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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

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call me babydoll | reader x chan

soooo shhhh this actually a part one shhhh but i’m just trying out writing out different things and getting out some of my ideas outta my head that i’m really excited about, this one being one of them!! for now...just pretend that this is just a regular ol’ drabble hehehehe. this part is the set-up chapter (shhh i mean drabble)

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst

Tags: (overall) bodyguard au, moderndayprince!chan, bodyguard!reader, secret agent au, royal au, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, softswitch!chan, hardswitch!reader, some skz side characters, jeongin third wheel and comedic relief LOL, travelling, chan being expensive and having a lil bit of a superiority complex, flirtyyyy chan, bits of mystery, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, idk think like 007 vibes hehe

CWs: guns and gun violence, a shooting in a ballroom, mentions of blood

Word count: 4.6k

Parts

ONE | TWO

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here early.”

“Well, expect the unexpected.”

“Don’t turn the motto back at me. I’m sick of hearing it so many damn times.”

“What? You and I both know that it’s true. You’re here early too, so, technically you don’t get to say anything.”

Jeongin straightened his bow tie, then patted down the sides of his perfectly ironed tux with not a crinkle to be found. Knowing him, it was a miracle that he hadn’t messed it up in some form yet. He promptly took out his pocket square to clean off his glasses.

“You’re looking nice. Seems like they don’t mind spending money now on you these days.” He blew off the flecks of dust on his lenses.

“They know that they get their return on their investment. And thank you.”

You smoothed down the sides of your dusty pink dress that nearly went all the way down to your ankles. Had you any other choice, it would’ve been something different, but, dresses were really good at hiding your thigh holster compared to the slacks you usually favored. You didn’t mind the times that you would have to put on a pretty dress, it somewhat reminded you that there was normal life outside of your job. Not to mention, they had started sending you jewelry as well. You always had liked the look of a diamond necklace.

“You do your research for tonight?”

Jeongin nodded, then took from his pocket his phone to read over the details.

“I’ve done a background check on everyone attending, we shouldn’t have any issues. It’s already a low risk event anyway. Charity is never something to get too worked up over, but, you never know with the detail that some of these people come with...who they might be tied to...”

“--The only people we can trust is ourselves.” You nodded with arms crossed.

“Expect the unexpected, I know.” He slid his phone back into his inside suit pocket to adjust his cufflinks.

“--Nervous?” You took note of his fidgeting actions.

“Nervous? No. I’ve been through this before. You know that.”

You flicked your partner right on his forehead strung with his white hair. You had really wished that he had picked a less conspicuous color, but he had strings to pull that you didn’t.

Jeongin cleared his throat, “You do your once over?”

“Do you even need to ask? I did it hours ago and when we arrived. You know that I’ve done this before too.”

“I know. I know.”

Jeongin looked out at the vast circular atrium that made up the center of the hotel. Several stories down under the glass rooftop, you could hear the faint sprinkling of the intricate fountain which smelled of copper. A bit further down, you could see the tips of the tree branches from the indoor landscaping. Across the way, a door slammed with residents tucking in their ties. The two men you had recognized from the roster: a simple thing which made you feel at ease. Your young partner must’ve started to have an effect on you. A sense of unease seemed to quell in your neck. You always listened to your hunches.

“W-what do you think he thinks of us?” Jeongin broke the silence.

“Well,” From inside the room you had waited outside, you could hear his distant murmuring, so you lowered your tone. “I think that he has yet to trust us. It’s only been a few weeks. He doesn’t seem like the kind to give himself up easy. That, and I’m sure his resentment of his father must have some influence.”

“You think he hates us?”

“I think he hates his father for hiring us. I mean, wouldn’t you? His old security detail, he had them for years.”

“I guess so. But, we’re not like his old detail.”

“No. We’re not. I don’t think he gets that yet. I think he sees us as one more way his father has a hold on him.”

“It’s not like he can do much else about it when his dad’s a kin--”

“--No, no, thank you, really, it’s lovely. Some of your best work. Thank you.”

Chan swung open the door to his room, stopping Jeongin right in his sentence.

“Ah. You’re here already. That’s...punctual.”

As dazzling and showy as ever, Chan looking nothing short of a magazine model. For a prince, he had certain...appearances that he had to maintain. Today, it was a velvety and maroon suit jacket with a white button up. On the collar, two matching brooches had been perfectly placed, and they were silver like moonlight in the shape of English ivy and adorned with diamonds. On his lapel, he wore the royal insignia of the lion and the wolf. Behind him, you could see his slew of stylists cleaning up their makeup kits and obscene assortment of designer dress shoes for him to pick from. You had thought before that he even smelled like royalty: stuffy white roses with a hint of priceless cognac.

Jeongin bowed his head respectfully. “Everything has been prepared for tonight. The rest of your guards are surrounding the building, and I’ll be corresponding with them as needed, your Highness.” He tapped at his earpiece.

Chan drew his attention over to you, giving you a rather lusty glare. Over the past couple weeks, you had gotten used to it. He was a prince to every extent of the word. If there was anything that he had wanted, he simply had to ask. It drove him insane that all he could do was merely look at you. You had wondered if he harbored anything else for you besides the way that he would devour the curves of your shoulders and hips.

“Fox. Bee. You look nice tonight. I like seeing you dressed up. Makes me feel less out of place.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little sound of discontentment over his rather affectionate nickname for you. You and your partner had been introduced to him as F and B. Quickly he had figured out Jeongin’s codename as Fox, considering that he had done a poor job picking out one that wasn’t related to him at all. Anyone could tell that boy was fox-like, and he also just wasn’t that creative when it came to picking out a name for himself. B, or Bee as he had decided, was your name; as in bumblebee. After learning about Fox, he figured that there was an animal theme going, so Bee seemed to fit best in his oponion.

You tested his glare with your best, “Thank you, your Highness.”

Jeongin gulped. “Your assistant should be waiting downstairs with your itinerary. She told me that you should meet her first off.”

“You work too hard F. Have some fun tonight, hm? But don’t...drink too much. You’re responsible for my life remember?” Chan clapped his bodyguard on the back.

Your partner nervously laughed and adjusted his glasses once more: his preferred tic.

“And Bee?” Chan rose a brow to lean into close and whisper. “Stay close, alright?”

“Of course, your Highness.”

Chan let out a little scoff after getting one more proper look at your frame. “Damn. You really are stunning. Just a little too dangerous for me though.”

You rolled your eyes, dishing him outa, “Whatever you say, your Highness.”

Jeongin threw you and annoyed glare before tracing after Chan as he sauntered down the hall to the glass elevator.

“Bee? You coming? Or do you have something better to do?” Chan’s voice called down the hall with an echo and a little teasing gesture of his hand.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It had been seven years since you had chosen this line of work, and each time that you had to go to one of these things, you hated them more and more. Not because they were hard to control--they were easy--but you just hated how many superficial and self-absorbed people that they could fit into one room.

The air was filled with the scent of champagne bubbles and too much Chanel No. 5. From corner to corner of the room, and even next to the ice sculpture of the lion and the wolf crest, silk, satin; velvet and the best cotton could be found. Long gloves covered the arms of ladies with wrinkling skin, and tweed vests held in the guts of men who indulged in their food just as much as their mistresses. All this effort just to appear as if they had given one care about the philanthropic efforts of the royalty.

Several neatly dressed waiters passed you with golden platters of hors d'oeuvres made of ingredients so expensive, they would’ve cost the same amount as the generous donations made by the attendees. If you could’ve, you would’ve scooped up as many of them as you could, just to eat all of their copious amounts of money yourself, but, there was somewhere a rule that you had to keep your hand to yourself when you were on duty. The best that you had to look forward too was take-out to eat at 3 in the morning with Jeongin later.

Buzzing chatter filled your earpiece while each of the additional guards gave their hourly report.

“Damn. It’s fucking colder out here than I thought. It’s fucking summer.” One of them joked to the tune of the other guards laughter.

“Stay focused.” Jeongin scolded over the line. “Don’t leave your posts until your shifts change.”

While he was a timid man, Jeongin was not one to mess around. Son of the director, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. After pleading for years for her to admit him into the academy, she had agreed. Everyone knew the reason why she didn’t want him in this line of work. Too many dead. Too many missing. In some ways, he was also yours to look after.

You trailed after Chan who was busy talking to his assistant and his publicist. While he nodded at their words, you knew that he must’ve been barely listening. Chan never really was one for formality, but much rather enjoyed simplicity and pleasure. Jeongin and you had somewhat of a bet going: out of all the guests, you had liked to bet which one he would take with him to his bedroom. Since you had all the profiles of the guests, you liked to bet a little money on which one it would be.

Jeongin had guessed it to be the heiress and daughter of a tycoon who had made a multi-million won donation in the name of his company. It was ironic; his very company was a big-scale pollutor who liked to make nice with the crown. She was conventionally very pretty: long legs, a thin frame, she was educated and looked as if she could hold somewhat of a conversation...not like that mattered to him.

You had predicted it to be the foreign CEO who had just started business dealings with the crown. While she might’ve looked a bit stuck-up and prim, she was intimidating, and a challenge. Chan loved challenges. Chan also had a pension for pretty boys with a bit too much money on their hands--usually inherited--and with nothing much else to do other than dote on him. There were plenty of those attending the gala tonight.

Chan snaked through the crowd, bowing his head at all of the Good evening, your Highnesses and the It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses. Every few moments or so he would take a bite from a golden plate and then pop it into his mouth. The whole night long, he would hold his glass with him and it would get refilled for him without him even needing to ask. You sometimes liked to pretend that in some places, they must’ve assigned someone to watch him from afar to make sure that he would never need anything before it was given to him. It wouldn’t have surprised you.

“Having fun Bee?” Chan languidly rolled his head back, swirling his glass.

“As much fun as you are.” You quipped.

“Anything that I should be concerned about?”

“Nothing of concern.” You stated matter-of-factly. Had you matched his flirting tone, you knew that you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night. “Fox. Report?”

“Nothing that I can see. No one has been tagging you.” Jeongin had staked himself up on the upper balcony of the banquet hall room, and had been watching for as long as you had been following after the prince. “You sensing anything strange?” His voice tickled in your in-ear.

“Just a bunch of the normal crowd.” You kept your tone down low. “He’s rubbing noses with the usual. You’ve seen too?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

You followed Chan to his seat nearest the front of the room which had been fashioned into a stage with a clear glass podium in the center. Right in front there was one more crest decorating it. Chan had ensured it to be so: he had wanted everyone to know that this was all for his charity.

“It seems like our bets aren’t working out. He hasn’t talked to either of the...suspects.” Your partner changed his choice of words knowing that the other guards were listening.

From the opposite side of the room both the heiress and the CEO stood with thin glasses of wine in their lithe hands. Chan had in fact walked right past them, and didn’t even notice.

“Tonight is going to be a long night.” Jeongin sighed over the line.

You politely pushed past attendees with a raised hand and a sweet smile. You had found that when you smiled, you had appeared less intimidating.

“Oh wait...what’s this?”

“What?” You whipped your head around after Jeongin’s interjection. “What? Do you see something? What’s the call?”

“Relax! It just looks like he’s approaching someone he wants to talk to. I think both of us are about to be proven wrong.”

“Ah, shit.” You sighed. “Don’t put me on edge like that.”

“I’m only trying to entertain myself.”

“Name. Who is it? You’ve got the roster.”

You partner was quiet for a minute, and you watched from a distance as Chan approached the man leaned over a martini seated at one of the perfectly decorated tables.

“Uh, I think that he’s Lee Minho. Some kind of royalty from somewhere else. Pretty low ranking from the looks of it. I think that he made a donation himself...and it’s...damn, larger than you would expect.”

“Should we be concerned?”

“No. Seems harmless.”

“Thank you for coming,” You made out the words that Chan had mouthed. He drew a chair next to the unknown man.

From what you could tell, Lee Minho was handsome to the full extent of the word: nearly all of his physical features were exemplary and his suit appeared to have been fitted to perfect for him; likely one of a kind. He too wore an insignia on his lapel, but it was one that you hadn’t recognized before. He had immaculately styled hair that had some kind of rebellious and boyish charm to it. The man had a kind of mystery about him too: you had been able to pride yourself in being able to read people, and it had saved your life on more than one occasion. But with him, there was something that you couldn’t place.

“Do they know eachother?” You asked Jeongin.

“Not that I know of. School friend maybe? Seems like all the royals send their kids to the same schools.”

“Hm. That would make sense.”

“Enjoying yourself?” Chan said.

