#PUT A FUCKING TOWEL DOWN YOU GREMLIN

[redbullhateblog]

why the fuck is patrick sitting bare cheeked in the sauna. the absolute disrespect. i hate him

gonna watch challengers …. let’s see what all the fuss is about

[mamayan]

Just thoughts I need to let out or I’ll die

NSFW ⚠️ MDNI ⚠️

Okay but Taishiro… ＿|￣|○ …♡ ♡ ♡

Hear me out please!

Your sweet pro hero comes home after a long hard day of catching bad guys, being used as a human shield, dealin’ with sharp little gremlins Eijirio *cough* Tetsutetsu that are all fired up to fight the bad guys but end up getting themselves beat up.

FatGum is tired. He’s hungry. He’s a little deflated and in need of some serious lovin’… that’s where you come in.

As he walks through the front door, having long gone over his usual hour of returning home, you see the state he’s in. He tries to put on that sweet smile but he’s fooling no one.

You’re starting the recharge process immediately.

Food is already still warm and ready to be plated for him to eat. You’re ushering him to his special seat (since he’s broken many chairs in search of this one which holds him perfectly). Giving him the generous portions he loves. He’s 10% right now.

Then you’re running him a bath, throwing in the epsom salt, setting the humidifier and essential oils to his favorite setting and scent. He’s hitting about 25%.

Then while he’s bathing, you enter, surprising the hero in his gigantic custom tub. You’re only wearing a small towel as you pad over the tiles to him, sitting on a stool to help reach and wash his hair!♡ He’s being given the best scalp massage, your fingers working magic down to his neck and even his jaw where he hadn’t noticed he’d been tense. Those hero grins will do that. Your sweet hero is rising to about 40%. He finally feels clean and more relaxed already.

You’d washed the bedding today anyway, so Tai is just so happy to slip into a clean warm bed as you dry his hair. You’re both in PJs, a good amount of snacks in arms reach as the Tv plays Tai’s favorite crime fighting investigation show (come at me, he’d definitely be a nerd for something like Criminal Minds). Your man is pushing around 60% now.

That’s when you move his snacks out of the way to straddle him. Right over his cock still safely tucked in his sweats. He’d be a bit surprised but happy to support your hips to keep you stead on top of him. He’d quickly grow hard underneath you as you whisper praises and love to him, all while dragging your hands down his torso and to his draw string. “I’m so proud of you gummy, my hero being so wonderful and amazing, I just want to spoil you ♡” “You’ve been working so hard Tai, I haven’t had any chance to love on you recently.” “Let me make you feel good.” He’ll be flushed and heavy lidded if you say the last line. His heavy cock pressed to you as you grind down on him. 70% here, he’s awake now.

Pull his pants down and reveal his thick veiny cock. His precum already dotting the reddened tip. He’ll visibly shiver when you wrap both hands around him and give a few gentle squeezes and pumps. “Fuck, look at ya suga’, fuck, so good…” he can’t help it when he moans long and loud as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. He’ll accidentally buck up a little too, sinking into your wet hot mouth and nearly losing his mind right there. Even though his dick is well above the average, you’ve perfected the best method to take him without feeling overwhelmed. Relaxing your jaw, you take a little more of him, before dropping one hand to his balls.

He really does lose it now. He’s super sensitive there, and your hands and mouth drive him straight into an orgasm.

You’re struggling to swallow, the enormous amount of cum spilling out your mouth and down to your chest while Tai watches the erotic display and trying to catch his breath. He’s a bit drained physically from the intense orgasm, but overall he’s at 99% now in terms of mood.

He’s dragging you into his arms and up his chest, dragging your bottoms off in favor of letting you straddle his face.

Then he’s devouring you. He’s licking all over, and inside, and leaving you a whiny shaking mess as he consumes his favorite dessert. When you’ve sufficiently soaked his face and chest with your cum, he’ll finally take you both into the bathroom to get cleaned up again… except this time it seems to be you getting pampered.

The BMI hero is now at 100%

[bonniebird]

Allison Argent x Male Calavera!Reader

Requested by Anon

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Request: Anonymous asked:Hey Bon could I request Allison Argent x Male Calavera!Reader with the prompt We could still be friends. Just friends that fuck. #valentine2023

Read on Wattpad

Read on AO3

Warnings: implied sex, sexual themes

You groaned as you kicked off your boots and dumped your gear in the hall, shuffling through to the living room to throw yourself down on it.

“You’re really going to leave all that in the hall, not even clean it and put it away?” Allison asked as she stopped in the doorway.

“I’m tired. I’ll deal with it later.” You muttered and closed your eyes.

“You’re going to deal with it now so I don’t have to deal with bloodstains soaking into my wood floor.” She huffed. You groaned and scoffed at her. 

“Only you would be worrying about your floor after that.” You grumbled and gestured in the air as you got up and gathered your weapons. You dumped the ones that you could wash off in the bathtub, sitting on the edge as you used the shower to rinse them off and lay them on one of Allison’s towels.

“Oh, I hope you know you’re replacing that!” She said as she handed you her weapons and pointed at the towel that was slowly stained red.

“A towel? Really?” You grumbled and rolled your eyes when she sighed and took over from you.

“You’re doing that wrong.” She grumbled.

“Of course I am. I’m always doing something wrong. ” You complained as she moved you out of her way. You watched as she winced a little but said nothing, knowing unless you saw a wound she would lie and say that she was fine. Once she was done with the weapons she put them on the kitchen table to finish cleaning them and went to get changed. You let yourself into her room as she turned and glared at you.

“What’re you doing?” She snapped. You looked at her side, seeing a large bruising wound.

“I knew you were hurt.” You said and grinned as you tossed the first aid kit from the kitchen onto her bead. “Take a eat and I’ll fix you up.”

“You could have just asked if I was hurt.” She grumbled as she dumped her shirt in the corner next to her laundry basket. She sat in front of you as you went through the first aid kit and found what you thought you would need to fix her up. She grunted as you started but other than that tried to remain stoically quiet. When you were done you fixed a bandage over the wound and she turned to you. The two of you shared a look before she leaned in and kissed you. As she tugged your jacket off you muttered into the kiss.

“Aren’t we supposed to be staying friends? That’s what you said the last time this happened.” You muttered. She sighed as she pulled away and stood to unbutton her jeans. “We could still be friends. Just friends that fuck.” She offered. You paused for a moment before nodding and joining her in your moving clothes and flinging yourself onto the bed to tangle together.

Allison tags:

@the-caravello-post @killing-gremlin @aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18 @lchufflepuffcorn @maplefire18 @geekyandgay98 @savagemickey03 @kaitieskidmore1

[giggly-squiggily]

De-Stress The Aggressor (Blue Lock)

Hey hey, guess who wrote Lee!Raichi and never posted it? This girl! Two fics today- who am I? *flips hair, slicks back eyebrows* A controlled mess! :D

Anywho- Today I bring you Lee!Raichi because he's a bit of a grump and needs tickles to reset. Who of course is better to bring those tickles than our little squad of mischief causers (Aka Bachira and friends)? I hope you like it!

CW: Swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps)

@cupcake-spice13

Summary: Raichi's loud and aggressive. Bachira's touchy and mischevious. Put them together and you've got yourself quite the disaster.

“Oi, whoever took a shower before me- you left your nasty suds everywhere!” Raichi yelled out as he returned to the main room, towel around his shoulders and shirt in hand. “Rinse the stall, dammit!”

“Sorry, Jingo-bells! That was me!” Bachira called from his futon, grinning cheekily at the fuming man. “I used that new strawberry shampoo! It didn’t taste as good as it smelled…”

“You ate my shampoo?” Chigiri blinked.

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?” Raichi raged, earning a loud cackle from the dribbler. Across the room, Isagi raised a brow as he turned his attention to Kunigami.

“He’s so loud, huh?” He asked, wincing some at the string of curses the ash blonde let out.

“And always angry.” Kunigami nodded, starting to stand. “Come on- let’s go save your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my…” Isagi blushed but followed, entering the danger zone.

“Oo, Rai-Rai’s angry!” Bachira giggled, dancing out of Raichi’s reach when the other went to grab him. “So slow! You’re gonna have to be faster than THAT!” He did a little tap dance as he spun around the bigger boy, jabbing his fingers into his back as he passed. “Come on- dance with me!” A few feet away, Chigiri began the slow act of scooting to safety.

“Oh, you're itching for a fight, aren’t you? Come he-HEH!” Raichi twisted just as Bachira went to poke him again, the alignment resulting in a finger being jammed into his hip. “Watch your hands!”

“Ow!” Bachira waved his own finger with a pout, blowing on it. “That freaking hurt! What’s your body made of, cement-” Then the smaller boy paused, slowly looking up. “Did I hear that?”

“Hear me telling you to watch your gremlin fingers? Yes!” Raichi growled, suddenly a foot away with his arms suspiciously low to his body. Behind him, Chigiri looked on with wide eyes.

“He giggled.” The redhead pointed out.

“No the hell I didn’t!” Raichi snapped, twisting to glare.

“Raichi’s ticklish?” Isagi gaped, starting to grin.

“He is!” Gagamaru called out from across the room.

“The hell I am-”

“That was definitely a laugh.” Kunigami nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Our raging Raichi is ticklish! Just like the rest of us.”

“NO I’m not! You just caught me by surprise!” Raichi growled, hands balling into fists as he stared them down. The top of his cheeks were dusted pink, further countering his argument. “Plus that shit hurts! Who pokes people in the hip like that?”

“I do! All the time!” Bachira darted out, poking him in the same spot and earning a similar reaction. “It’s rather effective!”

“GAH!” Raichi spasmed and backed up. “Son of a-AH!” He yelped and jumped forward when a new finger poked his other hip, Chigiri’s soft giggles following. “Princess, I’ll kill you!”

“Oi, don’t start threatening people-” Kunigami began, but Bachira beat him to it, chasing the taller boy around as he aimed tickly fingers at his waist.

“Come here! I’m gonna getcha! I’m gonna getcha, Rai-Rai!” Bachira cried, closing the gap as he leaped onto Raichi’s back, making him take a knee. “Oo, here I come! A coochie coochie coo, Rai!” He sang, fingers going right for the armpits.

“FUCK!” Raichi arched, unable to fight down the smile pulling at his lips. “Y-You son of a bihiiiihtch!” He cried as he broke, raspy laughter pushing past his lips. “Gehehehheet ohohohohoff!”

“Oh my god, he is ticklish!” Isagi stared in awe as he watched the pair fall to the floor, Bachira’s childlike giggles mixing with Raichi’s wheezy curses. “How’d he get away with it for so long?”

“Probably because he and Gagamaru always gang up on everyone else.” Kunigami shook his head with a chuckle, the sound nearly lost in Raichi’s growing hysterics. “Hey, Bachira, need a hand?”

“Doohohohn’t you dahahhare touch mehehehe, you son of a bihhiihihihihihihihtch!” Raichi all but squawked when Kunigami kneeled beside him, going right for the ribs. “Kuuhuuhuhnigami, screhehehehehw yoohhoohoohohu!”

“Aww, that’s not nice. Maybe we should teach you some manners on how to talk to others.” He grabbed Raichi’s wrist and pulled, exposing his entire side and armpit for him and Bachira to attack. “There we go!”

“Nahahhahahhaha, yohoohoohu fuhuhuhuuhuh-pffft- Srehhehehewhhwhhwhw yohoohohoohohou!” Raichi thrashed about, trying in vain to send someone flying. His cheeks were growing increasingly red, eyes squeezed shut with mirth as he twisted about. “Geehehhehet ohohohohohff mehehehe, you ahahahhhhahsshohoohoohoholes!”

“Aww, you love it!” Bachira cooed from his spot above, bringing his other hand up to get the back of Raichi’s neck, making him squeal. “Isagirin! ChiChi! Get his legs!”

Chigiri, who had been watching behind drawn up knees, blinked upon being called upon. Sharing a look with Isagi, he shrugged. “Eh, why not?”

“Noohohohohoho! No don’t you dahahhahre, Pri-EHehehehhehhehehehehehess!” Raichi squawked in mirth when he Chigiri crawled over, half laying across the back of his flailing thighs, going to town on the back of his knees. “Hahahahahaha, fuhuhuuhuhcking jehehehehehheerk!”

“You cuss a lot.” Isagi teased as he sat in the remaining position by Raichi’s feet, a devious grin on his lips as he wiggled his fingers. “Let’s see what happens if I do this?”

“Doohohoho what? Wha-No! Nohoohohohoho, don’t you da-AHAHHAHAHAHHARE GAHHAHAAHHA!” Raichi all but screamed as his feet were attacked, Isagi’s skittering fingers relentless. “FUHUUHUHUHUUHUCK!”

“Wow, bad spot?” Bachira teased, nearly taking a headbutt to the face.

“Given how we’re going for pretty much all his tickle spots, it’s hard to say.” Kunigami shrugged, tone playful.

“Heh, and here I thought we were bad.” Chigiri mused out loud, voice nearly lost in the ash blonde’s giggle fits.

“Raichi, do you give up?” Isagi asked, wondering if he should stop soon.

“GEAHHAHHA! NEHEHEHHEHVER! I REFUUHUUHUSE!” Raichi declared, even if his eyes were wet with mirthful tears.

“Wow, what a guy. Still need you alive though.” Kunigami laughed, signaling everyone to back off. Raichi gasped for air as the four scooted away, small hiccupy breaths pushing past his lips with each inhale. For a moment, Isagi wondered if they’d pushed it too far.

Then he was sitting up, eyes dancing with vengeance. “Which one of you is ready to die first?”

There was a brief, tense moment where the four in question looked at one another, deciding on how to answer him. Finally, Bachira stepped forward.

“....Scatter!” He cried, grabbing a nearby pillow and yeeting it into Raichi’s face. The gang was off, all flying in different directions as Raichi let out a muffled swear.

Isagi couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he ran out the door, Bachira’s warm hand finding his own as they flew down the Blue Lock halls. He was so happy he came here.

Thanks for reading!

[lolahasmoxie]

Ready to Rumble - E.M.

I saw this post today. Enjoy.

PAIRING: Dad!Eddie & Mom!Reader

WARNINGS: Cursing, pregnancy talk, and fluff

COUNT: 1.4 K

NOTE: I was unhappy with the ending, so I fluffed it out a bit. Enjoy!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

It was a frigid winter day in Hawkins, and you had never been happier to pull up to your little house. The smoke from your chimney told you that Eddie and your son were already home and preparing for your return. December 24th had been spent picking up last-minute items for your get-together tomorrow and dropping off gifts in near sub-artic weather. Your bones were chilled, and you were thrilled to finally be home so you could fully relax for the holidays.

There was no need to announce your arrival; your son happily did that as he came running from his bedroom to tackle you at the garage door to the kitchen.

"Mommy!" Ozzy Wayne Munson was six years old and was the spitting image of Eddie. He had the same cow eyes, curly brown hair, and the same smile that could light up a room. You ran a hand over his curls as he buried his face against your hip, hugging you as hard as his little body could.

"Aw baby, did you miss me?" He nodded his head as you felt a hand on your waist and another gently gripping your chin and turning you to look up at a smiling Eddie.

"Hey, Mama," he said with a charming grin before pulling you towards him for a kiss. It was chaste but heartfelt, quickly making the winter chill in your bones disappear. But before you could press further, you were both interrupted by a gagging sound from below.

"You know, when you get a girlfriend, I'm going to do the same thing to you, buddy." You gently swatted Eddie in the chest before he turned and went back to the stove, the faint sound of "cock blocking gremlin" barely audible over Ozzy telling you about his day.

"Oh, guess what?" Ozzy asked. You sat at the kitchen table and pulled your son onto your lap, his little legs straddling your hips as he looked up at you with eager anticipation.

"What, my love?" Ozzy opened his mouth and grabbed his left front tooth with two little fingers. You opened your mouth in surprise when he started to wiggle it back and forth.

"I noticed it this morning; I've been wiggling it all day."

"Baby, I know you're excited about the Tooth Fairy, but you should be careful. You don't want to yank that tooth out before it's ready."

"I know, but I want it to come out tonight. It has to be tonight!"

"Why does it have to be tonight?" Eddie asked after putting a casserole dish in the oven. He wiped his hands on a dish towel while Ozzy sighed before turning away from you in your lap to face his father.

"Because if the tooth comes out tonight, then it means that the Tooth Fairy AND Santa Claus will be in my house at the same time."

"I guess it would be pretty rad if they met each other," Eddie said with a thoughtful look on his face. Ozzy nodded in agreement, his little body vibrating with excitement.

"I know! And then after they meet, they'll have to fight each other."

Eddie would have gone home with the gold if there were an Academy Award for keeping a straight face when your child says something alarming. He stared blankly at his son for a moment before his eyes glanced up at you. Because your son was facing away from you, your eyes had gone wide, and all you could do was mouth to Eddie, "WHAT THE FUCK,"

"Um, why do you think they would fight, buddy?"

"They could see who's more powerful, then the winner could rule ALL of the holiday figures, right, dad?"

"Sounds logical to me. Why don't you play while dinner finishes, okay?" Ozzy bounded off your lap and down the hallway. You and Eddie stand there perplexed for a moment before you both break into giggles and go about preparing the table for dinner.

It's almost 11pm when you make your way to the couch in the living room. Eddie is waiting for you in black sweatpants and a shirt with a picture of Krampus. He's got the plate of cookies Ozzy had prepared for Santa on the coffee table, and he smiles as he takes a boozy glass of eggnog from your hand. You settle between his legs and rest your back against his chest, clinking your glasses before taking sips of your drinks.

"I didn't think he would ever fall asleep." Eddie mused. Ozzy had been allowed to open one gift, and Eddie had handed him an illustrated children's version of The Hobbit. Of course, Ozzy had made Eddie read almost three chapters before he finally gave in to sleep.

"Makes sense since he's our spawn. But don't act like you weren't tickled fucking pink when he started asking about the Hobbit two months ago."

"I was, but not as happy as Ozzy was when his tooth fell out brushing his teeth."

"I can't believe we created a child who wants Santa and the Tooth Fairy to fight." You groaned as you ran a hand over your face.

"Yeah, we for sure created one weird-ass kid."

"You sure you still want to try for another one?" You asked, leaning back to look Eddie in the eye. Ever since Ozzy had turned three, you had both stopped using birth control and had taken an "if it happens, it happens" attitude. He smiles down at you before placing his drink on the table.

"For you? I would have a million weird-ass babies," You can't help but smile back at him as he leans down to kiss you softly. When he pulls back, he has a serious look on his pretty face.

"Thank you."

"Baby, for what?" you ask as you reach for his hand. He squeezes back as he thinks of what to say.

"I never thought I would have any of this; a house, a wife, a fucking kid. I was just the freak of Hawkins, a joke. Then you came along, making me feel like I matter, that I was worth something."

"Eddie," you say before sitting up and climbing onto your husband's lap. You cradle his face as you wait for him to say something.

"Yeah, Princess?" he asked as his hands found purchase on your hips. Your thumbs caressed his cheeks, and his vulnerability made you want to hunt down every person who broke him down to make him feel unworthy of love and affection.

"The ones who called you that in high school are fucking idiots. You are the best person I know. That adorable monster asleep in his bedroom is a good and kind person because that's who you are. He didn't get it from me; I threaten to fight people on the regular," Eddie chuckled as he gripped your hips a bit tighter.

"Don't remind me; I can still see Hopper's face after that whole laundromat incident”.

"And that bitch should have kept her mouth shut about us," you replied haughtily as if threatening to punch a woman in the face was the appropriate course of action. "Point is, you are my favorite person in the world. I would do anything for you because you deserve it, and I really hope we get to add a couple more weird-ass kids to the party in the future”.

Eddie's eyes were glassy as he looked up at you. You leaned in and kissed him gently, hoping to convey how much you really loved him. When you pulled back, he looked more at peace, and you knew that, at least for tonight, those demons wouldn't haunt him.

"Well," Eddie sighed. "We should probably set up and make it look like Santa came through here, yeah?" You smiled at him before wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your chest to his. You smiled at how his breath hitched when he felt your lips against the shell of his ear.

"It's not even midnight; we have time. How about we finish these cookies, have another glass of nog, then you let me love on you a bit. Yeah?”.

In the morning, Ozzy woke up, and instead of heading to his parent's bedroom, he made a beeline for the living room. He looked around, first noticing the presents under the tree, then the plate of empty cookies he'd left for Santa on the coffee table. When he looked at the couch, he realized that some of the cushions were askew, and one was on the other side of the room near the TV. His little feet took him from the living room on the path to his parent's room; he couldn't wait to tell them about the battle between Santa and the Tooth Fairy.

[andypantsx3]

INCENDIARY | 3 | BAKUGOU KATSUKI x READER

SUMMARY: When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

TAGS/WARNINGS: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, light hurt/comfort, themes of discrimination, canon typical violence, eventual smut, aged up characters, fem pronouns + afab reader

LENGTH: 4.9k of ~23k / 3rd of 8 chapters

In the morning, you woke to the slam of pots in the kitchen.

You shot up, instantly getting tangled up in your covers. You struggled against their tight coiling, letting out a strangled hrgh noise before overbalancing and slipping over the side of the couch, landing hard on your shoulder.

An ugly chuckle issued from the kitchen. You poked your head up to catch a scarlet eye turned in your direction, the maliciously pleased curl of a full mouth. You stared for a moment, disoriented, wondering who the hot blonde was, why he was so familiar, and what he was doing in your house.

Then he turned towards you more fully, his eyes flickering judgmentally over you, and it all caught back up with you.

Ugh. Fucking Bakugou.

Part of you had hoped when you woke, this all would have proved a very detailed and specific nightmare. But the nightmare was still there, glaring at you while he neatly chopped vegetables and set a pot to boiling on the stove, still wearing that stupid black tank that showed off the meticulously honed, deadly perfection of his biceps.

Double ugh.

You groaned and sank back to the ground, biting down some choice swear words. Bakugou ignored you, the only sounds from the kitchen the quick thump of his knife against a cutting board, the snap and hiss of the grill drawer being turned on.

You slowly extricated yourself from your tangled heap of blankets, beating a bleary but hasty retreat to the bathroom to escape his presence, grabbing a change of clothes and your toiletries on the way.

In the bathroom, Bakgou had apparently already set out his own—a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, a razor, and a small travel size container of shaving cream were laid away behind the mirror. On the shelves, a small zippered pouch in a deep gray lay next to a stack of fluffy towels.

You couldn’t help but peek inside, intrigued by the idea of Bakugou Katsuki having personal effects like an actual human being. Inside, a comb, some kind of expensive smelling hair gel, and spares of the items behind the mirror peered back at you. It all seemed weirdly domestic, weirdly intimate, and you quickly backed away, turning on the shower instead. You flung off your clothes, scattering them all over the bathroom in your haste to get into the shower and away from Bakugou’s things.

Of course Bakugou was a living, breathing human (demon), which you had quickly realized yesterday. But it still threw you for a loop to realize he was more than the person you saw on TV, or even the spitting, snarling gremlin who’d stood in the detective’s office and vehemently refused to protect you. He existed outside those spaces—he brushed his teeth and shaved his face and did his hair like every other human man on earth. He apparently also chopped vegetables very expertly and had enough presence of mind to start grilling things early in the morning. There were moments, domestic and intimate, that he had, just like everyone else.

You jumped into the shower, disliking the thought of him as anything other than a feral garbage rat. A quirkist, feral garbage rat, at that.

When you emerged, Bakugou had laid out his breakfast at the coffee table, sitting cross legged on the floor. It looked like a full, traditional spread—with grilled fish, miso, rice, marinated vegetables, and neatly sliced tamago—and it smelled divine. Your stomach rumbled. Bakugou’s lips turned up in a smirk but he didn’t say anything as you passed.

You poked into the kitchen hopefully, only to find all the dishes scrubbed and drying in the dish rack. It had been too much to hope you could have snuck leftovers out of the pan while he wasn’t looking. He had probably planned for this, the bastard.

