have this baby and raise it with you.”

“Bri,” Justin didn’t have words for the emotions suddenly coursing through him at Brian’s words. Here was a man who for so long dug his heels in about being reminiscent of happy, married heteros and now he was embracing the prospect of having a family with Justin wholeheartedly. Sure, they’d helped guide Gus in his teenage years, but before that Brian had been able to prove his queerness by reminding Justin they weren’t a typical couple.

Brian leaned forward and kissed Justin on the lips. When he pulled back he was smiling. “I hope they are just like you.”

“Considering we have our hands full with your mini me, I’d have to agree.” Justin laughed. “Speaking of which. I want to tell them both.”

Even though Brian didn’t say it, Justin knew he was terrified as hell at the prospect of this new life. Sure, he wanted it, perhaps even as much as Justin, but there was something still scaring him about it all. Brian’s tight hold on his hand as they walked back toward the kitchen proved that.

“Should we do it tonight, over dinner? Or wait?” Brian whispered as they walked.

“I think tonight. We never know when Isaac is going to come around these days.” Justin replied, reaching up to kiss Brian on his cheek.

As they stepped into the dining area just off the kitchen, Justin saw that the boys had set the table and everything was ready to be served. Justin smiled at Gus and Isaac alike. The latter was putting food portions onto four different plates. So, Justin walked up behind him, ruffled his hair, and complimented him on doing a great job. Despite having spent many days at their home over the past 4 years, Isaac still felt insecure whenever he attempted to do something nice for others.

“Wow, dinner looks great. I’m a lucky man.” Brian smiled at Justin, Gus, and Isaac.

“Who are you and what have you done with my father?” Gus looked at Brian’s cheerful demeanor suspiciously. “I thought it was bad enough when you both came home smiling but chalked it up to you probably having a quickie in the cab. But, now it’s just getting weird.”

Justin choked on the water he had just started to sip. Brian snorted and then laughed. “I guess we deserve that. After all, Gus has walked in on us many times.”

“Yeah, but now it’s just weird. You are never this happy. Or if you are, you never show it. Please extract the pod person from your brain so we can go back to normal.” Gus looked between Brian and Justin as the two held hands and smiled at one another.

“Actually, Sonny Boy, there is something Justin and I need to tell you.” Brian muttered, his eyes still on Justin.

Isaac stayed quiet, but started to look nervous. So, Justin let go of Brian’s hand and gave the other teen his full attention. “We wish to tell you as well. After all, you’re part of this family too.”

Isaac smiled a bit at that comment. It warmed Justin’s heart knowing that the love and care he and Brian had given this boy over the years was very much appreciated. He reached over the table and squeezed Isaac’s hand.

“Okay. What’s going on? If you guys were splitting up you wouldn’t be smiling about it. Same goes for if Dad’s cancer was back. So what is it?” Gus wasn’t going for patience.

Justin took a deep breath and looked Gus squarely in the eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sonogram picture. He quietly handed it over to Gus, who immediately grabbed it. Isaac and Gus poured over the image in silence while Justin nervously watched them.

“So, you’ve hired a surrogate? I mean, that’s what Uncle Mike and Uncle Ben did when they had Violet.” Gus glanced from Justin to his Dad. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys were thinking about having a baby?”

“It’s not a surrogate.” Isaac mumbled, then he pointed to the top of the image so that Gus could see. “It’s Mr. Taylor.”

Gus’s face turned from intrigue to shock and back to intrigue in a matter of seconds. He looked up and passed his gaze between his two dads. Justin wished he could tell what Gus was thinking, but much like his father, the teen was adept at hiding his emotions from his face.

“What do you think?” Justin squeaked out. He nervously squeezed Brian’s hand.

“You’re pregnant? That’s a thing?” Gus asked in shock.

“How are you a chemistry major and you don’t know about male pregnancy?” Isaac added his two cents before turning to Brian and Justin. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thank you, Isaac.” Justin whispered.

“Look, I know it’s a thing. I just didn’t think my dads could be part of that.” Gus shrugged.

“Why not. They are male, therefore part of the phenomenon.” Isaac shrugged once more, turning back to the food in front of him.

His utter lack of shock or surprise eased a bit of the tension in Justin’s shoulders, but not all of it. After all, Gus had yet to say how he felt about it. Justin bit the inside of his cheek and watched as Gus continued to stare at the sonogram picture.

“Cool.” He shrugged and handed the image back to Justin. Then he dived into his food without another word.

Justin got up from the table. Gus hadn’t outright said he hated the news, but he also hadn’t been enthusiastic for it either. The blond needed some time to himself. Besides, his stomach was resisting the idea of eating anything at the moment. As he sat down on his and Brian’s bed he casually wondered how Brian was handling his sudden departure from the table.

His mind wandered to his own experiences with his father. Justin had always wanted to have kids and to be the best father he could be. When he was younger he’d thought he would emulate his father because the man had always been wonderful toward him. But, then he’d come out and things devolved quickly, forcing Justin to realize he needed to emulate someone else if he ever wanted to be a dad. Then, when things got serious with Brian he knew fatherhood was never going to be anything more than part-time thanks to Brian’s lack of interest in having a child outside of the one he fathered for Mel and Linds.

Justin is pulled from his thoughts by the feel of Brian’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the older man with concern all over his face. Justin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself to smile up at Brian.

“I’m sorry.” Justin heaved, trying to avoid the emotions threatening to boil over.

Brian sat down next to him. He pulled Justin against his chest. “Sorrys are bullshit. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“But, Gus didn’t do anything wrong.” Justin mumbled against Brian’s chest. “Besides, he has every right to resent this baby. Considering the evolution of your relationship with him.”

“He can feel how he feels about it, but he still should’ve been more considerate in how he reacted.” Brain rubbed his hand up and down Justin’s back.

“Brian, he didn’t exactly react at all. I’m just being overly sensitive. I’m happy about this so I hoped everyone else would be.” Justin nuzzled his head into Brian’s neck.

“Just give him time. He will come around. You can’t forget he’s still cagey sometimes about the whole arrangement you and I have. He’s a teenager.” Brian shrugged.

Justin pulled back in surprise. “When did you become the logical, steady one in this relationship?”

“I’ve always been mature and logical.” Brian smirked, knowing full well he used to be a petty mess when he didn’t get his way.

“Sure,” Justin chuckled and then stood up. “I’m hungry. Don’t wait for me.”

[bonesandthebees]

Okay so I don’t have much time, cus that chapter took me like 1, 5 h to read (a combination of my dyslexia being a bitch, me watching Phil’s qsmp kitchen building stream in the background, and me constantly having to take a moment (TM) to process, scream and or squeal because you writing is giving me many emotions tonight. Anyway, have some delayed ‘live’ reactions.

So the chapter summary in combination with the chapter starting before they are back at the temple instantly shot my anxiety through the roof. My adrenaline was pumping (for most of the chapter actually).

Also, it’s good that you reminded us Wilbur hit his head cuz I had legitimately forgotten that bit. And the fact that he hit his head is important because my mans is bleeding. BEE, this is head wound number TWO! BEE, aren’t you put him through enough? Doesn’t he have enough trauma? Does he need the physical injuries too?

Anyway, I’m sure Wilbur walking in Injured was good for Phil’s heart rate. Not as bad as finding out both of them are missing though. But the realisation that Wilbur is bleeding reframes that entire scene because Phil was looking at Wilbur for an entirely different reason than he thought it was. I have yet to reread it, but I look forward to doing that tomorrow.

I gotta love Tommy getting grounded. Welcome to the average teenage experience. [Without thinking, the Pythia huffed out a, “Or what, you’ll ground me too?”

Phil gave him a flat stare. “Yes.”] let me tell you, I cackled. I have to pause for a solid minute to laugh. Congratulations, Wilbur, making up for teenage experience you’ve never had.

And the rest of this chapter is basically just sand duo. There is so much sand duo. I am living my best life. I am being fed. I have so much to analyse. But the summary the chapter summary should have been Wilbur speed-running getting adopted by Phil or Phil speed-running adopting Wilbur. Listen it’s some good father-son bonding with the regular dose of trauma dumping form Wilbur. And an equally expected dose of Phil hearing how shit Wilbur has been treated and adopting him on the stop. And I’m starting to think Kristin has been trying to pspspsps him so she can adopt him since the moment he stepped into the temple (and let me tell you I SCREAMED at that chapter end).

(also, rip Tommy, also, also, Techno burned the Aardvark, I’m sure he’s having a fun time with Tommy bored out of his mind, also, also, also, Wilbur still complimenting Niki’s bread even if he probably hasn’t talked to her in a week).

Anyway, I gotta go now! I’ll be back to scream more later! Thanks for the content! Thanks for the sand duo! I’m going to pray my room has cooled down cuz I will not be able to fall asleep when it’s 30 degree Celsius.

-🌲

I have no idea how you were watching phil's stream while reading the chapter I cannot watch streams while reading fics (tbh I can't do much of anything when reading I have to put my full focus in it to process the words) so kudos to you for that even if it took a bit longer to read

oh yeah I knew everyone was going to brush over wilbur hitting his head at the end of the last chapter. it was such a 'blink and you'll miss it' moment bc I didn't even include it 'onscreen' and just described it happening from afar. it was meant to be very subtle so that when it gets pulled into focus in the next chapter the readers are just as surprised as wilbur is about it

also it was a MINOR wound i swear he did not get head trauma from this one he just cut his eyebrow he's okay 😭

phil was lucky he didn't have a damn heart attack that night. the man went through so much stress and then his son and the pythia they kidnapped stroll back in all casually, and the pythia is BLEEDING and neither one of them even seems to notice

wilbur's gotta get the average teen experience at one point in his life right?? I was very proud of that line lol it was so funny to me

this chapter was especially fun for me to write bc of all the sand duo. god as much as I love crimeboys I had so much fun writing sand in stars, that I was SO happy getting to dive back into their dynamic in this chapter. sandduo just hits different fr. they did so much bonding.

techno felt a headache coming on the second he heard tommy call his rag 'clementine' he is suffering so much to make sure that kid does his damn chores

glad you saw the subtle nod to complimenting niki's baking even if they're still in a very uncertain place with each other :)

can't wait to hear the rest of your thoughts!! also oh god 30 degrees that's really not fun. I hope you get a cool breeze through your windows tonight o7

[whentherewerebicycles]

did not sleep well last night too busy processing oppenheimer which was so good in so many ways that its glaring flaws annoyed me even more because they seemed so avoidable? like they clearly weren’t failures of ability or nerve they were just nolan being like mm no that is of no interest to me. but on the whole a v good piece of art with a couple fatal flaws lol and one I’ll prob go see again. it was a movie that reminded me what I like about films as a medium distinct from other kinds of storytelling. etc etc

mm what else. BIG thunderstorm this morning which was so nice although sadly it is already dissipating. this is my last full day here and I’m sad about it!! I feel like my parents and I built up a ton of goodwill just through dealing with the early pregnancy stress and the emotional fallout of the surgery together, and it’s just been really nice to spend a lot of time with them this summer even if some of that was for bleh reasons. anyway it’s fine I will just have to make time to come back in the fall sometime too. ok ok but time to start the day probably let’s see…

8:30-9:50 coffee, lounge, work emails, review big priorities for the week

9:50-10:15 shower/get ready

10:15-11ish talk to liz

11-11:30 prep for meeting

11:30-12:30 LK/ND mtg

12:30-4:30 open time—I’d like to email five faculty members (so I’ll have to make a quick template for that and do a tiny bit of research to tailor it) and maybe do a first rough draft of the one-page proposal. I can tell I’m going to want to procrastinate on that because I think it’ll be time-consuming but I’ve actually done a lot of the legwork already so I just need to block off some time to compile stuff. I will copy over the list of identified needs, trim it down to essentials, add dates/times for the event series, and note where we’re planning to add links to the expectations contract + check-in templates next week. if I can get all that done (which will take 30-60 min max) I can check that off my list and send it on to the next stage for feedback. and my reward will be that if I do those two things (emails and proposal draft) I can spend the rest of this block writing fic :) although I might also want to do all the veggie prep to make this roasted veggie tart if we’re doing that tonight hmmmm I’ll have to ask my mom

4:30-6 equity analysis mtg

done for the day!