Lee Minho nodded, and rose his glass to clink it with the prince’s.

“Do we think that he’s our...suspect?”

The stranger dipped his head into his hand as he listened to Chan speak. A flirty gesture that you had seen a hundred times or more. Still, the way that he inspected Chan, it wasn’t adoring. Or at least, you didn’t think that it was.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“What the hell are you yapping about?” One of the other guards snapped over the line.

“Um, classified stuff.” Jeongin quickly explained. “Above your paygrade. Don’t worry about it.”

“Fox. Watch out for him tonight.” You snuck over to a corner of the room where you could watch the two of them more discreetly.

“Affirmative....” Your partner paused. “Babydoll.”

“Pffff--Babydoll??” The same guard stifled his laughter. “You call her Babydoll, Fox? Damn, you all must be closer than I thought. Didn’t know that I was missing out on some of the action--”

“--Ever heard of a codename, Three?”

“Babydoll’s her codename.”

A grin crept over your lips. “Expect the unexpected.”

You had almost gotten distracted enough to miss how Lee Minho had leaned over to whisper something into the prince’s ear. After he had done so, Chan laughed out a little, then reached his arm around the other man’s chair comfortably.

“They’re...cozy.” You updated your partner.

“I’m trying to cross-check where he might know him from.”

Chan’s assistant and publicist finally slipped away with giddy little smiles. In many ways, you were jealous of them. They could leave whenever the wanted, eat what they wanted...

Jeongin scoffed. “Well, turns out...nothing. I can’t find anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Negative. I’m not seeing any crossover.”

“So they really are strangers?”

Your partner sighed. “Looks like neither of us are cashing ou--I mean--finding the suspect.”

Under your breath, you wondered aloud, “Who are you...Lee Minho?”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The night drew on longer with the rest of the formalities: the formal dinner, followed by several speeches from important people while dessert was being served. It all led up to the final act: His Royal Highness, Prince Chan’s speech. On several neat notecards marked with the crest, he held them in front of him while he ate his last bits of Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. Even the name of the sweet itself sounded pretentious. Granted, it smelled delicious--as many expensive things did.

You stifled a yawn from your little set up on the edge of the room. At least you should’ve been able to sit, but it turns out that sitting is also against the rules in this line of work. A couple other security and bodyguards had joined you at the edge: some of their heads nodded with sleep, and the others looked as if they had taken one too many energy shots. Luckily, your stamina had been well crafted.

A fancily dressed MC made his way up to the podium and the room filled with applause after the last speaker had said all of their correct mandatory words.

“It is my honor to introduce to the stage, our wonderful head benefactor of this organization, His Royal Highness, Prince Chan of the Crown.

Applause tenfold of before erupted through the whole room and it wasn’t even an afterthought for the every attendee to stand up from their seats in an ovation. It was a force of habit for you, but you found yourself clapping as well.

Chan rose with grace, and re-buttoned his jacket with finesse. A blinding spotlight found him and it made the diamonds adorning his beck wink brilliantly. Even more blinding was his pearl white, and perfectly trained smile accompanied by his wave.

Thank you. Thank you. He mouthed.

“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star.” Jeongin groaned.

“Might as well be with the way that they treat him. You know deep down they’re all just terrified.”

Chan made his way up to the stage in all of his regality, and the applause didn’t stop until he cleared his throat. A collective groaning of a couple hundred chairs squeaked when everyone sat back down.

“Thank you everyone, really. I wanted to thank you all for your generous support in your donations to this organization, as well as your association with the crown. I’m sure that all the beneficiaries of your donations are beyond thankful compared to me. Without you, this would not be possible.” Chan spoke with grandiose gestures, as usual, but this time, he had found you on the side of the room. “Listen, aside from being a prince, I’m also just a person. A person who knows what it means to struggle, to--”

“--I can’t listen to this anymore.” You whispered into the quiet room, and to your partner.

“Just a few more hours.” He droned. “I almost wish that something would happen so that we don’t have to sit though much else of this.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

In the corner of your eye, Lee Minho shifted in his seat, but still kept his undivided attention to the stage. You figured he must’ve been just like the rest of them: enamored by the flashiness of the crown--and Chan. He had a way of putting a spell on people: it was the kind of spell that a prince of deception had crafted after years of being kept under lock and key.

“--Anyway, what I’m trying to say, royal or fanciful we all might be, in the simplest way, we’re all just people, therefore this is what connects us all. Thank you.”

Chan was gifted yet another standing ovation that was somehow even more thunderous than before.

“Yeah right.” You scoffed. “People born into money. There’s a difference.”

Chan gave his last waves, then a clamor echoed from the back of the room. At first, it had just sounded like the same raucous laughter you had heard all night, but then it shifted to something different. The sound of laugher turned into shouting, then screams: high pitched and piercing. You had seconds to respond, head whipping around the room to catch sight of the confused prince. In your in-ears, the the sound of gunshots echoed with rapid-fire speed. Machine guns. Shouting commands barked in your ear, and muddled with Jeongin’s string of demands and questions.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? REPORT! REPORT!”

Your heart instantly started beating into hyperdrive, and your legs sprinted as fast has physically possible

“THEY’VE GOT GUNS!” A shrill and cracked voice of an older woman wailed from the back of the room.

Immediately after she had said so, shots fired into the darkened room with sparks, and the metallic sound of bullets hitting the marbled ground followed.

Chan looked around in his panic for you, petrified on the stage. You slung your gun out from your thigh holster and latched onto him with all of your might.

“TH-THEY JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE IN THESE VANS. THEY’RE ARMOURED, WE CAN’T--”

“Get the fuck down there and secure the exists!” Jeongin growled into his mic. “B--is the prince secure??”

“Secure!” You yelled back. Using your body as a barrier, you led the cowering prince through the mass hysteria of the crowd.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Chan shook under your iron grip.

More shots fired into the room and bodies parted like the sea and fell over each other.

From the balcony, you had caught Jeongin aiming his own gun at the chaos below.

“I’ll cover you! Fuck! There’s so many of them! Get him to the car out back--Three, Six, meet B out there! Three!? Six!? Report!”

“Three and Six are down F!” One of the guards panted. “I can provide cover out back!!”

“Who’s speaking??” Jeongin bellowed, then aimed from above at one of the intruders. Your only focus was on weaving you and Chan out of there, but you had seen one of them in a blur. Each of the men with guns wore dark grey suits with black ties and leather gloves. Each of them wore their own crest: and it was all red.

“Bee?? Bee???” Chan shouted out for you, and jumped every time the crack of a shot echoed in the ballroom.

“I’ve got you, your Highness. We’ll be out soon. Keep your head down and listen to me.” Your arm held to him tightly, and you soon found the exit nearest. There was no telling if there would be more of them outside, but you loaded your gun quickly just in case, and pointed it out.

“Jeongin, get your ass down here!”

“Jeongin? Who the fuck is that??” Chan ducked down to hide himself behind your frame.

His name had slipped on your tongue, but that hardly mattered.

“I’ll be down in a second!!!”

“Don’t fucking waste time up there when I need you down here!!”

“Two! Two Reporting!!” A man suddenly yelled in your in-ear. “I’ve made it out back and I’ve secured the exit. The car is safe!!”

“FOX! Now!”

Your partner heaved, “I’m coming, I’m coming!!”

You kicked open the exit door, gun’s still blazing, however one one else could be found on the other side.

“Thank God,” You sighed.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Chan had turned paler than white, then stumbled in your arms.

“Hey, HEY!” You held him upright. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You need to trust me. Your life is in my hands and I’m not giving it up easy, got it?”

“O-okay.” He stammered, then attempted to straighten himself.

“The Prince is outside, repeat, The Prince is outside. Two, are you in position?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Other than the fact that you had just escaped absolute peril, the evening was unbearably pleasant. Crickets chirped in the summer evening, and the humidity of the night smelled gorgeously of the lake that was near-by as well as the vast array of flowers that had been purposefully landscaped around the hotel. Chan’s uneven steps scraped at the gravel walkway.

Since you had canvassed the whole building well, you had known exactly where the getaway car was, but you were still careful.

“Bee. Bee!” Chan blabbered. “Have-have I told you yet that I-I’m in love with you?”

“No, you haven’t Your Highness.”

“I fucking am. If I die tonight, I want you to know that I am ridiculously in love with you, and fuck, I wanna--”

“--I’m sorry, Your Highness, respectfully, but now is not the time for this and you are not dying on my watch.”

Somewhere off in the distance, frogs croaked, and the splashing of fish in the lake plopped at the surface waters. You turned a corner to finally see Two waiting his his gun raised. He was a bit of a shorter and scrawnier man, but something about him told you that where he lacked in strength, he must’ve made up for in agility.

“I’m out! I’m out!” Your partner gasped, and over the in-ear you could hear his running footsteps. “I’m almost there! I’ll be there in a second!”

“Your Highness,” Two bowed and opened the car door. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You can call me Two or J. Either you prefer.”

Jeongin came bounding around the corner with heaving breaths and his clothes askew. His glasses which just barely held onto his face had a crack on them and his knuckles were covered in blood.

“Let’s go.” The younger man prompted.

“In the car you go, Your Highness.” You motioned for him to do so.

Chan whimpered like a toddler.

You shoved his body in, “Stop that. Get in the car.”

“I’m in love with you Bee!” He yelled out, “I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU BEE!”

Jeongin slammed the door in his face with a bit of a chuckle.

“He’s delirious.”

“Mm.” your partner smiled. “Sure.”

320 notes · View notes

hops-hunny · 4 years ago

Text

Something I’d Get Used To

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.4k

Request: anon “Hey could I get a 9 & 21 for nev with a fem reader please fluff/smutt! Thank you!! :)”

Summary: (Y/n) doesn’t do love, but whatever her and Neville have is something she can get used to

Warnings: Slight angst in the beginning but vast majority fluff!

A/N: Hey anon, I decided to go with fluff so I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you have just as much reading it!

9. “Love’s a word I always hated.”

21. “I’m smitten with you and everyone knows it.”

Love. A word that made (Y/n) sick to the very pit of her stomach, and Merlin’s knows not in a good way. (Y/n) was tired of the word love before she even knew what it meant. The word that held so much meaning. The word girls and boys alike waited sometimes their entire life to hear. She was sick of it. She had her parents to thank for that. Growing up, (Y/n)’s parents were always busy with work, leaving her with various different strangers referred to as “nannies”. At first she’d look forward to hearing the words, even reading them. “We love you dear, we’ll be home soon!” Each letter ended with this phrase. She remembered the long days that she’d sit by the front door, waiting for the owl to bring the letters to her. How she’d clutch them to her heart, cheering with glee as she’d read her to whichever nanny they had hired.

However, each time they’d leave they would go for longer and longer, the letters would grow shorter and shorter until eventually they became nonexistent. She felt uncared for, unloved. When her parents got older they started to stay home more opting to work from home. She could still recall the fated conversation that made her hated that stupid little four letter word.

(Y/n) was ecstatic but tried not to show it that much. She knew how much her parents disliked when she would outwardly express obscene amounts of emotion and yet she couldn’t help the smile that overtook her face when they invited her out for dinner. They felt bad for all the important holidays and birthdays they had missed and to make up for it, they decided to take her out for one last grand hoorah before her departure to Hogwarts.

“Mom, dad, can I ask you something?” she asked, playing with her fingers nervously. Although they were her parents, she always felt unsure of how to speak to them. The limited amount of time they had spent together were always cut short, leaving her parents to feel like distant strangers in her life. Her mom looked up from her phone, smiling at the girl.

“Of course dear, what is it?”

“I...I wanted to know why the letters stopped. You know, when you two would travel. You used to send me a postcard and a letter from whatever place you guys were at and eventually they just stopped coming.” She looked up at her parents, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. “Why is that?”

“Letters?” her father started off confused, looking up from his menu briefly before returning his eyes to it. “What lett-”

“Dear let’s stop. Did you want to order drinks too? I’ll get the waiter ov-”

“No mother, let him finish. Go on dad, what do you mean what letters? You guys used to send me them every time you left. How could you not know what letters?” she pleaded desperately, trying to find the answers in her parents eyes.

“Oh right! Those letters.” he said unamused. “Listen kid, you’re old enough now so I guess it’s time we tell you. We weren’t the ones writing those letters, it was your nannies. Do you really think we had the time out of our busy schedules to write you letters? Don’t be ridiculous.” he said, letting out a chuckle. “I don’t see how you didn’t notice that the handwriting was a bit different each time.” His eyes rose quickly from the small words on the menu at the sound of the menu being slammed on the table. (Y/n) stood there with hot angry tears in her eyes, glaring at her parents. No, it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. They loved her, right? People who love each other don’t lie, her mother had taught her that once. She rose from her spot in the booth, running out the restaurant despite the cries of protest for her to stay.