You dug around in the fridge and the cabinet instead, taking quick stock of things. There were a lot of fresh vegetables in the crisper drawer, a bowl of assorted fruit on the counter, and a large variety of spices lurking in the cabinets. In the back of a cabinet, you unearthed a box of nearly-expired granola bars. You ferreted a canned coffee from the door of the fridge and an apple from the fruit bowl, and disappeared back into your room, unwilling to lay out your inferior spread in front of Bakugou.

Back on your bed, you arranged your spoils on top of the covers and dug around in your backpack for your phone. It was near-dead, choked with thousands of texts, and the notification badges were piling up on all your social media apps. You spent a couple minutes mindlessly scrolling through everything, deleting whatever wasn’t from a contact you already knew.

The majority of your real texts were from Megumi—some from yesterday when you had been at the police station, but several more had piled up overnight.

MEGUMI ✨🍹🌴💕 is bakugou there with u still 11:58 PM what does he sleep in 11:58 PM have u seen him in his underwear yet 12:07 AM if u send me pics i will sell them to the girls on our floor 12:09 AM i’ll only charge u a 20% cut 12:18 AM

You laughed, cracking open your coffee. At least one thing was still normal.

I’m in, you texted back, smiling. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got the goods.

You also had a smattering of emails from your professors with links to where your lectures would stream in the upcoming week, and a reminder from your least favorite of the bunch that your Ethics paper would still be due on Tuesday regardless of your circumstances. He seemed to imply in not so many words that if you had enough time to get messy and go viral on YouTube, you also had ample time to get your paper written.

His message startled you into a stream of swears, and you finished your breakfast quickly. You dug out your textbook and laptop, clicking into the half-finished document.

The morning passed in a blur of frantic typing, hasty annotations, and some lurking about on Wikipedia articles that explained the concepts much more clearly than either your textbook or your professor had. It was well past lunch by the time you finished up, proofing it one final time and sending it off to your professor one whole day early, thank you very much.

The shower was running when you emerged from your room, and a small mountain of exercise equipment had been unearthed from somewhere, now laying stacked up against the far wall of the living room. A set of bright orange resistance bands were draped over two disturbingly large weights, and a yoga mat was neatly rolled up behind them. A sweet, tangy scent like burnt caramel hung vaguely in the air.

You wondered at the thought of someone like Bakugou doing something that was supposed to be as chill as yoga. Although, you supposed he needed to maintain some degree of flexibility if he ever hoped to reach back and remove the enormous fucking stick from his ass.

You went into the kitchen, digging around in the cabinets for the jar of peanut butter you’d seen earlier, slathering it onto two slices of bread in a hastily prepared meal. You pulled a banana out of the fruit bowl, and retrieved the entire box of granola bars for good measure, then beat a hasty retreat to your room lest you run into Bakugou coming out of the shower.

You might not have concerned yourself, however, because no sooner had you started in on your meal than the door to your room banged open, rebounding off the wall with a violent slam. You jerked, startling, accidentally flinging a piece of bread onto your covers.

“You missing something, princess?” A familiar voice growled.

Bakugou stood in your doorway, slightly pink and flushed from the heat of the shower. The ends of those blonde spikes drooped with moisture, dark at the roots, and a few very distracting, very horrible beads of moisture glinted wetly at his collarbones and in the hollow divots of his muscles, darkening the fabric of his shirt at the collar.

Your mouth went kind of dry and your skin prickled with something. Irritation, probably.

“Well?” he demanded.

It took you a moment to realize he wasn’t just standing in your doorway for nothing. Your eyes trailed over his shoulder, down the length of a faintly glistening arm to where he held something clutched in his fist. In his hand, a horrifyingly familiar gray fabric stared back at you—your bra that you’d flung off in your haste to get into the shower, and then promptly forgot about. You shot out of your bed in a blind panic, grabbing frantically for it.

Bakugou’s mouth pulled up into a wicked smirk, and he lifted your bra just out of reach as you approached, watching you grab for it with no small amount of relish.

“Mother fuck—just—give me that—!” you demanded, swiping for it again.

“Not gonna say thank you, brat?” he asked. Red eyes fixed pointedly to your face. “First I’m a babysitter and now you think I’m your damn maid too?”

You could have exploded. Dynamight, actual pro hero Dynamight—human, demon, garbage rat, quirk supremacist Dynamight, was holding your bra—and holding it hostage. And clearly enjoying himself for the first time since he’d gotten here, too.

You grabbed his arm with both hands, yanking it down with an embarrassingly extreme amount of effort on your part. You quickly plucked your bra from his fingers, whipping it behind your back.

“What are you, in first grade?” You demanded, rounding on him.

Bakugou didn’t appear at all chastened. “Think I liked the pink one better, princess,” he said.

A wild noise somewhere between a horrified gasp and an incredulous laugh erupted from you. You quickly flung your bra behind the bed, then pressed your hands to his chest, shoving him out the door and slamming it closed after him. An ugly snort issued from behind the wood grain, dissolving into a bright peal of genuine laughter. Bakugou’s steps sounded incredibly smug as he padded back towards his own room, his mission of humiliating you clearly accomplished.

The fucking asshole.

Of course he’d find something like this funny. It was probably completely fucking farcical from his perspective that quirkless girls had all the same body parts attached as quirked ones—minus the quirk-specific ones, like wings or horns or whatever the hell. If he could just do you a favor, crawl into a hole and die.

You avoided him for the rest of the evening, hiding away in your room and powering through assignments to keep your mind off of things, answering the occasional text from Megumi and your other friends, and working your way through a few more granola bars. Bakugou, mercifully, didn’t make a reappearance until dinnertime, and you were able to avoid him by keeping to your room, a stack of textbooks wedged up against your door lest he try to barge in again.

You barely saw him over the next few days, either, the two of you falling into some kind of avoidance-based routine.

Every morning, Bakugou would get up obscenely early and make himself a variety of breakfasts that smelled so good they always roused you from your own sleep. You’d hurriedly dart into the kitchen once you heard him leave, grab whatever non-perishable was tucked away in the cabinets—be it granola bars, cereal, or more peanut butter–a random fruit from the fruit bowl, and disappear back into your room.

While you dialed into your morning lectures, Bakugou would do what sounded like several hours of workouts in the living room. You didn’t dare peek for fear of seeing all that straining muscle on display—your circumstances were already dire enough. Then he’d make himself lunch, which always smelled just as irresistible as breakfast, and then he’d shower. You’d again dart out to the kitchen to scavenge, sometimes managing to boil a ramen packet, sometimes finding conbini lunches packed away in the fridge.

The only variety was when, once a week, a plainclothes hero from Genius Office would show up with a haul of groceries. Bakugou and the hero would make conversation in low tones–although sometimes it was high tones with a lot of insult flinging, particularly when a haughty-looking blonde with pointed features and judgmental gray eyes showed up–he seemed to know exactly which buttons to press to get Bakugou to almost blow your cover, and seemed to very much enjoy pressing them. You gathered just enough to learn that this was the infamous Monoma, who Bakugou had wanted to fob you off on.

He seemed almost just as annoying as Bakugou, but at this point you’d have taken anyone instead.

In the afternoon, you’d do your homework, or attend afternoon lectures. Sometimes you’d chat with friends, sometimes you’d call into your TA’s office hours just to speak to someone, but it all paled in comparison to going outside, having fresh air, and actually speaking to real people.

Over the course of a few weeks, a feeling began to mount in your gut, creeping into your shoulders, a slow, insidious kind of tension. As the days went on you felt more brittle—like a dried out twig pressed under a boot, straining, almost ready to snap.

It didn’t help that you hadn’t heard much on when you could return home. As far as you could tell, the churn around your video was already starting to die down, and Megumi had told you people had stopped turning up to the dorm looking for you. But there was no word from either the police or any hint of a change from the heroes at Genius Office.

It was just you, still trapped alone with Bakugou, who was beginning to irk you more and more each day.

Bakugou mostly ignored you, which you had wanted at first, given the pains you were taking to avoid him too, but even that started to annoy you. But you were so starved for human company, real human company, at this point that even he would do. Eventually, you abandoned your project of avoiding him, going out of your way to cross his path.

Pretty quickly, you found the one thing guaranteed to nettle him enough that he spoke to you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He demanded one afternoon, watching you incredulously over one powerful shoulder. He’d been hovering over the stove, pan-frying beef and veggies for gyudon when you’d joined him. You’d dug out a potato from the pantry, scrubbed it down, and then poked it over with a fork and stuck it in the microwave.

Bakugou watched you intently, wearing an expression like you were committing a war crime right in front of him.

“I’m making lunch,” you replied, nosing around in the fridge for butter and some melty cheese.

“A microwaved potato?” He demanded, in the tones of an interrogating officer.

“I used my brain too much,” you said, thinking back to your morning lecture. “I’m starving. Granola is not gonna cut it.”

He continued staring, his mouth a grim line. Like you had literally murdered someone and he’d caught you standing over the body. The microwave beeped and you went to it and turned the potato over.

Bakugou was still staring when you turned back around.

“Your beef is gonna burn,” you told him.

“You’re gonna get fucking scurvy,” he informed you imperiously. “What the fuck are you doing.”

The last part was not phrased like a question, more like an accusation.

“It’s called college cooking,” you told him, your hackles raising defensively. So what if it wasn’t a full, traditional spread? Some people had lectures to attend and homework to do and a death threat to contend with! And also some people had never actually had the time or resources to learn to make a full, traditional spread! Some people were just hungry and needed some carbs in their fucking stomach!

Classist asshole.

Actually, make that classist, quirkist asshole. Knowing him, he probably thought this yet another symptom of your quirklessness, another deficiency borne of your genetic inferiority. The disdain on his handsome face spoke volumes here. It was just a motherfucking potato. People made potatoes all the time.

As soon as the microwave dinged again, you decorated your meal with a pat of butter and some cheese, and scurried over to take Bakugou’s usual spot at the coffee table, seating yourself there defiantly.

Bakugou looked up from where he was scraping his meal out of the pan, scarlet eyes narrowing. “Get out of my spot, brat.”

“You don’t own it,” you informed him haughtily, digging into your potato.

“And you think you do, princess?” He asked.

His tone grated on you, like sandpaper on skin. You looked up at him, glaring. All of a sudden it felt like the tension of the last few weeks was rising to a head, Bakugou the only human outlet you had for your emotions. Your hands curled into fists beneath the table, digging little half-moon indents into your palms.

“You know what,” you said flatly. “I’m a princess? Fine, then I command you to shut the fuck up.”

The pan clattered into the sink, and suddenly Bakugou was rounding the counter, mouth pulled up in a snarl.

“You want to play it like that, princess?” He demanded as he prowled closer.

For a wild moment you had the thought that he really meant business. You considered grabbing your potato and lobbing it at him like some kind of butter-soaked hand grenade. But then he stopped before you, his socked feet stamping angrily on the yellow wooden floor. You stared, momentarily fascinated by the incongruity of a bloodthirsty pro hero in something so pedestrian as ankle socks.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t back themselves up, brat,” he pointed out, leaning down to catch your eye. His irises were blood red, fixed unwaveringly on your face. “You’re lucky I’m paid to protect your mouthy little ass.”

You scowled up at him. “Or what, you’d fucking join forces with Matsui? God, I’m so tired of your fucking indignation over having to protect someone you think is lower than dirt.”

Bakugou’s blonde brows knit together. “So you don’t get your fucking ass incinerated when you say stupid shit like this, shitstick. Like you fucking understand anything about anything.”

“I understand plenty,” you informed him tartly.

He growled. “You understand less than nothing, you fucking idiot. Shit like this is how you got yourself targeted in the first place. Now shut the hell up, and get the fuck out of my seat.”

You did get out of his seat, but only so you could shoot to your feet, stretching to your full height and pointing a finger in his stupid face.

“Let’s get one thing clear, asshole,” you pronounced tightly. “I am not going to shut the fuck up. I’m not going to keep my mouth shut and eyes down, scurrying around like some meek little mouse who’s just lucky to fucking be here. I might be quirkless, but I am a human fucking person, who deserves all of the same respect as everyone else. And no one—not you, not Matsui, and not those quirkist assholes from campus—get to make me feel otherwise!”

In the corner of your vision, you saw his hands flex, clenching and unclenching reflexively like he was barely stopping himself from putting them around your neck.

God, and wasn’t that just so typical? Your school years had been filled with this same type of little asshole too, who just itched to get their hands on you, to make themselves feel superior by bringing you down.

All of them were exactly the fucking same.

“You know what,” you said, suddenly exhausted and exasperated. “You can have your seat. You can have the whole fucking apartment. I’m fucking over this.”

You whirled around, stomping over to the door. You stamped on your shoes angrily, flinging open the door, and stormed out into the fluorescence of the hallway.

“Oi—” Bakugou’s voice chased after you, but you slammed the door before he could say more, stomping over to the stairwell. You fumed as you made your way down and back onto the street, almost blind with rage, uncaring of where you were going.

The afternoon air was cool as it washed over you, chilling some of your anger instantly. You let out a heavy huff, taking in the street as you stepped out onto the pavement. A few people trudged slowly down either side, and the scraggly trees waved wearily in an afternoon breeze. At the end of the street, a group of students were ducking into the convenience store you’d seen when you first arrived.

You set out in their direction, following the sidewalk until it spat you out in front of the store. You made your way inside, beelining for the refrigerators. A cool drink would help, and maybe some kind of snack. You hadn’t finished your potato before Bakugou started acting like a fucking asshat, and your stomach grumbled at you discontentedly.

You took your time browsing the shelves, selecting a bottled water and a pre-wrapped sandwich, toying with the idea of also getting yourself dessert for your troubles.

It was only as you deposited your items on the counter that you realized you’d stormed out without any of your personal effects—including your wallet and phone. You almost groaned out loud. You did not want to have to walk back in there just yet, didn’t want to face another round of Bakugou’s incredulous ire, his sanctimonious judgment.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you muttered to the cashier, moving to exit the store, just as two men turned the corner of a shelf. One man was tall and lithe, sporting jeans and a dark blazer that washed him out in the fluorescence of the convenience store. The other was smaller and darker, with lilac irises, dressed in a gray coat.

You might have ignored them completely had they not both froze when they saw you. There was a beat of stunned silence, and then a snarl overtook the smaller man’s face.

“You’re that drunk bitch from the video,” he spat, with such force that it made you jump.

You stepped back, alarmed. You couldn’t tell what had surprised you more, his recognition or his tone. The taller man’s face pinched, as if he too had finally realized who you were, and wasn't pleased.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” The smaller man demanded, stepping forward into the space you had just yielded.

You bristled, put off by his aggressive manner. “Getting a drink, though I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you said tightly.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about minding your own business, you fucking freak,” the man said, advancing further. You turned to look at the cashier, disturbed by this man’s agitation, but the cashier looked similarly unnerved. He’d scooted back from the counter, pressed up against the rows of medicine behind him.

He’d be no help to you, it seemed.

You chewed your lip, resigned. Fine then, you could handle this on your own. You were used to this.

You turned back to the pair of men, your shoulders squaring. “Pretty sure my right to exist is absolutely my business,” you said acidly. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, fingernails digging tightly into the skin of your palms. “Now why don’t you mind yours?”

The shorter man seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes tracking across your face as if in some confusion. But then the moment was gone, and his expression went murderous. His lilac irises flashed with some unnatural light, and then skin on the back of your neck prickled with foreboding. Your skin shivered into little goosebumps as the air around you changed, suddenly becoming thinner, sharper, stranger…

The feeling was unnatural, the texture of the air beyond anything you’d felt before. You knew what was happening instantly.

A quirk.

He was about to use a quirk on you.

Blind panic settled over you. You hesitated, unsure whether you should duck, hide, or rush him—when the door banged open, slamming into the glass store front with a crack that shattered a ragged line right up the window. There was a whirlwind of black and blonde, and before your eyes could properly register what you were seeing, Bakugou was there, gripping the shorter man’s wrist so hard you could hear the bones in it creak.

“Drop the fucking quirk now and I won’t blow your hand straight off,” Bakugou demanded, even as you realized you were having trouble drawing in a breath, the air around you almost resisting you. Your eyes went wide, and you stepped back, taking another frantic breath, only to be met with the same resistance.

Your fingers fluttered in panic, and you stumbled.

“NOW,” Bakugou snarled, the man’s jacket starting to hiss and smoke, a white light flickering under Bakugou’s palm.

Almost immediately, the air flooded back into your lungs, almost choking you with its force, and you staggered against the counter, winded.

Bakugou twisted, a movement almost too fast for you to follow, wrenching the man’s arm behind him. In a flash, he’d shoved both men against a shelf, and was locking a quirk suppressor around their wrists, feeding it through the steel caging of the shelving.

Your vision swam strangely as you watched him, puffing in air.

“Call the fucking police right the fuck now,” he barked at the cashier. You heard a clatter behind you, the rattle of several pill bottles dropping to the ground as the cashier presumably dislodged himself, rushing to obey. The plastic clicking of phone keys followed quickly.

You watched as Bakugou tightened the restraint, a weird weakness making itself known around your knees. You gripped the counter tightly, refusing to sink to the ground, either in front of the men or Bakugou.

Bakugou finished up quickly and strode over, his expression tight.

“When they get here, tell them to contact Genius Office,” he demanded, looking over your shoulder at the cashier. He gripped your shirt at your shoulder, hauling you off the counter. “Come on, you little idiot, we’re getting you back to the safehouse. Don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, coming here.”

His tug had you tripping over your own feet, and you reached out to grab him for stability, gripping the front of his shirt in a frantic fistful. Your vision lurched again.

Bakugou paused, frowning, and looked you over. “He hurt you somewhere, brat?” he said, stilling. His grip shifted under your elbows, propping you up. “Your leg?”

“I’m fine,” you garbled out, trying to get your legs under you again. They felt strangely stiff, like you might accidentally snap them if you didn’t stand exactly straight. You tested your step, sucking in another large breath as you did. Your skin still prickled, as though the man’s quick was still active…

But that couldn’t be right…

You’d seen Bakugou put a quirk suppressor on him, hadn’t you?

Bakugou’s head dipped, and he looked you in the face, scarlet eyes picking over you intently. You startled at the proximity of his face to yours, almost stumbling back. He made a grunting sound, and then suddenly the floor went out from under you. You gripped him in panic as he hefted you into his arms, tucking you neatly against his front.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You gasped. Your voice sounded strange to your ears, almost slurred.

Bakugou shouldered his way out of the door, maneuvering you through it with a surprising amount of care. “You’re in shock, princess. Pupils dilated like a fucking lunatic.”

The insult registered first, and you wondered if you should be offended, until his full message sank in. “Shock? I’m not in shock,” you informed him, motioning for him to put you down.

Bakugou ignored you, striding down the street back towards the safehouse with no more trouble than if you were a bag of groceries. “Pipe the fuck down, brat. We’re gonna get you inside.”

You made an affronted noise, which quickly turned into a groan as Bakugou shifted you to key in the code at the door.

The last thing you remembered was passing through the front door. And then the world around you prickled gray at the edges.

And suddenly, without warning, everything went dark.

[spookitapes]

-double trouble.

summary | levi's ackerman has been acting weird. everyone can notice the difference in him, even connie the gas station clerk near levi's house was in shock from the smile gracing the usually grim ackerman's face. 30 minutes later he heads out for a smoke break and spots the town's dealer bending the pastor's daughter over his all black 2021 camaro zl1, all while the sheriff's son and connie's co-worker– eren jaeger, stands on the other side of the hood harshly fucking his fist with a lit blunt going in the other. 

pairing | plug!levi x pastor's daughter!black!fem!reader x gas station clerk!sheriff's son!eren ft. gas station clerk!connie 

warnings/cw | smut, angst, fluff, switch reader (first time topping), switch levi, dom eren, mfm poly relationship, mxm, fxm, drug usage (weed), double penetration, anal, dirty talk, fingering, nipple sucking, doggy style, riding big dick, secret relationship, cockwarming, recording sex, fucking in public, getting caught/voyeurism/exhibitionism, humiliation, praise, degradation, minor blood kink, face slapping (once or twice), oral(m receiving), jealous!eren, jealous!levi, bratty!reader

wordcount | 5.8k 

not proofread, sorry for any mistakes !!

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────

"what flavor you want, baby?" levi asks as he puts the car in park in front of the familiar mini-mart. 

"mmm surprise me! i heard they came out with a few new limited edition flavors in the white owls, but you know i will never complain if you get a game, love. just get whatever sounds good," you lean over and kiss him quickly before he gets out to purchase the rillos and grab eren from his shift. 

you've all been so reckless lately, but it's been sooo worth it. levi and eren hate having to keep the relationship a secret, but you remind them constantly of the hostility between all of your families. even in your twenties, your father forbids you from being seen with either of the men. he tries to beat it in your head that you have a reputation to uphold, that you can't allow yourself to be seen with 'criminal junkies' like levi or a 'piece of shit dropout' like eren. that you can't get caught up in that lifestyle…and you've always followed the rules– until you were old enough to sneak around and not get caught. it all started with you hitting up levi for a 3.5, wanting to try smoking after finally moving into your own place– far, far away from your parent's prying eyes…which is why they definitely didn't know about your roommate or more importantly, your choice in a roommate– eren. 

after searching for months and months around town for an affordable house for rent, you find a place that reaches all your requirements, with the exception you'd have to share the house with someone else. but you kind of liked the idea of a roomie, especially after walking in and being graced with the sight of eren jaeger half-naked and dripping wet in your brand-new living room. your eyes bulging out of your head as you try to commit the image to memory foreveeer.

of course your thirsty ass don't even notice him smirking at you checking him out, basking under your gaze and letting you get your spank bank material before he got an idea. his hands start to slide down to the towel hanging around his waist, your eyes following them but redirecting to the water droplets rolling down his lower stomach and past his vline until your eyes got even wider– turning your body around and letting apologies fly past your lips. your horny lil gremlin on the inside was cussing you out for turning around before getting a glimpse of the gorgeous man's cock, especially when he was the one stripping like that for free…you subconsciously start biting your lip, thinking of how the imprint was rather..large..like that thang was heavy and long— and oh my god why are you thinking of eren's most likely pretty dick ?! you don't even get to keep debating with yourself before you feel a presence behind you, pulling you back into his frame as he closes the door. you don't dare move, just relish in the feeling of his dick pressing up against your ass. oh yeah, he's big. 

eren just chuckles to himself, turning you around before speaking,

"your room is the one by the patio doors, across from the fridge, angel."

"don't call me that, jaeger," you scoff. quickly backing yourself out of his personal space. 

"i remember you liking it before or what? correct me if im wrong, angel, go right ahead."

you just roll your eyes and give him a little huff before storming off to find your room. he knows what that name means between you two. how he use to call you that back in school, well before he dropped out. before he ran away and had the whole town looking for him and that's including you. he left you without a word, without a trace if he was alive. the weeks of heartache turned into months of grieving, but you weren't grieving his life: you were grieving your relationship, your time spent on him, and the time you'll never get to waste on him. the walls you let down, and the bricks you'd have to pick back up to rebuild that barrier around your heart. 

eren was your first love. the first boy to ever really– see you. he's your first kiss and the first person to make you get butterflies in your tummy. the first boy to call you beautiful and stay up all night on the phone just to hear your voice. you wanted to believe you had a strong wall rebuilt when he finally came back, but you didn't. not when you saw his long hair and tattoos– you just find him more attractive, but the sad angry look adorning his face made the hardened shell around your heart start to crack..and it starts chipping away a little more every time you see him around town. you want to see his beautiful smile again, even if was from a distance, but you still knew better than to be the first one to reconcile..so you two haven't talked since the whole ordeal went down, just the glances exchanged in passing from time to time. who are you kidding it's not glancing, you two be staring at each other from across the street like no one's business. 

when you're finally in the comfort of your room, finding it rather quickly, you start unpacking trying to destress…but that doesn't work. your nerves are shot and you're mad at yourself for letting eren get you that flustered like you're a teenager again. it's infuriating and making your brain hurt, so what do you decide on? levi. 

only problem is, you don't have a car..and levi very famously is not mobile this late. you're not taking another taxi at this time of night, so you suck up your pride in favor of mind-numbing bliss and go to ask eren for a ride. your palms start sweating as you twist the doorknob, and you slowly inch toward the living room where you left your ex. you spot him and freeze, but he quickly notices you and pauses the tv.