[anglophiletraveler]

Chapter 5

You Can't Pick Your Relatives

Note: I finally got around to making a collage to go with this fic that I've been writing based on The Almighty Johnsons. The female lead in the story, Charlie, isn't based on anyone in the show, but in my mind she's a fiesty, beautiful red head from Canada! I did find a picture of the above actress that is similar to how I envision her. I hope this helps you enjoy the story more!

Anders was looking at his face in his bathroom mirror.  It was as bad as Dawn said, and it will definitely not be any better by tomorrow’s meeting with Charlie.  And he really had wanted to see her face after she received his basket.  He was going to have to text her and tell her that he’s sick and won’t be at the meeting.  He really hated to tell her in a text, but if she talked to him, he was afraid that she would figure out that he really wasn’t sick.  “That damn Mikkel!!” Anders yelled!  Of course he had a headache from the hit, so he took some medicine for that.  He wanted to drink some vodka with it, but he talked himself out of it, so he grabbed a bottle of water and sat down to test Charlie.

“Hello blue eyes!”

“Lol! I could be calling you the same!”

“Well yours are much prettier than mine!”

“Well aren’t u just full of 💩 tonight!  How are you?”

“Lol!  Well, that’s actually what I’m texting you about.  I’ve come down with a flu or something and I won’t be able to make it to the meeting tomorrow.  Dawn knows everything I do, so she’ll be fine to run it.  I’m sorry  🤢.”

“Oh no! I was looking forward to seeing you tomorrow!”

“I know.  I really wanted to see you too.”

“Well, can I bring you over some soup or ginger ale or something?”

“Oh you’re so sweet.  But I don’t want you coming over and catching what I have.  But thanks for the offer.”

“Gosh you were fine yesterday.  I must have worn down your immunity! Lol!”

“That’s probably it!  I’m going to go lay back down.  Thanks for understanding.”

“Oh you poor thing!  Take care of yourself! ❤️”

“FUCK!” Anders yelled again.  “Damn you Mikkel!  You fuck up everything for me!!”

Anders grabbed his phone and called Ty.

“Anders?  What’s up?”

“Ty!  Everything is fucked up now with this fucking eye of mine.  It’s going to take at least a week for it to go away!  A week Ty!  What am I going to do??  What am I going to tell Charlie? I just texted her that I can’t be at the meeting tomorrow and she wants to bring me soup!  Soup Ty!  I can’t avoid her for a week, she’ll think I don’t like her!  She’ll think I’m, I’m, just playin her!”

Ty sighed.  “Anders, try to calm down. I know that sounds stupid right now.”

“Fuckin’ right it sounds stupid!”

“Screaming right now isn’t going to make things better! If she thinks you’re sick, maybe she won’t push getting together with you for awhile.  If she thinks you’re contagious she won’t want to come around, and maybe your eye will be better by then.”

“Maybe.  And that’s a big maybe.”

“Besides Anders, what’s the big idea if Charlie did find out how you got the eye.  You weren’t the one that was doing the swinging.”

“I just wanted to keep Mike and Axl out of our relationship.  I didn’t want them to taint our relationship.  You know how they are, they spew all sorts of shit about me to anyone.  And if they find out I might have a.. a…”

“Girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!  She’s just a friend.  And if they find out about her they’ll tell her a bunch of shit and chase her off.”

“Well Dawn and I won’t say a word to them about her.  Just try to calm down and get some sleep.  You might be getting upset for nothing,” Ty said.

“Right.  Fat chance of that.  I’ll see ya.  Thanks Ty.”

***********************

The next morning, Charlie’s secretary Evan, was preparing for a busy day ahead with his boss when an unusual package was hand delivered from a delivery service for Charlie.  Evan raised an eyebrow at the package and signed for the delivery so the delivery person could leave.  It almost looked like a fruit basket the way it had been wrapped in that slippery cellophane wrapping paper.  It was purple so he couldn’t see inside it and tied with a big bow and a card that was sealed, so he couldn’t see who it was from.   He picked it up and knocked on his boss’s door.

“Come in.”

“Charlie, I have something for you,” Evan announced.

Charlie was reading some paperwork and didn’t look up right away.  Evan was awkwardly standing there until she gave her attention to him.

Finally she looked up, “What is that?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, but your name is on the card,” Evan handed the card to her.  “Where do you want me to put it?”

Charlie was looking at the envelope to see if she recognized the handwriting, “Well, just leave it here on my desk I guess.”  Evan set it down and was hoping that she would open it so that he could see what was inside the package.  Charlie hadn’t opened the envelope yet, but she was curious about the package.  “You know Evan, it could be a bomb.”

“Oh good God!” Evan replied in an alarmed voice.  “Who would want to send a bomb to you?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe it’s really meant for you!” Charlie teased.

“Oh Charlie, for God’s sake open the damn envelope!”

Charlie let out one of her bawdy laughs.  She carefully opened the envelope like it could be tainted.  

Dear Charlie,

I tried really hard to find a florist to make an arrangement out of maple leaves to send to you, but none of them would cooperate with me.  So this will have to be the next best thing.  Ty and Dawn love baking cupcakes, so they created these maple flavoured creations for you.  Enjoy!

Anders

Charlie let out a gasp, “Oh my gosh!!”  She ripped open the package which caused the maple leaves to spill out everywhere on her desk.

Charlie was laughing even louder and she grabbed some of the leaves and threw them up in the air!!  “I love it!”

Evan was looking at her like she lost her mind, “What on earth is all of this.  Who is it from?”

Charlie looked at Evan, “It’s from Anders!  His card said that he couldn’t find a florist to make an arrangement with maple leaves, so he made this basket!  Isn’t that sweet!”

“What’s the deal with all of the leaves?” Evan asked.

“Don’t you get it?  I’m Canadian!!  Our symbol on the flag is the maple leaf!  Duh!  What else does he have here?”  She pulled out the bottles of maple syrup which made her cackle.  Then she pulled out a plastic container and when she opened it, it was filled with white cupcakes with little red maple leafs on them.  “Oh look at the cupcakes Evan!  Here, try one!”  She gave Evan one and he bit into it and chewed, “It’s good but I can’t tell what the flavour is?”

Charlie bit into a cupcake, realising right away the flavour, “They are maple flavoured!  I love it!  And look at these decorations!  Wow, they did a really good job, I’m impressed!”

Evan was finishing his cupcake, “So did Anders make the cupcakes?”

“No, the card says that his brother and Dawn did.  Oh by the way he texted me last night and he’s not going to be at the meeting this afternoon and Dawn is going to run it.  He said he’s really sick.”  She started picking up the leaves from her desk.

“My my Charlie, you and Anders are certainly getting close,” he gave her a knowing smile.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” she wasn’t about to tell Evan about the weekend that she just had with Anders.  This basket of goodies gave her hope that Anders was feeling the same about her, that she was about him.  He could have just sent some ordinary roses, but she loved the fact that he went the extra mile to be different and quirky and sent this basket to her. 

Evan was wadding up the cellophane wrapping paper to clean up her desk, “Do you want me to throw these leaves out?”

“Evan, don’t you dare!”

********************************

The meeting with the commercial director, editor, and Dawn had wrapped up, and Evan was showing everyone out, when Charlie stopped Dawn.

“Dawn!  I just wanted to thank you for the cupcakes, they’re delicious.  And so clever!”

Dawn smiled at Charlie, “Oh I’m glad that you like them.  My husband Ty did most of the work.  He and Anders were so cute with their heads together on what to send you since Anders couldn’t find the right flower arrangement to send you.”

“It was very original.  I assume that all took place before Anders got sick?” Charlie asked.

Dawn had forgotten that Anders was supposed to be sick.  She didn’t know what to say, “Oh, oh yes!  Anders, he um,  started getting sick when he was still at our place.  And so he didn’t want to get Andrea sick, so, he went home.” She didn’t like the weird look that Charlie was giving her. It probably didn’t help that Dawn tapping a pen on her leg and she was fidgety.

“Dawn, why do I get the feeling that you’re hiding something from me?” 

Dawn sighed.  She looked around to make sure nobody was in the conference room that they were in, and she closed the door.  “Anders is going to kill me for telling you this.”

Charlie started to panic inside and spilled her guts out to Dawn.  “Dawn, I know he’s been a player in the past, but we just had a really good weekend.  Do you think he regrets that now? I wonder if I came on too strong?  Is he trying to avoid me?”

Dawn was surprised by Charlie’s confession and shook her head, “What?  Nooo, that’s not it.  I think, yes, Anders has been a player in the past, a very big player.  But I think he likes you.  But he was afraid to see you today, because his eye… can we sit down?”

The two women sat down.  Dawn let out a big sigh.  “Anders was afraid to come to the meeting today because he was afraid of what you and the others might think of him.  It wasn’t Anders' fault. I felt so bad for him. His brother Mike is a big bully sometimes.  And…” 

Dawn wasn’t making sense, and Charlie was getting more confused, “Dawn!  What wasn’t Anders' fault?”

“Anders got a black eye yesterday.  A really bad one.  He’s not really sick, but he was afraid of what you would think if he came in here today with a black eye.  We tried icing it but the swelling just wouldn’t go down.” Dawn finally explained.

“I don’t understand.  Did he get into a fight with a woman’s boyfriend or something?” Charlie was starting to doubt her feelings for Anders now.

“No, no it wasn’t anything like that.  It happened when he was trying to pick some maple leaves from a tree.  His brother Mike spotted him from his truck and pulled over, and went over and confronted Anders about a family issue, and in order to get away from Mike and not get into a fight, Anders turned away and started walking away from Mike.  Well that made Mike even more angry, and so he grabbed Anders and punched him and gave him the black eye.” Dawn huffed.

Charlie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  She remembered the few times she tried to mention Anders’ family he always changed the subject.  “That’s crazy.  Did Anders hit him back?”

Dawn shook her head, “No, I don’t think so.  He knew it wouldn’t have done any good.”

“Well, whenever I’ve tried to talk about his family, he’s avoided the subject.  I guess this is the reason why.  So he’s at home?” 

“Yes, he has been working from home.  He’s planning on doing that for the rest of the week until the eye gets better.  But I think it’s going to take longer than that.  It’s pretty bad.  I’m starting to think he should’ve gone to the clinic or A&E,” Dawn said.

“Oh my gosh.  Poor guy.  Where does he live?” Charlie asked.

“Oh Charlie, he will kill me if you go over to his flat,” Dawn said.

“You let me handle that,” Charlie said.  “Just tell me where he lives.”