When she got home, she went into her room pulling the old box that she kept under her bed. She ripped the lid off, pouring the contents onto the bed. “No,” she croaked, tears beginning to form in her eyes again, “No, no, no. Come on. No come on!” she picked up the letters comparing the writing noticing how the writing didn’t match up. “Bullshit! This is bullshit! I can’t believe this!” she screamed, throwing herself on the bed. She sobbed herself to sleep, surrounded by the letters filled with lies. So much for love.

After that incident, (Y/n) opted for staying with her aunt. Her aunt was a few years older than her mom but due to the lax life she lived, she looked a lot younger. She was very grateful that her aunt took her in with such short notice, welcoming her with open arms. She’d write to her often, sending her letters of the adventures she was having at Hogwarts. She would always laugh at the bittersweet way her aunt would sign letters, “Lots of Love, Aunt Margie.”

“Oh come on! Please? It’s just one group date.” Hermione pleaded, chasing down the hallway after her friend. She sat down next to her on the common room couch, smiling at the (y/h/h) girl. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll even fall in l-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. That word makes me sick to my stomach.” she said, clutching at her stomach to add emphasis as she made gagging noises. “Love’s a word I’ve always hated.” Hermione looked at her friend sympathetically, patting her leg. Her and Hermione had been friends long before their years at Hogwarts. Her parents were colleagues of her parents but they had lower down positions.

“I know, I know. But you also know I wouldn’t put you with anyone I didn’t think was good enough to be with you. He’s a sweet guy! He loves tending to plants, he’s kind, funny. Sure he’s a little awkward and slouches a bit when he stands but he’s got his own bit of charm!” She said, watching as (Y/n) considered her words. She sighed looking at her.

“Is he at least cute?”

“I knew you’d come around!” Hermione exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her friend tightly. She pulled back, holding her hands in a comforting way. “It is at the end of the week. I decided to tell you ahead of time so on the off chance you’d agree, which you did, you’d have time to back out at any time if you decided you don’t want to go. Well,” she started as she stood up, gathering her things in her hand. “I’ve gotta get going! And to answer your question, I guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”

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

(Y/n) snuck through the grass trying to make her way to the greenhouse. Well, as much you could sneak in panda slippers and a nightie. It was about three in the morning and no matter what, she couldn’t sleep. Most nights she had trouble sleeping but it was never this much. “Just my luck. First date I ever agree to and here I am in my fucking pajamas trying to sneak into the greenhouse for a plant that may or may not even be there.” she grumbled, holding her illuminated wand in front of her. She sighed in relief as she finally made her way into the greenhouse.

She found herself pondering whether it would’ve been simpler to just snag some chamomile from Snape’s room instead. “No, don’t be stupid. He would’ve definitely given me some awful punishment, or even worse, let Filch deal with me.” she shuddered at the thought. She looked around the crowded building, looking and searching for the plant. “What the fuck does a chamomile plant even look like?” she muttered. (Y/n) felt herself growing a bit irritated with herself. Years of living with her Aunt Margie had left her spoiled considering Aunt Margie hated tea bags, always opting for making her own blends. If only she had paid attention to her when she was teaching her about plants, that would make this process a whole lot easier.

“Chamomile, chamomile, chamomile. Eh, this looks close enough!” she reached for the pair of scissors in her pocket, leaning forward to cut it before a hand grabbed hers. She screamed, jumping back as she pointed the scissors at the intruder. “What are you doing?!” she questioned, looking up at the boy. He had a blue pajama set on along with a brown pair of moccasins. He quirked a brow, hazel eyes boring into her own.

“I could ask you the same thing. I come here every night and never see you here.” he shuffled awkwardly, taking the scissors from the girl’s grasp. “Did you need something?”

“I was just about to cut a bit of this chamomile here.” She said motioning to the plant. The boy began to laugh some, shaking his head as he walked across the greenhouse. “What’s so funny?”

“That,” he motioned to the plant that she was previously going to cut, “Is not chamomile. If you were looking for something to help with sleep you would’ve been very upset. That’s actually bouncing biltweed. Whoever drinks it, be it through a tea or potion, is left awake for HOURS. It’s a good alternative for coffee drinkers though.” she felt heat rise to her face as she looked away embarrassed, crossing her arms as she mumbled about how she already knew that.

“Why do you know so much about plants anyways. You say you come here every night, why is that?” she questioned, walking over to his side. She watched as he cut at the actual chamomile before walking to a purple plant and cutting some of that as well.

“I love plants. I always used to have this extra energy from how anxious I’d get, so I started tending and caring for plants. After herbology in first year I became hooked. They’re so fascinating.” He looked down at her, flushing slightly. “Usually I don’t come here this late but I couldn’t sleep either. I have something I’m really looking forward to tomorrow and I don’t wanna screw it up.” she nodded, giving him a noise of acknowledgement.

“Yeah, I’ve got something tomorrow to. I wouldn’t say I’m looking forward to it but I am quite concerned about how it’ll all play out.” she sighed, stretching as her eyes floated around the room. Her eyes landed on a kettle and a set of cups around the room. “Well since we’re both in the same boat, how bout we have a cup of tea together, yeah?” she asked, walking to the kettle as she looked back at the boy. She noticed how red he was but chose to ignore it as he gave her a nod.

Although she wasn’t usually a people person, she felt oddly comforted around the boy. He was a bit awkward but sweet nonetheless. (Y/n) hadn’t expected to run into him, let alone spend the next few hours laughing and talking to a guy who’s name she didn’t even know! After a while, their conversation dwindled down to nothing as the effects of the lavender and chamomile took over the both of them. The walked to the castle together before bidding each other goodbye, going their separate ways. She’d never admit it to herself, but she quite liked the boy. He seemed like someone she could be into.

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

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Hermione huffed, throwing herself onto (Y/n)’s bed as the girl got ready. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, adding a final coat of lip gloss on as she ignored the girl. “You know, for someone who was very reluctant to go on this date, you’re putting a lot of effort into your appearance. I think Neville will appreciate it though." She giggled as the girl began to sprits a light amount of perfume.

"Neville?” ah, so that’s what his name was. “And, if I'm going to be wasting my time then I might as well look good doing it. And besides, I'm ready!" She walked over to the mirror smiling at her appearance. She had on a mossy green oversized sweater totally not stolen from her father that was tucked into the overall shorts that she had cuffed around the legs. On her lower half she adorned a beat up pair of sneakers. She smiled, admiring herself before grabbing her brown leather satchel. Hermione stood next to her friend in the mirror, looking at her own appearance as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Do you think I look alright?” she questioned, viewing herself from another angle. “Because, you know, I think I look wonderful but do you think Ro-”

“If Ron doesn’t think you look nice then I’ll give him a reason not to be able to see. You look wonderful! You’ve been looking forward to this all week, don’t go beating yourself up. Now,” she grabbed the girl’s hand as they began to head towards the door. “Let’s go show 'em what we’re made of.”

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

The world had to be playing a joke on her. There was no other explanation for what was in front of her. No, it couldn’t be him. However, as they neared her suspicions were confirmed. As the others were all communicating, the boy(who she assumed to be Neville) stood awkwardly by himself, chiming in every so often. She could’ve been wrong but as he turned towards her, with rosy red cheeks and wide eyes, she knew most definitely it was him. “Hey! It’s you from last night. Are you Neville?” she questioned, standing in front of him. He had on a brown flannel, a black shirt under it which was untucked from his dark color jeans, quite a contrast from his cute little pajama set from the other night.

“Y-yeah I am! This is for you.” He said, holding out a beautiful hand picked bouquet before continuing, “I-I know it’s a weird combination but I thought it’d be a nice call back from the other night.” she smiled, looking down at the strange but welcome array of chamomile, lavender, and baby’s breath. How cu- thoughtful was that? Her brows shot up in realization.

“Wait, you knew?! Why didn’t you say something?” she exasperated, slapping his shoulder playfully before she threw back her head groaning. “I told you so many embarrassing stories last night.” she facepalmed, looking up at him as he began to laugh some.

“Thought it’d be a funny surprise. The look on your face was priceless!” He said, moving away as he laughed at her failed attempts to hit him. He looked around realizing their group had already gone. “It looks like everyone else already left. Let’s get going, yeah?” he said, holding his hand out to her. (Y/n) looked down at it hesitantly before taking his outstretched hand, goosebumps spreading across her body at the warm contact.

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

As they arrived at the quaint little hole in the wall of a restaurant, they realized their small predicament. Hermione smiled, turning towards (Y/n). “Have I ever mentioned how much I lo- care about you?” she cooed sweetly, taking the girl’s (s/c) hands in her own. In return the girl narrowed her eyes looking at her.

“What happened? What do I need to do?” she questioned.

“Well it won’t necessarily be you who has to do something,” she walked back looking at her group of friends, “It appears there’s not enough seats for 5 sets of us so one couple is going to have to take a booth.” (Y/n) looked at her rolling her eyes.

“We’ll do it. Willingly too because if I have to see Harry look at Ginny like that one more time I honestly might end up puking. Come on Nev.” she said, grabbing the giant's hand, leading him to the booth in question. Neville felt his breath hitch and his face flush at the contact, turning to give his friends one last look.

“Don’t bore her to death with all your talk about weeds and plants! I don’t think any girl wants to hear that.” Seamus snickered out, walking away from his friend. However, (Y/n) didn’t hear him, looking up at Neville as she waited for him to sit down. She froze but shortly relaxed as he took a seat across from her instead of next to her.

“I hope we didn’t waste all our good topics yesterday!” she exclaimed looking over at him.

“Surely we haven’t. You know, you never told me what you like to do for fun. Do you have any hobbies?” he asked, looking over the menu as he waited for a response.

“Of course! I’m an artist. Wait a second, I brought my sketchbook, give me one second.” she said, digging into the brown bag that sat next to her. She pulled out a worn down leather notebook, sliding it across the table.

“You brought your sketchbook on a date?” he chuckled, watching as she looked away timidly. “I’m just teasing, love. Plus I knew you drew, I’ve seen you sketching sometime but I’ve never actually seen any of you work,” he flipped it open, gasping at the girl’s art, “But oh wow are you talented! I expected nothing less from you though.”

“To be fair, I brought the sketchbook before I knew it was you I was going on a date with. I thought I’d be stuck with someone boring and uninteresting,” she said, watching as he examined the pages, “But I guess I lucked out, huh?” Now it was Neville’s turn to feel taken. He flushed lightly before reaching over, grabbing her hand.

“Oh? Am I hearing this correctly? Am I being led to believe you’re enjoying your time on this date with me?”

“Don’t push your luck, Longbottom.”

The pair continued to talk, not a moment of silence falling upon them. It was going perfectly. Neville let her talk about her hobbies and equally enjoyed talking about his. Not once did either of the two get bored or stop talking...which couldn’t be said about their friend’s at the table across from them. The two began to giggle at the sight of the bored expressions on their faces. “Oh god, how awkward does that look?” she laughed out, watching as one of the girl’s visibly yawned at something Seamus said.

“And to think he tried to give me advice before this. Looks like it should’ve been the other way around.” He said, moving his eyes back to the girl. God she was gorgeous, he couldn’t help but think so. He let his eyes travel down the slope of her nose to the outline of her lips. He was absolutely enamoured by the girl, and had been for a few months. He could never get the words right to say to her and from what he had heard from other guys who confessed, he didn’t think he wanted to. He jumped out of his thoughts as the girl’s face was extremely close to his. (Y/n) began to laugh, sitting back down in her seat.

“T-the look on your face! Oh that was priceless. You practically jumped out of your pants!” she laughed harder, snorting as she bang her fist on the table. After a few seconds, she looked over at the taller boy tilting her head in confusion at his lack of words. “Neville, are you alright?” her eyes looked down as he gripped her hand in his own.

“Listen (Y/n) I know you don’t do love but I just need to say this. I...I like you. I’m absolutely entranced by every part of you and it did start out as physically, I’ll admit but it wouldn’t feel right having you be the only one who didn’t know. I’m smitten with you and everyone knows it.” he spoke softly, looking down at his empty plate on the table. His face flushed as she tilted his head to face her, his expression filled with confusion.