"what's up with you, y/n? thought you were gonna go pout in your room?" 

"god, you're such an ass, eren..but i'll bite back my insults for now because, uh..i actually need to ask you a favor."

"go head and ask then."

"can you please take me to levi's place? i'll smoke you out and buy us milkshakes after?" 

eren can't help but give in to the hopeful look in your eyes, pleading for him to take you. so he sighs and runs a hand through his semi-dried locks before standing up and stretching. 

"go get your fucking shoes on and hurry up then," he pushes you by the head as he walks by, making you stumble back a little. 

you flip him off behind his back while the smile on your face grows, yeah he's still whipped…and let's just say you two ended up smoking with levi, which turned into getting cross-faded, and that led to you three learning a lot about each other and each other's bodies oop. 

now it's six months later and you're officially all dating..after a lot of confusion and fucking and hiding feelings and more fucking..and ever since that first night, when they took your virginity, you've been dickmatized. every chance you get you're sucking or fucking one or both of them. hell, you even blew levi on the way to the mini-mart, swallowing his cum at the red light beside the gas station while rob zombie blasts through his speakers. he still hasn't told you about the lil drop of him that rests just on the corner of your mouth, in his mind, it'll be a nice little 'just got off of work snack' for eren. 

the ding of the automatic doors opening and closing alerts you, and just as you start getting impatient you see your men walking toward the car. you can't hide your excitement as you hop into the backseat to attack eren with kisses as soon as his door closes. his giggles fill the space as the engine roars to life and he tells levi to just pull around back. he's had a rough day and he just needs to smoke real quick and then they'll head home. so levi complies, stopping right out of view of the security camera where eren instructs him. 

"baby come sit with us, pleeassseee. know you like sitting up there, but wanna be close to you," your bottom lip juts out as your eyes get that look in them. 

"fine, but don't act like a bratty fucking slut. wait till we get back home or i'll drag you inside and fuck you right over the counter so connie can watch you cry for my cock and ruin that precious reputation along with that makeup of yours, understand?" 

"better listen to him sweetpea, sounds serious," eren chimes in as he finishes breaking the rillo open, dumping the guts out. "can i see the weed, babe?"

levi hands eren the bag before stepping out of the car, walking around to get on the other side of you in the backseat. you throw your legs across vi's lap, snuggling into eren's side while he rolls the blunt. 

"lev and i missed you soooo much," you release a big sigh you didn't realize you were holding in. "know it was only a 10-hour shift but i don't care..missed you so so much."

eren looks at you, wrapped up in his side all cozy and looking at him with those needy little eyes. he knows you missed him because he missed you and levi ten times more. he never hated going to his shifts more than when he finally had a reason to stay at home all day. 

"missed you guys, too. so so much, sweetpea. thought of you all day and even watched that pretty video levi sent me earlier of him edging you on break. you ever get to cum today, baby doll?"

"n-no." you barely whimper it out, and the duo in the car barely catch it.

"cause she was being a fucking bratty whore. you want me to tell him don't you? want me to tell him the nasty shit you do to get a rise out of me when he's not there? huh, sweetpea?" there's a special venom that attaches to the pet name when it spits out of levi's lips. 

the tears start to fill your eyes, you know now that he's brought it up eren's gonna find out. you can get away with a lot more when it comes to levi, not that he doesn't punish you..but you know better than to act up like that around eren. know better than to act like that without him there, too, but sometimes your pussy thinks waaaaay before your brain. 

"p-please don't lev! wh-why'd you even have to bring that up- what the fuck did you do?" eren's booming voice cuts you off. the now lit blunt going between his lips as he awaits a response from you..but you can't say anything, not when it comes to this. levi knows that, that's why he speaks up just as you let your tears fall; all while never breaking eye contact with ren. 

"locked herself in the bedroom and used the wand while screaming out connie's name. begging for him and saying how we can't fuck her like he can– not even close. when i got in she didn't even stop, just stared me in the eyes as she slide her fingers in our cunt. like she fucking owns it." he starts growling out his words near the end. eren cocks an eyebrow at you, taking one last puff before passing it to you. 

"so here's what's gonna happen, doll. you're gonna hit on that till you feel good, then your gonna suck this cock, kay? after you suck me dry imma have lev fuck you over the hood while daddy watches. after he cums in your greedy lil pussy i'm gonna make you take us both in this backseat. we're not going home till all your holes have been filled, baby."

you can't help the wet patch that grows in your panties, nodding your head while taking a drag, but next thing you know you're coughing. scrambling to catch your breath as eren's hand lands on your cheek, fingers moving down to lightly grip your neck.

"nah lemme hear you say it, bitch."

"i-i'm sorry! i'm sorry, wasn't thinking daddy! promise i'll behave..i'll be a good girl for you both, promise!" your thighs are clenching as he kisses your lips and releases your neck before bringing the blunt back to your lips.

"now go back to work so you can get to sucking my cock."

the weed levi gets is always good, but this shit is goooood! within a few deep inhales your mind is fuzzy, vision a little slowed as you pass it to levi and get eren's dick out while turning fully towards him. ass in the air facing levi as your front goes down to eye level with eren's cock. god he really does have a pretty dick, long and veiny with a prince albert piercing to compliment it. the sight always makes your mouth water, immediately giving him kitten licks on his tip and sucking up his precum. 

"don't you dare fucking tease me. now do it right before i fuck your throat, whore." with that, he shoves your head down to take more of his dick. you get the memo and apologize with a mouth full of cock before putting that work in. deepthroating him while keeping eye contact, playing with his balls. the groans leaving him are fueling you, making you bob your head faster, twirling your tongue around his shaft. you're interrupted by a moan when you feel levi scrunching your skirt up to your stomach from behind you, fingers playing with your soaked panties. you pull off eren's dick as the fingers push your panties aside and into your pussy. the pitiful sounds breaking into a scream when levi lets the blunt's cherry rest against your ass for a second.

"keep sucking and don't come back up unless it's to kiss lev with my cum in your fucking mouth, you understand me, y/n?" the look in his eyes is enough to convince you alone, so you say "yes sir 'm sorry!" before diving back down to gag on his cock like it's a sport. slurping on his balls until he's about to cum and then your favorite– using your tongue to play with his piercing until he's whimpering, and when he does finally cum you make sure not to swallow it all. coming up and reaching for levi, kissing him so hard and right in front of ren as he watches you push his cum into your boyfriend's mouth. levi's moaning and pulling you closer to bully his tongue into your mouth, making sure he gets every last drop from you..even sucking on your tongue before pulling away. 

"get the fuck out, can't take it anymore needa fuck you- can we, babe? please– gotta let me fuck her," levi starts whining. 

"go head darlin," eren's laughing under his breath at the needy tone of lev's voice, "bend her over and give her that pounding she's been craving."

with the permission, you're being pulled from the car, ass out and all with your skirt still up around your tummy. the cold night air nipping at your exposed skin, but the car's still warm as levi bends you over it, heating you up a little before he's ripping the drenched cloth from between your legs off your body. he lowers his body on top of yours, gripping your hair and forcing your head back to look at him. 

"you know i'll buy you as many pairs as your heart desires, so be a good girl don't give me no shit for these ones." letting out a huff before you open your mouth to scold him, you're interrupted by your own balled up torn panties being shoved down your throat as he slams your front back down onto the car. "you know for someone who spends so much time swallowing dick, you really do talk too much."

you're about to start throwing your hands back behind you, land a slap to the man who just humiliated you to the point your slick's running down your thighs..but that's when you hear eren's door open and close. counting the steps he takes before he's in your vision, right in front of you on the other side of the hood you're currently bent over. he looks so good, dick still hard and standing up out of his black jeans and boxers. the chain with you and levi's initials engraved near the clasp dangles from his neck, levi sporting a twinning bracelet adorning you and eren's initials, and that leaves you with an anklet that has tiny dangling letters– e & l, to match. you don't get to admire him long before levi's slapping your ass, positioning you to arch your back a little more before he slides into your pussy. he's going so slow, making you feel every inch of his heavenly thick dick. while eren's is a little longer, levi's cock is so wide it always ends the same way: your legs shaking with him between your legs.

"don't even think of fucking cumming without permission," his mouth is against your ear, biting at the lobe as he starts slamming his hips into your ass at a fast pace. the ambient sounds of the city are being drowned out by the slapping of skin and the noises leaving your mouths. you look back up at eren to find him fisting his cock while he keeps smoking, the hazy look taking over his eyes as he smiles at you. he reaches forward, taking the panties from your mouth to stuff them in his back pocket. 

"f-fuck sir, keep fucking me, please don't stop– pleasedontfuckingstooop!" your minds going numb, already starting to get cock drunk off the abuse your cunt's taking. the pitch of your voice is getting higher with each mindless babble you let slip from your lips. "im so wet sir, a-all for you! it-it's all over my t-thighs baby, FUUCKK!" 

"yeah i know you love this dick, baby, but don't worry i love this pussy even more. you think i don't know my pussy's weeping?" he's cruelly laughing at you as his thrusts get harder, "baby it's all over you? i'm fucking covered in it, this fucking dick is dripping in you. don't gotta tell me, love– i know, i know you're just a slutty little thing who needs her small brains fucked out her head, yeah?"

you're nodding along with him, agreeing as you rock your hips back to meet his. you're so caught up in the pleasure that you don't notice the sound of the back door of the mini-mart opening, connie stepping out for his smoke break. since it's pretty late and slowing down, he knows it's about time for the store's dead zone of no customers. now he's stuck in place, taking it all in as your moans float through the night to awaken his cock. his eyes meet with eren's, as the tattooed man takes one last drag from the roach before throwing it down and stomping it out on the asphalt. he doesn't alert you, and lets you keep acting like a slut while he makes eye contact with his boyfriend, who was already fucking into you harder under connie's gaze. like they're talking telepathically, the shared looks turn into smirks spreading on each other of your boyfriends' faces that read the same. 

"looks like you got yourself an audience, doll." 

your body gets stiff as your hips stutter to a stop. your mind racing on who it could be. you should be appalled. should be scrambling to cover your body and hiding your face so you aren't recognizable, but you don't. you should be sobbing over the reputation you've been taught to protect so hard, but you don't...and you definitely don't miss the way you tighten up at the thought of someone watching you…levi doesn't miss it either, and he sure as hell isn't letting you get away with it. 

"oh- naughty fucking s-slut! yeah she likes being watched, ren..can feel this slutty pussy squeezing me ever since you told her." levi's letting out uncontrollable sounds now, lost in your tight little pussy. he's pulling one of your legs up onto the hood, giving connie a clear view of your pussy getting dogged. it's getting too much for him, slipping his hand down his pants to relieve some of the pressure of his swollen dick against the confines. 

"nah, i want you to look at him. fucking looking at him, y/n!" eren's fucking his fist at the same intense pace that levi's slamming into you, the anger burning in his irises growing as he thinks of your words spoken about springer when he wasn't around. "look at your lil boyfriend while you get your guts rearranged."

you crane your neck back, trying to get a view of the person watching you get your back blown and you're met with none other than your ex-classmate and old youth group leader– connie springer. your eyes go wide at the sight, his hand down his pants while his chest heaves up and down looking at you in such a vulnerable state. you get so hot under his gaze, at the thought of him getting off to seeing you like this– all pliant and slutty for your daddies. you can't help it when you cum on command as your eyes lock for the first time, legs shaking and screams ripping from your lungs into the dark night as you disobey the very man who allowed you this pleasure. you keep squirming around even after levi stops his thrusts, frozen in place, in shock that you're actually cumming without asking first. the dumbfounded look is mirrored when he glances up to see his boyfriend's expression as his hips come to a stop in his own fist. 

you're so delirious, so drunk on the euphoria of levi's dick in your guts that you don't even notice the tension rising. just start throwing your ass back against your man, nails digging into his arms caging you down. but before you know it he's pulling out and turning you around, eyes on fire from you going against his orders. 

"w-wait daddy 'm s-sorry! im so so- AHHH VI, S-STOP!" your pleas are cut off by the cries you let out, body jolting from the harsh smacks landing on your pussy. quick and right after each other, not giving you any time to breathe. you just keep crying, trying to squirm away from his hits, but also trying to grind into his hand. it's a battle of pain and pleasure that's making your pussy leak more than you ever thought possible.

"get her ass in the car, i'm recruiting a cameraman first," eren walks to the other side of the car while tucking his dick back in his pants and squishing your cheeks together. he sucks on his teeth while watching the tears flow down your face before kissing you on the lips and letting go, slapping you just enough to have your eyes rolling into the back of your head. levi's beckoning you into the vehicle as ren makes his way towards connie.

"ayo springer," eren walks up as connie starts to light his cigarette, "i got a proposition for you…"

you're busy getting your clothes stripped off while levi tugs you onto his lap, his hands going back to tear your grey crop top off so he can get his lips on your beautiful brown nipples. he loves sucking on his baby's buds; wants to secretly get you pregnant soooo bad, to see you get all round and your tits fill up, wants to massage and suck the milk out of them when you're sore and need relief. you're grinding against levi's thigh now that your skirt's off your body, grinding hard. that familiar coil tightening in your tummy again. the only thing left on your body being the chains wrapped around your waist, eren's personal fave accessory of yours.

"g-gonna cum v-vi! can i cum, daddy? pleasplease lemme 'm sorry for cumming earlier— couldn't help it! you're t-too big..too fucking big daddy.…fuuuccckkk 'm gonna cummm!" right as you're about to reach your high, the doors open and levi stops your hips with a death grip from his hands. 

you're too far gone at this point, not even caring that connie's now seeing you fully naked and an absolute mess all over levi's lap. It's quite the sight: your cream all over his pants from your lil humping sesh and the prettiest tears in your eyes as you keep struggling in his grip. eren runs his hands over your body in levi's hold as you start whining out for them to touch you, subconsciously playing with the chains around your center.

"don't miss the angle because you're too busy beating your dick to my girl, springer!" eren threatens as he hands him his phone open to the camera, "and don't forget the flash like a fucking idiot!"

the blinding light of eren's flash flickers on before the count down for the video starts. you feel your pussy throbbing at the idea of connie recording you getting put in place…in the back of the mini-mart no less. it spurs you further as your hands head for lev's still-undone pants.

"gon' get your wish, baby. now suck on lev's cock while i prep this pretty lil hole to take me," he's manhandling you into the position he wants before you can even think of moving yourself. you find yourself ass up again tonight, thrusting back towards eren to grind on his reclothed dick. 

"mmph-daddy pl-pleath! wov when you mmm– fuck my a-ass!" you try to get out around levi's thick tip that's slowly disappearing into your mouth already. 

"fuuck– you're so  fucking nasty, huh baby? wanna put on a show for springer and the camera like a dirty little slut, don' you?" he's landing slaps to your ass that have you moaning around your other boyfriend's dick. sending him to thrust up into your mouth as whimpers fly past his trembling lips-

"o-ooooh fuuuuckk, mmm gonna cum down your fuck throat. gon' paint that shit– and better not waste a single drop, m'kay baby? fuuucckkk fuckfuckfuck!" he starts getting teary-eyed when you start playing with his balls. sinking into subspace as you milk his cock— while staring right into connie's eyes. "r-rennn baby can icanicanidaddypleeaasse!" the tears are falling now, levi's eyes starting to cross as he teters on the edge.

"come here– kiss me and you can cum baby. can cum all down her throat if you lemme feel your lips, haven't got a kiss from you since this morning,"

 levi doesn't miss the pout in his boyfriend's voice as he immediately shoots forward and pulls eren into a messy, nasty kiss. the movement making you take even more of his cock down your throat, your choking sounds music to your lovers' ears as they swat spit over your body. eren takes this time to break away to bring two of his fingers up for levi to suck and choke on. fucking his throat with his fingers as he cums down yours with beautiful muffled sounds of pleasure floating from around ren's fingers. you cockwarm levi down your throat as eren pushes one finger into your ass, whines coming from your mouth and overstimulating levi, but it fuels eren. fuels him to fuck your ass a little harder with his finger so you make those perfect lil noises round vi's dick and get him to keep crying those pretty tears of pleasure he loves so much. 

your fucking yourself back onto his fingers when he slips a second one in, trying to beg him to just fuck you already with your actions. brain too fuzzy and throat too full to express yourself with words. you feel lev's dick start to get hard again in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head to get him fully erect again. levi's digging his fingernails into his palms so hard it's leaving behind crescent imprints, but eren's breaking point is seeing him bite his lip so hard it draws blood. he's pulling his fingers from your ass before leaning down to spit the hole and manhandling you to get off lev's dick. a popping sound filling the space of the car as your mouth leaves his cock, and your back hits his chest before he's giving you an order—

"now ride his fucking dick till i decide you deserve mine, too." he ends his sentence with a harsh slap to your ass, making you jump a little as a moan escapes you. 

"yes sir," it's whispered as you climb onto levi's lap, reaching to put his tip at your entrance.

"now ride him like a real slut. he's all subby for you, love. don't you wanna make sir feel good? wanna take care of him?"

that sparks something inside you. seeing your boyfriend's cloudy eyes, more tears brimming behind the red cheeks and quivering hands dangling in the air because he doesn't know where to put them. 

"it's okay, sir. you can touch me– gimmie you hands, baby. touch me ju-just like that, sir!" you bring your hands to guide his to your chest, letting him take over after he starts groping your breasts. "yeah keep touching me, don't stop, vi-gon' ride you now!"

you sink your hips down, taking him balls deep till his pubes brush against your clit making you pick up your pace. you keep taking him all the way out before slamming all the way back down, wanting to see levi break– but from you this time. never took control and they're giving you an opportunity to.. especially on camera so you could play it back when you're missing your boys. 

"yeah baby, just lemme fuck myself for you! gon fuck this dick till your cumming in me and filling me up, sir~"

the sounds leaving levi's mouth are straight out of a porno— and you're getting the most of the power trip. taking his hands and holding them to the roof as you get on your tip toes to really start riding your man. leaning forward to lick the blood dripping down his chin, tracing its path with your tongue, and sucking his bottom lip one into your mouth while alternating between dropping down and swirling your hips..till you fly a little too close to the sun. you see him on the edge, hips starting to rut up to meet you as his sounds get higher and higher like yours before you nut. you're spelling your name on his dick when levi's legs start shaking at the last letter, so without a second thought, you're pulling up off him. before you can react you're being pulled back down onto his lap. dick bullying up into you as he starts jackhammering into you from underneath. the way he's hitting you so deep has you howling and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, digging your head in his neck as your screams fill up his ear. 

"nah fuc-fucking look at me, bitch! think you gon' edge me? think you're ready for that, sweetpea?" when you don't look at him he's growling and letting one of his hands tangle into your hair as he yanks you back to look at him. you've never seen him so mad, eyes set hard and glaring at you. "you ever try that shit again and i won't let you cum for a week– no a month! make you watch me and daddy fuck every day while you're tied up. gonna play with your princess parts till you're crying from your eyes and this little pussy, but won't let you have any cock or let you cum. you want that, y/n?"

"n-noo! c-can't do that s-sir! can't do it! w-won't survive without y-your dicks– will die if you don't fuck me, if you don't gimme that fucking dick, baby!" you're crying your own tears now, pussy leaking while you fuck down to meet his hips. "won't ever d-do it ever again, baby! nevereverrrr siirrr– fuckkkk right there- right fuckinthereeee!" you start slurring your words, pussy getting ready to burst all on his dick. 

both men are chuckling at you, watching as you release your juices all over lev. the sounds leaving you have connie getting his dick back out, making sure not to fuck up the visual of what he's filming in the process. eren's heart just bout thumps out his chest when you grind down on levi slowly, looking back at him with that lost look twinkling in your eyes.

"c-can you fuck my ass now, daddy? ha-have i earned it yet?" 

he just groans before pulling you back toward him a little, changing the angle of levi's cock in you as he puts his lips on yours. he moves closer behind you, sliding a hand down to play with your clit as he positions his dick at your puckering hole. he doesn't make you wait long as he inches himself in, gasping with you as he feels levi's cock rubbing up against his between the thin layer of skin separating them. his pace starts slow, but as you start bouncing harder on levi, the harsher he gets in return. you're so– full. can't even talk, just let out animalistic noises as you all fall into a rhythm. your eyes find their way back to connie's as the sound of his wet fist keeps fucking his cock despite the multiple loads leaking around the base of his dick and all over himself. this time it's connie that's cumming from the eye contact, as you watch him pull another heavy load from his red and irritated cock. 

it doesn't take long before you're all three close to cumming, always getting your nut faster when you fuck like this. it's like your bodies are puzzle pieces that match up, connecting and fitting perfectly. it makes you feel better than the drugs ever could, being this close with your lovers. the light-headed feeling starts taking over your brain as your begs to cum start pouring out shortly after. 

"hold on baby," eren's placing a kiss to your hairline before he's making levi look into his eyes. "y-you close, lev, huh baby? you gettin close pretty boy?" 

"uh-huhhh daddy, gonna breed this pretty lil slut, but not till you tell me to!" 

"can we all try and cum together? gon let you get your nut, don't worry loves. just wan' do it together, okay? now fucking cum! cum one more time for me so we can go home and do this all fucking over again!"

the words bubbling up in your throat don't make it out as the electric feeling of your pussy getting ready to orgasm bubbles up, again. your toes curl as the thursts stop inside you and the feeling of hot cum battering up your insides floods your senses. the feeling making you cream all over them, screaming into the night as your back arches into eren's back, your tit going into levi's mouth once again. you all lay there for a second after the camera's turned off, the only thing being heard are the pants of all four of you filling up the camaro. 

"tell anyone about this and i'll fucking kill you, springer," eren huffs out while regaining his breath and taking his phone back from his grasp. 

"yeah keep your damn mouth shut or you're dead, baldy." levi chimes in, sending him a glare while petting your back trying to calm you down from the pounding you just endured. 

"now get the fuck out," eren demands, a smirk returning to his face. "by my count you got about 15 angry customers waiting on you inside, playboy."

-

this is only my second work so feedback is greatly welcomed and appreciated !! < 333

[the-tickly-faerie]

Tickle crabs!

This story is based off of an episode of bluey this was in my docs and I forgot about it so hopefully its good!! (I think this is one of my only ler!tommy fics)

It was a normal day in the sbi household. Until a young Wilbur and Tommy ran to Phil with a mischievous grin. "DAD," Wilbur yelled. "What do you two gremlins want?" Phil replied with an exacerbated sigh. 'These kids are too fucking hyper. How do they have the energy, did I give them candy or something? ' Phil thought.

"Can we play tickle crabs!" Tommy excitedlyask, with very good puppy eyes. The older blonde's eye widened. Nop, nuh uh tickle crabs was not on his list of things to play today. The game was so embarrassing and long. The boys just chased him trying to tickle him, all day, it sucked.

"Nah mate, not happening." Phil said. "Whyyyyy" Wilbur dramatically sighed, while stomping his foot and throwing his head in the air. "Because you too just tickle me!" Phil argued back.The boy giggled and replied at the same time surprisingly,'that's the game dad, please?" They knew they weren't gonna play like this so they brought out the big guns(ya call it manipulation but hey they're kids)start to fake cry. Saying stuff like "you don't love us" and "I thought you loved us".

It was actually impressive and Phil was surprised and a little concerned. Reluctantly, Phil decided to indulge the boys. "Fineeee, but only for a little bit!" The boys cheered, and Phil just smiled. He loved their giggles and smiles. So they started to play.

"Ah what a lovely day to be at the beach. I can't wait to lie down under the sand," Phil said dramatically, while putting a bath towel on the ground. "Oh wait! I leave something in the car. Better go get it" phil then leaves the room. 

The boys hearing this start to move under the blanket,Phil laid down. They were giggling as Phil returned. "Ah no, it looks like it's going to rain. Whelp better go home" he grabbed a blanket with the boys under it. Phil is surprisingly strong but he was struggling to carry the boys.

Phil walked to the living room floor and dropped(gently) the blanket, with the boys. "Might as well rest on the couch a bit," Phil says and falls on the couch and closes his eyes. 

The boys,giggle, get out from underneath the blanket and make their way to their dad. When they reach him,of course, they start tickling his belly. "Tickle tickle tickle," both boys say. Phil starts laughing and bolts up and runs from the demon children. That's how it was for the next 30 minutes. The two kids chasing their poor father around and tickling him, and their dad trying to hide from them. 