*******************************

Anders had worked from home all day.  Dawn had said the meeting had gone well and that Charlie had liked her basket.  He was kind of disappointed that he never heard from Charlie herself about the basket, but then again she did think he was sick.  He was just about to make some supper for himself when he heard someone knocking on the door.   He didn’t know who it could be because he didn’t buzz anyone through the main door.  They knocked again.  He opened the door slowly and was shocked to see Charlie standing there with a big smile on her face.  She quietly started singing, “Oh Canada! Our home and native land! True patriot love thou dost in us command.”

Anders started laughing and opened the door, “Get in here before the neighbours call the coppers!”  He noticed that she was carrying a large pot.  “Here let me get that for you.  What is it?  Smells delicious.”

“Well, I heard someone was sick, so I made some chicken noodle soup to help them feel better,” said Charlie.

Anders sat the pot down on the stove and opened the lid to look at it, “Wow, thank you.  You didn’t have to do that.  I was just getting ready to scramble an egg.”

Charlie was still smiling, “Well, now you don’t have to.  It should still be hot if you want to have a bowl now.  I’ve brought some crackers to go with it.”

Anders leaned on the counter, looked down and swallowed hard.  He didn’t know what to say.  Obviously Charlie had seen his eye by now.  

Charlie started looking through his cupboards, “Where are your bowls, I’ll ladle you some out.  Oh here they are.”

Anders cleared his throat, “Are you going to have some with me?”

“Sure, I’ll join you.  Where do you want to sit?”  Charlie was busying herself to get through the awkwardness between them.

“The couch is fine.  Would you like something to drink?” Anders wanted to crawl under the nearest rock.  Why is she being so nice to him after he’s lied to her and has a black eye.

“Um, water is fine for me,” She carried the bowls over to the table in front of the couch.  She 

pulled the crackers out of her bag and jumped up to get napkins and spoons.

They both finally sat down to eat.  Anders finally looked Charlie in the face, “Thank you for bringing this over.  You didn’t need to.  I assume that Dawn told you where I live?”

“Yes she did.  I twisted her arm,” Charlie said.

“Yeah I bet you did.  It didn’t take much I’m sure. I assume she told you about my eye also?” Anders asked.

 “What eye?  I don’t know what you’re talking about?  How’s the soup?” Charlie said with a twinkle in her eye.

Anders chuckled, “It’s delicious, thanks again.  And I’m sure that my neighbours are relieved that you’ve stopped singing ‘Oh Canad’ as well.”

Charlie placed her hand on her throat, “What!  I’m hurt that you don’t appreciate the Canadian National Anthem. It’s a beautiful anthem I’ll have you know!”

“I didn’t say that it wasn’t, all I said was that my neighbours are probably relieved that you’ve stopped singing it.  Dawn said the meeting went well.”

“Yes it did, no thanks to you, ya egg!”  Anders laughed at her use of the slang word.  “And I loved the basket you sent me.  It was awesome.  Nobody has ever sent me a basket of leaves before.  Thank you for going out of your way to make it special.”

Anders swallowed hard and his eyebrows raised as he looked at this woman in front of him.  “I, um.  You’re very welcome,” Anders said in a soft voice.  Charlie raised her hand to gently touch his eye.  Anders laid his hand on top of hers and closed his eyes, then touched her hand.

“Does it hurt?” Charlie asked.

“Just a bit.”

“Maybe we should get it checked out.  It looks pretty bad.”

Anders smiled, “Nah, there’s nothing they can do.  I’ll just keep icing it.”

“Anders, I really think it should be checked out.  You could have some damage to your cornea or retina or something.  Please? For me?”  Charlie was giving her best puppy dog look to Anders.

Anders rolled his eyes, “Jaysus how can I resist you?!”

************************

After spending five hours in A & E, a tired and frustrated Anders and Charlie finally made it back to his place, complete with an eye patch covering the black eye.  They both collapsed on the sofa.

“The next time you try to convince me to go to the A & E, I’m going to remind you of this night,” Anders growled.

“It was a long night, but obviously you needed to be checked out.  I had no idea it would be this busy in the emergency room on a Tuesday evening.  But from what the doctor and the ophthalmologist said, I’m glad you went.  Your cornea is nothing to be messed with.   If you’d like, I can spend the night and help you put the medicine in your eye in the morning,” Charlie offered.

Anders smiled at Charlie and teased her, “I’m never going to stop you from spending the night!”

Charlie chucked at the insinuation, “Okay, sounds good.  I can sleep on the couch so that you can rest better.”

“Like fuck you are!  You are sleeping with me!”

That brought out Charlie’s deep laugh, “Anders, the eye doctor said you need to take it easy for the next couple of days.”  She was trying to sound all innocent.

“Listen here, he said take it easy.  I don’t think that meant no sex!”

“I think you’re wrong Anders.  It says right here on these discharge papers no sex for two weeks!”  She loved teasing Anders.

Anders tried to grab the papers from her but she was holding them out of his reach!  “Now I know it doesn’t say that in the paperwork.  Let me see!”

“Mmmm with which eye?”

“Ohhh you are a cheeky little thing aren’t you!” Anders finally grabbed the discharge papers out of Charlie’s hands and was reading them with the one good eye he had at the moment.  “Ha!  Nowhere does it say no sex!  So that means you are sleeping with me.  And as luck would have it, my housekeeper put clean sheets on my bed this morning.”  

“You have a housekeeper for this little apartment?” Charlie asked.

He grabbed Charlie and started tickling her.  She ended up on Ander’ lap with his arms wrapped around her waist, while he was nuzzling her neck kissing her all over.  She quickly rolled her head to give him more room to work, running her fingers through his hair.  

Anders inhaled her scent, “Jaysus how do you still smell so good after all these hours?”

“I’m special like that!”  They both giggled at that.  “Anders?”

“Hmmmm”

“Where’s your bedroom?”

*******************************

Charlie woke up before the alarm on her phone went off so she quickly shut it off and reset it for a later time, then sent a text to Evan letting him know that she would be late getting into the office.  She quietly got up to go to the bathroom, and then returned to bed to snuggle in with Anders.

Anders stirred, “What time is it?”

“It’s early.  I just reset my alarm to go off at 8:00.  Go back to sleep.”

Anders wrapped his arms around Charlie and gave her a lazy kiss to the side of her head. It didn’t take long for Anders to drop back to sleep.  But Charlie stayed awake a little longer wondering where this was all going.  She already felt herself falling for this adorable kiwi, but the question was, what did he think about their relationship so far?  At this point she was nervous too bring it up.  She didn’t want to risk scaring him off.  

“You are thinking way too loud.  Go to sleep Charlie,” Anders said.

Charlie smiled, “I thought you were asleep?”

“I was but your loud thinking woke me up.”

Charlie slid further down into his arms, “Sorry, I’ll try to go back to sleep.”  She felt the warmth of his hand caressing her backside.  She sighed and started to fall back to sleep again.

**************************

When Dawn told Ty about Anders having to wear an eye patch because of the injury to his cornea, Ty was livid.  Anders could have lost his eyesight!  So after Dawn came home that evening, Ty paid a visit to Mike’s Bar.

When he walked in the bar Axl and Zeb, sitting in their usual spot in the corner, but he didn’t see Mike.  

Axl was surprised to see Ty at the bar.  Since the baby was born Ty was rarely at the bar.  “Ty! Hey bro how’s it going?  Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Ty nodded at him, “Where’s Mike?”

Axl could tell something was up, “He’s downstairs bringing some supplies up.  He should be back in a minute.  Is something wrong?”  Just then Mike came up with a crate of booze.  He spotted Ty and had a feeling why he was in the bar.

Mike set the crate down on the bar and leaned against it, “Ty.  What brings you here?  Everything alright?”

“No Mike, everything isn’t alright.  You hurt Anders the other day Mike.  He had to go to the hospital because your fist caused some damage to his cornea!  So no, I’m not alright.  You need to get over your need to hurt Anders NOW!  Anders didn’t deserve getting hit in the eye, Mike.  You need to grow up and get over whatever it is that you’re pissed at Anders about.”

Mike stood up straight, “I didn’t even hit him that hard.  He’s just being a pussy that he always was.  And I’ll stop being pissed off at Anders when he starts taking responsibility and starts thinking of others instead of himself.  He needs to go see Grandpa ….”

Ty interrupted him, “Anders does go see Grandpa, at least once a week, and he even pays for some of his expenses.”

“I don’t believe that.  He’s never signed in to the visitors book.  He’s just filling you another load of shit Ty.”

“He doesn’t sign in because he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s there.  He doesn’t make a big deal out of spending time with Grandpa like you do Mike.  Dawn has told me how much time he spends with him, and how much he pays for his expenses.  When was the last time you paid for some of Grandpa’s expenses?  Hmmm?”

Mike looked dumbfounded, “I didn’t know that,” he answered in a quiet voice.

Axl spoke up, “Way to go Mike.  You fucked up again.”

Mike spun his head around to Axl, “Shut up Axl.  When’s the last time you saw Grandpa?”

“It’s not a game or a competition Mike!  Get over yourself!” Axl answered back.  “I can’t believe you hurt Anders like that.  How’s he doing Ty?”

“He has to put drops in his eye three times a day to help heal the cornea, and he has to wear an eyepatch for five days.”  He looked at Mike, “Dawn has already said that she doesn’t want you coming over to the house at the same time Anders is there.  You keep this up and she won’t want you there at all.  So call before you come over from now on to make sure Anders isn’t there.”  Ty turned around and left without giving Mike a chance to speak again.  He didn’t want to hear anything else that Mike had to say.

Ty stopped over at Anders on his way home to check on him.  He rang the buzzer and a female voice answered.  It threw him for a moment, “Uh hi, this is Ty, I was just wanting to see my brother Anders.”

“Oh sure, I’ll buzz you up.”

Anders' door was open when Ty got there so he just went on in.  He saw a woman cooking in Anders’ kitchen before he saw Anders sitting on the couch.  

Anders stood up, “Oh hey Ty come on in, grab a beer.  Charlie, this is my brother Ty, Dawn’s husband.  Ty this is Charlie.

Charlie wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and held out her hand to shake Ty’s hand, “Ah yes, it’s nice to finally meet you Ty.  I really love Dawn.  She’s fun to hang out with.  I’m just cooking us some supper, would you like to stay?”

Ty smiled at Charlie, “It’s nice to finally meet you!  Dawn thinks a lot of you.  And no, I’m sure Dawn will have supper ready by the time I get home.  I just wanted to check up on Anders and see how the eye is doing.”  He went over to the seating area and sat down with Anders.  “I like the pirate look that you’ve got going.”

Anders chuckled, “Yeah too bad it’s not Halloween.  So how’s my beautiful niece?”

“She’s good, she’s good.  She’s starting to sleep better.  Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, that I just saw Mike.”

“Oh wow, how did that go?”

“Fine as far as I’m concerned.  He tried to defend himself for hitting you but I let him know that it’s not acceptable and that he has to leave you alone and stop treating you like a punching bag.”

Charlie was listening to the two brothers talk, and that comment made her smile.

“Wow thanks bro.  I don’t know what good it will do.  But anyway, I don’t plan on seeing him anytime soon.” Anders said.

“Well, I also told him that Dawn doesn’t want him at our house the same time you are there, and that he’s supposed to call first from now on before he comes over to make sure that you’re not there.”

Anders was stunned at that news.  He didn’t want things to get this far.  “Ty, you don’t have to do that.  I don’t want the family to split even more than it already is.”

Ty raised his hand, “It was all Dawn’s idea.  She doesn’t want Mike being a prick in front of Andrea.  Maybe this will make him think a little before he does something stupid again.  He has to realise that we don’t have to answer to him anymore.  We’re all grown ups and he and Axl both need to grow up.”