“You’re right. I don’t do love. However,” she tightened her grasp on his hand stroking his cheek, “I think we have the potential to have far more than that. Something greater than lo-love.” Neville’s face was overtaken in shock at the girl’s revelation. (Y/n) smiled before leaning over and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

She may not be the type to do love, but this was definitely something she could get used to.

#neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville x reader #neville longbottom x y/n #neville x y/n #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #neville longbottom imagine

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evera6234 · 4 years ago

Text

Gotham’s Salty WIP: Chapter I

RATING: T (Teen for cursing and stuff, this may change)

SUMMARY:

Basically, the typical Daminette with a bit of lime and spice. Borderline crack fic bc i cant without humor.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes to Gotham whilst carrying three years worth of emotional baggage, what she does with it, we don't know. Does she lug it around? Probably. Does she kick it off a skyscraper? Not probable, but maybe. Does she use it to drop kick an unsuspecting liar. Most definitely. ~~~> EDITED BY OLLIETHETURTLE ON AO3

Transferred from AO3.

Lemme know if ya wanna be tagged

OK. Umm.. First fic on AO3. K. We doin this, and we starting with this god awful piece of trash. Yes. Life. Fuck.

Things ur signing up for:

Big boi Mari & Chloe Friendship Good Vibes TM

My ass shitting on Adrien bc im a salty bitch (and if u aint about that life, its ok. U can leave bc im not interested in fighting with people. No offence or disrespect to adrien stans but yea)

And Adrien stalker moments

Lila and Alya salt (plz see “im a salty bitch”)

Shitty update schedule, if any. I’m counting on yall to harass me to write.

Marinette & Jason “sibling-esque” relationship bc we all need that

An obscene amount of cursing (as you can already tell)

The class will not be “Our singular communal brain-cell is fucking dead, help.” levels of dumb, but still “I have the IQ of a wet potato sack” levels of dumb.

Eventual negation of canon bc we live that life

“Espresso with a dash of Depresso” Moments TM

I'm originally an MLB fan. So do what you will with that info.

The good old “Ozmav AU” but with some lime and spice

As slow burn as I can

Mental Health stuff and the repercussions of having multiple identities treated completely differently

And the crown jewel of this entire fic… Auntie Harley and Ivy.

And….. sorry…. Ppl will kinda be OOC but im trying my very best.

Tbh I have no idea where this going rn but... i mean… it going somewhere (specifically hell) because everything does. Leave ideas plz, don’t kill me. Just bully me.

So yea. Lemme know what u want and if I want to, I might just squeeze it into the fic (if it fit ofc, im not just gonna add random 50 year time-lapses). I'll try my best ;)))) (<-- my quadruple chin)

Chloe’s head hangs heavy on Mari’s shoulder as the pressurised air surrounding them vibrates with the sounds… of well… a plane. Chloe had a tough couple weeks; late night combat practises with the new team (LB, Hornet, Viperion and Ryuuko) has obviously taken a toll on her partner. Both wrapped in a thick velvet blanket that Chloe remembered to pack (thank kwami) sharing a pair of headphones, both were lulled into a peaceful slumber.

Alya laughs as Lila tips her small glass of diet coke (that a flight attendant painstakingly poured for her) on a sleeping Marinette’s side of Chloe’s blanket, effectively waking her up. “Oopsies! Sorry Marinette! You see, the cabin air has really been worsening my arthritis. I didn’t mean it! I swear! Cross my heart!” apologized Lila with fake concern as Alya giggles beside her.

Marinette, literally seeing Lila’s crossed figures behind her back says “At least Chloe is still sleeping, she needs the rest.” Alya, Lila and her empty cup saunter beck to their seats nearby.

Mari and her class finally land in Gotham’s cold December night. Freshly hushed into a private shuttle, the class are driven to their hotel. It is late: around 3:30 AM. With heavy eyelids the class gazed out the bus’s windows in awe. The merging view of traffic and Christmas lights chase them to their residence. No one really remembers or knows what happened that night. Just the feeling of falling, be it into a white fluffy hotel comforter or into the crisp Gotham air.

“Oh! My! Gosh!!!” hears Marinette as Lila on the bus to Wayne Enterprise. “I feel so. At. Home!” In Marinette’s tired ears, there were more exclamation marks.

“Of course… The only thing that can inhabit Gotham alleyways are cockroaches and villains,” Chloe grumbles beneath her breath, looking out the window.

“What have I ever done to you Chloe?” Lila cries, “I understand why Marinette bullies me, she is a jealous and vile girl. But I thought you, Chloe, want to be a better person, not a bully like that bitch, Marinette!”

“How dare you. How dare you. HOW DARE YOU!” Chloe yells as the recent words loop in her mind,

“Not gonna call your daddy, huh?” Alya taunts.

Chloe, with tears in her eyes begins, but is quickly interrupted by Marinette, “No she will not. She doesn’t need to. Chloe grew a lot over the last couple months, I’m so proud of her. She doesn’t need your bitch-ass approval.” Marinette grasps Chloe’s hand which previously wrapped itself around the fabric of Chloe’s heavy caramel winter coat.

“Quiet on the bus!”, A yell came from the front.

“But, Mr. Bus Driver… Marinette is being a…”

“Shut it! Y’all want me to kamikaze this shit into a building? I’m guessing y’all value your lives so shut it!”

“Ms.Guardian, can I please have a cookie?” Pollen softly asks from the inside of Chloe’s giant white faux leather handbag.

“Shh… Pollen! Now’s not the time!!!” stresses Tikki.

“Please Ms. Guardian!!! I’m so so so hungry. This bag isn’t very warm and it’s taking all my energy to keep warm. A lil blubber wouldn’t hurt…. please!!”.

“Of course Pollen,” quietly respond Mari with a grin, “Here you go.” She pulls out a couple cookies from a Tupperware and hands them to Pollen. “Please share them with Tikki,” whispers Marinette into the bag.

Marinette and Chloe then hears two tiny “thank you”s followed by the sound that can only be described increasingly aggressive chomping. Both girls giggle quietly.

“Welcome to Gotham,” says an unenthusiastic man at the front desk. “Congratulations, you are…” He checks his computer. “On time? Interesting.”

“Yes, we are aware,” grumbles Mrs. Bustier, already done with the man’s attitude.

“Okay so before the tour starts I’m doing to need the student who set-up this field trip to sign a couple forms and stuff. Here ya go.” The man pushed a thicc pile of paper into the teachers hand.

“Oooh! That would be me sir!” Lila chirped, intercepting the papers before skipping back to her posse of her’s. A few seconds after beginning to fill out paperwork Lila cries “Ouch! My wrist! My arthritis! Can someone help me filling out all these form.”

“I’ll fill them out, I’m only going to need your signatures,” offered Max.

“Thank you Max, you are so sweet!” Lila complements.

“Of course, your arthritis was badly affected by the altitude yesterday, you shouldn’t be staining your wrist so early!” Max blushed.

“Maribug, you gonna to say something?”

“Nah, just watch. Entertainment without a Netflix membership.”

#dcu x mlb #dc x miraculous #daminette #maribat #marinette deserves better #chloe redemption #ozmav #ml salt #adrien salt #alya salt #lila salt #chloe sugar #we love chloe in this house #aunty harley and ivy of ya'll stick around #cross-posted on ao3 #miraculous salt

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

skin starving

tony stark x f!reader fluff. no warnings, just a few f-bombs. touch starved tony’s third person pov. words: 2,5k. no beta because i just really needed to get this off my chest.

recommended music to go with the story: two feet - 'love is a bitch' & 'quick musical doodles'. Or any lo-fi hip-hop radio really.

It started as an itch. At first, a small but bothersome thing, that kept him up at night, steering the already unreasonable hours of wakefulness into dangerous territory. The cold of his bed was unappealing and more often than not, he’d started passing out on the flat surfaces nearest to him: workshop, lab, common room couch, the lazy boy in Bruce’s apartment.

The team noticed, of course, they weren’t blind. They all had been on edge the first few months after Pepper left him. They expected him to act out, lock himself up in his lab or go back to his old habits of boozing and bringing home a different girl every night. And he had tried that, once or twice, but airheaded twenty-somethings weren’t appealing anymore. Most of the time their ass kissing and blatantly flattery annoyed him further into self-loathing abyss. He simply couldn’t step up to be the kind of man they described him to be - it seemed as if every woman on planet Earth had a whole list of expectations he specifically could not meet.

With Thor off planet, not one remaining person on the team was particularly touchy-feely. And that was the thing with Tony Stark: as an engineer, as a mechanic, he made his way through the world hands-first, every approach he had was hands-on. During late nights and early mornings, he laid in bed, sleepless and dreamless, desperately refusing to admit his own touch starvation.

Whenever Rogers threw an arm around his shoulders during a particularly successful team bonding activity, it took every ounce of willpower Tony had to not lean into it and purr like a cat. He hadn’t truly forgiven Steve for his cold, cruel words of criticism shortly after Pepper’s departing. He wasn’t going to chummy up to a man who thought him selfish, opportunistic and self-absorbed.

Tony became irritable and withdrawn. He simultaneously craved and avoided even the casual, friendlier attention his teammates gave him on a daily basis. His usual snark became that much more biting, having caused several people to storm out of team meetings.

On a cold autumn morning, Tony had found his way at the tower’s Starbucks on the employee floor. He had squeezed a generous five hours of restless sleep and he was sick of the plain black coffee in his kitchen. A spontaneous desire for something sweet and creamy and caffeinated led him to the place in line at the cafeteria, only a few early birds ahead of him.

Tony’s brain was hazy as it had been past few weeks, dull from the lack of rest and the hyperfixation of his own skin feeling alien to him. For once, he wasn’t typing away on his StarkPhone as he usually did to avoid being bothered; Tony stared straight ahead, unseeing, nothing but white noise in his usually racing brain.

Two women stood in front of him and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation.

“… Are you really horny or just lonely or touch-starved, though? I mean, Tinder? It’s not really your style.”

“Eh, I dunno. Probably the second but it’s not like men go on Tinder to find a cuddle buddy.”

“Well, maybe? I’ve heard about arrangements like that.”

“No offense, babe, but it’s probably kids in their early twenties. Those gen-z’s, babe, are weird. I’m not really up to date on all of that.”

The topic of the conversation was what piqued Tony’s interest; the world liked rubbing salt into his wounds and hysterically laugh at his misfortune. Bleary-eyed, he briefly scanned the two women: both appeared to be interns or junior techs in his company, evident by the purple employee badges hanging from their bags.

“So what are you going to do?” One woman asked the other as their turn to order took Tony one step closer to obtaining his desired caffeine.

“Unless someone normal magically appears with an offer of no-strings-attached, good ole’ snuggle fest, I guess I’m getting dicked down on Saturday,” The other replied with a teasing tone. The lack of excitement in the last part of the sentence was obvious.

“Gross,” The first one shook her head and hurriedly rattled off her order to the barista who looked about as disgruntled as Tony felt.

Hours and three coffees later, Tony’s overactive brain was still stuck on that woman from the cafeteria. Her back, her purse stuffed full of colorful manila folders, her neatly gathered hair - Tony Stark had nearly perfect memory and he remembered every single detail despite his brain fog. Objectively, she was attractive, no more no less than a different dozen of women he’d seen at any point in his life before. So why was he hung up on her?

It didn’t take him a long time to find her file, faster than he’d liked to admit. Manually sorting through hundreds of interns, lab technicians and various second-tier employees wasn’t exactly considered productive but with Pepper and her nagging out of the picture, Tony could afford to slack off a little bit.

So he found her name and her e-mail address, skimmed over her performance report with satisfaction, finding her to be a busy bee in the 90-th percentile. Her superiors considered her trustworthy, hard-working and communicative, all good traits.

Pepper’s absence meant he’d have no one to cover his ass should he get slapped with a harassment suit; however, he was the Tony Stark after all. He had more money that he’d cared to count and an army of lawyers at his disposal 24/7.

Amidst the jumbled mess of wires, circuit boards, tablets, empty coffee cups and the occasional piece of paper, Tony typed up an e-mail to the woman sharing his… Condition.

“I heard you and your friend talking at Starbucks. I could use a cuddle buddy. Wine and Netflix at my place? What’s your takeout preference?”

No. That came off way too creepy, like he was some kind of a dirty eavesdropper.

He contemplated some more, typing up and erasing multiple e-mails with various proposals: his penthouse, her place, a three Michelin star restaurant, a walk in the park. Almost all of it screamed ‘date’, like he’d drag her off to bed the very moment an opportunity wouldn’t present itself. It wasn’t so: Tony Stark, the playboy genius, had his dick firmly tucked into his pants. The thought of fucking her crossed his mind only briefly, quickly being chased away by the thought of her fingers running through his hair. Her warm, soft body in his arms. Just laying on his couch, eyes closed, reveling in each other’s arms.