Then out of the blue, the boy disappeared. Now knowing his children, Phil was immediately on guard. His boys could be sneaky. But now he has to focus on making lunch cause his growing boys need food. So unfortunately, his boys have the upper hand. 

He starts making some mac and cheese. As he continued he didn't hear anything then as he's mixing in the butter and milk, he hears it. The sound of little giggles and the sound of feet sneaking closer. 

"Hey I know you guys are near," Phil says over his shoulder while stirring the mac and cheese. The young boys just giggle.  

"Tickle tickle tickle," both boys giggle while getting close and wiggling their fingers. 

"WAIT WAIT WAIT," Phil yells in a very clear dad voice. This causes the boys to stop right in their tracks. 

"What dad," Wilbur asks. Titling his head.

"Yeah what dad? We want to continue to play?" Tommy asks with a little bit of an attitude. 

"Because I'm near a hot oven and lunch is going to be ready soon," Phil said looking at both boys. 

"Oh yeah that could have been dangerous," Wilbur replied a bit embarrassed. 

"I'm hungry dad!" Tommy just yelled. Both Wilbur and Phil both winced at the volume. Wilbur just shushed and giggled at tommy.

After a couple minutes of talking between the 3 the mac and cheese was done. They all ate, Phil had to stop a food fight, a usual at mealtime. Phil knowing his boys, they would probably forget about tickle crabs, or at least he hoped they would. 

Wilbur jumped up after eating and said, "Tommy, let's go play neighbors!" 

"Yeah come on wilby!" Tommy yelled again and jumped off his chair, and raced to the play room, wilbur on his trail.

Phil just smiles picking up their dishes. He was just happy to not play tickle crabs and to hear his boys playing in the other room. 

[disappearinginq]

Silent Hill: If you could go anywhere without worrying about money, where would you go? Where are some places that reality feels distorted for you? The Haunting: Have you ever been convinced that your house is haunted or that a ghost or other villain was after you?

Silent Hill: So, I'm pretty lucky to say this - money has not been my concern when traveling. I will, in fact, go dead broke to go on vacation (but I finally have a Real Job with Benefits Like Money now), so my travel restrictions are usually reserved to global conflicts and whether or not they'll run a background check and find out I was in the military and then try me as a foreign spy and either kill me, or arrest me at customs. THAT being said - Newfoundland. Which is hilarious, given how much I hate hiking, but I also hate the heat and I like the idea of vacationing somewhere that has icebergs floating by in July.

Distorted? Hmm. That one is a little weirder to answer, because I don't know if they mean travel ('seems fake!') or like, places I've been that have some sort of weird feeling to them. Rolling with the second option, I'm going with Gettysburg Battlefield, and the entire town of Glastonbury, England. Gettysburg has that feeling that I think a lot of places have that were sites of extreme violence or tragedy (I refuse to go anywhere near the USS Arizona Memorial because people - inlcuding my very non-supernatural believing mother - can still hear people banging on the hull from the inside). Gettysburg is hard to describe, because now it's just a big open field, large groups of school kids, tour groups, families with babies, are all walking around, having picnics, taking pictures, running through the grass - and then there are parts where everything suddenly goes silent and you feel freezing cold and you can swear someone just whispered your name but you're alone. Glastonbury is the exact opposite and doesn't feel creepy at all, but it's by far the weirdest fucking place I have ever been (starting from our B&B where we were offered time in the crystal room and told the bedroom we had was great for dream connections to past lives and continuing to the woman who sat with us at dinner telling us about walking up the Tor we needed to be aware of our surroundings were we could slip through time and it just got weirder from there until we left). The Haunting: By ghosts? No. By some fucking gremlin klepto thing? Yes. We have weird shit go missing all the time. And I mean like a bath sheet, which is a towel the size of beach towel but twice as thick. Mom took it down to the laundry from her bathroom, put it in the wash, and somehow, it got zapped into a parallel dimension between there and the dryer, because we haven't seen it since. Other things, like a whole ass breadbox have disappeared, and mom finally drew the line when both our pizza spatulas went missing and she shouted in the middle of the house: "THAT'S IT. EITHER THOSE ARE BACK TOMORROW, OR I'M BURNING THE HOUSE DOWN AND STARTING OVER FROM SCRATCH." And voila! Back in the drawer as if nothing happened.

[herofics]

Dabi beats up an asshole ex step-mom, but it’s comfort

Guess who isn't doing so well on this wonderful day, you fucking guessed it, me. They’re childhood friends and the reader stayed in contact with Dabi even after he left his family and they both became villains, the reader not so much but they aren’t exactly a lawful citizen. Also can you tell I’m venting some shit, obviously this is highly exaggerated and I wouldn’t hurt anyone, but god does it feel good to get some anger out. I’m 6cm taller than Dabi and much bigger, and I’m saying this because it ended up being a bit of self insert, or at least with a big reader.

You weren’t really sure what triggered it this time. Scratch that, you knew exactly what made it happen, but you didn’t really want to accept it.

“Fuck!” you yelled as you hit the brick wall for the hundredth time that evening.

You knuckles were bleeding and bruised, but you didn’t care, you barely even felt the pain anymore.

“Fucking bitch!” you shouted and struck the wall one more time.

“Ya know, there’s a perfectly good punching bag right there” Dabi said as he leaned against the doorframe.

You turned around, out of breath, and crossed your arms in front of yourself, trying to hide your hands.

“Can you just go away?” you asked, sounding more desperate than angry.

“Sure can, but I’m not gonna” he scoffed and started walking towards you.

You took a step back, but now your back was against the wall and you couldn’t really get away from him.

“Nowhere to run now” Dabi smirked and forcefully twisted your hands away from your sides, to see the damage you’d done this time.

“So?” you asked, looking away from him.

“You didn’t fracture anything did you?” he asked after a while, and let go of your hands.

“I-I don’t think so”

“Good, cause we’ve got something to do” he turned around and started walking out.

You grabbed your hoodie from the floor and threw it on, following Dabi out of the dusty gym.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” you asked as he pulled his hood up and put on a black facemask.

“That hag of an ex step-mom of yours is bothering you again, isn’t she? We’re gonna go greet her”

“How’d you know?” you asked and shoved your hands into your hoodie pockets.

“You yellin ‘fucking bitch’ at the top of your lungs while hittin a wall kinda gave it away”

“Ah” you shook your head.

You walked through the city, without saying so much as a word after that. When you got to her house, you grabbed Dabi’s forearm and squeezed it a little too tight for his liking.

“You’re not gonna kill her, right?” you asked, while still holding onto his arm.

“Like I said, we’re just gonna greet her” he growled and ripped his arm away from your grip.

“Sorry, I-”

You were interrupted by the door opening and that hag peeking out the door. She saw you and you could see her eyes darken. It honestly gave you goosebumps, and brought back a lot of the shit she had done.

“”What are you doing here? I thought you never wanted to see me again” she said spitefully.

“I didn’t, and I don’t, but he does”

Dabi took his mask off and shoved it into his pocket. Even though you could only see the side of his face you knew he had that crazy gleam in his eyes and he was smiling like a maniac.

“Hello Mrs” he said and pushed her back into the house so forcefully, she fell on her ass into the hallway, leaving a smoldering handprint on her shirt.

“Dabi? Isn’t this enough, she looks scared enough”

“No, not what she did to you” he hissed and you could see the smoke coming from his hands.

“What I did?! That brat is-” she started but Dabi pretty much showed his boot into her mouth.

“No one asked you anythin” Dabi growled and waved his finger in front of her face, before taking his boot off her face.

“You said you wouldn’t kill her” you said, not even really sure if you wanted to convince him.

“I won’t” Dabi said.

“But?”

“But ya might want to call an ambulance soon” he said as he grabbed her by the collar with both hands.

The fabric started smoking and burning and your former step-mother screamed, hopefully more because of fear than pain. You pressed your hands to your ears to muffle at least some of the sounds. You stepped outside for a few minutes, before calling the ambulance, but after a while you couldn’t take the noises anymore and you slammed the door open.

“Dabi!” you finally yelled and grabbed his arm.

Dabi turned his head to look at you and stopped struggling against your grip. Even though you looked angry, it didn’t seem to be directed at him. You were looking past him and down to the human sack of shit laying on the floor. Even though you were obviously angry, you also seemed very sad.

“Fine” he sighed and ripped his arm out of your grasp.

“I called an ambulance, it should be here soon, so we need to go” you said, now looking more like your calm self.

You grabbed Dabi’s hand and started dragging him away from the scene of the crime. When you had put enough distance between yourself and the house, you turned around and noticed that he was bleeding from his face and the hand you had grabbed. You figured your former step-mother had managed to rip a few of his staples off.

“I’ll patch you up once we get back to my place, put your mask back on and maybe you won’t look as suspicious as you are” you remarked.

“Yeah, yeah” he said and took his hand back to put his mask on.

You lead the way to your apartment, when you got there you sat Dabi down on the couch.

“Wait there, I’ve got some replacement staples for you and I’m gonna clean off the blood”

“I can do that myself” he argued, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Oh shut up, you’re too angry to do shit right now, I felt how your hands were shaking”

“Fuck you” Dabi growled and leaned back on the couch.

You carried one of the kitchen chairs in front of the couch and sat down on it, setting the wound cleaning supplies on the coffee table behind you.

You grabbed Dabi’s chin and started cleaning the blood off his face. You had to swipe his hair out of the way a couple of times too.

“You’re too goddamn dirty for this to be of any actual help. Go take a shower you dirty gremlin”

Dabi just sighed, but obliged with your request without much resistance, but he still made sure to smack you on the back of the head as he walked by.

“I’ll give you a t-shirt and a pair of my joggers, so throw your clothes in the washer” you yelled as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

You could hear the shower turn on and while he was in there, you decided to patch up your knuckles. You disinfected your hands and wrapped some gauze around your knuckles. Then you left the clothes you promised next to the bathroom door. You laid down on the couch to wait for Dabi to come out of the shower.

Dabi stood under the warm water for a while. How long had it been since he had actually taken a proper shower, with soap and all. He opened a couple of the shampoos and shower gels, before he found the one that smelled the most like you. He decided not to use it, but instead just took a deep breath of the smell and memorized the brand. Maybe he would buy it for you sometime. Dabi put the bottle back and chose something else that would be better for the burnt parts of his skin.

“What am I gonna do with them?” he muttered. “How do I keep them safe?”

Laying there on the couch, you got to thinking, it wasn’t like you had any love left for your ex-step-mom, but you didn’t really know how to feel about what Dabi had done. It’s not that she didn’t deserve every bit of it, it’s more about the fact that you felt like you should’ve done it yourself and not let Dabi bloody his hands again. You knew what he was, you knew who he worked with and the things he’d done, but you didn’t want to use him like some sort of an attack dog.

The bathroom door opened and Dabi stepped out. He was wearing the pants you’d given him but he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was drying his hair on the towel and when he was done, he draped it over the chair you had brought next to the couch.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you said and grabbed the staples and the surgical stapler off the table. “Sit down, and I’ll patch you up too”

Dabi sat down on the couch next to you and was very still during the whole stapling operation. You were used to doing it for him, since you’d been doing this for years, ever since he had had a need for it. You grabbed his chin again and started working on his face, it didn’t seem like the skin had ripped too badly, which was a damn miracle, so you just pressed the stapler close to the old spots and pressed it down. Next was his hand, it looked much worse, but you managed to patch him up with the addition of a few stitches and the staples on top. Even when you were done, you didn’t let go of his hand, you just looked at it and brushed your thumb over the border of normal and burnt skin.

“Do you hate me now?” he asked suddenly.

“I may be annoyed at you, but I could never hate you” you said as you put the last staple to his hand. “Touya…” you used his real name to see if he would react any differently, but he didn’t seem to care. “We’ve been friends since we were kids, and you’ve always looked out for me. You know I appreciate that, but I don’t want to take advantage of your willingness to stand up for me, and I’m not so weak that I would need it anyway”

“I don’t do it because I think you’re weak. I do it because you’re too damn kind to give shitty people what they deserve”

“You might be right about that” you sighed, finally letting go of his hand. “Why’d you choose today to do that anyway?”

“Just felt like it” he shrugged.

“Sure…” you rolled your eyes. “Also, could you put a shirt on?”

“Why? You getting all hot and bothered about it?” he smirked.

“No-no, jackass” you said and hit his shoulder.

“Ouch” he said a bit over dramatically.

“Seriously though, if at all possible, I wish you didn’t have to bloody your hands even more because of me”

“I would burn the whole world down for you, and there is nothing you could do about it” Dabi said quietly, but you could hear he was very serious.

“Thank you, but I’m sure it won’t come to that” you said.

You moved to lay down on the couch but Dabi pulled you down so your head was on his lap. You could feel his hands in your hair and you took a deep breath. He smelled like sea salt and toasted cinnamon. Everything was better like this, just like this.

[jaskiersvalley]

Hair of the Dog

The problem with having a goat as a pet was that Eskel had a goat as a pet. It was usually wonderful, Lil Bleater was a menace and Eskel loved her for it. Alas, some days she was a little more than he bargained for. Visiting Geralt on the farm was always a delight, it was one of the few places Bleats could explore without a leash and Eskel knew she was safe.

All in all it was a great day, a rarity for the whole extended family to get together. Geralt had Yennefer and Jaskier with him, they were playing pass the parcel with Ciri, except whenever they unwrapped her, it was always a dirty nappy rather than a fun treat under her layers. How Eskel ended up with a family where both his brothers had two partners was a mystery, it was perhaps why he was still a bachelor with only Lil Bleater as his companion, Lambert and Geralt had soaked up all the appeal for themselves and left none for Eskel.

"Where are the Gremlins?" Eskel asked, looking around. The Gremlins were also known as Lambert, Aiden and Cahir. One at a time and they were manageable but the three together wreaked unknown havoc and destroyed an alarming number of clothes between them. If they ever wore safety pins through clothes, Eskel knew it wasn't for aesthetics at all.

"Last I heard they were heading for the barn. Cahir was going to see whether the new pony is ready to be worked yet." Somehow Geralt sounded resigned and they all knew that while the trio might have looked at the gelding, they were most definitely going to be making out or more in one of the empty stalls.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel nodded. "I'm not risking that. Tell them I said goodbye and that Lambert still owes me a drink next week, will you?" He clicked his tongue and watched as Lil Bleater blatantly ignored him in favour of hopping over puddles. Just because she was having too much fun and still full of energy despite a whole day of charging around didn't mean she got to keep going. Resigned to his fate of chasing his goat in order to get her home, Eskel lumbered off, trying to look like he wasn't approaching her with intent. Needless to say, it didn't work. With expert ease Lil Bleater avoided him, bounding just out of reach. Even worse, he brothers were watching and Eskel wanted to growl at them that they might as well help if they were going to watch. Thankfully he managed to grab his wayward goat, only for her to protest in the worst possible way, she threw herself onto the ground. Normally Eskel wouldn't mind but she chose to roll in a puddle, her white fur soaking in the muddy water and staining it.

"Well shit."

Dripping goat firmly leashed, Eskel stared at her. She watched him unrepentantly for a moment before trying to nibble at her leash. Eskel had learned the hard way that he needed a metal chain leash for her, nothing else survived her incessant chomping. There was no way he could take her home like that, and hosing her down wasn't going to be much good as she's just drip more water in the car and make it smell even more of wet goat.

Thankfully he always had a towel or two in the boot so Eskel could pat her mildly dry but the puddle hadn't been simple mud and water, only heightening the stench. Thinking about his poor tub, Eskel knew he wouldn't be able to give Bleats a bath. The one time he had tried, he'd needed to buy a new shower curtain and invest in some repairs to the tub. Little goat hooves were not compatible with his bathroom. Stashing her in her travel crate, Eskel pulled his phone out and searched for possible solutions. The most sensible was a pet groomer, alas the three numbers he tried all refused to deal with a goat. Some days Eskel cursed himself for not having a more traditional pet.

"You trying to get a groomer?" Cahir sidled up to him, eyes glinting with the promise of mischief.

"Yeah, but it's not like anyone wants to bathe a goat." Not that Eskel was bitter. He didn't expect Cahir to laugh.

"You just haven't asked the right one. Come on, I'll introduce you to someone who'll help. Just follow my bike."

It was easier said than done. While Eskel had heard stories from Lambert about the strange love affair Cahir had with his bike, it was a whole different thing to see it. Having witnessed it, Eskel had to wonder whether there were four in that relationship rather than three as he'd originally thought.

Hair of the Dog looked like a bit of a shithole if Eskel was honest. It was out in a small industrial park near a village, wooden cladding faded and looking in desperate need of a paint. Helmet under his arm, Cahir barged in without a care for the sign that declared the place closed.

"Scales!" He hollered, impatiently holding the door open for Eskel. "Got you a client."

Not quite knowing what to expect, Eskel's eyes widened when a man larger than him appeared, scowling at Cahir.

"What did I tell you about my opening hours? And fucking hell what is that stench?"

Cahir leaned against the wall with a shit eating grin and gestured towards Eskel and Lil Bleater knowingly.

"That's a goat." It was possibly the dumbest thing anyone could have said.

"No, I'm a human called Eskel," Eskel shot back, a little irked.

The laugh was warm and genuine as the owner of the grooming parlour caught on. "Letho. Who's your stinky companion?"

Somehow Eskel found himself charmed by the fact Letho didn't baulk at the fact he was being presented with a goat. He even invited Eskel to stay and watch the whole process of washing and drying his pet. What struck Eskel was how gentle he was through it all, talking to Bleats as much as he talked to Eskel.

"Wouldn't have clocked you as a dog groomer," Eskel admitted while Lil Bleater was enjoying her second rinse.

"Didn't peg you as a goat owner."

"Touche. You like dogs?" Which was a ridiculous thing to ask, given that Letho's work involved a lot of dogs and possibly a few cats. However, Letho shook his head.

"They're alright. But I wouldn't own one."

"Cats?"

"Guess again."

Eskel squinted at Letho. "I can't really say I can picture you with a parrot."

Another laugh and Eskel found himself quite fond of the raw honesty in it. He waited patiently for an answer though.

"Tell you what-" Letho suggested, "-let me finish up with my last client and then I can show you, if you're interested. It's a snake."

"I only inspect trouser snakes on third date," Eskel said, peering around. "If I had known you'd had other clients, I would have happily waited."

The spray of water was playfully turned on him, barely missing him. "It's you, you numpty. I'm closed on Tuesdays, that's admin day." A soft flush spread across Eskel's cheeks at that and Letho continued, "If I put Gully down my trousers, I don't think she'd ever forgive me. And I don't think she'd fit. She's a reticulated python."

"As long as she doesn't eat Bleats, I think we're good." Eskel had no idea about snakes but, given the size of Letho, he could imagine him with a large snake, no pun intended.

In the silence that fell on them, Eskel looked around again with a frown. "Did Cahir go?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, quite thrilled at the prospect of having a fluffy goat stepping out of the dryer soon, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.

"You owe me a drink. Maybe two. We told you you'll like him."

Groaning, Letho threw the note away but not before Eskel saw.

"That sounded ominous."

"The Three Fucketeers have been trying to set me up for a while. I resisted. Guess they win."

Grinning, Eskel shrugged. "They don't have to know that, do they?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.ion out no matter how hidden. Which led Eskel to the conclusion that if he couldn't beat them, they could join them. It was very unlikely they'd want graphic details so, with great confidence, Eskel met Letho's rather large snake. And he met Gully too.

[sharuruwrites]

Is it alright Pt. 2

(O_O), (O///O) - I believe these two emoticons are sufficient warning for this chapter or at least everyone's reaction.

If not, there’s a small portion of smut later in the story. So, 18 and below, yall be warned.

(Oh and spoilers for Hidden Inventory arc btw.)

Masterlist

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 

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"I..want to love him..freely...without any fears, doubts..and not b-because I have to...b-but.."

Listening to your deadpanned wife's drunken ramblings about her feelings was a rare occurrence. So, how did he find himself in this situation? And why he did he felt his blood run cold?

It all started two hours ago when he found out Shion had a girl's night out to attend. Usually, he doesn't mind where she goes; she's her person. Yet, after two full weeks of not seeing his lovely wife and waking up to a cold bed, of course, he was going to cash in his patience with well-deserved rest and a date night. He did his best to prevent her from leaving their house.

  "Let go of me, Satoru!" Shion struggled to remove his arms from her right leg. "I'm gonna be fucking late!"  

  "Then tell them you can't come!" He whined as he tightened his hold on her leg. What he's doing right now is the last resort of his plan for the latter not to go to her meeting.

  Gojo turns down all of her promises of sweets and dates. His determination does falter a bit when she mentions he can get a hug from her. After all, it's a rare opportunity for him to be receiving her affection. Sounds tempting, but no thanks.  

  Shion took a deep breath before an exasperated sigh escaped from her lips. She's fucking close to deck this six-foot of a gremlin. "What can I make you to let me leave the house in peace?"  

  "Kiss me like it's your full-time job, Shio-chan~." Despite the stern look he has on, he meant this as a joke. He decided to be kind and let her go quickly if he witnessed his wife's tsundere side while her face became red like a tomato.  

  Instead of her voice, something heavy hit him hard on the top of his head as he went unconscious. However, he managed to hear the last few words from his wife.  

   "Ah Fuck!"  

  Later, Gojo woke up with a headache and to a cold bed again. Dammit, that meant his last resort didn't work at all.  

  The plan was to get Shion irritated at him so much that she hits him and pretends that it hurts. Once the deed's done, she ended up feeling guilty and had no choice but to stay and take care of him for the rest of the night. However, his infinity wasn't in his favour at that time.  

  As he pressed an ice-cold towel against his head, he began to contemplate whether or not to crash the gathering and pick up his wife. His question was answered when he received a text from Shoko about Shion is one mug away from getting wasted.

  It's been two hours since she left, yet she's about to be drunk? This is going to be fun. He might as well pick her up before something happens to her.

  If he's clingy drunk as Shion claims him to be, she's the tired drunk. The woman can pass out anytime and anywhere without worry for her own safety. In addition to this, if she's in the mood, she'd be missing throughout the night only to be waking up in someone's house.  

  After a quick change of clothes, he teleported to the bar that Shoko frequently visits if it's a Friday or Saturday night.  

  When he entered the place, he earned some stares from both women and men. Heck, even the bartender stops mixing drinks to see what's the commotion. Can he blame them, though? It's not his fault to be blessed with such looks that put Adonis to shame.  

And that's how he exactly got into this situation. However, that didn't explain the slight panic when those words came out from Shion's lips.

Was that a confession just now? Did Shoko intentionally set up for him to hear this?

The anticipation of what her following words would be disappear when he saw her chugged down a whole mug of beer. He immediately grabbed her by the wrist when she raised her hand for a refill.

"I believe that is enough drinks for tonight, Shio-chan."

Shion glared at him before she stood up from her seat, pulling her wrist away from his grasp. "No! It's not enough!" She puffed her cheeks, sharply turned her face to the side. "Don't stop me you furby looking ass!" Utahime covered her mouth to conceal her laughter while Shoko laughed out loud.

"I'm an adult! I'll drink whatever I want and I'll stop whenever I-Urgh!"  

And that's his cue to get her home before she made a mess. The couple went home after he said a quick goodbye to their colleagues and incite Utahime's anger as per usual.  

When they got back, the first thing he did was accompanying his wife to the bathroom. Only to rub her back as she vomits tonight's dinner and alcohol. After being married to her for five years, he kind of knew how to handle her drunken episodes. Once she's done, she looks at him in a daze.

"Why does it feel..so hot in here?" The woman began to unbutton the first three buttons of her dress shirt, revealing her bare flushed chest.

Gojo felt his eyes widened in surprise as the scene unfolded in front of him. This should not be included in her drunken routine. It should be her falling asleep on the bathroom floor. Just how much did she drink tonight?

"Why are you being quiet, Satoru?" She pouted at him before her lips curled into a smirk, and her index finger was on her chin. There's a certain glint in her eyes that made him feel excited on one part but wary on the other. "Oh? Is the great Satoru Gojo feeling shy? My, how cute of you~ I'll let you take a peek what's underneath only if you ask."