“Was Axl there?”

“Yeah, he and Zeb were in their usual spot.  I didn’t talk to him much.  I can only hope that he has straightened up and is working.  I didn’t stick around to find out.”

Anders looked down, “I haven’t seen or heard anything from Axl in months.  Well I appreciate you talking to Mike.  Hopefully he’ll start thinking about his actions.”

Ty stood up to leave, “Well, I need to get going.  I just thought I’d check in on you.  If you need anything let us know.  Charlie it was nice meeting you.  Maybe sometime Anders will bring you over for dinner and you can meet Andrea.”

Charlie smiled, “I’d like that. Thank you Ty.  It was lovely to meet you.”

Anders walked Ty out, “Thanks for stopping by bro.”  He gave Ty a hug.

“No problem.  Hey uh, you better hang on to that one, she’s nice,” he smiled at Anders.

“Alright, alright, get out of here!” said Anders.  He closed the door behind Ty and walked back to Charlie and put his arms around her waist.

“I like him.  He seems very nice,” Charlie said.  She leaned in to give him a kiss.

“He is.  He used to be a twat but married life has been good for him,” he kissed her again.

Charlie leaned over and turned the stove off, “Time to eat!”

Anders got this devilish look on his face, “Yes it is.”   He pulled the apron off Charlie and led her to the bedroom, Charlie laughing all of the way!

[writefightandflightclub]

Thanks for the tag 🧡✨🧡

Ooh, now who do I choose?!

Well, let’s see. Nathan is either disco dancing or too drunk or still working when the ball drops, probably. He’s gonna be a grump about conforming to something so arbitrary, and getting him to kiss you specifically at midnight feels like it would be a battle not worth the effort tbh. You can do better than a reluctant, hard-won kiss. So… Meh. I’ll kiss him another time. (Any other time. Believe me.)

So first, it’s gotta be Santiago. I’m kissing him at midnight bc DUH. I reckon he’s the best kisser of all the Oscar characters. (Also that stubble? How he would smell?) I reckon that there will have been some plot amongst the boys to pair you two up at midnight. Some deliciously meddle-y idiots to lovers scenario. And, whatever you expected to happen at midnight - whatever quick, devoid of those kinda feelings peck on the lips you anticipated - you could not have been more wrong. Santi’s need and resolve would collapse as soon as his lips were a breath away from yours, and he would give you a mind-melting, body-shaking, limb-loosening, life-changing kiss. And nothing would ever be the same again. (Also, you’re both absolutely leaving the party immediately after this. Because you very suddenly have things - such! important! things! - to attend to. In his pants, obviously.)

(I did write a Santi new year kissing when the ball drops fic if anyone wants to but hasn’t read it yet lol)

Second of all. Surprising myself here because hello? Jonathan Levy? I think he’d be fun to kiss at midnight. You’re at his place - you both had nowhere to be tonight, and somehow you both muddled your way into take-out in his kitchen and wine on his couch. At this point you’ve already melted. Melted into his couch like you’re trying to take its shape. Melted into his company. Melted into your slowly-ebbing desire for him, barely any distance between your bodies as your conversation has drawn you closer. You only notice it’s gotten so late when you hear the neighbour’s fireworks and cheering from outside. “Oh hey. It’s midnight,” Jonathan notes in surprise, his eyes tipping up to the window and sparkling like the fireworks which splay across the sky. Then, his eyes tick back to you, and the sparks ignite to embers. You see the thought slowly trundle through his wine-addled brain. You see his gaze drop to your lips. I could kiss you at midnight. And, with his thought, you realise you are thinking it too. You barely have to move at all before your hands are fisting into his soft sweater, pulling his lips on to you. He tastes sharp and rich like red wine, his kiss is full of delicate, subtle notes. You twine your fingers in his soft curls and you kiss him; slow but full-bodied, until your limbs are all tangled-up together. Until you break from him and he’s panting gently, his glasses and his curls askew. “Happy new year, Jonathan.” Sitting here, melted into the couch, and feeling wanted - for the first time in a long time - Jonathan does indeed now believe that this year will be happier than his last. All because of you. He hasn’t kissed anyone. Not since Mira. He’d thought it would be hard. But you make it so easy. So easy, that after he has blinked away his surprise and fumbled his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, he is kissing you again.

Third then… I’m gonna go for Marc Spector. Like me, he probably doesn’t want to be at a wild, loud party (sometimes I do, this year was not one of those times 😆). Imagine. You are happily snuggled with him under the duvet, your faces illuminated by the light from the phone screen as you watch the clock, excited giggles spilling from you. At least, you are watching the clock, and Marc is watching you, with the softest of smiles on his face. His gaze flits over your features, and his warm fingers find your bare skin. And, Marc, with a sureness, pulls you close to him and kisses you, earnest and deep, a frown bedded down on his forehead as he tries to kiss all of his feelings and his gratitude and his love into you. To smooth it into your skin, everywhere he touches. You hum, reeling from the syrupy, intimate, languid, loving kiss. “Marc, it’s only 11:58!” He just smiles softly once again and pulls you into his chest. “I couldn’t wait.” He had already waited too long for a moment like this. A moment where he felt safe and loved and happy. He’s not waiting any longer. He cradles you in his arms, and you start the new year falling asleep together. Truly, Marc could have every year for the rest of his life begin and end like this.

TAGGING ANYONE WHO WANNA KISS YOUR BLORBO. Tell me -I’d love to know who you’d choose! 🧡

Cee! Someone asked me and it seems only fair to keep the chain going…

What three blorbos are you smooching at midnight?

Kate!! This is such a fun ask! Here are my three main men:

And sure we’ll just be… smooching 🤫

Keeping the chain going - anyone else care to share who they’ll be kissing / kissed at midnight? 💋 np tags and anyone! @prolix-yuy @mandoblowmybackout @psychedelic-ink @imaswellkid @guiltypleasure-girl @pedropascalsx @miss-mandalorian @mandosmistress @wildemaven

[yoongihan]

I Adore You - HJS - OneShot

pairing: han x fem character

genre: fluff, a bit smutty, f2l, a little angst

rating: M (a light M)

word count: ~4.2k

warnings: some negative self-talk, heavy making out, mention of genitalia (LOL), finger action (not that kind), kissing and more kissing, some language, an inappropriate amount of jisung admiration (i don’t think i’ve missed anything, let me know if i have).

a/n: honestly? I just needed to write this out. I needed to somehow purge myself of jisung feelings (which i don’t think worked). so it’s super fluffy, a little smutty, and a lot escapism. thank you to @jl-micasea-fics​ for hyping me up, to @hannahbee12719​ & @seokjinger-ale​ for always giving me love, and to @candlewaxandp0lar0ids​ for all the convos we have where we just gush about han jisung and the amazing human that he is. 

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~

You always know.

That’s actually a lie. There were times when Jisung was a total expert at hiding how he really felt. Or maybe you were just dense. Whatever the combination, on occasion, your friend could sometimes hide whatever he was going through.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

Hey.

What’s wrong?

You could almost hear his sigh through the text.

She canceled.

I’ll be over in 20.

It turns out to be more like a half hour, and when you knock on the door of the apartment he shares with Jeongin and Hyunjin, it’s the latter who answers. You smile sheepishly at him.

“You bought him a whole cheesecake?” he asks, stepping back to let you in.

“The individual slice options didn’t look as good,” you explain, a little shamefully. “A pint of ice cream doesn’t work for him.”

Hyunjin just sighs and then smiles at you. “Simp.”

You glare at him. “You’re lucky my hands are full.” You start toward the hallway that leads to each of their bedrooms.

“Or what?” he taunts.

You sniff. “Be grateful you’ll never know.” You knock on Jisung’s door with your elbow as well as you can.

“I’m just shaking in my shoes,” Hyunjin shoots back before lifting his hand in a farewell. “You can crash in my room if you stay overnight. I won’t be back.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh before he disappears through the door.

“Jisung?” you call through the door when you don’t hear anything. “It’s me.”

You hear his shuffling gait before the door opens. He has his absurdly large headphones around his neck, and he’s decked out in grey sweatpants and a ragged white t-shirt. His hair (a deep rose color) is fluffy, probably from him running his hands through it too much in frustration. He gives you a quick glance then looks at the cake box you’re holding and his eyes go wide.

“Did I sound that bad?”

Now you’re really embarrassed.

“Um, well, like I told Jinnie, the individual slice options didn’t look so great.” You hold it out to him. “Please take it.”

He fits the box on his side, arm wrapped around it securely, before meeting your gaze again. He does look a bit worn around the eyes and mouth. “What’s in the bag?”

“Fried chicken?”

There’s a slight uplift of one corner of his lips that betrays him wanting to smile. “Come in.”

“Because of the chicken? That’s why I’m granted entry?” You walk in, glancing around. You’ve been in his bedroom a few times, but usually, you both hung out in the living room, where the astronomically large television is, along with a collection of game consoles.

His room is messy always, though it looks like he tried to clean up. All the clothes normally draped over furniture are now in one pile by the closet.

“What?” he prompts when you don’t immediately sit somewhere.

“You picked up?”

He shrugs before setting the cake box on top of his dresser and reaching over to relieve you of the chicken (also setting it on the dresser). He plops down on the edge of his bed.

“I got ready really early, so I started cleaning.” He looks down at his hands. “I was excited.”

You swallow and sit down next to him, a little tentative because, despite two years of friendship, it’s still you and him on a bed together. In as platonic a light as he sees you, you will always be hyper-aware that your thoughts about him are not always…friendly.

“It was a second date?” You know of course that it is. You can’t not remember that he’s dating, seeing people, probably charming others like he charms you.

“Yeah. But I mean, we messaged between the first and the second and I thought it was all good, right?” He pulls out his phone to show you something. He has Instagram open which already makes you feel a bit ill.

Please don’t let this go where you think it’s going.

“She texted right before I was gonna leave and said something came up.” He opens a profile that isn’t familiar to you.

Photo posted an hour ago.

Damn, she is really pretty. As is the guy she’s leaning against and laughing with.

“Ji…”

“I can’t compete with that.” He pulls the phone away from your gaze and stares at it. “I know I shouldn’t care. It wasn’t like I was in love or anything, but you know…it felt possible.” He glances up at you, his brown eyes rivaling a puppy’s. “And sure, you know, maybe they’re just friends, but then when I asked if there’s another night we could go out…” He shows you his messages.

Left on read.

“I’m so dumb,” he concludes, falling back on the bed, letting his phone bounce to the floor. You wince at the possibility of a cracked phone screen, but you don’t look away from him. He fiddles with the headphones so they aren’t digging into his neck.

“You’re not dumb.”

He raises his head to meet your eyes and lifts one eyebrow. “Sure?”

You move up a bit so he’s not so far away. You settle on your knees, hands on your thighs in an effort not to immediately offer physical affection to soothe.

Even though you both totally use that love language. You’re afraid that your intentions won’t be pure. It’s why you’ve only side-hugged him once your feelings could no longer be denied (by you).

“It’s okay to feel bummed about it.”

He drops his head back to the mattress, closing his eyes.

“Or spiral about it.”

His eyes shut tighter.

It pricks at your heart. This is about more than just a date.

He presses his lips together as though trying to get himself together.

You can’t help it and grasp his hand in yours, squeezing like that will fix everything.

“I don’t look like him, like that.” he whispers. “You think I’d be used to it. I’m best friends with Hyunjin-hyung and Jeongin. Like their handsomeness is so bright, I know I try to make sure I’m seen by being too loud and obnoxious.” He groans in frustration. “I hate that I know all of this, and I still do it.”