Tony hit send on the least obnoxious option. He baited his breath, clicking his fingers in anticipation as the message showed itself to having been delivered.

“Mary, is this you trying to be funny? Stark is going to fire you if he finds out you’re impersonating him to stop your friend from going on a questionable date. Grow up.” Came the very prompt reply, ending with a short string of angry emojis. Tony could totally trust a person who used emojis unironically and generously.

“For the record, I wouldn’t be mad if somebody pretended to be me for the sake of saving their cute friend from a creep. The problem would be making it look credible.” Tony typed up the answer without thinking, quickly snapping a picture of himself holding the Starbucks cup with his name written on it, throwing his usual sloppy peace sign. He attached it to the email and hit send.

“WTF” Came the reply not a minute afterwards. He let it sink in, giving the woman some time to gather her wits. She did not disappoint. “Okay, even if we pretend this is real - which I doubt - what’s in it for you? If you heard our conversation, you surely know my stance on the matter.”

“I’m always glad to prove you wrong. I’m a genius - comes with the territory.” Tony simply couldn’t resist adding a generous dose of snark. “You’re welcome to meet me after clocking out. Use the private elevator, my AI will beam you up.”

The reply took a considerably long amount of time, seeing as previously, she typed back rather quickly. “Please don’t be a creepy rapist, Scotty. Fingers crossed.” Tony managed to almost break his stylus twice. His hands shook, and he had to tell himself to breathe - still, he laughed at the clever way she replied.

Several more hours later, during which Tony had nearly paced a hole through various floors on the residential side of the tower, he took a quick shower, dressed in a flattering but comfortable designer sweatpants and polo combo and made himself at home on the obscenely large living room sofa on his own, private penthouse floor.

He was up and running towards the elevator when Friday’s voice notified him of the woman entering the elevator on the employee floor. Tony tousled his hair, adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the drawstring of his pants.

The woman was wearing casual office wear, pants and a loose blouse, a lab coat loosely draped over her arm and her purse hanging off the shoulder on a thin strap. Her hair was loose now, a little frizzy as if she continuously ran her hands through it. Tony quietly rejoiced at not being the only nervous one.

Clever eyes scanned the room with unhurried interest before finally landing on him. “Not too shabby, if I say so myself,” The corners of her mouth tilted in an attempt at a smile, it was obvious she was studying him.

“Thanks, I try my best,” Tony smirked. Humble he was not. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“I see a comfortable couch,” She looked to be grateful for being given the opportunity to lead this interaction. “Let’s park our behinds on it, bicker for ten minutes about a movie choice and settle on one none of us really like. Then we can tell each other our no-no zones and, well, yeah,” She started out confidently. Probably practiced in the elevator. But towards the end, her shyness took over.

For Tony, it was kind of cute. A nice change from suck-ups that flocked him at every social gathering in hopes of getting something out of him. The woman that had tossed her bag carelessly on the far end of the couch and untucked her blouse looked and felt like the exact opposite of those people. She looked willing to give.

Tony sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches of free space between them. “Food preferences? Food allergies?” He asked, tapping the food delivery application.

“Nope, and I will eat just about anything.” He felt more than saw her side-eyeing him. Both of them were jittery. So uncharacteristic for Tony, to be blushing and stammering like a high school boy. Sex was easy, but intimacy? Complex. It was addictive and eventually, painful.

Movie decisions were surprisingly easy and she said so. They settled on a Tarantino classic, an old flick neither of them had watched in a long time. As the discussion progressed, Tony used his wits to find out more about her without making it seem like an interrogation. He had run a background check on the woman and her family but those only went that far, besides, it was a great opportunity to practice the tips Natasha had shared with him at one point or another. Being friends with spies had it’s perks.

They ate their food until their bellies were full. A comfortable, relaxing stupor, being warm from the inside out.

Tony noticed when the woman spoke, she spoke with her hands. She had caught herself grasping his forearm multiple times when they’d got more passionate about their discussion. And what Tony loved the most was that she refused to apologize. He saw a kindred soul in the woman; quiet until something struck her fancy. Then, she became a whirlwind of ideas and opinions.

In no time, it became a natural action to extend his arm and wrap it around her shoulders, reclining backwards. There was little grace in laying belly-up like a dead fish but the woman didn’t seem to mind. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laid down sideways, throwing a leg over one of his own.

Her palm traced the outline of his arc reactor when something on the screen caught her in a moment of intense interest. Tony preferred to avoid the cursed thing - scars around it definitely did not do any favour to his aging, marked body - but he found himself exhaling the tension when it was obvious the woman really did not care. An occasional quiet hum of satisfaction was the only noise that came from her: he noticed the sound escaped her lips every time his thumb began fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed against her arm.

He was quite content. It was warm, he was surrounded by so much warmth.

The hug was mutual when she left home, both of them comfortable with the gesture for people who had met in a rather unconventional way.

She started coming over a couple of times a week, a quiet evening of the best takeout in NYC and (mostly) interesting movies. A solace, always a single e-mail away.

Tony saw her in the cafeteria once or twice; he appreciated the brief, tiny secretive grin she gave him out of her friend’s eyesight. She never approached him. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with all the drama and all the fuss surrounding incidents between him and his employees. It was nobody’s business what any of them did after clocking out - and him and his cuddle buddy, they weren’t even fucking, for Thor’s sake.

Maybe they would get there someday. Or maybe they won’t. It was only now for Tony. The rare free Saturday night he had, he truly took a vacation from all the bullshit and lured her in with promises of very expensive wine, her favourite New York style pizza and the willingness to entertain watching a few of those funny YouTube videos she liked.

They did watch them and Tony didn’t mind. He stepped over the irrational fear and the initial discomfort and curled up around her, hiding his face in the soft cotton of her worn hoodie, his own breath tickling his face in warm puffs. The hand running through his hair was tender like it never was with Pepper - his ex was far too preoccupied to baby her grown-up boyfriend. But the woman moulded to his body like an extension of himself was happy to do so. Tony’s hair was longer now and it glided perfectly along the woman’s palms.

His heart was steady, thumping in his ears, overshadowing the noises coming from the TV. He exhaled and felt her other hand begin tracing circles on his back, as if she saw the stress and the bitterness leave his body with every caress, every brush of their bodies. Maybe she did?

He held onto her, held her back like she’d held him. Safekeeping the warmth inside of him. Guarding his peace.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fluff #tony stark feels #bun writes #bun writes: drabbles

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perpetualoverthinker · 5 years ago

Text

New In Town (JJ x Reader)

(not my gif!)

Summary: It’s junior year on the Outer Banks and a new face shows up in town, catching the attention of a particular blunt rolling surfer...

Warnings: underage drinking, swearing, weed

WC: 2.3k

A/N: Sooo I’m not really sure what this is...I just had a really strong urge to write something and so I just wrote whatever came to mind (aka Outer Banks because that’s all I can think about rn lol). Most of this first part is exposition (I’m sorry!!) but hopefully things will spice up in the next chapter, even though I plan on making this a slow burn. Also, I’m not sure how often I’ll update this story, but for now I plan on continuing to write it! This is my first time writing fanfic, so please go easy on me lol. I love getting feedback on the things I write, so don’t hesitate to leave some (or write anything you’d like to see in following chapters)!

When your dad told you he was uprooting the whole family away from the city and down to the Outer Banks, you felt your heart drop. The thought of leaving New York, the only home you had ever known, and moving down south filled you with dread. How were you supposed to adjust? You wouldn’t see your friends, you would be leaving the high school you knew so well, and you didn’t even like the beach that much. You had nothing to look forward to in North Carolina.

Your dad had told you and your sisters that it would be a fresh start. He said that he had some friends down there and that this was your chance to begin anew. After your mom had died, your father had felt there were too many memories in New York. Too many fresh wounds. You felt differently, of course, and fought him on it. Sometimes it felt like you were winning the argument and other times it felt like you had no chance. Ultimately, you lost.

The summer before junior year was coming to an end as the car pulled up into your new driveway. The house was fancy and absurdly big for your four-person family. It perfectly blended in with the large, luxurious houses scattered throughout the neighborhood. You laughed at the gaudiness of it all. You quickly jumped out of the car and waited with your sisters as the moving truck slowly parked along the curb.

“Girls, help me with the boxes while I unlock the door, will you?” your dad shouted as he headed for the front door.

You made your way to the truck and started heaving boxes towards the house, your sisters trailing behind you, lugging whatever they could. You made sure you picked up the boxes labeled “y/n’s room” first. All you wanted was to escape to your room and wallow. As you were about to step inside the house, you noticed a girl about your age running up your driveway. Dressed in a floral summer dress, long blonde hair flowing behind her, she shouted, “Hey!” You watched her wearily as you dropped the boxes at your feet.

“You’re the new neighbors, right?”

“We indeed are!” your dad exclaimed as he came up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m Sarah,” she said as she extended her hand out to your dad, “I live just around here and thought I should introduce myself.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.” He shook her hand, smiling. “We’re the y/l/ns. This is Nicky and Jo.” he said while gesturing to the two little girls (who were already getting bored of the conversation) sitting cross-legged on the ground, picking at the grass. “And this is y/n.” He shook your shoulders gently as you smiled awkwardly at the pretty girl.

“So, do you go to Kildare High School?”

“Ah, no. I go to the private school around here. But I have some friends who go to the public school.”

“Maybe you could introduce them to y/n!” You wished your father would stop talking sometimes. “Well, I should start hauling those boxes in. y/n, just bring up your boxes when you’re done.” He kissed you on the side of the head, waved at Sarah, and walked back inside, Nicky and Jo scampering behind him.

“I should probably head back,” Sarah pointed her thumb back and started to walk away but stopped midway. “Hey, um, I don’t know what you’re doing later tonight, but my friends are having an end-of-summer party down at the boneyard if you want to come?”

“Boneyard?”

“Oh, it’s just a beach. You’re welcome to come, though. Get to know some people on the island. It’s around 10.”

“Sure, I guess. I’ll see you then…”

“Great! I’ll meet you back here!” At that, she turned around and walked back down the driveway.

• • •

Soon enough, 10 o’clock came around and you were standing outside your front door. You weren’t sure what you were doing. The girl seemed nice enough, but how badly did you really want to make friends on an island you wished you weren’t on?

“Hey! You ready to go?” Once again, Sarah came jogging up your driveway and held up a six-pack of beer.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

As you strolled along the road headed towards the beach, you admired the environment surrounding you. Being in the city your whole life, you weren’t used to seeing mass amounts of trees or hearing crickets chirp through the night. The steady hum of the night seemed to ease some of your tension. You took a moment to close your eyes and take it in while you walked. The girl beside you glanced over at you and smiled.

“I think that’s the most I’ve seen you relax. Earlier today, it looked like you couldn’t wait to run away from me,” she chuckled.

“Sorry about that. Let’s just say moving wasn’t my idea.”

“So why did you move?”

You felt your throat go a little dry. “Um, my mom passed away about eight months ago.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” She grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“So my dad thought it would be a good idea to move here and get a new start. Me on the other hand, I thought we should’ve just stayed in New York.”

“Well, you’ve already made your first friend.” She smiled at you and kept holding your hand as you stumbled down to the beach.

Right away, you noticed an unusual split between partygoers. Scattered on one side of the beach stood people dressed in pastel polos, khaki shorts, boat shoes and designer bathing suits. On the other side, people were dressed in less expensive and more casual clothes.

A group of kids surrounding a beer keg looked over towards you and Sarah and started waving at the girl next to you. Sarah tugged you along towards the group. Letting go of your hand, she went to hug each kid. You suddenly felt out of place with the absence of your new friend’s hand.

Within the little huddle stood three boys and a girl. Sarah had gone up and kissed the brunette boy wearing a bandana around his neck and a button up shirt (in which the buttons seemed highly unnecessary, for he nearly had all of them unbuttoned). Stood beside him was a darker skinned boy wearing a snapback. He had his arms around the two other members of the group while he laughed along to whatever Sarah was saying at the moment. The girl had dark curly hair and friendship bracelets lined both of her wrists while the last boy was blonde and wore a cutoff shirt. He held a blunt in one hand and a beer in the other. You couldn’t help but notice that they were all obscenely attractive.

Where the fuck am I?