As much as he wanted to take her offer, Shion needs to be stopped. It feels wrong of him to take advantage of her current state. He preferred to have her remember that she had sex with him.

"You're drunk, let's get you change before you go to sleep."

"Make me, Sa-to-ru~"

That's the last straw.

Gojo brought two of his fingers to tap Shion on the forehead. His wife immediately fell into his arms, slipping into an unconscious state. He carried her to their shared bedroom before he put her down on her side of the bed. Finally, he released a sigh of relief as he sits next to her, looking at her sleeping face.

Tonight is really out of hand.

Right now, his mind was a fucking mess because of his wife's teasing. Gojo doesn't know how he feels right now. He's definitely surprised, that's for sure. Yet, he felt there's something awaken inside of him that he doesn't need to know what it is right now. It didn't even help that his mind begin to dwell in his imagination.

  "T-toru..p-please~"

  Gojo withdrew his lips and wet fingers from his wife's wet folds to take a good look at his masterpiece. Both of her wrists were above her head, bounded together by his bandages. Her pale neck was now adorned with his bites. Her dress shirt  was unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of her white lace bra and a few of his marks on her toned stomach. Her legs were on his shoulders as she doesn't have the strength to lift them up after the numerous orgasms he had given her.  

  She looked at him with excitement and lust, but there's also a hint of shyness in them. He couldn't wait to hear the sounds she makes when he's fucking her senseless.  

  "What is it, Shion?" He licked his lips, savoring every drop of her sweet nectar. "I'm still hungry."  

 "I..c-can't take it a-anymore~" She panted as she tried to catch her breath. "Please, I need your-"  

A slap connects to his right cheek wakes him back to reality. Only to see his wife sleeping in their shared bed. Immediately, he pulled her blanket up to her shoulders when his eyes caught on the sight of her cleavage.

What the fuck happened? He admitted that sometimes, he had fantasize about Shion and forgot the scene the next day. But the one he had just now? It was too real for him that it made him remember every detail of it. He felt his pants tighten, and the sudden rise in his body's temperature turned his head all fuzzy. He shook it off to straighten himself with his lewd thoughts. All he could do was suppressed his desires and go to the bathroom.

It looked like he needs a cold shower, but it would be a long one this time.

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

"Where the heck did she go?" Gojo mumbling, as he kept hearing his phone ringing on the other end. On his other hand was a bag of groceries that they bought for this afternoon's dessert. After his wife woke up with a headache, he annoyed her enough to respond to his request. The man knew his wife had to make it up for what she did to him yesterday.

After they did their shopping, he excused himself for a quick stop at the vending machine to grab a cold drink. However, he should have taken into account his wife's attention span. Why? Because when he got back, she's nowhere to be found. She hadn't picked up any of his calls for the past ten minutes, which made him feel a bit anxious.

Thanks to his tall height, he quickly recognized a familiar figure near a flower shop from a distance.

"Shio-chan!" This made the woman looked behind her only to see her husband approaching her. "Why weren't you picking up my calls?"

"Ah, I put my phone on silent before you pick me up," She looked away as she scratched her cheek. "Sorry about that. Anyways, give me your shades." She extended her hand out. In his response, Gojo crossed his arms as if he's expecting something from her. Shion blankly stared at him before let out an 'ah' as she realized what he meant.

"Please?" She rolled her eyes when he handed her his pair of sunglasses, making his blue hues revealed to the public.

"Perfect"

Hearing that word from Shion made his ego inflated. Yet, it increased tenfold when he realized she's taking pictures of him. He knew he's fucking perfect in every way in terms of looks, but when his wife said that? Of course, he's going to embarrass her in public.

"My my, Shio-chan~," He dramatically posed for her with a smug look on his face. "You could have just told me you want to capture the-Shion?"

Unfortunately for Gojo, she wasn't interested in being his photographer. Currently, her whole attention was on a fluffy white cat with his shades too big for it to fit. Not only he's disappointed that it's not him she's complimenting, but also annoyed at the cat. He doesn't know if it's just him or because of the summer heat; he felt the cat was taunting him with the shit-eating grin on its face.

Shion put her phone away before kneeling to its level, taking off the shades from the animal.

"You're such a handsome cat." She cooed, giving scratches underneath its chin.

It purred and leaned more into her palm. Despite the blank look on her face, Gojo could tell that she's trying her best not to squeal in public.

How could he tell? Well, he saw her lips slightly twitch upwards. How come she isn't like this to him?!

This was why he kept denying her request to get a cat or a dog.

"Milo!" The cat pulled itself away from Shion's touch before running towards an elderly couple. "There you are!"

"I hope he didn't cause any trouble." Milo rubbed its cheek at his owner's leg before it gets picked up by her. "He has a natural talent in mischief."

"Don't worry, he didn't cause any." She reassured her. "In fact, Milo is quite a photogenic cat."

"May I see photos of him, dear?" Shion pulled out her phone without a word and showed the owner the final product of the recent photoshoot with her pet.

As much as he wanted to go home now before the sun turns him into a puddle, he decided to be patient and wait for her to finish. He's feeling charitable today, that's why.

"How long have you two been married?" He hated small conversations about his marriage. He may loved flaunting it to his co-workers and students to annoy them. Though, anything related to his feelings towards their marriage is off the table.

"Five years and you?"

"Fourty years and counting."

Gojo doesn't know why but felt a slight sense of envy in the latter's answer. To cover this, he let out a small low whistle. "Any tips or secrets you can share to this newbie, gramps?" He jokingly asked.

"There's a lot of it, but I always say this to my children before they get married." With a smile, the lines on his face become more pronounced when he sees his wife. "As long as they stay true to each other, any problems they face in their marriage will overcome it."

Gojo did not expect those words will be in his mind throughout the afternoon. Because of it, he was assigned to cleaning duty after he used salt instead of sugar. For once, he didn't make a huge fuss about it. It earned him a couple of worried glances from Shion, which made his desire to finish his chore quickly. In the process, he gained band-aids for the base of his thumbs and a scolding from her.  

Why the fuck he's so fucking out of character today?

Right now, he's on the couch mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He needs something to distract him from his thoughts. Alas, those thoughts win him over when he finds himself smiling on his lock screen. There's nothing special about it. It's a picture of Shion's smiling face. However, it's not just any regular smile. She was grinning with her eyes closed while a splash of red painted on her cheeks. The angle of the sunlight from behind perfectly captures her the pure radiance of her-

Okay, this needs to be addressed before he gets more confused with his feelings for her.

First off, What are they? They were husband and wife on papers, but they're mutually benefitting from one another. He had her loyalty to fight alongside him to change their cursed world. In exchange, she gets to live another day until he called it off. They'll be fine as long as the line between them doesn't change.

But that line became blurry before he could comprehend it.

He didn't know when or how it started, but he knew something changed between them when they kissed for the second time. When he showed a bit of his vulnerable side three months ago, he became more aware of his true feelings towards his wife. He knew he couldn't use friendship as an excuse anymore to deny his feelings. Lastly, the drunken declaration he heard last night forced him to face them.

'So, she loves me because she has to?'   He thought. Understandable as he did save her from meeting with death early. However, there was something in her answer that doesn't make sense to him. The smiles, the laughter, and her words he find comfort in; Were all fake then? Because she had to keep up with a quota? Now, that's plain insulting to him and his pride. He wanted to call bullshit on her claim. If he divorced her on the spot, he knew she's going to accept it without any questions.  

But he doesn't want that outcome. Instead, he wanted Shion to fight against it, to show everyone she want to live. Not out of obligation, not for someone's dreams, but for herself.

Gojo had a feeling it has something to do with trust. Calling him by his given name doesn't mean she trusts him entirely with her emotions and problems. When they first got married, he thought minding their own businesses was for the best of both of them. No talks of how their day went; no affection or gifts were showered to her. In simple terms, they acted like strangers.

Now that he thinked about it, it's more like his selfish interest in not getting attached. If he didn't change back then, who knows? Maybe Shion would be the one who brought his own long-awaited demise or make the whole world bend over her will.

Despite that, he had no right to judge her for it. He's in the same position as her. He had confidence in their line of work. As for showing his vulnerable side? That's out of the question. What happened three months ago was by chance as he got anxious at the idea she had her eyes on someone else.

Now that he thinks about it, Why would he care if she did find someone? He should be relieved as it will be easy for them to part ways once that time comes. Yet, he knew how much of a selfish person he is.

How could he let go of someone who makes him feel this way? And why would he? He doesn't care that she ends up hating him. He'll have to manipulate her into not leaving him for someone else.

After what he has been through, is it alright for him to be this selfish? And if he disregarded her feelings into this matter, does that mean he failed her? Failed her in what exactly? She's not like Riko, who died under his watch. She's not similar to Suguru, who betrayed the cursed world they lived in as he became a hypocrite of his own past ideology.  

Then what?

"Is that my face on your lockscreen?" A soft yet confused voice made him snap from his thoughts.

"Yes and?" His phone lit up to show her the photo. "Just seeing your face before and after a mission makes my day a hundred times better than-"

"I've been calling your name for the past few minutes." She folded her arms and a worried look was on her face. "Are you sure you're okay? Does your head still hurts?   Did I said something weird last night?"

  "I..want to love him..freely...without any fears, doubts..and not b-because I have to...b-but.."  

"Shio-chan, sit on my lap." She raised her fist in response to his request. "I promise, I won't do anything weird."

"That's what you told me before you dropped me from the top of the Tokyo Tower back in highschool."

"And thanks to it, you're a special grade sorcerer like me, Shion." The smug look on his face doesn't help clear the doubt look on Shion's face. If anything, her brows furrowed, and that's a sign he needed to think about what he's going to say next. Testing the limit of her patience wasn't in his checklist for today. Maybe the next day, he will. Right now, he needed answers to his many questions about her.

"Just trust me on this one," A sigh escaped from her lips before she gave in to his request. His wife sat on his lap, but her back was facing him. This is not what he has in mind.

"No, not like that, Shion."

Gojo found himself with Shion straddling on him, her arms on his shoulders. Meanwhile, he had his arms around her waist. Gojo looked at her in amusement as she tried her best to keep up with the eye contact. It is the perfect opportunity that he cannot let go to waste.

"Oi, did no one told you that you should make eye contact to the person you're talking to, Shion?"

"H-How can I?!" She stuttered. "Y-You're a bit too close for my comfort."

"How is this any different when we're in bed?" He asked. His wife began to list down the differences between them in bed and their current position. While she's rambling, the man in front of her starting to take notes on her features.

Everyone, or at least those who have seen his wife, was quite taken aback by her cold beauty. If she went more of a refined look, there would be more suitors than usual. He does see the appeal of it, but that's not where she's the prettiest.  

In his own opinion, her beauty shone bright when her eyes become expressive. Call him a cheesy bastard, but it's true. He doesn't mind listening to her rant about her trashy shows when it brimmed with passion. He wanted to be the only one to comfort her as sadness was present in her eyes. Then, there were the doubts he had three months ago. It all disappeared as he found reassurance from the warmth he saw in her eyes.

Yet there's one emotion he hadn't see, and a tiny spark of hope wants it to be him as the main subject of it.

What does it look like when she truly loves someone?

The sound of the door slammed open activates Shion's flight-or-fight response. She pushes herself away from Gojo, only to fell hard on her back before hissing in pain. The man is a bit pissed at the sudden interruption of their moment. How can they forget about this?

Tsumiki was in a sleepover with her friends last night. Megumi forced himself to wake up early because he had to accompany someone to Akihabara. Gojo has the chance of meeting this someone, and oh boy, he cannot wait for the latter's reaction when he found out the truth about his friend.

"We're home!" Tsumiki's smile turns into a worried frown when she saw the older woman's state. "Are you alright Ito-san?!"

"I'm alright, I...accidentally...fall off from the couch while napping! That sounds about right." She muttered the last part, but Gojo heard it perfectly.  

Tsumiki seemed to bought her excuse while her brother caught on but chose not to bring it up. However, the young boy's expression scr"What's that smell?" Megumi asked. "Did you forget something in the oven again, Ito-san?"

Shion got up from the floor and dashed to the kitchen, with the siblings followed right behind her. Judging by the small happy cheer he heard from the older fushiguro, the cake turned out to be okay. Good for them.

This means he's left to his thoughts again, but this time, he's okay with it as now he knows.

  He's fucked.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Would You Be My Little Quarantine (one-shot)

Synopsis: As the mandatory quarantine hits, the Reader is stuck in a cabin in Utah with the boys from 5 Seconds of Summer. Turns out another person is stuck in a hotel nearby. Hijinx ensue as does romance. 

Pairing: Harry Styles x f!Reader

Genre: fluff pretty much just pure, teeth-rotting fluff.

Warnings: it’s my first time writing for Harry as I was never really part of the fandom, but damn does Watermelon Sugar do things to a person, so please be kind. This is defo not my best work, but I’m slowly getting back into the groove of things, so bare with me :D

Word count: 6061

        TikTok had become Y/N’s new obsession. She’d stayed away from it as long as she could, being a true Vine generation child, she felt loyalty to the deceased app. But one night, after a long recording session, she caved. And then stayed giggling on it until the early morning when the birds started to chirp… or until Calum had taken her phone and threatened to throw it in the jacuzzi if she didn’t go to bed. 

        The girl and the four guys from 5 Seconds of Summer had been renting a cabin in the middle of the Utah woods to help them escape the distractions of the city as they recorded their respective albums, and given how they were good friends, they decided to collaborate on a few songs, and it made sense to just chill together as well.

        Which had started off Y/N’s own TikTok series, having ‘borrowed’ the idea from the Irishman living with two girls.

        “Alright, gentlemen.” She slid inside her bathroom pulling the focus of her camera on the reflection in the mirror. “I live with four guys, and I have some things to say. Why do you always, and I mean ALWAYS, leave your socks around the house? The dirty ones. You know you could just throw them in the wash… there’s an idea.”

        “We do!” Calum yelled

        Y/N turned her face to the door and hollered, “Only after I’ve asked you to!”

        “Do not!” he countered.

        “Do too!” she exited the bathroom and into the hallway only to be met with the man standing there with his hands on his hips. “Then how.” Y/N pointed the camera towards the living area you could see from where the hallways overlooked the room. “Do you explain that?” And when she zoomed in, there, in a small pile laid two brown socks, all crumpled up and almost pushed underneath one of the three couches, as if someone was trying to hide them from sight.

        Calum stammered for a bit. “Those are NOT mine.”

        Y/N flipped the camera and looked at it like they do in the Office. “Help me,” she mouthed and finished the TikTok, pointing with her hand at him. “Ya disgustin’!”

        Just as maturely as she had reacted, so did Calum by crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out, but their little bickering about whose socks they were and whose job was it to put them in the dirty wash (they were Ashton’s, and it was his job), Luke poked Y/N’s side as he came out from his room. 

        “I know might seem weird, but is there any chance another person could join our quarantine group?”

        Y/N’s eyebrows rose. Sure, the house was giant, mostly because whatever production she was a part of on Broadway, after a successful season, she invited all of them there to get away from the bustle of New York and just chill. It was in the middle of the forest, encased by gorgeous mountains and at the side of a lake where they’d go jet skiing and cliff diving.

        “I thought people can’t visit one another?”

        “They can’t,” Luke confirmed. “That’s the point. The unfortunate soul just got stuck at a hotel not too far from here, and all the flights are cancelled. Two weeks of quarantine without symptoms have been concluded, but, knowing how impossible it’d be to get to London, when you know, as I said, there are no flights, I offered a place to stay.”

        “So,” Y/N dramatically rolled her head. “You already offered to stay before asking me?”

        “Well, I knew you’d say ‘yes’ because you’re a kind, generous, amazing, smart, talented, compassionate person and wouldn’t leave someone on the streets when you know you could help.”

        “Mhm, keep talking.” Y/N squinted her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

        “Incredible, best musician I’ve ever met, how you haven’t won all of Tony’s I’ve got no idea. Your acting skills are impeccable and the movie industry is missing out on a once in a lifetime kind of a talent by not castin-“

        “Alright stop.” Y/N busted out laughing. “As long as you promise I won’t wake up with an axe in my head, ‘s fine.” 

        “Promise.”

        “Good. Also, could you please get me three bottles of that wine I like?” Y/N hollered before skipping downstairs and to the kitchen where Ashton was brewing the tenth cup of coffee. “I have a deadline in two weeks and have literally no idea where to go with the story.” She referred to the second book of her series she was writing, and now with the lockdown going on, her literary agent was breathing down her neck, and it didn’t help she hadn’t written anything in like a month and didn’t remember half of the already exiting story.

        Luke lifted a brow and hissed through his teeth. “That bad?”

        “You have no idea,” she sighed and left for the living-room where she could harass the boys for their fries and procrastinate some more. 

***

        The few hours, while Luke was away, were quite uneventful. All of them sat around on the couch pit, wrote some music, lil bit of lyrics and Y/N almost cried seeing as her characters had decided to live their own life and not obey to her story.

        “Why do you have to be such an idiot,” she mumbled under her breath and furrowed her brows as she wrote herself into a new plot hole.

        Right as Y/N was about to delete the whole chapter, the door slammed open and she heard grunting. “We’re here!” Luke hollered, and the thought of wine made her giddy, making her leap over the edge of the couch, and rush to the front door only to stop dead in her tracks. 

        Y/N’s mouth hung open, not because of who the person joining their quarantine group was, but because of what the person was. “A fifth GUY?! You didn’t tell me it’d be a guy!”

        “I didn’t think it’d matter!” Luke yelled back.

        “There’s already four of you!” She pointed back to the living room hearing loads of ‘hey!’ being shouted back.

        “Would you leave him on the streets if you’d known he was a dude?”

        “No, of course not!” 

        “Why are we yelling?”

        “I don’t know!”

        “I mean, I can leave.” Harry Styles said pointing at the door, not really knowing what to do. He certainly hadn’t expected that sort of greeting. “But I do come bearing gifts.” He lifted a black bag where a clinking of glass could be heard.    

        “No,” she sighed.  “It’s fine... I just… I just miss the company of vaginas.”

        He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Vaginas?”

        “People I can rant to. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter if you have a vagina, as long as we can have a good rant. Especially about the gross things like having all of your dirty socks thrown around the house.” She threw Luke a look that screamed ‘I know you pushed all of them under your bed, and it’s stinking up the whole place.’

        Harry shook his head. “Ya not gonna find me leaving my clothes like that. Besides, ‘s disgusting.”

        “No,” Luke whined, “come on, man! You’re supposed to be on our side!”

        “It’s two against four,” Harry snickered, throwing his hand around Y/N’s shoulder, who gave Luke a smug grin, and it made her mimic the same expression.

        “It’s evening out. Maybe you should actually invite some other people to quarantine with us. Say, Harry, is maybe Niall in need of a place to stay?”

        Luke rolled his eyes, and shook his head, going into the kitchen and placing the food bags he’d been holding. “I hate you so much.”

        Y/N’s smile just widened.         

        ***

        “Yes, I’m still stealing your series Irishman.” Y/N zoomed in on her face. “Because now…” she looked up at the ceiling in a manner ‘someone please save me’, “I’m living with FIVE dudes. Yes, FIVE. We have an addition. And if someone doesn’t come and kill me, I will kill them.”

        “We’re not that bad!” Michael hollered form out of frame, to which Y/N yelled back, “Yes the fuck you are! Boys are gross. You do realize you’re allowed to have more than one towel. Like you DON’T have to wipe your face with a towel that’s soaked up your ball juice.”

        “It’s economy.”

        “It’s disgusting! Also.” Y/N turned the camera to Harry who was climbing up the stairs with a cup of coffee in hand. “Say ‘Hi’ to gremlin number five. He’s stolen all of my nail polish.”

        He gave a cute wave with an adorable smile, muttering an unintelligible ‘Hello’ as his mouth was stuffed with a piece of bread and a very muffled ‘You don’t even use them.’

        “Yes, but that’s not the point. Anyway,” Y/N pointed the camera at herself. “Tune in for an update whenever, as long as I haven’t strangled anyone, and pray to the heavens you don’t see my face in the papers cause the next time you do, it’ll be my mugshot for a quintuple homicide.”

        “Is that a threat Y/L/N?” Harry smirked, as Y/N walked past him and took away his cup of coffee.

        “No, it’s a promise.” She threw him a wink, leaving the Brit with his mouth open at the woman’s audacity, as she stopped the recording of the TikTok.

        “That was my coffee!”

        “Not anymore!”

        He shook his head, turning back around and going to the kitchen, seeing Y/N perched on one of the stools, neck stretching over to where Ashton was watching a video on his phone, the black liquid in his cup now a creamy beige. Harry smiled. Maybe quarantine wasn’t going to be so bad.

***

        Y/N’s head popped from the side of the door, bringing all of their attention to her. “You guys need to record anything right now?”

        Luke shook his head, signifying the band was alright before turning to Harry who mimicked him, the tapping of his pen stopping. “Why?”

        “Just got a call from Laurence, he said something’s wrong with the ‘Candy Store’ audio from yesterday. Need to rerecord it and send it over. Something about a faulty export or whatever.”

        “ ‘S all yours.” Ashton motioned to the recording booth. “Oh, but can I be Heather Duke?”

        “And can I be Heather McNamara then?” Luke piped in.

        Y/N chuckled. “Not to burst your bubbles, but you do know you won’t be in the final version?”

        “No, but we could be in THIS version. It’d be for our private files. And it’d help you.”

        “That sounds so wrong.” She grimaced. “How would that help me?” Y/N plopped next to Harry on the floor. “You’re the biggest distractions I’ve ever met.”

        Luke scoffed. “How dare you! We offer you our services of being backup singers, and you… you’re such a meanie. You’re such a Heather Chandler!”

        “It’s 2020! If Leslie Odom Jr. can play Aaron Burr, then I can play one of the Heathers! Don’t be sexist, Y/N!”

        “I never said a dude can’t play a Heather, don’t put words in my mouth. I just said last time we tried to record anything together we ended up playing SIMS for like seven hours, but… come on you two divas, get your asses inside then. But I swear if Laurence or Kevin call because one of you whispered something dirty in the background of MY parts, I will strangle you in your sleep.”

        “How little trust do you have in us?”

        “Very,” Y/N deadpanned, showing the two men inside, leaving Calum, Harry and Michael to man the production table. “If you mess with anything, your asses will be grass.” She pointed at the three and all of them put their hands up in surrender. “ ‘S bad enough you ruined my single.”

        “It’s called giving it flavour,” Calum said through the microphone.

        Y/N just responded by sticking her tongue out.

        Michael lifted his fingers, counting down from five to one, giving her the cue to start.

        “Are we gonna have a problem?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, already immersed in the character of Heather Chandler. “You’ve got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?”

        Harry swallowed hard. 

        “I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch,” she slightly motioned with her head to the audience behind the screen, a mockingly sweet smile on her lips. “But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice, listen up biatch.”

        When her hips started moving from side to side to the rhythm of the song, Harry swore he’d never found someone being mean (even though it was mock mean) so hot.

        “I like,” Y/N raised her voice before dropping it. “Looking hot, buying stuff they cannot.”

        There was no sight of the sweet and bubbly girl Harry had met. This was Queen-B of Westerberg High in flesh. He was transfixed. 

“I like drinking hard, maxing dad’s credit card.”

She didn’t need anyone’s credit card to pay for her things, given how she was one of the top paid Broadway singers of their generation, and something in Harry skipped a beat at how confident she looked.

        “I like skipping gym, scaring her, screwing him,” Y/N rolled the ‘r’ deeply in her throat, and he had to collect himself before his thoughts went to an unsavoury place.

        “I like, killer clothes, kicking nerds in the nose!” With a smile, Y/N pointed at Luke who only rolled his eyes. “If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls, let yer mammy fix you a snack,” she emphasised the ‘K’ after having mockingly sung the bit before. “Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke, in ma Porche with the quarterback.”

        As weird as it was to have the two boys be her fellow Heathers, Y/N hated to admit it did help her. It reminded her more of what it was like to be on stage before the pandemic had started and the production had to be shut down. And she missed them. All her fellow actors just as much as she missed the rush of getting on stage and losing herself in the role and atmosphere. 