Jisung doesn’t often let you in like this. He prefers being the encourager; the one to make everyone laugh, to bring up the mood. When he has his down moments, he usually just retreats to watch videos on youtube or listen to music on his own.

“You’re not too loud. Or obnoxious.”

He snorts, eyes opening, but staring at the ceiling. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“I mean, we all have our times of being too whatever, you know.” You scoot closer, willing your mouth to say the right things, the comforting things. “You’re not only those things.”

He says your name; a protest beginning. You squeeze his hand harder to stop him.

“And you’re so handsome, Ji.”

Another scoff. “Please, I’m like maybe a five. When I try.” There’s a pause. “Ow!”

You realize maybe you’re holding his fingers a bit too tight. You let go immediately.

“Sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just–”

“Your lips.” It just comes out of you. No preplanning or anything. You refuse to hear him speak badly of himself. He has to know how beautiful he is.

He raises up on his elbows at your words. “What?”

“Your lips. They’re pretty.” Your heart beats like someone playing drums for a punk rock song, but you can’t stop. “The shape is just, so eye-catching.”

He stares at you, said lips parted in shock.

“And your eyes. They’re so big and soft when you don’t even realize it. They show everything you’re feeling and I love that about you. They’re even stunning when you’re sad and I hate when you’re sad. You’ve got those adorable cheeks that should make you just cute, but the line of your jaw is so sharp. Completely handsome. And I know you think you’re skinny, but you’re not. You got nice muscles. Toned, but not too much. And your hips are slim and–” You nearly catch yourself revealing too much about how you feel about his hips. “Um, yeah, you just…you’re definitely a ten.”

Oh my god, you just said all that.

“Whoa.”

You don’t see his expression because you are examining your hands as though your life depended on it. You’re banking on the fact that although Jisung can be really insightful (one of the things you really love about him), he’s also oblivious.

At least in regards to how you might feel about him.

“Thanks.”

Your head shoots up at that and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, like he doesn’t believe you, but appreciates it. His smile is soft, a little self-conscious.

Still really oblivious. Thank all the deities.

“I mean it.” You swallow because your throat is all of sudden really dry. “You’re welcome.”

It’s dead silent for what feels like two hours (it’s probably only a couple seconds).

“Wanna watch a movie?”

–

You find out that Jeongin is also out for the night, something with his family. Which means the living room is free to indulge in Jisung’s comfort movie.

“Do you know how many times you’ve watched this?”

He looks away from the screen, where Howl is panicking about being ugly, with his mouth open because he’s about to take another bite of cheesecake.  

“Do I hear judgment?”

You grin because if he’s responding like that, he’s feeling a lot better. He snorts without waiting for an actual answer and goes back to watching the movie, the cheesecake bite now eaten.

The chicken is in the refrigerator since he decided he only wanted the cheesecake. You have a piece in front of you, but you’re just picking at it. Though he might not have picked up on any weirdness, you are definitely feeling the repercussions of your earlier monologue.

You’ve never said those things out loud before, keeping all your reflections about how attractive Jisung is inside your head. Your BFF knows you have a crush, but you don’t wax poetic about Jisung’s hips to her. Even if sometimes you want to.

To have those words out there, in the universe, makes them real. It’s as if you can see the words, in form resting on those particular aspects of Jisung.

That has to be why you keep staring at his lips instead of watching the movie (you’ve probably seen it half the amount of times he has).

He catches you. You think that he’s totally focused on the movie so you steal another look only to find his eyes on you.

You feel your face immediately heat.

“Um…”

He has that furrowed expression on his face again; concentrating and trying to decipher as though you aren’t the most obvious person on the planet (it sure feels like it).

“Something on my face?”

You’re saved. Because yes, there is. Several cheesecake crumbs cling to his lower lip and the left corner.

You nod and gesture to his mouth. He rolls his eyes (like it’s your fault he’s a mess) and broadly wipes across his mouth. You’re about to sigh with relief but when he turns back to the movie, task complete, you realize he’s missed a few.

So, in a mix of annoyance and faltering arousal, you reach out and swipe the errant morsels from his lip.

“Fuck.” It’s completely involuntary, the exhalation. It’s barely a second that it takes you, but your thumb touching that softness is a massive error in judgment on your part.

You might not function properly ever again.

You register then that Jisung has turned, ever slightly toward you (a very acceptable response to someone touching you), and is currently frozen, eyes locked onto yours.

Also, you haven’t removed your wayward thumb yet.

“Fuck.” This time it’s a shameful, frustrated expletive and you pull away like you’ve touched an exposed wire and the electric shock is so strong that you can feel it vibrate deep in your chest. “I’m sorry.” You cover your hand with the other, shoving both on your lap.

You know the movie is still playing, but you honestly can’t hear it. It feels like it’s quiet enough that your heart pounding is the only sound in the room.

He hasn’t said anything so you risk looking away from the movie you aren’t comprehending to him.

He might be a statue.

“Jisung?”

He blinks twice before tucking his lip between his teeth. As he releases, a hint of pink flashes when his tongue licks right where you touched.

You need to get out of there before you absolutely explode into lustful shards.

“I’m gonna go.”

Before you can even shift your weight to stand, his hand encircles your wrist.

Calcifer is definitely saying something in the background, but neither of you seems to remember there is a movie playing.

You can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s not that his face is blank but open, and maybe a little trepidatious. He tugs your imprisoned hand from its safe spot on your lap, and though it’s not in slow motion, it takes forever for him to return your fingers to his lips.

You can feel your eyes nearly bug out when the pads of your fingers graze the soft skin again.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, and you could easily pull away if you wanted to, but waits. You’re waiting as though for some stage cue that terrifies both of you.

As though it has a mind of its own, your middle finger draws along the bottom curve of his lip. You open your mouth to apologize (maybe somehow blame your hand…perhaps it’s possessed?), but his eyelashes flutter and lips part.

You can hear his breathing. You can feel the air rush across the tips of your fingers.

There’s not a lot of thinking going on anymore. A little more in control of your own digits (maybe), you continue the path of your finger, following the supple edge to the corner.

His hand slips from your wrist to your arm, his thumb rubbing the thin skin on the inside of your forearm.

Swallowing hard, you trace his upper lip, the incline more steep and sharp, but the texture still softer than candy floss.

A thought pings through your head, wondering if he tastes as sweet as the confection.

“Pretty,” you murmur as your finger dips along the middle. You weren’t exaggerating when you diatribed about his mouth earlier. It was and is a stunning piece of art.

Greedy, you brush the entirety of his top lip, no longer content just to trace the edge. You want, need, to fill in the rest as you memorize every second of this; creating a mental painting of just his mouth.

The tickling sensation surprises you, as does the wet before you realize you’ve touched his tongue.

Or, more accurately, his tongue touched you.

Your eyes dart to his. You know that he hears the hitch in your breathing. He has to. Everything is so loud.

His hand slides back up to your wrist to urge your finger in, to slide along his teeth and tongue. He curves his finger around your index finger, to move it along the same journey. Every nerve ending lights up and his lips tighten to suck.

You shudder so hard, his name slipping out in a rushed exhale. There is some sort of squeaking sound expelled from your lips when he drags his teeth against the pads of your two fingers.

To your disappointment, he removes them from his mouth. His eyes drop from your stare to your other hand, squeezed in a fist on your thigh. He carefully flips it, palm up, and draws back each one of your fingers until your hand is open as though in supplication.

Still gentle, he pulls that hand to his mouth, pursing those lips to press a light kiss in the middle of your palm before glancing back at you.

It’s that waiting again. The cue, the prompt of what you’re supposed to do next.

He pulls on both hands that he’s captured, a beckoning to come closer. It’s a siren call and your body answers it before your brain can catch up. It’s a little awkward because you aren’t sure how close to get, even when he lets go of one hand to guide your leg to outside his hip; causing you to do the same on the other side.

Oh fuck, you’re straddling him. You’re kneeling, his hips (those stupid, gorgeous, sexy narrow hips) flush with the inside of your knees.

He’s looking up at you (without shoes you’re both around the same height, so this is new); those doe eyes, warm brown color, staring up at you.

He’s still holding your other hand, leaving your free hand to find the collar of his t-shirt, already off-center from the positions you’re both in, exposing more of his neck and shoulder. You touch the start of his collarbone, tracing it much like you’d done with his mouth.

You hear your name, a whisper and his hand tightens on your leg before moving up to your hip, his fingers pushing and pressing as if you might slip away from his grip.

“You’re so beautiful, Ji.” You can’t believe you can form a coherent sentence, but it needs to be said. He might feel better about the whole canceled date, but you can’t forget that lost expression on his beautiful face. How he’d spoken about himself.

You tug your hand out of his, and before you settle it against his cheek, he clutches your thigh, squeezing just enough to make you jolt.

“Sorry,” he mutters but doesn’t let go.

“‘t tickles.”

Something flashes in his eyes. You recognize it; mischief. But it’s gone before you can worry about it (or what it might mean).

He nuzzles into your hand, his lips back on your skin. He pulls you closer, his fingers skittering along your lower back, slipping under the fabric.

Your whole body vibrates like a tapped tuning fork.

“Are you cold?” he asks, noticing how you shiver. His hand runs up your back, warm. “You don’t feel cold.”

You shake your head, unable to speak. His fingers trip over your bra, and pause on the hook clasp. You watch his eyes drop from your face to your chest (you’re wearing a t-shirt than does next to nothing for you; a deliberate attempt to not try and be caught out) and his lips part again.

You mean to ask a complete question, but all that comes out is, “Kiss?”

His eyes are back on yours, then your mouth. He nods, perhaps a little frantically, before pressing those lips against yours.

It takes a second. Maybe more than that. To go from just pressure to actual kissing. After cataloging that softness, you feel his fingers dig into your back. It causes you to slide closer, to move your hand from his cheek to the back of his neck, to open your mouth.

He groans when your tongues meet, a rumbling in his chest that you can feel because you’re pressed so close. You knew he’d be a good kisser because he’s equal parts sweetheart and sex, the movement of his tongue with yours creating all manner of tension in your body. So you push down, seeking something, anything that will relieve that tension.

“Fuck,” he whines against your mouth, holding you in place.

So you just grinded on your friend’s dick. That just happened.

“I…”

“I swear, if you say you’re sorry, I might murder you,” he bites out before raising his eyes to yours. “Shit, you feel really good.” He glances down at his erection. “Obviously.”

You haven’t moved a muscle since you felt him against your core.

He breathes through his nose before continuing. “What are we doing?”

You give a small shrug and he shakes his head.

“Nope, you tell me because I’m really close to fucking you and I don’t usually do that with friends, so tell me what we’re doing.” His voice it pitched a little high as though he’s straining.

Well, you know he’s definitely tense.

“Please.”

It’s the ‘please’ that prompts you into speaking. That with the big eyes, now heated and dark, but still worried; still doubtful.

You shift because you haven’t moved in what feels like hours and it’s just enough to make him groan, his forehead falling to your collarbone.

You haven’t felt like this during a makeout since high school. And even then, it didn’t compare.

“Jisung,” you begin, not really sure what is going to come out of your mouth. “I like you.”

Maybe direct is the best approach.

When he doesn’t move, you think maybe direct is a terrible approach.

But his hands are still clinging to you and you can feel his breath against your t-shirt.

“Ji?”