“Alright, alright, everyone. We have a newbie here! She’s my new neighbor.” Sarah announced as she gestured towards you. Suddenly all eyes were on you.

“Well hello there…” the blonde boy said while he sauntered over to you. You could tell he was trying to flirt, and your cheeks went red.

“JJ cool it. Don’t freak her out.” The other girl came up to you and grinned. “Don’t mind the horndog over here. I’m Kiara, but you can call me Kie.” You shook her hand. “And that’s John B. and Pope.” She pointed at each boy respectively. “And now you know who this idiot is.” She playfully shoved the blonde’s arm.

“I’m y/n.”

“Beer?” John B. asked, holding up a red solo cup. You nodded and moved closer to the group. “So y/n, where you from?”

“New York.”

“So a city girl, huh?” JJ laughed and raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, not much of a beach person I guess.”

“Not a beach person and she moves to the Outer Banks. I think you’ve chosen the wrong place to live.” Pope laughed as he downed the rest of his beer.

“What’s with the preppy kids separated from everyone else?” you ask, looking back towards the polo clad group. All of them except Sarah scoff at the mention of them. “What?” You looked at Sarah, confused.

“Listen, here on the island there are the kooks,” John B. paused to point over at the group, “and the pogues.” He made a circling gesture towards his friends.

“The kooks are rich entitled assholes who live on Figure Eight and pogues are the low-lives who live on the Cut. It’s war, my friend.” JJ stated while he glared at the kooks.

You tried stifling your laughter at the absurdness of it all after seeing the serious faces which had fallen upon the group. Your attempt to hold it in was feeble. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” you burst out.

“Thank you! Finally someone who agrees with me!” Sarah beamed.

“It’s not stupid! They really fucking suck!” JJ exclaimed.

“Well don’t you think it’s at least a little stupid? I mean come on. Only people in movies or celebrities have rivalries.”

“You’ll change your mind once you speak to one of them…” You only shook your head and chuckled to yourself. That is, until you noticed a few of the kooks heading over towards the keg.

“Jesus, here we fucking go.” JJ complained as he stepped in front of you. “What do you want Rafe?”

The tall blonde boy approaching smirked. “I heard I got a new neighbor,” he said while eying you up and down. All you could do was make a face. “Just wanted to make sure she wasn’t making the same mistake my sister made, hanging out with you losers.”

“And why does who I decide to hang out with concern you?” you asked as you sidestepped out of JJ’s protective stance.

“Woah, fiery. I like that…” he chuckled. You noticed JJ’s body tense when Rafe took a step towards you. You rolled your eyes and stepped back to avoid him getting any closer.

“Listen, not gonna happen bud.” You turned around and started walking to the keg, hoping to just end the unwanted interaction there.

“Whatever, your loss!” he called out. “Hope you enjoy whoring yourself out to these dirty pogues.” You stopped dead in your tracks, whipping yourself around. Before you could let out a response, JJ charged Rafe and punched him square in the jaw. In one swift moment, Rafe’s goonies and the pogues behind you rushed towards the two squabbling boys. Rafe threw some punches and busted JJ’s eyebrow, but JJ soon had Rafe beneath him and was throwing punch after punch. You could see blood dripping down the kook’s face, splattering after each blow. Beside you, Kie and Sarah were yelling at the boys to stop. John B. and Pope both rushed to wrangle JJ off of Rafe as the kooks attempted to drag him out from under.

“You’re fucking dead, pogue!” Rafe pointed at JJ as he retreated with his friends.

Looking over at JJ, one wouldn’t have thought he had just gotten into a fight. Sure, scrapes littered his face and you could see purple starting to blossom along his cheek and eye but plastered on his face was a shit eating grin. “Why the fuck are you smiling?”

“Because I won,” he smirked and winked at you. You shook your head, laughing nervously.

Turning to Sarah, you said, “Listen, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“What? But you just got here!” she pouted, running up to you and grabbing your hands.

“I think I’ve seen everything I need to. There was beer, banter, a fight. I��m already partied out.” You chuckle, more to yourself than to Sarah.

“Alright, fine. You want me to walk you home?”

“I can do it.” You and Sarah turned to look at JJ as he raised his hand slightly. “I’ve got to clean up anyways,” he said, gesturing to his face.

“Ok, sure.” You looked at him, once again blushing, as he moved towards you.

The walk home was mostly silent, with the exception of you giving directions every so often. JJ had rolled another blunt and the two of you were passing it between each other, huffing out smoke as you walked. You weren’t sure why he had volunteered to walk you home. Maybe he felt bad for you, you thought. Or maybe he just wanted to get in your pants. The thought made your cheeks flush. All you knew was that the silence was eating away at you.

“Hey, thanks for tonight,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

“For what?”

“Defending me, walking me home…”

“Oh, no problem.” You saw him blush a little. “Rafe’s an asshole. He had it coming.”

“You probably didn’t need to punch him,” you said as you glanced at his scraped-up face.

“What’s the fun in that?” The smirk from before reappeared.

“You find getting punched in the face fun?” you asked incredulously.

“Nah…I find the punching fun.” He took a drag of the blunt and passed it to you. As the two of you were approaching your house, you found yourself wishing you hadn’t walked so fast.

You slowed down at the end of the driveway and turned to JJ. “Well, this is me…” JJ stopped and stared at the house before him, letting out a low whistle. “What?”

“When Sarah said you were her neighbor, I knew you were rich, but I didn’t know you were rich rich.” You scoffed at the remark, rolling your eyes.

“I swear to god, if you call me a kook, I’ll kick your ass,” you said in a serious tone, but you couldn’t help but smile.

“Is that a threat?” He bit his lip and cocked his eyebrow.

“Maybe…” you said slyly as you walked up towards your front door, JJ still following. Slipping your key into the lock and opening the door, you looked back at him. “I’ll see you around pogue.” Then you shut the door.

“Jesus…” JJ mumbled under his breath, turning the other way and laughing to himself.

Leaning against the door, you smiled ear to ear. Maybe you did have something to look forward to on this island…

CH 2

#outer banks netflix #obx netflix #outer banks imagine #jj x reader #jj imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx fanfiction

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aveys6 · 4 years ago

Text

little wip

how richie's health changes in relation to his relationship w eddie

* the dialogue is rough bc i intend on actually putting it into structured sentences in ao3, bare w me

age 13 - 1989

"sorry guys, cant hang today. i have a hot appointment scheduled with dr noelle" he lifted his eyebrows and shit to insuate prostitution

"so, what, you have a physical?" stan said unimpressed

"that's the techinical term, stanny, but we all know better. i cant wait to have her hot bod all over me on the examination table-"

a chorus of dismissal waves around him, and eddie elbows his upper arm. stan even mutters something about 'examination' being quite a big word for richie to use.

"i bet theyre gonna test you for HIV. or maybe you'll get diagnosed with lung cancer from all of those cigarettes you've been smoking. *insert fact about smoking here that was probably exaggerated*"

"oh yeah? and where'd you hear that? your mommy?" richie challenged, ignoring eddies mention of the 'queer disease'

"ill have you know, dipwad, that my mom is highly educated in the field of medicine. cigarettes are insanely addictive-"

rich cuts him off and mocks with a nasally voice

"according to my calculations, cigarettes have roughly 236 chemicals in them-"

"thats basically true!"

"you guys are infuriating, but im pretty sure eddie's right on this one"

"thank you stan!"

"my mom says its fine because im young"

"im pretty sure she said that in reference to your junk food intake which you should also cut back on-"

"anyway," rich cuts in "im 100% sure everything will go completely fine. my doctor will be swayed by my irresistible charm to which she will then add a couple inches to my heigh chart so i can officially be 5'4 and make fun of you all"

eddie was determined not to smile, his quivering lips miraculously staying straight and expressionless "thats not how it works and you know it"

"not with that attitude!" noogie on eds

"fuckin quit it!"

his heel was practically slapping the waiting room floor, eyes flittering over childish paintings of sea creatures on the walls.

eddies irrational-but-not-quite-irrational rants finally processed in his mind.

richie never liked worrying his friend. he knew the boy's mom was a nutjob and said as such often (as well as vocalized his extreme desire to 'love her up'). he knew eddie was basically brainwashed.

it was scary, having someone worry about you. it means they cared. richie never truly comprehended why they cared. why eddie specifically cared. but it also felt good to have someone worry about him, outside of his mother, who, speaking of, gently placed a hand on his knee to stop its incessant movement.

richie wasnt the prime of schoolgirl crushes. he looked a little buggish: big eyes, thin limbs- clumsy and annoying. he wondered why eddie of all people gave him the time of day, and sometimes even more than that.

"richie toe-zee-air?"

the pair stood up despite mispronunciation.

richie was more than delighted to announce that his appointment was flawlessly average. everyone knows the deal: lie about how many fruits and veggies you consume, exaggerate how early you go to bed, deflect when the doctor asks if you've experienced any romantic or sexual attraction, count the inches of a growth spurt- no biggie.

"im sorry for, like, berating you earlier. i dont like doctors."

"i would hardly call what you did berating eds. it was your normal amount of neuroticism. dont sweat it"

there was a pause

eddie breaks the silence "i just worry sometimes"

ah, so it was confirmed.

"i know you do, eds."

"how do you know the word neuroticism?"

"heard my dad say it."

--------

age 25 - 2001

richie was back to tapping his foot on the linoleum of a waiting room. this time, alone, with no one to calm his fire-y energy. its not like he wanted the tapping to stop anyway. the repetitive motion helped ease the anticipation of getting scolded for letting himself go. this time not by a boy he couldnt catch the name of, but by a licensed professional.

he reasoned that he would rather hear it from the boy. what the hell was that shit bag's name?

this was the first appointment he had attended and organized since his pediatrician refused another after his 22nd birthday. she was already stretching the age limit of which he could visit (said extension curtesy of his dad being friends with medicinal people).

he figured it was time to move on with his life once snotty kids started giving him weird looks for fidgeting with the baby toys displayed near check-in. what says being an adult more than scheduling your own health appointments? richie answers that question by saying 'having to pay for them'.

richie's silent complaints are interrupted by a soft knock. a very typical, white-haired, doctor you'd see in movie, type of dude sauntered in.

"mr tozier, im dr sigman, how're we doin'?" he said, pumping obscene amounts of hand sanitizer.

richie replied automatically, "i'm doing pretty well, doc', how are you?"

as one can tell by the excruciatingly boring small talk, richie seemed to have lost his most palatable edge: quirky socialization.

"eh, my condition is not what's important here. how about you sit up on this here table and we can listen to your heart and lungs."

richie followed the instruction, heart rate increasing accordingly. the paper on the bench-table-thing crinkled far too loudly to be acceptable. maybe he was hungover. it would explain the heightened senses.

"so, according to your medical records, tozier, you haven't had an annual physical since- uh..." the man scanned his clipboard, "1998, correct?"

"that is correct, sir" his ears were aflame.

"mkay. you eat healthy?"

okay, then, they were getting right into it

"as healthy as i can, sir" what kind of fuckin answer was that?

dr sigman grimaced a bit, clearly knowing richies response meant his patient ate an apple every month or so to throw his body for a loop or, rather, 'reset' the ol' immune system. a shallow try at 'taking back your life' like some tabloid bullshit.

"you have a stable sleep schedule?"

richie shrugged with an "i guess" that conveyed that his average hours of sleep per night were as dreadful as his attempt at a balanced food pyramid plate.

"smoke or drink?"

now thats the million dollar question

#richie tozier #it 2017 #it 2020 #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #yeah idk

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

two tails | the series prologue | reader x minho

in which a chance encounter with your neighbor’s fluffy cat buds a romance when you least expected it

Part One coming early January

if ya would like to be on the taglist for when this series starts, send me an ask ♡

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: a lil bit of everything!

Tags: neighbors au, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, skz side characters, slow burn, gradual romance, neighbors to lovers, friends to lovers

Word/part count: tbd!

Requested: by a lovely anon!

Chapters now available!

Start here ➡️ ONE

[open me for the prologue]

The tabby cat yawned, stretching out it’s little white paws in front of itself. You would have thought that the poor little lost thing would have been much more panicked, but this cat was rather the opposite. It’s golden-brown eyes dilated while it studied you.

“What am I going to do with you...” The cat’s fur was cloud-like between your fingers. “Clearly someone takes care of you...you’re not gonna tell me who?”

The cat stared at you blankly and unamused.

“Of course you can’t...you’re a cat...what am I saying.”

The cat rubbed it’s orange cheek into the side of your hand, a thankful little sign of trust.