        “You can join the team –“

        “Or you can bitch and moan,” Y/N’s ‘Heathers’ sang in a nasally voice

        “You can live the dream.”

        “Or you can die alone.” 

        Harry snuck inside the recording booth, picking up a pair of headphones by the drum set.

        “You can fly with eagles,”

“Or if you’d prefer,”

        “Keep on testing me,”

        “And end up like her!”

        And that’s when Harry joined in, reciting the lines of both Veronica and Martha, and when he saw Y/N keeping a palm over her mouth as she tried to keep a mean face while inevitably hiding a smile. The whole of the song, despite how Ashton, Luke and Harry had tried to make Y/N break character (she came close a couple of times), the woman stayed on the line, not missing a beat, and especially enjoying the moment where she looked at Luke, who was about to hit the high note and screaming ‘shut up, Heather!’

        Harry couldn’t help the smile splitting apart his face. When Luke had first picked up his call, having known he and the gang were somewhere in the Utah region, he had thought he’d be living with just the guys, and when he found out it was actually Y/N Y/L/N renting the cabin, the girl he’d admired for so long for how brave and utterly unapologetic she was of being herself, Harry had just thought he’d gain a new friend, not have romantic feelings spring up.

        And all of it had happened in the span of two days, not even that much. He’d arrived the evening before, had met the woman, and now it was three PM on day two and was already in love. 

        It was an exhilarating and terrifying feeling all at once. Some studies said it takes men eight seconds to fall in love, which Harry now could pretty much confirm, while it takes women generally fifteen days to fall in love. And he could only hope Y/N might have some feelings for him as well, otherwise, he’d have to scold his heart for falling quickly once again. 

***

        It was the middle of the night, wind slamming against the windows when Harry got awoken by people talking behind his door. At first, he was ready to fight, thinking immediately that intruders had come into the house, but when he heard a ‘fuck off Michael’ and a ‘you fuck off, you’re gonna ruin this’, he understood everything was fine. And he was just about to lay back down on the soft pillows, but as the saying went – curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so he threw off the covers and lightly went to the door, where a bleary Harry appeared on the stairs making Y/N and Michael whip their heads towards him and freeze on the spot. 

        “What are you two do-“ but he didn’t get to finish the question as the two co-conspirators shushed him.

        “You’re either in,” Y/N whispered harshly, “or out. Choose Styles.”

        A beat. “What kind of trouble’re we getting’ into?”

        The smile which spread on her face was nothing short of wicked. “Revenge,” Y/N hissed.

        “Be quieter than a mouse,” she whispered to him, and now the trio moved downstairs.

        “Who are we getting revenge on?” Harry spoke as quietly as he could, as they rounded the corner and exited the cabin through the back door. It was colder than he thought, seeing how the wind wasn’t warm at all, and he was grateful he’d fallen asleep in his favourite rainbow cardigan. How Y/N and Michael didn’t even shiver in their barely-there pyjamas he didn’t understand. 

        “See, Luke here thought it was a good idea to not heed my warning about not messing with my recording.”

        Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up. “He didn’t.” He knew Luke hadn’t, he was there the whole time and listened back to what they’d sung with everyone together.

        “No, but he did rename a different file with the same name I had for the 'Heathers'' recording, on MY computer, mind you. And well, let’s just say, it was not what anyone wanted to hear.”

        Harry had to swallow, as his mind went to unsavoury places, and as Y/N shimmied open the lock of the window to the studio bathroom part of the house, she looked over her shoulder to see his expression. It would seem, despite him being in ‘Dunkirk’ and having been confirmed to play Eric in the live-action ‘The Little Mermaid’ he wasn’t as good of an actor as he thought.

        “Get your mind out of the gutter,” she snickered and pulled herself inside the house through the window, Michael handing her a black duffle bag Harry hadn’t first noticed. “It was a conversation I had with my friends while we were all drunk. Some tea, some very personal tea was spilt, and so.” She unzipped the bag slowly and took out a whipped cream can. “I’m going to spill something else.”

        Canned cheese was one of the most disgusting things ever created by a human in Y/N’s opinion. So, squeezing nine cans worth of the stuff inside all of Luke’s socks, jean pockets and everywhere else possible was good enough revenge for her.

        “Why are we in the studio though?” Harry asked as the trio crept towards the bathroom door and peeked through the open sliver. It was pitch black. 

        “Because Luke teds to forget his favourite things here,” Michael explained and motioned for them to follow as he checked that the hallway was clear. It was go-time. 

        Together they all snuck back inside the recording studio, and much like Michael had said – Luke’s favourite jean jacket, a woollen jumper, three pairs of boots and shoes were all scattered around the place. He hadn’t even noticed it while they’d hung out there, but now Harry understood what Y/N was talking about while whining about the boys being messy.

        She uncapped the can and squeezed, the artificial smell of cheese wafting through the air, making her almost gag. “That’s for being a bad friend,” she muttered while filling up one shoe. “That’s for making bad jokes.” She filled up another. “And that’s for saying ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ is an overrated song.’

        It was hard for Harry to contain the giggles, as he uncapped his own can and started filling up wherever Y/N pointed to. Did he feel bad? Sure. But was it fun to feel like a teenager in a university dorm during a prank war? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it didn’t help that he was desperately falling in love with Y/N with every second they spent together. Like she could’ve asked him to hide Luke’s corpse, and he’d say he’d take the blame for the murder if it came to it.

        “Why did we have to sneak around the place like that?” he suddenly asked, brows furrowing in concentration as he squeezed the smelly contents inside the inside pocket of the jacket. “Why couldn’t we have just walked through the house?”

        “Because Luke always and I mean always comes to the studio at 3 AM,” Y/N stated. 

        Harry looked at the clock. It was 2:45 AM already. 

        “But before that, he goes into the kitchen, makes himself a double espresso, a sandwich and eats it before going into the storage where we keep all of the instruments, which is where he is in right now. Had we snuck through the normal way, he would’ve seen us and stopped this. And that just wouldn’t fly.”

       However, it was like Luke had a sixth sense as right at that moment the light flipped on, and like deer in headlights, the trio’s heads shot up and eyes widened.

        “What the fuck!” he whispered hand extended in the direction of the already six empty cans on the floor.

        Y/N snapped out of the adrenaline induced frozen state and shrugged. “I told you not to mess with the recording.” She put her finger back on the squeezable part. “And you. Didn’t. Listen.”

        The cheese squirted out with a splutter, and all of them stood still as the final bits dropped into Luke’s black boot. “And that’s payback.”

        With a sway in her hips, Y/N exited the room, leaving the three men to gawk after her. 

God was she a hurricane, Harry thought to himself. And he’d never been as happy to be caught right in the eye of it all.

***

        The next few days all of them spent lounging around the house, recording a few songs, most of them by Harry seeing as a huge wave of inspiration had hit him, making him write more than one love song. He even asked Y/N somewhat shyly if she could do some of the backing vocals, and he swore the song went from a 3 to a 100 the second he heard her voice weave his lyrics into a symphony. 

        By that point, they’d been quarantining for a week and a half together, and a heatwave was coming up. The cabin had both an inside and outside pool which they’d all had to learn how to maintain, seeing as no one could come and do it for them, and a jacuzzi tub on the terrace. As much as the boys tried to prove they knew how to keep the places clean, ultimately it was Y/N who saved all of them from chlorine poisoning and algae overgrowth. 

        So, it was right when she pulled out the pH indicator and said it was good for use when with a scream, Luke rushed forward Y/N, rugby tackling her by the waist and plunged both of them down to the water below. 

        “You asshole!” She splashed at him, laughing and choking out a bit of water as they resurfaced. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

        “That’s payback for the cheese.”

        She went silent for a second, but then shrugged. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve it. But you did deserve the cheese.”

        “So,” Luke extended his hand for a shake. “Do we call this even?”

        Harry exited the cabin right as both of them completely soaked to the bone jumped out onto the wood floor. He stopped mid-walk if only to control where his eyes went seeing as Y/N’s white shirt clung to her body and well… didn’t leave much for the imagination anymore.

        “Do I wanna know what happened here?” He raised a brow.

        “Retribution.”

        “Though I do gotta say, you have a funny way of getting revenge.” Y/N smirked at  Luke, making him squint down at the girl. 

        “What do you mean?”

        “I mean,” she drawled out, a mischievous smile on her lips, “that when I filled your clothes with the cheese, my stuff didn’t get stinky. And yet, from your end… I’m not the only one wet.”

        A beat passed.

        “God fucking damn it.”

        “Hey!” She pointed a finger at him. “We called a truce!”

        Luke waved her off. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” but Y/N grabbed Luke’s hand right before he went inside and squeezed it. 

“We good?”

        He sighed and smiled. “We good, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, gave Harry a quick ‘see ya later’ as well and disappeared through the glass doors. 

        Harry didn’t know what’d happened to him. He’d always been a helpless romantic, falling in love, and maybe a bit too hard at that, but this time, even without Y/N knowing about his feelings, his heart felt safe. 

        Sure, the side of her he’d seen was a complete headcase, and she had more energy than a bull with a red flag in front of it, but the utter love exuding from the woman, even while she complained about her four, well five counting him, housemates was palpable in the air. The way she hugged and made sure everyone had whatever they needed, the way she let them know if anyone needed to have a chat, she’d be there to listen, and the small little things of how she always knew what preferences they’d have for their pancakes or breakfast in general, made his heart melt. 

        “Luke’s a lucky guy.” Harry swallowed before saying that. As much as seeing Y/N be affectionate with everyone, him included, made him feel all fuzzy, a little jealousy monster did bubble up in his stomach when he saw her snuggled next to the lead vocalist of the band. He didn’t have any right to, but no matter how much he tried to repress the green beast, it still lurked somewhere deep in his heart.

        “Hm?” Y/N lifted her head where she’d been looking at the water as she squeezed it out of her shirt and up at Harry.

        He motioned with his chin to where Luke had disappeared. “He’s a lucky guy to have someone like you.”

        “Oh, we’re not together if that’s what you’re implying.”

        “I –“ he stammered. “I didn’t mean to offend y-“

        But Y/N waved him off. “You’re not the first nor probably the last person to say that. I get it. They asked me one time to surprise their fans at a concert in Connecticut, I think, and when their photographer sent over the pictures, I kinda saw what everyone kept saying, but I’ve never looked at any of them as more than a friend. Best friends, brothers maybe, but nothing more.”

        “How’d ya get so close?” Harry enquired, his chest feeling a bit lighter.

        Y/N huffed and plopped down to the ground, patting the place beside her which Harry took. “When I first went solo, right after being on ‘Beetlejuice’ I was fucking terrified. Didn’t really know anyone in the music industry like that. Being on Broadway’s different.” She shrugged. “And the award shows are different as well. Like with ‘Tony’s’ or ‘Oliver’ awards it’s you know – musical and theatre geeks. My people. But the first time I went to VMAs I almost shat myself.” She chuckled, and Harry did the same. “Didn’t know anyone at all, was petrified to even find my seat because someone told me I’d have to sit between Lady Gaga and Rihanna, and my heart was not ready for that. Ashton saw me at the edge of the carpet, creeping around the entrance and kinda…” Y/N bit her lip looking for the right words. “I dunno. They kinda took me under their wing, in a sense – if you need a friend in the industry, we’re here, that sort of thing. And ever since then, we’ve been best friends. Luke and I just got the closest because we got stuck in an elevator once for like eight hours once, and well, boredom and thinking you’re gonna die in a four by four-foot box brings people closer.”

        Harry almost choked. “Eight hours?”

        “Yep.” Y/N popped the ‘p’ and gave him a sarcastic smile. “It was like soooo much fun,” she said sarcastically.  “I totally didn’t think the elevator was about to drop from where we were up on like the sixtieth floor, and both of us were gonna get our bones smashed to pieces, and I only had two protein bars, and you know how I get without food,” she stated. He nodded.

        “Cranky.”

        “Exactly. But.” Y/N chuckled. “We didn’t die. Which’s great, not complaining, and I gained one of my all-time best friends.”

        “Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.” Harry gave her a warm smile and nudged her foot with his. “Wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you otherwise.”

        She nudged his foot back. “ ‘M glad I didn’t die either. And I gotta say – you’ve made this whole quarantine bearable. Sometimes it’s like fighting with four toddlers, and that’s always a futile battle. Happy to have another wrangler with me. Also an accessory to my crimes.”

        He inched his hand towards hers, and when Y/N didn’t pull away instead liked her pinkie with his, a warm feeling rushed through him.

        “Happy to be of help.”

***

It was two nights later or full two weeks since the six of them had been together when things took a turn. 

Y/N’d always been a light sleeper, especially when her life was mainly placed in New York, but now, living in the middle of nowhere, she’d been able to catch up on some sleep. That was when the sound of her door being opened made Y/N shot up in her bed, sheets clutched at her chest in a panic. “What? What’s wrong? What did Calum set on fire?”

        “Nothing.” Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up, but he decided not to ask. There was the morning for that. “This might seem weird, but could I uh could I possibly sleep in your room?”

        She blinked a couple of times, because her brain was still processing his words and if they were even English, but once they registered, Y/N nodded, pulling back her blanket and scooting over. “C’mere.”

        “Again, I’m sorr-“

        Y/N shushed him, as Harry climbed in the bed, placing the duvet underneath his arm and twisting to see her, as she mumbled, “less talk, more sleep.”

        He hummed in agreement. His eyes were heavy, in fact, they’d become heavy the instant his head had hit Y/N’s pillow, but it was like his heart, the same poor heart that’d had to deal with the newfound emotions for the whole time he’d been there, the same poor heart that didn’t know better and always gave itself away to the person it deemed to be worthy, no matter if in the end it ended up broken, took over the control of his eyes and mouth, and while slamming against Harry’s ribcage, he whispered his confession. 

        “I really like you… As more than a friend.”

        A second passed. He felt Y/N stir as she turned towards him, brow furrowed. “Sorry?”

        “I said…” He let out a shaky exhale. “I like you. I fell for you pretty much the second I entered the house and you threatened to throw me out because I was a guy. And then I fell for you when I saw you let loose in the studio. And then once more when I witnessed what your wrath entails.”

        Y/N chuckled. “Cheese.”

        “Yeah…” He let out a little laugh. “Cheese.”

        A gentle palm went to brush away the hair stuck to Y/N’s face and he swore he could just melt as she leaned into his touch. “And then I fell for you when you said yes to singing my song… when you sang the lyrics, I dedicated to you… and every second I fall for you even more… I just… I thought you should know…”

        “Well, I can only hope that you’ll take this as a compliment then, when I say I kinda like you too, Styles,” she mumbled snuggling deeper into her pillow. “Though I didn’t think I was your type.”

        “What’s my type then?” he mumbled back, letting his arms wrap around Y/N’s waist when she shuffled closer. Not only was he now fully in heaven because he was covered by the softest duvet in the world, head resting against a literal cloud, but also because his nostrils were invaded by the gentlest of smells, and the body against his was the warmest of comforts. 

        “Well, not girls like me.”

        “You mean talented, beyond funny and absolutely breath-taking?”

        “Introverted, house hermits who don’t wash their hair unless they have to go somewhere with a perchance of self-destructive behaviour. Unintentional that is.”

        Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “Would’ve never taken you for an introvert.”

        “Mmmh,” Y/N sighed, feeling his fingers skim her skin. “That’s because I’ve known those guys for years, and they’re like my brothers. Couldn’t be uncomfortable even if I tried with them. We’ve seen too much of each other. But I’m definitely an introvert. Almost had a panic attack the first time I had to make my own doctor’s appointment.”

        “You didn’t seem shy with me.”

        “That’s because for some weird reason I… I didn’t feel awkward around you. And I mean, you did bring wine.”

        She could feel Harry’s chest rumble as he laughed. “Well, I hope it helped with inspiration.”

        “Ugh, don’t remind me,” she huffed, but opened her bleary eyes and were met by Harry’s green already staring back. She couldn’t contain the giggle, and it only grew in power as he chuckled himself, making her bury her head in his chest.

        “What?”

        “Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just never thought I’d date someone from 1D.”

        “Are we below you or something?” There was no trace of malice and hurt in his voice. He knew Y/N wasn’t like that.

        “No, ‘s just my boy band phase was ‘Good Charlotte’, ‘Panic at the D!sco,’ ‘My Chem’ and the sort.”

        “So, you weren’t fainting while listening to ‘You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful’?” Harry mumbled in Y/N’s hair, sleep slowly overtaking him.

        She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Panties definitely weren’t dropping then.”

        “Are they now?”

        “According to ‘Watermelon Sugar’ you’re the one pulling all of ‘em off.”

        “Damn. Guess it’ll have to be my new challenge.”

        Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up as she looked at him before promptly falling asleep. “Making my panties drop?”

        “Yep. But this time because of me, not Gerard Way.”

        “Bold of you to assume it was just Gerard Way. I’m a slut for all of those wizard dads.”

        By the time she slurred out the last sentence both of them had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

***

        “They were right!” Harry shouted jumping up in the bed, startling Y/N awake once more as if something was breaking down on their heads with how urgently he jolted. “It does take women two weeks to fall in love and men 8 seconds.”

        A pillow met his face. “Fall back asleep.” 

        He leaned over her still horizontal form, a smug smile on his face. “Are you gonna make a TikTok about it?”

        “Probably ‘bout how I murdered the boyfriend I was with for three hours if he doesn’t let me sleep.”

        He didn’t argue. With a smile on his face, Harry drifted off once more. Who knew that getting stuck in a hotel somewhere in Utah would lead him to the love of his life? 

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): 

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

A/N: So... I know I’ve been gone for quite a while, but that’s because I have a job now (I’m trying to get a different one that actually would involve my degree, because this one is absolutely killing me), so please be understanding with the spare posting. I still love writing fics, and as evident, I’m kina branching out into other fandoms :D

There’s a lot of things going on in my life, so if you wanna follow me you can do that on Instagram @dinnusa or @read_with_dee or on my blog dinnusa.wordpress.com :) I also have a TikTok @dinmasters

P.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

P.S.S. If you wanna be tagged please drop a message :) or if you want to be removed/ changed to a different tag list please also message me :)

[bbugyu]

hi! could i request a jeonghan enemies (or friends that bicker a lot) to lovers? ty and i love ur writing !!

i am so glad you requested this because i have had this in the works for so long that i had to throw it into a case converter because it had capitalization and i was Not gonna finish it if i had to type it proper (i'm a fucking gremlin ok)

thank u for reading my work and thank u for giving me the perfect excuse to be hopelessly in love with jeonghan!!!!

falling + yoon jeonghan

finally, he thought. someone on his level. what’s the catch?

part one | part two

wc.10009 (fuckin oops) | fluff, humor, uni/coffeeshop/enemies to lovers au, gender neutral reader, slow burn, drinking, like lk too much drinking, swearing, throwing it back to sistar, copious argumentive flirting, everyone is MEAN but like in a funny way, bff!mingyu, it's your resident mingyuzi shipper, the only person more of a little shit than jeonghan is y/n

i used to be a barista and i would get exceptionally hateful towards customers for really stupid reasons and the only thing that could stop it is if they were really hot. this seems to hold great jeonghan energy. also i made y/n, like, mean as hell. like not actually mean but like. Mean. sorry. also all bars mentioned are real bars on capital hill in seattle that i love so if you recognize them that’s why. enjoy this enemies to lovers courtship.

*

you were pretentious, jeonghan thought. you acted like you were better than everyone else, and he hated that he had yet to find a reason to call you wrong.

he saw you almost every day during the week, between the class you shared on tuesdays and thursdays, and the cafe he worked in that you frequented to study. your demeanor was always polite, but what most people would describe as cold. you had caught his attention the first day of the semester, something about you seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it until he made your coffee the next day. you usually sat in the row in front of him, a few seats over, and he would chew on his cheek and wonder how you could sit back in your chair, arms crossed and eyes hardly opened, but still get the highest essay scores in the class. at the end of lecture, after he was done spending all his brain power stewing about your ability to succeed in visual culture without really trying, he would text his friend that took the class last quarter and ask, panic stricken, if he still had his notes, the irony of the situation completely lost on him.

at the cafe, you would come in, order an americano, and sit yourself in a well lit corner to work on your classes for a few hours, the coffee mostly undisturbed on the table beside your favorite armchair, then leave. there was never a smile on your face, and you were always alone. jeonghan watched the ice in your americano melt, watering down the coffee he made. maybe he had let the shots of espresso sit too long before saving them. maybe he let them burn on purpose just to see the face you made. but alas, you hadn't even put the metal straw to your lips. he wondered why you even ordered a coffee if you weren’t going to reap the benefit.

joshua spotted him leaning against the counter as he came out of the kitchen and laughed, setting down the freshly washed milk pitchers. “ask them out.”

he stood up straight. “why?”

“why not? you clearly like them.”

“i really don’t,” jeonghan laughed. “you’re crazy for thinking i do.”

joshua rolled his eyes. “no one spends as much time as you do staring at another person if they don’t find them at least a little attractive. have you ever even talked to them? outside of taking their order?”

he hesitated. “no?”

“so what if they’re actually really wonderful and you have a lot in common?”

“as if.”

“wow,” joshua said, leaning against the counter. “i can’t believe yoon jeonghan is afraid to talk to his crush.”

jeonghan shoved his friend's shoulder, giving him a look. “absolutely not. i'm 99% sure they're a pretentious asshole.”

he crossed his arms. “what does that make you?”

“shut up.”

“whatever, han. i’m just saying it’s kind of pretentious to hate someone solely because they don’t smile wide enough for you when they’re saying thanks.”

“it’s not that hard!” jeonghan said, maybe a little too loud. “i don’t wanna smile either, shua! but i do it! so can they!!”

joshua laughed. “lower your voice and go say hi, you freak.”

much to his chagrin, jeonghan got shoved towards your spot in the cafe with the front of the tables needing to get wiped down. he looked at joshua and seokmin with a furrowed brow as he wrung the towel, both of them giving him thumbs ups with wide grins. begrudgingly, he slowly made his way over to you.

“hey,” jeonghan said, doing his best to project something other than the absolute turmoil going on inside his head. you looked up from your textbook, pulling the earbud out of your ear. “why don’t you drink the coffee?”

you furrowed your brow and looked at your untouched americano. “i- uh, what?”

“you never drink the coffee,” he repeated, nodding at the glass. “why do you get it anyways?”

you blinked up at him. “are you offended that i’m not drinking your coffee?”

he almost laughed at the look of disbelief you were giving him. “no, i just don’t get why you waste the money here if you don’t even need the caffeine.”

“it’s cheaper to buy an americano than it is to rent a stall at a study cafe,” you said, habitually hitting save on your notes document. “why are you so worried about me, yoon jeonghan?”

he faltered, surprised. “you know me?”

“nametag,” you didn't miss a beat, pointing at his chest and giggling. “do you know me?”

jeonghan’s lip twitched, feeling almost embarrassed by not thinking of his own nametag, and definitely not an involuntary reaction to seeing you smile for the first time. “uh, yeah. we have a class together,” he said as casually as possible as he folded the washcloth in his hands. “visual culture.”

you nodded, looking into space for a moment. “hmm. weren’t you also in child psych with professor moon last winter?”

he blinked back at you. “yeah? you were in that class?”

you nodded, holding in a laugh. “yeah, yoon jeonghan. i was. head in the clouds?”

for some reason, the way you said his full name made his ears heat up. “maybe you were easy to forget,” he said dismissively, even though you both knew that wasn't the case. “isn’t it better to study in a library? that one’s free.”

“there’s never any open tables at the library,” you said, unfurling your legs and sitting straight, textbook in your lap. “and the chairs are uncomfortable, unlike this armchair. and people usually don’t bother me here.”

jeonghan sighed. “well, if you’re insistent on going to a cafe, there’s one down the street with a better espresso bean and it’s less busy. less people to bother you and a better tasting americano that you won’t drink.”

you cocked your head, closing your laptop. “is that an invitation?”

and for the first time, you saw jeonghan stutter. “n-no? just a suggestion. i think it’s cheaper, too-”

“don’t you work here?” you asked, eyes shining. “shouldn’t you be happy i’m wasting my money here?”

he eyed you, beginning to turn his body to leave the conversation. “do whatever you want. i’m not your dad.”

you grinned, leaning forward in your chair. “are you busy after class tomorrow?”