“I spent months telling myself that you weren’t a possibility. That I couldn’t go there because being friends with you was just so easy.” He lifts his head to gift you with a small smile. “Months because you were…are hot.”

Are you breathing? You don’t think you’re breathing anymore.

“And like, really nice, which is probably the most pathetic compliment, but honestly, it’s the best thing about you. You’re exceptionally nice. You put up with so much from the whole group, from me…” he closes his eyes. “You bring me a whole fucking cheesecake.”

When he opens his eyes, you’re pretty sure he see how embarrassed you are.

“You like me. After I throw myself my own pity party–”

“Hence the cake,” you add in quickly.

He rolls his eyes. “And you’re funny.” He leans up to kiss your chin. “You smell good too.” He moves up to meet your lips again. “Taste good.” His hand creeps from your hip to your ass and he squeezes. “Feel good.” The last words are barely audible and you feel them more than hear them because his mouth doesn’t leave yours.

You can’t stop moving now, the instinctual need to be close and only touch taking over your very exhausted brain and heart. When you feel the couch under you, you break away and look to see Jisung hovering over you, one hand on the cushion next to your head and the other sneaking up and under the front of your shirt.

“Wanna stop?” he asks, his fingers paused on your stomach.

“Not really, but also…” You need a moment to just process that this is happening. “I hate to be this person, but, what happens after?”

He tilts his head to the side, seeming to think.

“I can’t not have you in my life, Ji. It’d be so boring.”

He grins so fast, like he can’t help it. “Yeah, it would.” He settles down on top of you, resting on his elbows and forearms. Your eyes close at his weight, the pressure and insistence.

He feels so good.

“Hey,” he whispers, making you open your eyes. He’s just inches away. “I like you, too. In case I wasn’t clear.”

“It’s still nice to hear it.”

He nods, expression more thoughtful as he traces his finger along your eyebrows, then your nose. “It’s kinda up to you, you know? Like we can go about this in a more traditional way: date, makeout, then have sex. Or makeout, have sex, then date…have more sex.” He smiles at you when you roll your eyes. “Makeout, date, sex. Then more sex and dates. I mean, I’m up for all of it.”

He emphasizes the last remark with a roll of his hips and you both shudder.

“You’re so—”

“Yes?” he drops down just enough to brush his lips against yours. “I’m so?”

You sigh before running your hands through his hair, so it’s out of his eyes.

“So you.”

He pouts for a second before he looks fond.

“So yours.” He takes a deep breath. “If you’ll have me.”

You lift up to kiss him, arms around his neck to pull him back down with you. He hums as though content, one hand going back to under your shirt.

“So that’s a yes?” he teases against your neck, in between kisses and love-bites. You’re squirming, feeling incredibly warm in your clothes.

“Yes to what?”

He laughs, rubbing his face deeper into the crook of your neck. “Dating. You and me. Making out. You and me. Sex. You and me.”

You pause in dragging his shirt up his back. “Yes.”

“Sex now? Date later?”

You laugh at the eagerness in his question, removing his shirt as he sits up to help you out. You aren’t given much time to admire all the skin in your vision, the definition he has despite complaining about exercise. He falls back on top of you, kissing you as though you might disappear.

“How much later?” you ask as your hands take their fill of the smoothness of his skin, mapping the rises and falls of his back, lingering at the curve at the base of his spine. When he starts pushing up your shirt, he smirks in response to your question.

“Tomorrow.”

© yoongihan 2022. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Dangerous Woman- Part 3

Pairing: Fezco (Euphoria) x Reader

Song for Part: "Lights Up"- Harry Styles

Summary: Maddy convinces the reader to go another party, knowing full well that a familiar drug dealer will be there to see the readers every move. She dresses her up like one of her dolls, getting her ready and hoping that she can be deemed as the best wingwoman of all time. But will she be successful? Or will things end badly?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, sexual comments, and drugs. One sickly sweet wholesome moment lol.

Word Count: 3k

A/n: Here's part 3, sorry if I've been slacking on Fezco lately, I'm not trying to do it purposely. My Elliot fics have been very comforting for me to write and have done my mental health good over the last few difficult days.

“I’m telling you, Y/n/n. You don’t know half the shit about Fezco that you should.” Maddy smirks, her eyes dancing over to me as she turns onto the booming street. I roll my eyes at the girl, my eyes flickering to look out the window. I already had the idea in my head that he would be here, sitting, selling like the good business man that he is. I already had a plan in my head to go over and see him, flirt with him, maybe do more if the moment seems right. I found it fun to make his head spin like a top, his freckled cheeks heat up at my words. It filled me with all sorts of butterflies, just loving getting any type of reaction out of him. Turning my attention down the road, people already spill out of the busy house can be seen a mile away, the sound of the blasting music already hurting my ears as we approach. I never underestimated high school parties and their ability to fill up like a concert. The party only started ten minutes ago and it was loud enough already to justify a noise complaint. Not that I minded. The loud music and copious amounts of people meant good alcohol and lots of it. “In fact, he’s probably here tonight.” She throws me a wink and a pretty smile, parking the car as my heart thumps against my ribs.

I’m gonna be honest, the amount of utter bullshit that’s come out of my mouth over the last few weeks is incredible. It must be a record at this point. I’ve talked big game to Fez, over the phone and through texts since the day Ash caught me outside of their house. The words were flirty, my pictures not even close to being appropriate and nor were his responses. The texts that I would wake up to in the morning from her were also not the post PG. I had confidence to say what I wanted behind the screen, sure, sending him things that I would refuse to say to him in person. So, the thought of seeing him after weeks of building tension, rocked me to my core.

He was a strong dude. I knew this, I’ve known this as long as I’ve known him. He knew what he wanted and you could tell by the look in his eyes. I knew that he wanted me from his quickly typed out curses in reply to pictures of me in front of my mirror, lacking respectable clothing. I had no shame but neither did he. And he was the one who was going to be able to come up to me, not a care in the world. He wouldn’t care who was watching, where we were, or the consequences that go along with his unholy actions.

It excited me and also made me want to curl up in a ball under his gaze.

Maddy could tell I was just dying inside, her eyes flickering over my nervous face. She reaches over, securely wrapping her arm around mine, her heels leading us into the busy house as she smiles beautifully. I felt a little weird coming with her, knowing that everyone’s eyes would be on her the moment that we walked through the front door. And I was right. Everyone seemingly stops what they’re doing, their eyes trailing up and down the both of us as we make our way through the living room and towards the back patio.

This obviously wasn’t our first party together, but this was the first time I ever let her dress me.

It was tight, I’ll give her that. The black sequined material complementing the black mascara on my eyelashes. The glitter that dawns my collarbones and chest makes me definitely stand out, it catching in the light every time I would move in the slightest. Once I confessed and told Maddy about my history with Fez, though it was purley sexual so far, she was adamant on making me stand out. To tease him, to make him itch to be next to me, to give him something pretty to look at. She had good taste when it came to dressing me up like a doll, knowing exactly how to put my hair up, what shoes to wear, what perfume to spray would drive him wild when he would be close enough to me to smell it. I’ll give her all the credit in the world if this ends with me getting my back blown out.

I pray it does.

Stepping onto the grass, I smile at Maddy who gives me a little wiggle of her eyebrows, her eyes peering past me. Confused, I take a moment, my head craning to look behind me. My eyes can the busy crowd by the big, stone fireplace, all of their smiles making a smile raise to my lips. That’s another thing I like about high school parties, no fighting, no tension, just eager glances and happy faces. When my eyes finally find him, the breath leaves my lungs completely as if it were stolen. He’s sitting comfortably, a joint between his fingers and his knees spread as he looks to the man next to him. He must’ve tidied up his beard, the hair being a bit shorter, but equally as handsome. He looks perfect. He wears a simple t-shirt and sweats, his normal chain dancing around his neck as it reflects the light of the fire. There’s at least ten eager teenagers lining up next to him, he brushes a few of them off, before his eyes move elsewhere.

When his eyes lock with mine, I feel as if I could pass out then and there.

His eyes widen slightly, the world moving in slow motion as he smiles, my cheeks warming at the sight. He looks almost excited, his back stretching to sit up straighter as he glances away nervously for a moment. I had never seen him so bashful, so sheepish. His gaze returns to mine after a few moments, my face softening as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous tic that I’ve picked up on.

His eyes are inviting, warm, as he looks at me, the opposite of how I thought he would be looking at me by now. Our friendship, relationship, whatever you want to call it, had been purely sexual up to this moment. But now, something’s shifted, changed.

There’s no sense of lust in his eyes, no carnal need. No, it’s much more simple than that. Admiration, infatuation, the soft smile on his lips sickly sweet. It does the opposite of what I thought it would do. I thought that I would be nervous by now, looking away as my cheeks heat up but I can’t find it in me to look away. He glows in the light of the fire, his eyes now moving to rake down my body as I turn back to Maddy. She squeals at me, doing a little dance as she takes my hands in hers.

“Oh my fucking god, girl. He is drinking you up!” She cheers, swinging our arms back and forth as I giggle, my head thrown back in laughter. “Oh you have to go sit with him- go.” She shoves me away from her, sending me a reassuring smile and a wink. “Text me!” She calls out, nodding me over in his direction again, my feet finally carrying me over to where she wants me to go.

I watch Fez intently as he watches me, his eyes trained on my legs as I grin, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. By the time I reach him, we’re both breaking apart at the seams. He takes the blunt out from between his lips, his smile growing as I sit down next to him. No words are exchanged, just the blunt, the drug being lifted to my lips as I can take a deep, refreshing breath.

“How you doin’ tonight?” Fez asks, his fingers brushing against mine as he takes the joint back, his eyes flickering up to mine. My cheeks warm at his gaze, my tongue darting out to wet my lips.

“Good, now.” I reply simply, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he looks down at the fire. I can tell by the blush on his cheeks and the bouncing of his right knee that I make him nervous, the thought giving me even more confidence to keep talking. “Haven’t seen you in a bit.” I add, his eyebrows raising teasingly as I flirt. “I mean, you’ve seen me but…” I trail off, my head resting on the pillow behind me as I get comfortable, assuming I’m gonna be here a while.

As long as he’s here, so am I.

“You been makin’ my life a livin’ hell over the last few weeks, woman. That’s all you gotta say to me?” He chuckles, my eyes rolling playfully as I take my que, scooting a bit closer to him. His arm instinctively lays behind me on the couch, my leg crossing over the other to rest the toe of my heel against his calf. His eyes linger on mine for a moment before he glances away, skimming his gaze down my legs. “You look mad pretty.” He whispers, loud enough for only me to hear it, my eyebrows perking up as I grin like an idiot.

“So you’re saying you missed me?” I tease, his head bobbing in a hesitant nod as I giggle. “I missed you too, Fez.” I smile, my hand reaching over to take the joint from between his lips. I take a few hits, the smoke lingering in my lungs before I blow it out into the already cloudy air. He watches my every move, a small smirk on his face as his hands fidget in his lap.

“I like when you say my name.” He adds suddenly, my heart skipping a beat as I smile softly, the words igniting something within my chest. “In more ways than one.” He chuckles lowly, my thighs clenching together as he smirks, his gaze picking up on the movement. I gently rest my hand against my thigh, his eyes stuck on my fingers, the rings sparkling in the light of the fire. He seems to get so simply caught up in my every move, his eyes glued to me and his breath trapped in his throat.

“You should come dance with me.” I offer, my body turning to tilt my head at him. He watches me intently with a smile, his eyes flickering down to the necklace around my neck. He laughs sheepishly, his head shaking in a polite decline as his cheeks heat up.