“Nothing scares you, huh?”

As if saying, yes, the cat’s scratchy tongue licked at it’s chops.

“Hungry? I’ve got just the thing for you.”

The aged wood flooring of your duplex groaned under your feet while you patted your way to your kitchen. The tiny modest place flooded with the late-morning light. Streams of light brushed past the windows lined with your garden’s menagerie of budding flowers. In her usual spot on the windowsill was your calico, Bomi. Her sleeping green eyes peeked at you lazily when you entered.

“You’re not gonna say hi to our new friend, Bo?”

Temperamental as always, Bomi chose when she wanted to recognize your voice.

“Hope you don’t mind that I’m borrowing some of your food for then.” You scooped out some of Bomi’s kibble--a sound which made her twitch her ears. “I’ll leave you to your nap, princess Bomi.”

Even flattery didn’t phase that cat.

Once you had returned, the tabby had jumped up onto the edge of a chair overlooking your front lawn. The cat was unmoving and sphinx-like as it watched the cars roll past.

“Here’s some food. If you want it.”

The cat twisted it’s head back as if to say thank you.

“You’re alright, Cat. Maybe I should keep ya!” You scratched behind it’s ears eliciting little purrs. “No...I shouldn’t do that. Someone’s probably looking for you right now.”

Across the room, your TV hummed with the cooking show you had been watching before your walk.

“Well...I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll just be...over there.”

You slid back onto your couch, cuddling yourself up as tightly as you could into one of the sides. It was no wonder that you adored cats as much as you did when you were so similar to them. On your most peaceful days, there was nothing more that you enjoyed than reading or writing out in your garden, soaking up the sun, or your quiet nights with open windows, cicadas singing and fireflies dancing to their tune while you would wash your dishes.

Never had you thought that talking to Bomi was strange. She was your only companion, even if she would begrudgingly accept your love. You couldn’t picture your quiet little life without her.

The tabby loafed it’s body on the upholstery and you laid yourself down too. The constant droning of the chef on TV was the perfect lullaby to your sleepy eyes...

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Ding dong!

“Hello?” His muffled voice seeped through your front door.

You shot awake from your couch with a startled gasp, your socks had twisted themselves all around your feet making them look like little elf booties. Undoubtedly your hair had resembled a bird’s nest.

The tabby stared at you with wide eyes and chirped as you approached the door. For a couple moments you fumbled with the obscene amount of keychains on your keys--many of them cat themed.

“Can-can I help you?” You tried your best to rub the nap out of your eyes and patted down the knots in your hair.

“Oh. Ahem Hi, I’m-uh, I live a couple houses down, I wanted to see if you had seen a cat around, maybe in your yard, it’s a tabby, they’ve got some white on their belly and their face...”

There were other words that had escaped out of his mouth, but those easily slipped past you. What was startling was how he was really...pretty. You had never really seen someone quite like him that made you feel as such. There was something about him too that seemed a little cat-like: perhaps it was his chocolate eyes, or bouncy coca-colored hair. He wore silver wire glasses that framed his face perfectly. There was a cardigan draped around his elegant figure, and it pooled at his hands into little paws.

“...have you seen them? I’m sorry to bother you.” He pushed his glasses up his nose bridge.

“Oh! Sorry, yeah, I’ve--”

The tabby yowled out, suddenly and proudly making its presence known.

“Doongie!” The boy gasped out, and promptly scooped the cat up while it’s legs dangled. “Thank you so, so much.”

“It’s no worry at all, I have a cat of my own, so it was no issue. I gave them some of my cat’s food as well.”

“Oh really?” His smile was just as pleasant and calming as you could have expected. “What kind? And thank you.”

“Calico. I think that she hates me most days but what would I do without her, you know?”

“Ahhh. That’s the life of a cat owner.”

You chuckled out a bit. “Hm. Yeah, it is.”

His face lit with realization. “Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself, I’m all over the place—I’m Minho. Lee Minho, from 2503.”

“I don’t think that I’ve seen you around this neighborhood before?” You leaned into the doorframe. “Then again...I don’t get out of my house all that much...” You laughed aloud a little at yourself.

“Me either,” He joined you. “Actually, I just moved back in with my mom, one thing after the other happens and living in the city doesn’t stack up too well...commuting is what works best for me now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry...”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. It’s a lot nicer than I realized coming back home after being away for so long. She helps me with my cats as well. I have three.”

“Three?!”

He warmly laughed. “It’s kind of a lot isn’t it? For one person?”

“No, no! If I could have more cats I would, but...the one I’ve got already is a bit of a handful sometimes.”

“Maybe you could meet them one day...if you’d like?”

Minho’s cat Doongie had settled into his arms cozily, tail swinging and a paw slung over his arm.

“...Sure! But, I-I don’t want to impose--”

“--Please, my mother would love for me to invite someone over. She already thinks I’m a recluse.”

You cracked out a hard “HA” and Minho’s face flushed as pink as the petals from your yard’s cherry blossom tree.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just that my mother thinks the exact same about me.”

Minho nervously joined in your laughter. “Good to know I’m not alone.”

Between both of you and the door frame, an awkward silence pervaded the air.

“I-uh, should get going...but--you didn’t tell me your name?” Minho swayed his cat gently in his arms.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Ah...Y/n. I’ll...be seeing you around then?”

“See you around.” You smiled to him as he clumsily attempted to walk backwards off your front porch.

You closed the door after him, facing the tiny mirror nearby. You looked an utter mess, baggy eyes and hair looking as if it had survived a windstorm. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at yourself.

meow?

Bomi had sauntered up to you, then twisted between your legs.

“Sorry Bo, guess we don’t get to keep the cat.”

Bomi licked at the hair on her leg, going right back to ignoring you.

“I...wouldn’t mind seeing them again.”

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floral-and-fine · 4 years ago

Text

Endless Orange part 1

Fred Weasley x Fem reader

Summary: Feeling lonely, fate leads Fred to a coffee shop.

A/n: Hey, y'all! This story will definitely have more than one part! Already almost done with part 2 :) I'm having a lot of fun with it and I'm pretty happy with it so far! It'll probably be mostly fluff and maybe some smut, we'll see :P Enjoy!

Thank you @luna-xial for the help!

Fred sighed as he started closing up shop for the night. He sent George home early. It seemed appropriate for his brother, who had a beautiful wife and children waiting for him, to get every chance he could to spend the evening at home with them.

George had suggested that they close early and that Fred should join them for dinner, but he declined the offer.

While Fred was always welcomed in their home, he was beginning to feel like a burden. Gradually, more and more of his time was spent alone. He was beginning to feel like a third wheel. The uncle who was constantly hanging around, staying longer than he should, well after the children had gone to bed.

Even amongst the rest of his family, he felt left out, it was a rather odd thing to feel. Everyone seemed to have somebody, his parents had each other, Bill had Fluer, Percy had Audrey, George had Angelina, Ron had Hermione, Ginny had Harry, even Charlie had his dragons… He had never felt like the odd man out before.

Up until recently, Fred and George had been moving in the same direction born together, went to school together, worked together…but now his life and the life of his twin had finally splintered and they were finally on different paths.

Fred often caught himself wanting to turn to George and share an idea or a witty joke, only to realize that his brother wasn’t there.

He was truly happy for George and Angelina. He just sort of wished that he had someone too.

But instead of meeting anyone or even trying to meet anyone, Fred focused on the business. He spent countless hours working alone on new products. Stayed late doing whatever he could to stay distracted.

If Fred was being honest with himself, he’d admit that all the time he was spent at work was to avoid having to deal with his loneliness. Sometimes he even worked through the night or would fall asleep in the workshop to avoid having to come home to his dark and empty apartment.

Fred tucked his hands into his pockets, there wasn’t anything left for him to do. Everything was clean, shelves were stocked, the store was all set for tomorrow.

He would spend time developing new products but lately, he was having a dry spell, no new ideas or if he did have one it wasn’t any good.

Fred started feeling anxious, standing there in an empty store with nothing but silence to keep him company, slowly that lonely feeling he dreaded was starting to sink in.

Shaking his head, he quickly slipped on his jacket and locked the door.

Outside the air was cool and crisp, and the night sky was full of stars. Not wanting to go home, Fred started walking aimlessly.

Most of the businesses he passed were closed for the night. The streets were dark and vacant with the exception of the occasional street lamp and stray cat.

Fred mulled over ideas in his head for new products, he had been thinking about that age line spell from 6th year, wondering if there was a way him and George could create a cream or candy that would age the user by 100 years, temporarily of course.

He frowned to himself, wondering if it was even a good idea and if their customers would even buy something like that.

Could just be a waste of time… or it could be a fun prank to pull on someone else. The kids who witnessed him and George suddenly become old men seemed to find it pretty hilarious. Fred continued to go back and forth on the idea until he gave up.

He groaned loudly, this was way easier when George was around to bounce ideas off of. He’d just have to wait until tomorrow morning, see what George had to say then.

Fred finally stopped walking once he realized that he had no clue where he was. He could easily apparate home, but his eyes were drawn to the building he stopped in front of.

The warm light was like a beacon, pulling Fred to it, without thinking he entered the small muggle establishment.

Inside it was cozy and smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.

The woman behind the counter watched Fred intently with a playful smile on her lips. His unique orange suit that clashed with his red hair piqued her interest, making her want to know more about him. He was by far the most intriguing person that’s walked in all week.

He carefully took in his new surroundings, mismatched furniture, local artwork decorating the walls, and the homey interior that reminded him of the burrow.

“Can I help you?” She spoke up, finally drawing his attention to her.

Fred blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open, he wasn’t expecting to meet anyone so...attractive. He openly stared a moment longer, taking in her features and her bright smile.

As he was about to reply, his mouth snapped shut, it just dawned on him that he didn’t have any money to pay for anything, well not any money that she’d want anyway.

Sheepishly running his hand through his hair, Fred chuckled, “‘Afraid I don’t have any money on me.”

“That’s alright, find a place to sit and I’ll bring you a little something,” y/n said pulling out an orange mug.

“You don’t have to do that,” Fred objected.

She laughed, “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing fancy. I’m gonna have to throw out this pot of coffee in a bit anyway.”

Fred smiled and took a seat by the window. She brought him a cup of coffee and a scone on a small matching plate, setting them both in front of him.

“Thank you…. y/n,” Fred added reading her name on the tag pinned to her apron. “I’m Fred, by the way,” he introduced himself.

“You’re welcome, I guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s just old coffee and a stale pastry.”

She lingered by the table, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet. “May I ask you a question?” Y/n finally asked, tilting her head.

“Sure,” Fred answered, taking a big bite of the scone, now realizing how hungry he was.

“What’s with the suit?”

He chuckled, “just left work.”

Y/n nodded, “and?”

Fred just stared at her, not quite understanding her interest in the suit.

“It’s just such an unusual color,” she explained, now noticing the gold ‘W’ pin on his tie and the playful design on his dress shirt.

“Oh, well, you see my brother George and I run a joke shop together, the suit just kind of goes with it all.”

She clapped her hands together, “That’s fantastic! Honestly, I love it, it’s a great suit.” Without thinking y/n took the seat across from Fred, not that he minded.

“So you and your brother own a joke shop? You look awfully young to own your own business.”

“Georgie and I have had a lifelong passion for practical jokes and pranks,” he explained, adding an obscene amount of sugar to his coffee. “We started designing and making our own products while we were still in school.”

“That’s incredible,” y/n gushed. “So as boys did you guys start off with things like hand buzzers and whoopee cushions?”

Fred quirked an eyebrow, what in the world was a whoopee cushion, “a what?”

“Oh you know, it’s a rubber cushion filled with air that you hide on someone’s seat, so it makes it sound like they broke wind,” she described.

Fred laughed, “That’s brilliant.”

He didn’t quite share his father’s interest in muggle gadgets, but maybe that’ll change. He could already imagine what the magical counterpart of a whoopee cushion would be like.

“What were some of your favorite pranks from your childhood?” Y/n asked, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Fred started sharing stories of some of their earlier pranks, making sure he left out all talk of magic and spells. The sound of her laughter and genuine interest spurred him on.

“Fireworks? Really? That’s unbelievable!” She gasped.

“I don’t think you quite grasp how much we despised that woman,” He smirked, finishing off his cup of coffee.

Y/n sighed, it had been quite some time since she’d had so much fun. She was about to ask him another question until she spotted the clock hanging on the wall.

“Oh wow!” She announced practically jumping out of her seat. “It’s getting late! It’s already past closing.”