“why?”

“i need you to show me where this cafe is.”

jeonghan sighed. “can’t you just look it up? cafe nomu.” he wrote the characters with his finger in the air. “no-mu. use naver.”

“i get lost easily,” you said, standing up. jeonghan wondered if you were telling the truth. “we can go together?”

jeonghan watched you pack up your things, confused. “why?”

you paused, looking at him. “why not?”

he was getting real sick of people asking him why not.

“did i drive you away?” he asked instead, nodding at your now packed bag.

“no, i was headed out soon anyways.” you swung the bag over your shoulder and picked up the untouched americano. “do you want this?”

jeonghan couldn’t help but scoff as you handed him the glass that had been the subject of his staring all afternoon. “you can't be serious.”

you grinned and patted his shoulder. “i’m y/n, by the way. i’ll see you in class?”

he squinted at you as you walked away, suddenly confused by the quick succession of questions you had thrown back and forth. you were cute, sure, and his distaste for you was misplaced, perhaps, but he couldn't help the annoyance that bubbled up in him as you sauntered out of the cafe like you had won a debate. he walked back to the counter and set down the americano, an excited seokmin waiting for him.

“so?” he grabbed the glass and dumped it in the sink behind the counter. “how’d it go?”

jeonghan looked at the door you had left out of. “i think i just got asked out.”

“what?” seokmin’s hands made fists in front of him while he grinned. “y/n did? are you serious? you said yes, right?”

“not really,” he replied, looking back at the younger and exhaling deeply. “but i don’t think i can avoid it.”

you had known of yoon jeonghan for a while. a class here and there, a few mutual friends, and of course at the cafe. but the night you learned his name really stuck out to you, when he had been singing at a karaoke bar right after finals last quarter.

it was common to celebrate the end of finals week with partying and drinking, and your friends had invited you out to barhop until the sun came up. you started at a dance club, had way too much rum at a hula themed place, took tequila shots at a gay bar, then landed at a karaoke bar with a can of beer in your fist and a grin on your face. your friends liked to sing, so you had fun encouraging them to get on the slightly raised stage and show their chops. 

“no, no, no,” mingyu said, grabbing your hands as you tried to push him towards the dj. “no way, i recognize the names on the list. there’s real singers here.”

you looked at the screen that displayed the queue. “what do you mean? who?”

“that guy,” mingyu said, pointing at the screen easily, despite you having to crane your neck to even view it. “no way. he’s in jihoon’s band, i’m not following that guy.”

“hangguk’s angel yoon jeonghan,” you read, squinting. “sounds like a pretentious asshole.”

mingyu laughed. “wait til you hear his voice, you’ll see how he got the name.”

"y/n's right," jun interjected, leaning heavily against the standing table your quad squad had claimed, pouring more soju for himself and whoever would claim the other glass. "he is a pretentious asshole."

you pointed at him, brows raised at mingyu. "jun is never wrong."

mingyu rolled his eyes. "pretentious assholes can still sound like angels."

“where the fuck have you been,” you asked, startled by your third and final friend suddenly appearing beside you.

“around,” vernon said, sipping at the nondescript brown liquid in his glass through a bright pink straw. he laughed when you quirked an eyebrow at him. “soonyoung’s here with his posse, he caught me while i was getting another drink.”

“see!” mingyu shook your shoulder, nearly choking after downing jun’s companion shot. “i told you! jihoon’s band.”

you whacked his bicep. “who cares? just go queue a rap song or something, you pussy.”

the singers cycled through and you cheered on many of your fellow drunk university students as they sang with no remorse. jun dragged you onto the tiny dancefloor and forced you to help him hype up soonyoung - his dance team captain - as he screamed along to hurricane. then one of vernon's friends performed a near flawless rendition of shake it by sistar after yelling something about bringing the summer to this cold winter night, earning him a cheering and dancing crowd, and you had known far more of the choreo than you had thought. mingyu was whooping and hollering at you playfully every time you threw your ass out to the song, and he only got louder when jun and vernon did their best to follow along with you, and you had almost forgotten about the name that everyone insisted was to be feared.

“that guy?” you asked, the self-proclaimed angel stepping onto the stage. you recognized him immediately. “that’s my barista.”

mingyu made a noise that almost resembled whistling, if he had been capable of doing so. “i should start studying with you next quarter.”

and when he sang, it clicked. despite the tonal difference, you couldn't help but become enthralled by his voice. gyu was right. pretentious assholes could still sound like angels, and perhaps that was by design.

his voice drifted through your head again when you noticed him in your visual culture class, seated and giggling at his phone on the first day of the quarter. 

"you have another class with him?" mingyu groaned a week later, walking beside you. "why you? why aren’t there hot guys in my major?"

"because pre-med kids are too busy to be hot."

he gave you a look. "damn, okay. like, you're not wrong, but damn."

you rolled your eyes. "don't act like you don't love being the pre-med heartthrob. you would be pissed if you had competition."

"anyways, are you gonna ask him out?"

you pause at the stop light to wait for your turn to cross, turning towards him. "why would i do that?"

“because he’s hangguk’s angel yoon jeong-honey voice,” mingyu said, moving his head as he dramatically pronounced each syllable in your face. “if you’re not already in love with him, you will be soon, and it sounds like fate's trying to bring you together. didn’t you say he’s your barista?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, and his americanos suck now. i don’t even drink it when he makes them anymore.”

he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. “what the hell? why do you still go there, then?”

you pouted. “it’s quiet and there’s a comfy armchair.”

weeks passed, and you continued to spot jeonghan in your class when you arrived, hearing the faint sound of his singing voice in your head. when he took your order at the cafe, he had a vague snottiness to his voice, and while you absolutely believed that this was the same person as the one you saw sing a soft love ballad with a sobering intensity at two in the morning, you still struggled to connect it to the one you watched run off the stage, immediately curling into himself and laughing with his friends in embarrassment.

you became more and more fascinated by yoon jeonghan as time passed, but his americanos continued to suck. so when he suggested a cafe with better espresso, you lit up. and when he got flustered, letting down his guard unintentionally, you lit up even more. that was the drunk, embarrassed boy you had seen, pink faced and giggling as he hid behind his friends.

jeonghan sat in his usual seat in class, anxiously glancing up at the door every time a group of people entered the lecture hall. when you arrived, your usual minute before the turn of the hour, he rubbed his palms against his sweats. the sweats that he had worn with the specific intention of making sure you didn't think he was trying too hard to look nice around you. despite that fact, part of him still felt annoyed that you were also dressed down, swimming in a hoodie several sizes too big for you. he tried to make sense of the sudden nerves he had, but not once did he consider they were because he thought you were disgustingly adorable.

instead of taking your usual spot, you marched right up to jeonghan’s table and grinned. “is this seat taken?”

he blinked at you. “yes.”

you laughed and slid into the seat beside him anyways, ignoring the dagger stare from a girl across the room that usually sat beside jeonghan silently. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“how do you expect me to react? you’ve never even smiled at me before yesterday.”

shrugging, you put your bag on the table and leaned back in your seat, assuming your usual position for this particular class. “you didn’t deserve it before yesterday.”

jeonghan wanted to argue with you, but the professor cleared his throat and introduced the subject of the lecture.

after only ten minutes, jeonghan could have sworn he heard you snoring. he poked your shoulder with his pen.

you looked over at him, eyebrow quirked. you mouthed a “what” at him.

he exhaled suddenly, mouth forming a vague smile more in disbelief than from being entertained. he seemed annoyed with you, despite the fact that he was the one interrupting your allocated meditation time. he leaned forward, turning his body towards you and spoke in a hushed tone. “how can you do that every day and still be top of the class?”

you mirrored his body language, leaning forward over the desk and resting your cheek on a fist, speaking in the same hushed tone. “visual culture is subjective. as long as you understand the concept; i-e, how we as humans visually design the world around us and how that becomes an important aspect of our place in nature, in the universe, in existence, etcetera; then you can write about literally anything. my last essay was about skate parks. the more opinionated the essay, the better score you get.” you pointed a finger at the man speaking at the front of the class. “i watched the prof’s ted talk before the quarter started - every lecture is just a regurgitation of the same concepts. it’s an easy a, as long as you have strong opinions.”

jeonghan stared at you for what felt like an eternity. “you do seem like you have strong opinions.”

“and you don’t, yoon jeonghan?”

he supposed he couldn’t argue with that, but it still frustrated him to no end that you had found some kind of loophole that he had missed. you gamed the system better than he could, and he had been stuck pouring over his friend’s notes from the previous quarter and bullshitting some essays about architecture that he didn't give a shit about. and so, instead of spending his whole class stewing like he normally did, he decided to waste no time adopting your approach, pulling his sweatshirt hood over his head and catching up on some missed sleep. when he woke up again, it was to your prodding finger.

“what time is it,” he said immediately, squinting at his surroundings. he suddenly remembered he was in class as he saw fellow students packing up their things and filing out. he looked at you, blinking at your grinning face.

“time for coffee,” you said, tugging on the drawstrings of the light blue hoodie he wore. “did you have any sweet dreams?”

jeonghan shoved his blank notebook into the tote bag he used for classes and stood. “of course not.”

“i did,” you said, throwing your bag over your shoulder and following him down the hall steps. “i dreamt you paid at the cafe.”

he turned, eyeing your shiteating grin from behind his hood. “yeah, keep dreaming.”

“worth a shot,” you said, trotting down beside him. “so, what’s your major, yoon jeonghan?”

he rolled his eyes, almost forgetting about your habit of calling him by his full name. “do you really care?”

“what else are we gonna talk about, my drinking problem?”

despite himself, jeonghan laughed, looking over at you as you left the lecture hall. “maybe! how bad is it?”

you grinned, feeling successful from making him break his serious persona. “wouldn’t you like to know.”

he clicked his tongue, pushing open the doors of the social studies building. “no fun.”

“you’ll have to invite me to a bar next time,” you said, following after him out the door into the sunshine that cascaded over the quad. it was a beautiful spring day, but a bit chilly, and you shoved your hands into your sweatshirt pocket.

“hmm,” jeonghan said, letting his blue hood fall off his head as he stretched in the sun. “i only really go to one bar.”

you watched him bask for a moment, wondering how many sides of him you had yet to see. his hair was dark, but the lighter chocolate tones reflected in the sun. “bet i can guess which one.”

jeonghan paused on the sidewalk, making you walk ahead of him a couple steps before you turned towards him questioningly. “okay, yeah. guess. you won’t get it.”

you size him up a moment, taking his words as a challenge. “if i guess right, you buy coffee?”

he exhaled, an amused smile on his face. “why are you so obsessed with me buying you coffee?”

“it tastes better free.”

“okay, fine. but if you’re wrong, you buy.”

you groaned. “do you know how many bars are in this city? that doesn’t seem fair.”

jeonghan resumed walking, gesturing for you to guess. “i’ll give you three tries.”

you chewed your cheek, trying to conceal your sly grin. “okay, three tries. deal?”

he nodded. you made it way too easy for him to win. “deal.”

“let me think.” jeonghan watched your feet fall easily into step beside him. “what bar has a stupid gimmick you would be into... pie bar?”

he shook his head, almost laughing at your teasing. “i’ve been there before, but it's not really my thing.”

you exhaled sharply. “shouldn’t that count for a stick of gum or something?” jeonghan laughed, insisting that this was an all or nothing situation. “then i give up.”

“you can’t give up!” jeonghan said. “you said deal. no going back.”

“fine," you pouted. "why can't i remember any bar names? uhh, r place?”

he stopped. “the gay club?”

you stopped, looking at him expectantly. “well?”

jeonghan laughed as he walked again. “no, not r place. jesus. you have one last chance. i’m really excited to order something expensive today.”

you chewed your cheek. “where would someone like yoon jeonghan go to drink… hanguk’s angel yoon jeonghan…”

he stopped in his tracks. “what did you just say?”

you tapped on your chin with a finger, arms crossed. “yoon jeong-honey voice… where would someone like him go? maybe… a karaoke bar?”

“hey, hey-” jeonghan pointed at you accusingly. “are you serious? you’ve seen me?”

“hmm,” you continued, laughing as you avoided his gaze. “oh, i know! the rockbox!”

“yah!” jeonghan was laughing, pointing at you in disbelief. “what the hell! this isn’t fair!”

“you said deal, no going back.” you grinned in victory. “wow, maybe i’ll order something expensive. i can’t believe i won.”

jeonghan’s tongue ran over his teeth as he watched you giggle and happily trot ahead of him. “fine, fine. you win. when did you see me there?”

“after winter finals,” you said, cheesing. “i was there with friends and you sang.”

he tutted. “damn. did i just miss you or did you not sing?”

“i don’t sing,” you said, smiling as he continued walking with you. “my friends do, though. and i was forced to be in soonyoung’s hype squad for hurricane.”

jeonghan clapped suddenly, remembering in his perhaps too drunk stupor that seungcheol had pointed you out, calling you “the cutie that keeps looking at him.” he had, admittedly, checked you out, despite the fact that he had been too embarrassed by his too-serious song to go and talk to you, and he had thought you looked familiar. “oh my god! yes! i did see you! how do you know soonyoung?”

“mutual friends,” you said. “chwe hansol?

he nodded. “we’ve met once, i think. were you there with junhui?”

“yeah, actually,” you said, remembering the opinion of jeonghan your friend had volunteered up for you. “how do you know him?”

“i haven’t talked to him a lot directly, but i know both his roommates pretty well,” jeonghan said. "we do music together.”

“ah, yes,” you nodded in recollection, but refusing to acknowledge how insanely pretentious it was of him to say something like we do music together. “jihoon’s unnamed but immensely prolific band.”

he rolled his eyes. “why is it jihoon’s band? why can’t it be jeonghan’s band?”

“don’t ask me,” you said, putting up hands in innocence. “i didn’t even know it existed until that night. mingyu wouldn’t shut up about it.”

the name sounded familiar to jeonghan, but he moved on as the two of you reached a stop light. “do you go there a lot? or was that a one time thing?”

you eyed him. “this is starting to sound like an invitation, hannie.”

he didn’t comment on the nickname, despite the weird way his arms tingled at it. “you should learn what an invitation actually sounds like. you tend to assume a lot.”

you laughed heartily, and jeonghan ignored the way his stomach flitted while you started to cross the street. “call it wishful thinking, but i think i get you, yoon jeonghan.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean?”

you never answered his question, but grinned instead, which gave jeonghan a sense of unease and a touch of curiosity. as he led you to cafe nomu, he caught himself smiling. laughing. enjoying your company and conversation.

maybe shua hadn’t been completely off base.

by the time jeonghan had realized that his feelings towards you might have evolved from vague malice into something more akin to genuine interest, he was pushing open the door to the cafe for you and mentally double checking that he had put on deodorant that morning, cursing his inability to control his own nerves. ah, he thought. that explained the weird feeling he got waiting for you in class, too. and why he got flustered the day before at his work. he only snapped out of his crowded mind when he heard you ordering an iced americano.

“and for you?”

jeonghan blinked at you, then at the barista that was addressing him. “make that two.”

“thank you for the coffee,” you said, pressing your hands together as he inserted his card.

he waved you off, chuckling, but kept his eyes as far from yours as he could. “a deal is a deal.”

you looked around the quiet cafe, quickly scoping out the seat options as jeonghan accepted the buzzer for your order. he thought it was a little silly, considering the two of you were half of the customers in the cafe currently, but said nothing as he turned it over in his fingers, standing next to you.

“there?” you asked, pointing at a table by a window.

jeonghan bit his cheek, thinking about how joshua would likely be walking down this street to go to his shift, if he had one. “yeah, wherever.”

you were already on your way to the seat when he responded, and he followed, dropping his bag off his shoulder to hang on the hook under the table.

“i thought you were going to get something expensive,” he teased, sitting across from you.

laughing lightly, you pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket and set it on the table. “you said the espresso was good, i wanted to try it.”

“don’t you not like coffee?” jeonghan asked, squinting at you.

“i love coffee,” you said, quirking an eyebrow.

“then why don’t you drink the americanos i make?”

he was leaning forward, staring at you, fingers folding over each other on the table. you pouted, avoiding his eyes suddenly. “no reason.”

leaning back again, he kept a wary eye on you. “that’s convincing.”

“good, it’s the truth.”

jeonghan decided to put a pin in that interrogation in favor of asking you your major.

you laughed again, making a small smile appear on his face. "communications," you answered, despite thinking of how he denied the same question from you earlier.

he let out a low "wah" and cocked his head. "what's up with that? same major."

"really?" you leaned over the table. "what year are you?"

"third."

you put a peace sign next to your eye like you were posing for a photo. "second."

you couldn't help but giggle at the "pfft" that spilled out of jeonghan's lips as he laughed at you, muttering a "really" under his breath at your pose. he was running a hand through his extremely soft and fluffy looking hair when the buzzer went off, and you blinked yourself awake from your trance to nod after he said he would go get the drinks. 

admitting to it was the last thing you wanted, but you couldn’t help but hear mingyu’s voice rattling around your head, telling you that you would fall for jeonghan eventually. you had once thought he was completely up his own ass, but you kept getting glimpses of this really cute, really sweet version of him, and it made you want to get to know him better. additionally, it was getting harder to find people that would happily play along with your teasing, and he had no qualms teasing you right back.

when he returned with the americanos, you pressed your hands together in another thank you before taking a sip. he slid back into his seat and looked at you expectantly. "well? what do you think?"

you paused a moment, appraising the flavor. "delicious. thank you."

after he sipped at his own, he nodded. "the beans here are really good. balanced. i wish i could convince my boss to source better stuff."

you watched him sip again, letting out a praise under his breath. you sighed. "i have a confession."

his eyebrows quirked at you, and he did his best to not show the way his stomach flipped. "what kind?"

"i don't drink your americanos because they're shit."

there was silence as he processed your words, and you wondered if you had royally fucked up by saying something. suddenly, he was laughing, and you stared at him in shock as he calmed down. "oh my god, yeah, they are."

"wait, you know?"

"i-" jeonghan paused, rubbing his face, still laughing. "god, this is so stupid. i burn your shots."

your jaw dropped open, but a smile creeped across your face as you understood. "wait, on purpose?"

"you never smile!" he attempted to explain himself with a bit too much enthusiasm, finding his own pettiness ridiculous in hindsight. "not even when i smiled at you. i had a grudge. i'm sorry."

you were sipping your non-burnt americano with a sly look on your face. you wanted to be mad at the wasted money on countless gross americanos, but somehow, you couldn't be. "do you hold grudges against everyone or am i just lucky?"

"uh, depends," jeonghan said, crossing his arms and thinking. "when the prof that failed my roommate comes in, i burn his shots, too. i think he might like it that way, though, because he's always really nice to me."

you almost snorted. "well, you owe me a lot of coffee."

he nodded and sighed, resigning to his fate. "when you come in, your coffee's on me. and i won't burn it this time."

you pouted a second, and jeonghan barely caught it, but he thought the expression was far too cute. "i was hoping you would invite me out again."

"again?" he asked, letting a few 'ha's fall from his lips in quick succession. "you mean for the first time?"

you gestured to the cafe you sat in. "was this not your idea?"

he rolled his eyes. "you invited yourself out and held me hostage."

"does that mean you have stockholms?"

he laughed at the diagnosis, remembering the class you claimed you had both taken the year before. "you're a very charming captor."

you smiled at the compliment, despite the sinister implication.

the next time you saw jeonghan, it was saturday. you had rolled out of bed far earlier than you had intended to when you had fallen asleep at 4 am after a very drunk and extremely conflict heavy game of uno with the guys. you winced at the sunlight streaming through your shitty dorm blinds, fumbling your way to the water dispenser on your desk to rehydrate.

you stared at your roommate's empty bed, remembering they had said they worked early shifts this weekend as you brushed your teeth, and you wondered how they had dealt with you stumbling into the dorm in the wee hours of the day.

you almost gagged on your toothbrush. an empty room on a saturday morning with too little sleep and a nasty hangover, you thought. bad decisions could never be made under these circumstances.

"does jeonghan's cafe do breakfast sandwiches?" you thought aloud with a mouth full of toothpaste, leaning over the sink to spit. you kind of remembered seeing them on the menu, though you never thought to get anything beyond the occasional muffin. maybe today was the day.

after washing your face and cleaning up your hair a bit, you had to dig in your clothes to find your favorite pair of black sweats and a shirt to tuck in. you last minute decided to bring your good headphones, just in case hanguk's angel wasn't there to bug, and ran out the door with your wallet and phone, a pair of sunglasses shoved onto your face.

the walk to his cafe is short from the dorms you lived in, which was another reason you liked it there. it was warmer than it had been during the week, and you watched a big muscular dog running alongside its owner. before long, you were tugging open the door, seeing no line. you grinned at how lucky you were as you pulled your headphones down to your neck.

"yoon jeonghan! you are working!"

he seemed startled by your voice, his shoulders raising slightly as he turned towards the door. "oh, what the hell? what are you doing here at 9:30 on a saturday?"

you pouted, walking up to the counter and tugging off your sunglasses. "are you not happy to see me?"

his laugh was genuine and completely out of his control. "sure i am. nice eyebags."

that, you noted, was the first time jeonghan had ever greeted you with a smile, and it seemed appropriate that it was paired with an insult. "thanks, i'm violently hungover right now." you said, noticing your best friend's roommate standing further back behind the counter, pretty obviously pretending to not be listening to you.

"do you wanna redeem a free americano?" he asked, poking at the touchscreen register.

you hummed, crossing your arms and staring at the menu board. "not today, i wanna try a latte. something tasty, and something for breakfast. what do you think?"

jeonghan stared at you, and you stared back, a small smile on your face. he blinked. "have you ever tried lavender?"

"lavender?" you shook your head, genuinely surprised. "is that a good flavor?"

he nodded, looking down at the screen and adding items to your order. "we have this seasonal syrup that we make in house," he said. "it's my favorite one of the year. honey, lavender, and vanilla bean. big one?"

you blinked at the cup sizes, trying to remember how many bottles of soju you had bought the night before, and subsequently how much money was left in your account. "uh, yeah."

"will you be offended if i give you a vegetarian sandwich? it's the best one."

you cocked your head. "i mean, if it's the best one…"

jeonghan smiled slightly, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. "it's the best one. and it's my secret hangover cure."

you noticed his card too late. "hey, what are you doing?"

he quirked an eyebrow at you. "buying your coffee. like i said i would."

"that was way more than an americano."

"and i've burned way more than an americano," jeonghan reminded you. "and if you don't accept that, i'm buying you breakfast as a peace offering."

your eyebrows raised. "a peace offering?" 

he avoided your gaze. "i've decided you're not a pretentious asshole."

you laughed at his word choice, and how it mirrored your own. "i mean, i can be kind of pretentious sometimes. and a major asshole a lot of the time."

jeonghan grinned. "me too."

he washed his hands and passed along the sandwich order to his coworker as he moved to the espresso machine, briefly explaining to you that he was completely useless with food as soon as a heat source becomes involved, but assured you that seokmin was a master with a turbochef, and that your sandwich was in the best hands.

you giggled, watching his hands as he found a squeeze bottle and shot the contents into a glass. "i trust you."

his eyes flicked to you briefly, and you leaned against the drink pickup counter, squinting at the syrup. he held the glass that would soon be your drink up for you. "see the specs? real vanilla."

you hummed. "it smells good."

"it tastes like sunshine, i swear to god."

your eyes followed his hands as he expertly filled and packed the portafilter with fresh grounds. he felt you watching him, and did his best to suppress the itch to fumble. you watched him not burn your shots, stirring them with the syrup and pouring milk from a jug. he added ice, put a metal straw in the tall glass, then placed it on the counter in front of you.

you made sure to smile when you told him thank you, and jeonghan was pretty sure he would have collapsed from how cute he found you if he had slightly less resolve. 