“I don’t dance, ma.” He replies simply, my eyes rolling as I reach forward, my fingers dancing along his chest, his heart beat stuttering under the tips of my fingers.

“Are you sure? Cuz I’ll go find someone who does.” I threaten, his eyes shifting to something far more deadly. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people here who’d love to dance with me.” I add, a forced sigh leaving his lips as he peers over at me. My sassy expression doesn’t fade, not until he sighs, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. His jaw grits, his hand reaching up to gently take my hand off of his chest as he intertwines our fingers. I watch the people next to us out of the corner of my eyes, their wide eyes and small gasps making me laugh. He stands slowly, his head nodding towards the house as I grin, following him like a puppy. He holds onto my hand tightly, my heels clicking against the tile as we enter the house.

Confusion fills me as we pass the room where most people are dancing, worried that I may have upset him with my teasing. But the minute that we turn down the hallway, my worry turns to attraction. Maybe I upset him just the right amount with my teasing. Enough for him to get riddled with jealousy, taking me into privacy to absolutely ravish me. Excitement fills my tummy as he peers at me over his shoulder, a small smile on his lips. He opens the door to our left, holding it open as we enter the spare bedroom, my mind swimming through the fog that the weed created.

“This your plan? Get me riled up?” He asks quietly as he shuts the door, my body bouncing as I hop onto the bed. I watch him as he approaches me, his eyes peering down at me teasingly.

“Maybe.” I whisper, my hands reaching out to grab onto his, a smile forming on his lips at the action. “Maybe I just wanted to make you jealous. Get you alone.” I add, his eyebrows raising as he scoffs.

“Yeah? Why you want me alone?” He asks, leaning down slowly as my heart rate picks up. My breathing stops as his nose nudges against mine, my eyes fluttering shut. “You wanted to dance, let's dance.” He whispers, pulling away from me abruptly as I whine, feeling him tug me to my feet. He gently spins me, my heart swelling at the action as he pulls me into his arms. My arms wind around his neck, his hands firmly secured on my hips as we sway back and forth.

“That’s mean, ya know. Leading a lady on like that.” I whisper, my temple resting against his shoulder as he chuckles, his hands moving to rest on my tailbone.

“Me? Leading you on? I think you’ve got that wrong.” He teases, my cheeks heating up at the memory of the last few weeks. “All talk, aren’t you?” He asks, my walls tumbling down a bit as I nod.

“Do you make a lot of money at parties like this?” I ask, deflecting his need to know me better, my head craning back to look up at him. He shrugs softly, a small smile on his lips.

“You want to talk business? Now?” He asks with a small laugh, my eyes rolling as I pull my lip between my teeth. “No, I don’t want to talk about business. I want to talk about the fact that you been sending me naked pictures and, when you finally get your hands on me, you wanna dance.” He chuckles, a small scoff leaving my lips at his words. My heart swells in embarrassment, my eyes fluttering closed as I tuck my forehead into the crook of his neck. He leans down, his lips skimming against the shell on my ear. “I’m not complaining. Just surprised. Pleasantly surprised.” He whispers, pressing a simple kiss against my temple as my arms move, gently wrapping around his waist. “You don’t gotta act so tough all the time. Not wit’ me.” He whispers, his hands trailing over my open back, fingers dancing along my spine.

“Yeah I do.” I whisper, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as my eyes flutter closed. “You know better than anyone why. People get hurt with what we do.” I add, his head bobbing in a gentle nod, understanding where I'm coming from even if he doesn't like the answer. I look up at him, his blue eyes shining softly as he smiles. A few moments pass, my eyes flickering between his as his eyes move down to my lips as they part. He reaches up, his hands gently resting on my cheeks as I smile nervously up at him. Leaning down, his lips skim against mine, my cheeks hurting from my smile. Holy shit he's gonna kiss me-

But we’re pulled apart by the sound of the door bursting open. Maddy stands there, a mystery man being her as she rolls her eyes.

“Shit, sorry.” She whispers, sending me a sorry smile before pulling herself and the man out of the room. I huff, taking a step away from Fez as he blows out a breath of air, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Uh, why don’t you go sit down at the fire and I’ll get us something to drink?” I offer with a chuckle, rubbing a hand over my forehead as I continue to get even more flustered under his gaze. Holy shit, we almost just kissed didn’t we? He nods, clearing his throat as he turns towards the door, his cheeks red as I smile. I follow him out the door, my hands itching to reach out, taking his hands in mine and to kiss him senselessly. I fight the urge as we make our way back out into the kitchen, parting ways as he sends me a wink. I watch as he leaves the room, my heart still pounding wildly. I fumble with the red cups and the multiple varieties of different types of liquor. I pour the first thing I see into two cups, deciding that these will do their job in getting us hammered. Downing one cup in seconds, needing the liquid confidence, I fill it up once more before deciding it’s good enough.

Making my way back outside with a put together smile, I hold the cups in my hands as I look around the fire. My gaze connects with Fez who sits with a smile on his face, his head turned towards the girl next to him. Jealousy flurries in my belly as he laughs, her hand reaching out to smack against his thigh as she grins. What the fuck? Who the fuck is she?

“What’s Fez doin’ with Lexi Howard?” A familiar voice startles me from behind, the liquid in my cups sloshing as I jump. I turn to see Maddy, her lips swollen and the guy no longer with her. I pout, my eyebrows pulled together as I look back to the couch, both of them still deep in conversation, the girl now closer to him.

“I have no idea.”

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

Taglist: @jamespotterswifey @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex--awesome--22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum @glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @letmebeyoureuphoria @rafecameronswhore @4lyssasworld @daddydraco0

[a-strange-inkling]

I lovvvvveeee your story Old Haunts and get so excited when I see updates. It’s one of those stories that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You’re such a talented writer and I just wanted to let you know your stories literally make my day!! ♥️

For the ask: 🥺🤡💖💞🤲

Oh my goodness! 🥹🥹🥹 Thank you so much! You’ve made my whole day! ♥️♥️♥️

And thank you for all the asks! This has been so fun!

🥺 - “Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in the feels?” Is this in canon or fan fiction writing, I wonder??? Both? I’ll go with tropes that get me in general. I get really swoony for comfort in whatever form that comes. Hurt/Comfort is my jam! When characters are in mental/emotional/physical peril and someone just holds them, or listens to them, or encourages them… ugh I melt to the floor!

🤡 - “What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that’s made you laugh?” I don’t laugh out loud too much with my writing, but I’ve been next to wheezing for more than one scene with Eddie and Maggie. When she banishes Eddie to the “boy bed”, jumping on Eddie’s head while he’s sleeping, when he tries to sneak her into Steve’s RV, etc. Maggie honestly always cracks me up!

💖 - “What made you start writing?” I honestly don’t know in general, I’ve been journaling and writing for as long I can remember. But, for fic writing… I’m pretty sure my earliest fan fiction was Avatar: The Last Airbender (Zutara forever lol) and usually, like most fic writers, I just started writing stories if I didn’t like the way a story ended or I wanted more of something that I felt was lacking… Ships were a big driving force to that. It was so fun to just recreate or rewrite characters and stories I loved.

💞 - “Who is your comfort character?” Presently, Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham. They’re so soft and cozy! I live in the forest scene 💚🧡🖤

🤲 - “Would you please share a snippet of a WIP?” How about a little bit of the long awaited prequel to “Old Haunts”? Working title is “The Vanishing of Chrissy Cunningham.” It’s my Chrissy Lives AU/Season 4 Rewrite:

“Can’t help but notice the freshies are acting a little skittish today. You know anything about that?”

He doesn’t. “Probably scared shitless since I’m about to annihilate you all in a TPK tonight.” Eddie muses casually, straightening with a frown when a little folded paper flutters like a butterfly into his face, falling to the floor from his locker.

It’s very much not his, tinted slightly pink with red journal lines. Curious, he bends down to pick it up.

It’s a little early in the day for requests. Still, it is Friday, he supposes.

Gareth is still going on about something, some concern about the campaign, but he isn’t listening as he unfolds it.

I would like to buy from you.

-Chrissy Cunningham

Locker 197

It’s written in neat cursive with a blue fountain pen.

He stares at it for almost a full minute, brows furrowing together, his palms beginning to sweat like he’s back in fucking Middle School.

Well… that sure as hell doesn’t make any sense.

Spastically he shoots his head up, looking around, eyes wild as he slams his locker shut to get it out of his line of sight. Pulse racing, he searches the sea of students moving through the halls to their next class.

He finds her.

She’s just there across the way, her back is to him, hair tied up in a neat little ponytail with a large green scrunchie. She’s tucked up tightly under Carver, his hand resting casually on her hip as he yuks it up with one of the other meatheads. She’s almost lost in the sea of green and orange surrounding her.

As if feeling his gaze, she glances over her shoulder, her big timid eyes locking with his.

Eddie swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry.

For a moment he can’t hear anything at all, the world is slow, hazy, silent.

He tilts his head at her slightly, mouth parting in question.

She then blinks slowly at him as if to nod and his heart skips a beat.

There’s no mistake. No trick.

It’s from her.

She looks away just as quickly when Carver reclaims her attention. She mumbles something in reply to him and they move on down the hall together. She spares him one last anxious glance before being swallowed up whole by her royal entourage.

“Dude, you good?” Gareth mutters, realizing he definitely missed something, looking around to see what has his attention.

Eddie blinks, waking up from the spell with a tremor, shoving the note in his pocket hurriedly.

“What’s going on?” Gareth wonders aloud, eyes back on him.

Eddie stares off in her direction one last time, shouldering his bag. “The hell if I know.” he replies, a bemused half smile involuntarily curling at the corner of his lips.

…

His leg bounces without stopping all through Trig. He’s not listening to a word Cussler is saying. He’s way too keyed up.

I would like to buy from you.

Chrissy Cunningham.

Chrissy fucking Cunningham wants to meet with him to buy drugs.

Trying and failing to work out her sudden interest in recreational activities, his pen moves on its own over his notebook paper, telling her where to find him, what time. He jots down directions to the old abandoned picnic table behind the school, quite sure there’s no way in hell she’s been back there before.

He’s done this hundreds of times, for every rank of the student body, but still his hand is shaking way more than usual as he writes.

Calm the fuck down, he tells that juvenile part of himself he has proactively tried to kill and bury throughout the years.

That part of him that is way too giddy about this whole damn thing. About seeing her, talking to her.

She just wants weed. It’s just a deal.

It’s been years since he spoke actual words to her. She probably thinks what everyone else thinks of him. That he’s a lowlife. Trailer trash. A freak.

“How do I look?” he asks her. “Metal?”

“…Is Metal good?” she tilts her head, hand still holding his chin. He grins.

“Metal is the best.”

The prettiest smile he has ever seen suddenly blooms across her face. “Then yeah, totally Metal!”

The memory clashes violently against his suspicions, but he shoves it aside.

That was eight fucking years ago.

When the bell rings, he quickly phases into the halls, the note tucked safely in his sleeve. He’s got to do this just right.

Slipping it in her locker is not a risk he’s willing to take with all the jocks hovering around her all day.

He knows she passes him near the water fountain on his way to English Lit. They’ve passed one another there everyday for the whole semester. He wonders if she knows that too, because her shaky eyes lock on him the moment she comes into view, just like before.

And Christ, she’s pretty.

He levels his gaze with hers, raising his brows, inclining his chin slightly toward her.

A subtle signal. One she thankfully receives.

Carefully she wades towards him through the flow of students, and his heart rate rises to a concerning rate. He has to be fast. He can only imagine the backlash if someone sees. For him. For her. Luckily the halls are crowded like they usually are this time a day.

That and she’s walking alone for once.

When their shoulders brush, he pulls the note from his sleeve with his middle and ring finger and presses it into her palm, feeling her fingers curl around it, soft, featherlight.

A jolt of electricity travels up his arm at the touch of her skin, making his fist clench tightly as he quickens his pace. She’s already well past him.

He doesn’t dare glance back.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[writing-in-april]

A hair’s breadth

Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: Javier and Reader can’t help but be at each others throats. Javier gets fed up with the teasing one night.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my nineteenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! Sorry this is out late- I had a job interview!! (I got the job! 🥳) This is based off of this and this request! There’s not as much Spanish in this one- though one day soon I want to try to write all the dialogue for Javier in Spanish- (I am trying to learn how to be better at it im just very nervous I’ll get it all wrong 🙃) Please feel free to drop me a message in my inbox here (I promise I don’t bite) Thank you for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Protected Sex (wrap it up especially with Javier lol), Fingering, Hate fucking, Public sex (who’s surprised), Hair pulling, Choking, Mirror sex

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.9k

“Do that again I dare you.” Javier had you pushed up against the wall of his apartment, with his hand around your throat. How you had gotten in this position was as a result of one of your regular fights you often had with him.

This time it had been over something even more petty than the last time. You honestly couldn’t remember exactly what had started it. It had been something to do with some obscure line in the paperwork you were filling out while over at his apartment late at night past embassy hours. What had been a small issue then turned into a full blown argument, snapping and yelling at each other until it reached its peak.

Javier knew that he shouldn’t have said that just by the look on his face while he had a hand around your throat. You had slapped him after a misogynistic comment, which then had him slamming you up against the wall.

“Fuck you!” You yelled, but did not move to get out of his grip. He was about to respond with probably another biting comment when you were both interrupted.

You both looked over to his front door when there was incessant knocking, which was probably only from one person. “Hey Javi! Do you or Y/N want to go out for a drink tonight?” Steve’s voice being shouted through the walls confirmed the source of the knocks. You were glad his door was closed, otherwise this would've been an awkward situation to explain to your coworker.

Javier looked back at you one last time with a hard look on his face; it was a normal occurrence for you to receive that type of look from him. You smiled despite his hand around your throat as you had gotten what you had wanted, you had succeeded in riling him up.

Steve knocked again, this time a little harsher. He didn’t look away this time, eyes narrowing in on you further, like he was trying to decide if he should release you from his clutches. Though, it wasn’t that you were completely helpless, you could force him off of you if you wanted. But, you wanted to see what he would do.

“Are you going to answer him?” You goaded, biting your lip when you finished speaking, eagerly waiting for his response. No verbal comment came from him, instead he released the hold he had on your neck. You slumped a little, not out of pain as his hold hadn’t been that tight, you had just been surprised when he released you so quickly.

“Lo siento…” Was mumbled under Javier’s breath. You wondered if he meant for you to hear it or if he said it only to ease his conscience.

Javier walked over to the door to swing it open with you in tow, luckily already recovered somewhat from his hand around your throat. Steve jumped slightly when Javier opened it forcefully, then smiling when you both responded to his question, albeit gruffly, “Yeah, sure.”

—-

Javier clenched his fist hard while you took a drink, smirking into the glass was the only indication that you knew exactly what you were doing. You had spruced yourself up a bit to go to the bar, slipping on a dress you had just bought recently and putting on a pair of high heels. As soon as you had appeared back downstairs where Steve and Javier had been waiting for you his jaw had clenched hard, just like his fist was doing right now.

You were sat at the edge of the booth you had all congregated in, Javier was right across from me and Steve was by the window absentmindedly drinking a beer. He didn’t notice how you were sat slightly to the side, inching the dress you wore higher just to see Javier’s fist clench more.

“I’m surprised you guys were actually working together without me there.” Steve scratched at his jaw. We both pretended to partially focus back on him for a moment, Javier’s fist dropped much to my disappointment.

You glanced over at him then giving him one of the biggest lies you’ve ever told, “We’ve found a way to- resolve our differences.”

Javier took an angry gulp of whiskey, somehow it was possible that he was now even more pissed off at you then before. He opened his mouth to probably say something backhanded as usual, but Steve steamrolled him unintentionally, “Well- I’m glad, the office is kinda painful to be in when y’all are having one of your arguments.”

“Well hopefully we won’t bother you anymore.” Javier finally got a word in and it was just as snippy as expected.

You then downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, a little tipsy now from the few drinks you’d had so far. A dull thud from you setting the glass down on the table was swallowed by the noises of the other customers and employees around you. You got up, fed up with getting only little responses from him, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

—-

“Javier what are you doing?” You asked incredulously when he entered the women’s restroom, but weren’t given an answer. You didn’t pull away when he pulled you close, dipping his head to suck a hickey on the underside of your jaw. You only keened into his touch, you may have hated him, but it did feel amazing. Your teasing had worked

“I told Steve I was going to the bathroom too.” Giving a quick summary before continuing his assault on your skin, “You drive me absolutely crazy.” He spitefully said into your skin in between sucking and biting your collarbone. You didn’t care enough to respond, he knew you felt the same. In a flash he pulled your dress off of your head, exposing all of you except what was covered by your bra and underwear.

When he then gripped his fingers around the fabric of your panties and ripped them off, you gasped in anger. He then ran his fingers through your folds, stopping at your clit to run small circles into it. You were still angry about the ruined panties on the floor, and the fact that with just a few touches he was proving why everyone fell at his feet after they slept with them. “I liked those!”

“You seem to like this too.” His fingers sped up their movements, alternating between hard and light pressure. Your orgasm was building embarrassingly quickly, you almost wanted to hold it back so Javier didn’t get a big head. It felt too good though, and you didn’t have a lot of time.

You were both a hair’s breadth away from getting caught, Javier’s fingers continued their movements with no thought. Steve was drunk, he might even be asleep right now. But, one wrong move and he’d hear Javier fucking you in the bathroom.

“Javier!” You shouted, not thinking about the volume, when he pulled his fingers away from you just as you were about to fall off the edge. He then brought his wet fingers to his lips, sucking off any evidence of your arousal. It was hard to be mad when he looked so hot doing that, even though your clit was throbbing now.

“Need to fuck you now- this’ll take too long if we wait for you.” You wanted to snap at him again, his comment flippant and somewhat rude. That was until he pulled his cock out of his pants, already hard just for you. Your mind switched gears after that.

“Condom?” He grunted in response to your question, then pulled one out of his wallet. You were about to ask how long it had been in there, but with the rate he fucks, you doubted it had been there for long.

Once he slipped it on he commanded, “Bend over.” You scoffed, about to retort that you’d never bend over for him. But, Javier beat you to the punch, “I won’t ask again, I’ll leave you here naked and dripping.” You shuddered at that, your arousal was too much to ignore. So, you let him have one victory, hopping off the counter to bend over.

You caught sight of your disheveled state in the mirror, your legs buckling a little because of it. You already looked completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t done much besides fingering you. Javier must have caught you staring at yourself, and him if you were being honest, wrapping his hand around your hair to push you closer to the mirror. “¿Que? You like watching yourself? You like getting fucked while Steve and everybody else could hear you?”

You tried to nod your head, but with his firm grip on your hair while he began to sink into you, all you could do was moan. Once you realized that you were most definitely being too loud you stopped yourself making any noise by biting your lip hard. When the front of Javier’s thighs hit the back of yours he leaned forward to whisper angrily in your ear, “Yeah- you do like this.”

His pace was rough, but not sloppy, quick thrusts that had your ass rippling from the force. This was going to be a quick and dirty fuck, Steve would soon come looking for us if we didn’t get our orgasms over and done with. Besides, all you were looking for was a release, being with Javier for more time than was necessary just sounded like a punishment. Despite the pace he was keeping up, he still managed to keep your head right where he wanted it, looking directly in the mirror.

Your orgasm was building up again, even faster than before since you were already sensitive. At one point when your eyes began to roll back as you got closer Javier snapped that you should keep your eyes open.

“Come on, cum.” He growled out once he noticed how close you were, “Cum while Steve is out there- wondering where we went.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that, your orgasm crashing over you. Javier reached his own peak while you were riding out your own, filling the condom, gripping your hair and hip hard as he did.

Once your highs had abated he pulled out of you with a groan, quickly tying off the condom while you were still bent over and recovering with gasped breaths.

“Hey Javier?” You asked right as he began to turn around to go, letting you put your clothes back on and clean up in peace.

“¿Sì?” He turned around to face you again, looking much more put back together than you were with your makeup still smudged. You had the remnants of the panties he had ripped off of you dangling on your finger.

You wrapped your other hand around his belt he put back on, pulling him back closer to you so you were both chest to chest. You then stuffed the scrap of torn fabric into the front pocket of his jeans until they were completely hidden.

“Now you get to sit right next to Steve while they’re in your pocket.” He gulped a little and you gave one last remark before turning back to clean up your makeup, “And, you’ve got to pay for a new pair, I liked those.”

Though he boiled your blood as you walked back to the table where he had joined Steve back at you realized you were only a hairs breadth away from not hating him.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join):

Strike through means tumblr won’t let me tag you (check your settings to see if you’re unsearchable)

All Works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @katexrichardson @takeyourleap-of-faith

Javier Peña/Narcos: @pascalesque

[lonelier-version-of-you]

@backjustforberena tagged me in one of those tag game things. And I thought, oh hey, I haven’t done one of these in a while, might as well.

Fave colour: Grey. Usually I tell people it’s blue so I don’t sound too edgy and emo lol. But grey is my actual favourite, especially as there’s not a single shade of it that gives me a headache - which there is for most colours. (Sensory issues.)

Currently reading: “Tim - The Official Biography of Avicii” by Måns Mosesson. Nice to get tagged in a post with one of these questions at a time when I am, in fact, actively reading a book for the first time in ages. (Turns out all I needed for the motivation to read was for the book to be about one of my favourite musicians!)

Last series: Last show I watched in full... probably Community? The show I’ve watched most recently though is Doctor Who. Was watching it tonight, in fact (I’ve been joining my mom in her DW rewatches).

Last movie: I honestly don’t remember the last time I watched a movie. Possibly “Spiderman: Homecoming” (I think that’s what it’s called?) with my grandma at Christmas 2020, because it was on TV and there wasn’t much better to do. It was a fun watch though.

Currently working on: I SHOULD be writing The Dylvid Bath Fic (by popular demand) or the long post-Holby!Henrik fic (because if you want something doing you’ve gotta do it yourself, and I want a post-Holby fic that acknowledges Henrik leaving the hospital and lets him talk about his feelings for Gaskell). Or making Dylan/David gifsets. Instead I’ve been writing up a timeline of the Cryptid Squad for my fics and headcanons, mostly for the sake of trying to cobble together Henrik’s multiple canon backstories into one backstory that actually makes sense.

Tag 9 people: ...I really can’t think of 9 people to tag, to be honest. I guess I’ll tag @prydon, @fly-away-abi, @dylan-keogh1, @riverstardis, @thedarklinkfell, and @outxfspaced. That’s only 6 people, but I don’t have many friends on here who aren’t like, inactive these days. (Of course, none of you are obligated to join in if you don’t want to! And if you do want to join in but I didn’t tag you... you can totally just pretend I did. I won’t say anything. 😉)