"veggie sando for… y/n?" seokmin announced to the cafe, eyes creasing into a laugh as he appeared with a plate.

you gave seokmin a nervous smile. "sorry for staying over so late. i didn't know you worked this morning."

jeonghan looked between you suspiciously as seokmin assured you it was fine, claiming he was knocked out by midnight and didn't even know when you left. who did seokmin live with again? jeonghan chewed on his cheek as he put your drink and sandwich on a tray.

your eyes flicked over to the front counter as a few customers entered the cafe, seokmin already heading over to greet them and begin the order. you tried not to let your disappointment show when you told jeonghan you should probably let him get back to work. he tried to not let his show, either, when he nodded in agreement. neither of you did a great job.

"someone's clocking on in half an hour, i can take a break then. don't leave?"

his almost pleading tone made your lip twitch upward. "don't act so clingy, hannie."

he grinned, then stopped you before you picked up the tray. "first- hang on," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it, quickly going to the keypad as he looked over his shoulder at the customers. "give me your number."

your eyes met his briefly as you took the phone, quickly punching in your digits and tapping to add yourself to his contacts. he smiled at the profile name - "americano" - as you picked up your tray and headed to your favorite armchair. even as he was making other drinks and serving other customers, he couldn't take his eyes off you, sitting in your armchair with your headphones on. it had only been two days since he saw you last, but he hadn't thought of anything but you the entire time. he had almost considered asking shua to swap shifts with him so he could have a chance of seeing you the day before, but he knew his coworker would refuse to take the saturday opening shift. he spent his whole afternoon off sitting on the couch in his apartment, staring at the back of his roommate's chair, trying to figure out why he didn't ask for your number.

"hey," jihoon said, and jeonghan had only then noticed that his roommate had spun his tall cushioned chair around to look back at him. "i said, do you know when seungcheol invited people around tomorrow?"

jeonghan stared at him for a second, then sighed dramatically, rubbing his eye. 

"woah," the younger laughed and leaned back in his seat. "who'd you sleep with last night? i need to warn them you're crazy."

"no one," jeonghan pouted. "what the hell? i'm not crazy."

"hyung, i say this with the most respect i can," he said, leaning forward. "you're batshit, especially when you catch feelings for a one night stand."

"ugh, whatever," jeonghan pushed the pillow off his lap and ran a hand through his hair. "we didn't even do anything."

jihoon squinted at him a moment. "okay, hang on, i feel like our definitions of not doing anything are different."

he rolled his eyes. "we didn't do anything," he repeated, standing from the couch and walking over to the kitchen to get water. "like, nothing. we didn't even touch each other. not once."

jihoon looked around, trying to understand what he meant. "i'm confused. you didn't touch your one night stand?"

"it wasn't a one night stand!" jeonghan threw a dagger glare at the other before he drank his water, muttering a "really" beneath his breath.

jihoon's face didn't change. "so… you went on a date?"

jeonghan swallowed the water hard, putting the glass down on the counter and leaning against it. "kinda."

"you are really not making this easy for me at all."

"we got coffee," he said finally. "we have a class together, and we made a stupid bet over who would pay, and they fucking tricked me, so i had to pay for it and we talked for, like, a stupid long time, and i think i actually really…" he exhaled, both hands rubbing his face. "i think i really like them."

jihoon whistled. "i just wanna say before the moment passes that it is incredibly on brand for you to fall for someone because they conned you into buying them coffee."

jeonghan glared at the younger, but he couldn't argue. "we got coffee and talked and then they just…" his palms faced the sky as he gestured, shoulders raised. "they just left. i didn't even get their number."

"okay, and?" jihoon swivelled back and forth in his chair. "you have a class together. you'll literally see them next week."

he groaned, pressing his forehead against the fridge. "but i wanna see them now."

and now, he was seeing you. much sooner than he had expected, yet not soon enough. the saturday morning rush began to pick up, and even when an additional barista arrived, jeonghan wondered if he would actually be able to slip away for a break.

"go ahead," seokmin said, grabbing the steamed milk pitcher from his hand. "me and hyejoo can handle it for a minute."

jeonghan looked at the shrinking line and nodded, quickly pulling off his apron as he walked around the counter. he knew he didn't have a lot of time, and pulling up a chair seemed silly, so he instead just squatted and folded his arms over the arm of your favorite seat.

you looked up from your phone at the motion, pulling your headphones off and grinning. "hey! the drink is delicious and extremely not burnt."

he smiled, noticing it was almost gone. "i'm glad! it's still busy, so i can't really take a proper break, but i wanted to ask you something."

you squinted at him. "what kind of something?"

"do you have plans tonight?"

"depends," you said, turning your body to face him better as you sucked on your cheek. "what's going on?"

jeonghan exhaled, amused. "my roommate is having people over for a few drinks or something, it'd be cool if you came by?"

you looked at a light, gauging the state of your hangover. your voice almost cracked when you asked "tonight?"

"you don't have to drink," he said, remembering what you had told him earlier. "and you can, like, bring a friend if you want. i know it's weird that i'm inviting you to my place."

you thought a moment. "don't you live with lee jihoon?"

jeonghan blinked. "uh, yeah?"

"i'll bring a friend," you said, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. you looked back to him and smiled. "text me details?"

jeonghan stood. "yeah, i'll text you," he said, glancing up at the door where more customers were walking in. "fuck, i should go."

you followed his gaze. "i think i'll stick to weekdays. this place gets crazy on the weekends."

"tell me about it." he started to walk back to the counter. "i'll talk to you later?"

you smiled and nodded at him, and you waved enthusiastically at him as you were headed out about ten minutes later.

"i'm still waiting for a text," you teased, peeking over the counter as he made a drink.

he laughed. "i'll get to it when i get to it."

"thanks for the sandwich, seokmin! it was delicious!"

seokmin waved at you with a big grin and you looked back at jeonghan.

"i'll see you tonight?"

he nodded, a smug smile teasing his lips. "yeah, i'll see you tonight."

you didn't show the way your stomach flipped when he made eye contact with you, but you slid your sunglasses back on and put your headphones back on your head, and walked to the rhythm of love songs in the sun on your way to your friend's apartment, a stupid childish giggle threatening to surface the entire time.

"hey, is mingoo around?"

minghao blinked at you, standing at his front door with a smile on your face. "dude, you left like four hours ago. what are you even doing here."

"uh, no, myungho, i left like seven hours ago, get it right." he let you walk past him into the apartment. "is he still asleep?"

"is that actually a question?"

you trotted into mingyu's room, humming along to the song playing through the headphones around your neck as you pulled open his blinds.

"god, what the fuck," his rough voice went behind you. "the hell is wrong with you. go home."

"that's not a very nice way to treat the person that's gonna set you up with your future ex-husband."

mingyu's hair stuck in several different directions and his eyes were still squeezed shut, but he had pushed himself off his pillow enough for you to know you caught his attention. "which one?"

you grinned. "the one with the pretty voice."

"wait," mingyu fumbled with his comforter as he tried to sit up. "wait, hang on. jihoon?" you laughed and nodded as he sniffed noisily. "he is not my future ex-husband, y/n. he's it. he's the one that's gonna make an honest woman out of me."

"well, lady, get ready to be honest, because i got an invite to a kickback at his apartment tonight and i snagged a plus one."

he squinted at you. "what's the catch?"

you rolled your eyes. "there isn't always a catch. maybe i'm just trying to be nice."

"yeah, uh huh." mingyu flopped back onto his bed, rubbing his eyes. "why didn't you just text me or something? it's so early."

"it's like, barely morning."

"it's ten."

you exhaled. "it's 11:17, asshole. are you going with me or not?"

mingyu groaned and flopped around, his head aching from the drinks that had stopped too recently. "when?"

"uhh," you stalled as you checked your phone. no new messages. "not sure yet. i'm waiting on a text."

he squinted at you. "who's texting you? soonyoung?"

you shrugged. "sure."

"oh my god, it's jeonghan, isn't it?"

"whaaaaaat?" you deadpanned, walking over to mingyu's bed to sit on the edge, staring at your phone. "why would i be waiting on a text from that loser?"

"i knew you were acting stupid yesterday for a reason," he accused. "and you asked jun what his deal was. you like him, don't you? what did he do? did he corner you?"

"absolutely not," you said, sighing and throwing your phone down on his bed, slightly offended by him saying you were acting stupid but truly not being able to remember if he was wrong. "i cornered him, at his workplace, no less. then i made him buy me coffee. then i showed up to his workplace, again, incredibly hungover, and he still asked for my number."

mingyu's lips formed a pout as he hummed, rubbing his eye again. "never would have pegged jeonghan as the simping type, but sure."

"shut up," you laughed, and mingyu whined about whether or not you had washed your hands when you plopped your palm against his face. he pushed your wrists away. "do you still have that bottle of white wine?"

"you mean the one hao refuses to drink even though i spent good money on it for his fucking birthday? yeah, why?"

you grabbed your phone again, despite it not vibrating. "it'd probably make a good first impression if you bring a nice bottle to the kickback you were last minute invited to. i bet jihoon will be so impressed by your manners."

mingyu blinked heavily. "you're devious. what about you?"

"i don't need a good first impression," you said. "i already made an awful one and he still likes me."

he sighed. "you always have been a charming dickhead."

you grinned at your best friend. "thanks, babe."

mingyu groaned against his palms. "god, fuck, i was supposed to study for my exam today."

you clicked your tongue. "that sucks dick."

"you suck dick."

you pouted out your lips when you got a text from an unknown number. "i'm trying."

you hadn't fully decided yet how you were going to make sure jeonghan really liked you, especially after jun regaled his "disgusting sexcapades," as he described them. you took his words with a grain of salt, considering the guy had an extremely low opinion of him from the get go, but either way, could you really blame jeonghan for putting his incredibly good looks and charm to use?

you, however, found flings incredibly uninteresting. most of the men that went after you were dull at best, and definitely would have fallen for any stupid prank you had played on them. with jeonghan, though, there was a challenge. there was always the chance he would out-trick you. it was new and exciting. playing with people, you decided, was only fun when there were some stakes involved.

inviting you to have drinks at his place seemed like such a transparent ploy to get laid, but you couldn't help but expect more from him. something told you he knew that you wouldn't be that easy, and you wondered what his game was.

i think i'm here >

which apartment was it? >

you definitely could have scrolled up in your conversation with jeonghan to check, especially since mingyu was complaining next to you on the street outside the apartment building, but you preferred the power move of asking again. you hadn't considered, though, that jeonghan was absolutely the type to know exactly what you were trying as soon as he saw the notification and make you wait. you squinted at the window that clearly had a party going on inside of it, willing the boy to respond.

"bro, it's apartment 2-b. soonyoung says he's 'the b in 2-b' like, every chance he gets. let's just go up."

"hang on, i'm plotting," you said, putting up a finger and scrolling through your contacts.

mingyu groaned as you put the phone to your ear, pressing the cold wine bottle against his eye. "you are the most annoying person i've ever met."

"yet you ask me to hang out constantly."

mingyu glared at you with his uncovered eye. "i also watch a lot of shit television, so don't take my taste as gospel."

inside, soonyoung patted down his pockets when he heard his ringtone, then looked at the kitchen counter where he had left it when he was making drinks. he grinned wide when he saw the contact info and practically yelled when he answered the phone. "y/n! please tell me you're finally coming over?"

jeonghan heard your name, his head whipping towards the sound. he stared at soonyoung, phone to his ear as he laughed into it, and he exhaled when he realized what you had done. he looked down at the ignored notification on his phone, his thought process being that you would call as it became more urgent.

and you had, just not him. he cursed under his breath. you were always one step ahead.

"yeah, second floor! come on up, i'll meet you at the stairs!"

jeonghan watched soonyoung shove his feet into a pair of slides and exit the apartment, then quickly downed the rest of his drink. he was gonna need an excuse to ask if you wanted one.

you followed soonyoung down the hall as he excitedly chattered about how he didn't know you were coming.

mingyu laughed. "yeah, we didn't either. y/n got an invite from jeonghan this morning."

"jeonghan?" soonyoung looked at you. "i didn't know you knew each other."

"i enjoy being a mystery," you said, checking quickly to see if your message had been seen yet.

soonyoung couldn't help but laugh at the idea of you and his roommate, especially with a few drinks in him. "you definitely suit each other."

jeonghan hadn't lied when he said people were coming over for drinks, but he had definitely made it seem much smaller than it was. the living area had enough people that you didn't want to bother counting, but probably somewhere in the twenties. there was music playing, but the conversational chatter was still audible over the beat, and people were laughing with each other on just about every surface you could see. you noticed jihoon by the kitchen counter as you were taking off your shoes, and grabbed mingyu's arm to face him towards you.

"jesus, fuck," he stumbled over his own shoes. "why do i hang out with you?"

"he's in the kitchen and he's alone," you said, your fingers digging into his bicep. "now's your chance. ask him where you should put the wine."

mingyu peeked over his shoulder, then looked back at you with wide eyes. "are you serious? right now?"

"right now," you reassured. "you got this, big guy. you're hot, smart, and tall. say you like his music and blow his mind."

he exhaled, his lips forming an o, and shook his hand nervously. "okay. okay. thank you. i love you. i'm sorry i ever called you annoying."

you laughed, smacking his arm. "love you too, goo."

he shut his eyes and spun, walking towards the boy of his affections. you watched him for a moment, though slyly, as you wandered into the party. you wondered where soonyoung had gone so quickly, then clenched your fist in victory when you saw jihoon get wine glasses out of a cupboard and laughed at something mingyu said.

"oh, y/n!" you spun to the familiar voice, spotting jeonghan leaning against a wall casually, half engaged in a conversation. he pushed off it as you closed the short space between you. "you made it! why didn't you tell me you were here?"

"i did," you said, cocking your head at him. "but you probably knew that."

a sideways smile creeped onto his face. "hey, are you drinking tonight? i don't wanna tempt your self proclaimed alcoholism, but i've been sitting on an empty drink for a while, i could make you one too."

you eyed the red cup in his hand. "what's on the menu?"

"paloma," he said, lifting the cup. "but i can make you something else."

you thought for a second, then looked at him. you hadn't had tequila since the night you saw him sing. "i trust your taste."

he tilted his head as he moved, gesturing for you to follow him to the kitchen. you nudged mingyu with your hip as you settled against the counter next to him to watch jeonghan make a drink for you. he looked down at you, then put an arm on your shoulder as he sipped the wine he had brought, and you noticed jihoon had a matching glass. you smiled proudly.

"mingyu?" jeonghan asked, gesturing.

you nodded, then looked up at your best friend. "this is jeonghan," you said, pointing.

mingyu smiled at him. "good luck with this one. jihoon, this is my worst friend, y/n."

"i'm also the reason he's here," you said, leaning forward to direct the speech at boy you were being introduced to. "you're welcome."

jihoon looked at you, mouth parted into an almost smile. his eyes went to jeonghan, remembering their conversation the day before, then to mingyu again, who was covering his eyes with a palm in embarrassment. "this is why they're my worst friend."

jeonghan laughed, pulling your attention back as he popped open a soda with a bottle opener. "so you're like this with everyone?"

"i’m sure i don't know what you mean," you quipped, sliding out from mingyu's arm to grab the bottle and inspect the label. "jah…ritos?"

"jarritos," jeonghan corrected, pronouncing the h sound. "mexican grapefruit soda. it's the best for palomas."

"see, this is why people think you're a prick," you said, putting the bottle back on the counter. "you get fancy soda specifically for your fancy cocktails."

he just laughed at you as he poured tequila from a bottle into two cups of ice. "if i cared what people thought, i would have changed my ways years ago."

you let that marinate for a moment, then decided the two of you were much more similar than you had originally thought. he grabbed the bowl of cut lime wedges that seungcheol had prepared and squeezed two into each cup, and you watched as he topped the drinks with the soda.

"can you handle heat?"

you looked at him. "that's a loaded question."

he laughed again, and you wondered how many palomas he had before you arrived. "i like chili on the lime, but i wanted to be nice and ask before i did it for you, too."

"i'll try anything once."

then you tried it again.

and again.

jeonghan really was charming, you thought. and pretty. and he had a lovely voice.

at some point, soonyoung found you again, just to waggle his eyebrows at jeonghan when he thought you weren't looking, and you got introduced to seungcheol, who you both recognized and were recognized by. jeonghan rolled his eyes and shoved him away when he gave him a look, remembering how he described you at the bar ages ago.

you barely even noticed the time passing, but your drinks kept draining and you kept accepting more, and you wondered if you were really stupid enough to say yes if he asked you to join him in his bedroom tonight. but the more jeonghan talked, the more you were kind of okay with the idea.

"do you wanna get out of here?"

you blinked, chin in your palm and elbow on the counter, face inches from jeonghan's as he put down his cup. "and go where?"

he pouted as he thought. "i could really go for tteokbokki right now."

at that moment, you decided jeonghan really liked you. you grinned. "that sounds so good."

he smiled back at you, and you didn't comment on the way his eyes lingered on your lips, even if you really wanted to. "better tell your chaperone."

you rolled your eyes at the title mingyu had given himself earlier when he was trying to convince you to not take a fourth drink. "don't let his stupid height trick you, he's more of a lightweight than me."

"at least you don't have to worry about him, jihoon would never try anything. the poor guy is so shy, he was probably flustered just when mingyu said hi."

you quirked an eyebrow at him. "does he have to worry about me?"

jeonghan laughed. "if i wanted to get you drunk, i would have poured heavier."

"speaking of," you said, tipping your cup. "this one suspiciously tasted like not tequila."

he stood suddenly, palms on the counter, trying to force down the blush on his ears. "if you're gonna complain about every drink i make you, maybe you should stop asking for them."

you giggled, standing and imitating his stance. "just admit you care about me, yoon jeonghan."

he looked at you, a smile teasing his lips. "only after you admit you're in love with me."

you squinted. "a draw."

he grinned. "tteokbokki?"

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

[cottoncandyjester]

So to brighten up the mood let’s have

Poly hikaruzeke with male y/n taking their siblings out on a vacation!

This is just all fluff with a hint of something dark buried under it

When you all arrived at the hot springs Mateo went straight to causing havoc by messing with ushio “ so if we do unisex hot spring you should totally let me at least put my mouth on one of your ti- OW!”

He winced when Hikaru hit him on the head “callate la boca!” Hikaru snapped out while you and Zeke were trying to get checked in. Ushio nervously rushed over to you a Zeke gripping zeke’s shirt hiding behind him. You glared at Mateo who rubbed his head with a huff “Zeke your stupid boyfriend hit me!” He whined and Zeke looked around

“He did? I didn’t hear or see shit.” Zeke mumbled out now wrapping an arm around both you and Hikaru a sly grin on his face. You rolled your eyes before holding two keycards “alright me and ushio will share a room, teo you’re with those two” and of course the horny 18 year old had something to say about that.

“OI! Why does he get to be with her!? That’s like all the way unfair!” He snapped out with a huff stomping his foot and Zeke felt his eye twitch, if he doesn’t kill his brother before this trip is over it will be a miracle.

“Cause y/n doesn’t have a habit of groping people while they are trying to sleep you little man whore and ushio doesn’t like sleeping alone”

“Man whore? Wonder who I got it from”

You and Hikaru snorted with laughter avoiding zeke’s glare before you all gazed over at ushio who was quietly playing on her switch. “I don’t mind sharing a room with him, it’s okay” she said softly immediately feeing Mateo latch onto her “hell yeah! Now this is a vacation!” He chirped out loudly as ushio pushed him away..this was going to be interesting.

You all got settled in your rooms and Zeke laid back on the bed his head in your lap while Hikaru sat ontop of him “you know, one good thing about having the room to ourselves is that we can wreck it all we want” the male purred and Hikaru scoffs “doesn’t make me feel any less worried about your disgusting brother” he sneers out only for you to laugh “ushio can handle herself I once saw her scare off a guy just by awkward silence” you added before planting a kiss on both zeke’s and hikaru’s cheek. “Come on! Let’s eat! I promised teo some sushi!” You cheered out

“WOOOAHHHH! SUSHI BOAT! LOOK ITS A SUSHI BOAT!” Mateo was screaming at the top of his lungs at the restaurant eyes sparkling with joy. “Can you not be a gremlin for five minutes? Like you took your adhd medicine yeah? How are you so hyper?” Zeke hissed out.

“Oh no I forgot it at home, but I mean I don’t really need it” Mateo mumbled out using the chop sticks to stab the sushi plopping it in his mouth which made Hikaru look downright offended.

“Did he just-”

“Yup” ushio mumbled out knees pressed to her chest eyes glued to her phone as she watched anime but Zeke took her phone. “Eat mama, you haven’t eaten today you still have to take your medication after you eat” he said firmly and the girl gave a small pout looking over at you with puppy dog eyes

You started to sweat now shoving food in your mouth and glancing away. “Psst, Y/n...” she whispers out making with twitch. “ y/n don’t you do it” Hikaru warned out and you looked over at the girl. “Can I borrow your phone?” She said it in her best cute voice and before you knew it you were giving her your phone to watch anime on.

“Y/n!”

“She’s too cute! I can’t help it!” You huffed out and Zeke chuckled shaking his head. “Hey ushio! I can feed you if yo-”

“If you touch me I’m calling the police” ushio stated coldly making the male pause and he gulped “y-yeah okay good talk” he said softly now turning his head away nervously.

When you all went to the spring the next day you decided to just to a unisex one to keep an eye on ushio so she doesn’t faint or anything. “Tiddies tiddies tiddies!” Mateo cheered out like a child causing Hikaru to kick his back pushing him in the water “knock it off!” He snapped out.

“I don’t think he’s gonna survive this trip”

“Oh no he’s definitely gonna die the question is how?” Zeke teased out gazing at ushio who had a towel wrapped around her. “You can keep the towel on if it makes you comfortable” you said softly to the girl who gave a shy nod. When you all got in you let out a long sigh tilting your head back in relaxation

It was peaceful for about three minutes, yup three minutes Mateo started splashing around “I’m bored!” He huffs out and Hikaru cracked his knuckles “oh yeah? I’ll give ya something to fucking do” he hissed out harshly. As the two fought you couldn’t help but laugh but what made you happy was seeing ushio smile at the antics

“Having fun ushio?”

She looked down face flushed a smile on her face before giving a small nod fingers interlaced together “ I never had family time like this, can we do this more?” She asked out making everyone pause at just how sweet she was.

“Of course!”

“Where should we go next?”

“I’ll go wherever ushio is going!”

“Shut the fuck up about my sister you incel!”

You all were definitely rowdy! Once you all got done and showered you and Zeke ended up blow drying ushio’s and mateo’s hair. You couldn’t help but trail your fingers along the white patches on mateo’s back eyes moving to the small holes along the side of his arm that reminded you of needle injections. Mateo glanced back at you now gripping your wrist tightly nearly crushing it eyes darkening lightly “stop that, okay?” He said softly before grinning to hide that dark tone he just gave you “ushhhiiiooooo~” he purred out now reaching out to touch the girl only for her to kick him off the bed

“Stop it.”

“You’re so cold to me!”

You tried to laugh it off though it struck you as odd, whatever. You three got the two settled in before making your way back to the room. “Hey Zeke? Does mateo take injections?” You asked making him snort with laughter “no way! The kid cries and screeches off you even show him a needle” he said while laughing and Hikaru rolled his eyes.

“Enough about them, didn’t someone say you wanted to wreck the room?” Hikaru purred out and the three of you exchanged looks. That night got very loud, when it came to the morning when you all had to leave you all were beyond tired.

Hikaru sighs softly letting out a sleepy yawn as you all talked to the limo. “Have fun?” Ushio mumbled out making you twitch nervously before she tapped her neck and you slapped your hand on your neck.

“Pffffft hahaha! It’s okay I got laid too riiiight ushio?”

“No. I only gave you one kiss on the cheek and you started crying so I let you cry yourself to sleep” she mumbled out eyes on her phone as she climbed into the limo making Mateo huff “l-liar! I-I dunno what you mean!” He snapped out face red as he turned his head away.

The rest of the ride was far more relaxed, Mateo fell asleep his head rested on ushio’s shoulder as she watched anime ignoring him.

“She looks happier, thanks for this y/n” Hikaru mumbled to you and Zeke chuckled “I can tell mateo had fun too, he works hard for all the sports clubs he’s in for college he doesn’t really chill out yknow?” Zeke added and you grinned widely

“Next trip let’s go to the mountains or something!”

“Vacation number two!” Mateo sprung up and shouted with a bright smile on his face.