“Sorry,” Fred started, standing up and getting ready to leave, but y/n lightly swatted his arm.

“Don’t be! I really enjoyed talking with you.” She grabbed the empty dishes off the table. Looking up at Fred, she bit her lip. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

A wide grin formed on Fred’s face, “Do you work tomorrow night?”

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #Female reader #reader insert #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley fluff

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joshslater · 5 years ago

Text

Cheat Day

This is a rewrite of a story I read like a year ago and forgot to bookmark in any way. Please sent a note if you know where to find the original... Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Michael stared at the door. There was still time to back out. To go back home and accuse Tom of cheating. Although Michael was assertive, tough even, he didn’t like confrontation. Not real, emotional confrontation. As soon as he saw the text he knew it wasn’t just another Grindr hookup. He and Tom decided very early on that sex and love were two very different things, and whatever they did to each other in the bedroom would only get better if they had inspiration from other encounters.

Still, looking at the door it felt like cheating. He had been pacing the apartment for minutes in a mix of emotions. Sadness, anger, jealousy, disbelief. He had opened all the hookup apps he had in an impulsive fit of desperately seeking a revenge fuck. A revenge fuck with someone else. It was only minutes later that he had found Jonathan, who appeared as eager as him, nearby, and with a matching profile. Gay bottom who needed a quick fuck.

Now in front of the door he wasn’t at all as sure anymore. Standing someone up wasn’t cool either. At the very least he should say sorry in person. He rung the door.

Almost instantly the door flung open and a revealed a good looking guy a year older than Michael, according to his profile. “Hey, big dude”, he said and placed a long, sloppy kiss on Michael. There wasn’t really any size difference between the two. In fact, apart from their faces they looked pretty much alike. Two skinny guys in their late twenties with a few days shade, similar haircuts and tattooed sleeves that looked the same if you squinted a lot. They even dressed alike, tight jeans and casual, high quality untucked shirt, rolled sleeves and not buttoned all the way up. ”You’re really gonna like this.” he said when he finally peeled away from the kiss. Michael could nothing but agree.

“I’m Michael. I guess I should ask if you are Jonathan, but with that greeting I would be very disappointed if I had to leave.” Jonathan smiled a wry smile. “Trust me, you are not leaving without my permission”, and he placed another slobbering kiss.

“I like your hair. I guess you need something practical with all the gym time you clock. Fits with the whole dumb jock image you’re going for.” If Michael had a dumb look, it was because he had no idea what Jonathan was talking about. He hadn’t been in a gym for months. He could live off donuts and coffee and still not put on any weight, try as he might. Jonathan’s hands were all over him, while he kicked the door shut. “I bet it takes a lot to keep such a muscled body. I bet you meal prep twice a week, eat five times a day, and stay off all processed food, all sweets, all alcohol. That takes some serious dedication.” Oh! Michael could see what he was doing. He was setting up a role playing scene.

“Lifting is life, bro” Michael tried. “There’s my fucking gym bro. It’s all about the gains and looking good naked. That’s why you shave everything below the nose, right? To make the muscles show better.”

Jonathan smiled and kissed Michael deep again, while his hands where all up inside Michael’s shirt. Michael had never shaved anything except for his face, and recently he hadn’t bother with anything but running a trimmer a few times a week.

“It’s time for your post-workout shake, right? Best time while you still have that after sweat glow. I have it ready in the kitchen for you.” “Thanks. Sure is, bro”

Michael couldn’t remember when he last had one. Years ago at least. It was chalky and not at all something he would ever ask for again. He followed Jonathan into the kitchen, and as soon as he entered Jonathan threw a plastic shaker at him. “Catch! Chug it! You’ll love it.”

It tasted like vanilla. Strangely he did like it. Had he even had lunch, or was that forgotten too in the whole text message and cheating business? Something about Jonathan made both his dick and thinking really hard. No other bottom he’d met had ever been so assertive, so in charge. But bottom and sub were different things, and he couldn’t deny that it made him want to fuck his brains out all the more. So when Jonathan led him to the bedroom he was actually worried the amount of pre-cum would show.

“Let’s stop cosplaying and get this shit off you!” Jonathan said and ripped Michael’s shirt open, sending buttons in all directions. “What the hell, bro?” “You know anything with buttons are too inconvenient. You never use them.”

He unbuttoned Michael’s jeans for him. “Get naked and get in bed.” Confused he did as he was told and kicked off his shoes and slid down his jeans and boxers. Not only was his dick and balls slippery and shiny of pre-cum, but all of his body was glistening of sweat in the dim bedroom light. As he stepped out of the pile of clothes he realized he was completely smooth. Not a single hair as far as he could see. It made sense, since he was playing jock and it would make the muscles really pop, but something about it wasn’t right. He reached for the socks, but Jonathan stopped him. “That’s enough! On your back!”

Michael might be playing a dumb jock, but he knew something was terribly wrong. Very slowly he sat down on the bed. His arms looked pathetic. The rest of the body too. But that was just disappointing, not really something to be alarmed about. Jonathan stepped forward, grabbed both his legs and raised them from the floor, forcing Michael on his back.

“Let’s fuck you into shape, shall we?” he said and thrust his dick into Michael’s ass. Michael wasn’t prepared at all for the onslaught and sounded an indiscreet yelp. His brain was going through questions, looking for the right one. Why was he lying down while Jonathan was standing up? And again, a second thrust. Why was he almost naked while Jonathan had only unbuttoned his jeans? A loud belch escaped from him. He could feel his stomach churning. Why was he the one getting fucked and not Jonathan? As the third thrust hit he could feel an ache reverberate through his whole body.

“Tom likes being the big spoon, doesn’t he? He likes that while you are the one bossing him around, he is the bigger one, the one that protects you while you sleep, even though he doesn’t have much muscles.” Wave after wave of pain was flooding Michael. He felt like he really ought to know who Tom was. It was somehow important. Jonathan was fucking him with, deep, slow strokes. “He doesn’t like big, bulky muscles. They gross him out. The upper body is the worst.” Michael wanted the pain to stop. It felt like he was being stretched on a rack. “Big, bouncy pecs that puff up and out the chest. Big delts that makes the shoulders look wide and clumsy. Huge traps that misshapes the top of the shirt. And worst of all, big, bulging biceps that strains the fabric of any normal sleeve, and risk tearing it if you bend your arm. He hates it all.” The pain was ever shifting for Michael. The bone crushing pain mutated into a burning sensation. He let out another long burp. What was Jonathan talking about again? It was so hard to concentrate.

“And legs! Big, thick thighs that makes it impossible for you walk properly and pushes your junk out, so it looks obscene whatever you do. Tom would be disgusted. The massive body and legs makes your average dick look small. Your massive balls just makes it look even smaller. And veins. Big irregular veins snaking up and down the arms and legs, like an erect dick.” Jonathan was pumping furiously now, getting close to climax. Michael’s head was spinning. He was just happy the pain had subdued into a tingling sensation. Then Jonathan just stopped and there was a second of calm where Michael couldn’t think of anything. Then they both exploded, Michael pumping squirts after squirts of warm cum up in the air, while at the same time he could feel Jonathan emptying his load inside of him. Both of them appeared to have limitless supply. Michael felt something else as well, how the body was shifting. It felt like he was moving around, or like the sheet was being pulled from under him.

No, he wasn’t moving. He was growing, he realized. It was as if Jonathan was inflating a balloon with his cum. He himself was emptied his balls all over himself in an uneven smattering of sticky frosting. He realized everything Jonathan had said about Tom was true. He was rapidly turning into the kind of body Tom would laugh at. Mock. Be repulsed by, even. “Please. Please stop. Whatever reason you think you have for doing this, it’s wrong. This is all wrong.” Jonathan raised an eyebrow while shooting a last few shots of cum into Michael.

Jonathan withdrew and stepped back a step, panting and clearly exhausted. “Yeah, this is wrong.” With his dick still out of the jeans he climbed into the bed next to Michael. Michael wanted to shrug back, to get away, but his body just laid there like a sack of whey. Without hesitation Jonathan placed his hands around Michael’s throat and started to squeeze. “No! Please! Don’t kill me! Please, stop doing this.” The pitch of his voice was slowly going up, until the last two words when it crashed down octaves. “Please, just stop”

Michael’s voice was deep, touching on African American, but still somehow youthful. “That’s better. Now, sit up beef boy, I want to show you something.” Jonathan slapped Michael on the shoulder with a wet and meaty thud, got up from the bed, and went to the wardrobes along the wall. Michael sat up in the bed, noting that he was not only more muscled than anyone he knew, but quite a bit taller than before. Jonathan opened one of the wardrobes and revealed a full length mirror mounted on the inside of the door.

Michael didn’t see himself in the mirror. Somehow the sum of the parts made a bigger impact than just seeing and feeling them on their own. He was surprised how young his face looked. Barely twenty, he would guess. It looked utterly wrong on top of that massive body. Young, dumb, and above all immature looking. Like he went to gym instead of high school and juiced his way to his twenties. If you wanted to lab grow the antithesis to what turned Tom on, this would be it. “Why are you doing this?”

Jonathan’s face twisted into a snarl of contempt, took a step back and grabbed Michael’s head between his hands, pressed the palms into his cheeks until the lips parted and forcefully spit a glob of saliva into Michael’s mouth. He then leaned down and made another long kiss. “I’ll tell you, Brad, why I’m fucking doing this.”

Brad? Michael was sitting, slacked jawed looking up at Jonathan. He glanced down, seeing his reflection in the mirror behind Jonathan. For a short moment he expected to see Michael in the mirror, but of course he didn’t. He’s Brad. Anyone can see that. Jonathan stepped in, replacing his view of the mirror with Jonathan’s erect dick.

“Suck it! You love sucking dick more than anything, you cum guzzling bottom slut! You worthless piece of shit. You were never good enough for Tom. He’s supposed to be with me! You never appreciated the way he looked at you, the way he changed to accommodate you, to be part of your life. You’re were too fucking stupid to get that! Now you are too dumb to read a newspaper. Too stupid for any joke that isn’t practical, like pantsing someone in the weight room or squirting bronzer in their butt crack.”

Jonathan still held Brad’s head with both hands, moving it back and forth to forcefully pump his dick down Brad’s throat. Brad wanted to help, to please, but there was very little he could do, beside making gagging noises.

“You don’t remember what Tom looks like anymore. You can’t remember where you met, where you used to eat together, where you lived together. You don’t even think of love or relationships anymore. You can’t plan more than to your next meal prep, fucking loser. Your life only revolves around gym, sports and sex. Those are the only things that matters, the only things you plan for, the only things you talk about.”

Jonathan let go of Brad’s head, and was just standing there panting, dick in mouth. Brad could finally start to take an active part, letting his tongue play over Jonathan’s cock head. He started to slowly suck the dick in long, deliberate motions. Jonathan collected himself, somehow relieved to have revealed his feelings for Tom, and suddenly almost surprised to be in the middle of getting a blowjob. He sounded much calmer as he continued.

“You don’t like how you look naked. You think your dick looks ridiculous and tiny next to your giant balls, so you prefer to always be fucked wearing a jock strap. You try to keep other clothes on, like you are wearing socks now, to take attention away from the jock strap. You try to have sex where and how being partially clothed makes sense. On the bench in the gym. In an alley outside. In the bleachers. In the dugout. And your massive balls are pumping so much hormones into you, you’re horny almost as soon as you’ve cum. You’ll swallow so much jizz you put it in your weekly macros.”

Brad was fully erect again, with a dollop of viscous pre-cum visible at the tip of his cock head. Jonathan was resting a hand on his head.

“Your body is never good enough. There is always more lifting, tanning, running, shaving, bulking or cutting to be done. You always want to look ready for gym, showing off what you got. Wearing bright clothes that makes people look. You want to be noticed, the center of every room you go into. How else can you get the attention to get everyone to fuck you? Loud, happy, clueless, obnoxious.”

With no warning Jonathan came again. Only a few pumps this time. Brad could feel something warm inside of him, but unlike a coffee or cocoa, it quickly spread out into all his body, and up his neck into his head. He let himself fall backwards into the bed, leaving a trailing string of cum and saliva between his lips and Jonathan’s dick, before it broke. His head was spinning. What was he doing here again. He was having sex with someone, wasn’t he? But he was still so fucking horny. In the corner of his eye he watched the guy leave the bedroom. He grabbed his slippery dick and started to masturbate. He needed to cum so badly.

The guy came back into the room with a pile of clothes, and threw it on his sweaty and cum sticky stomach. Brad felt caught and embarrassed and put both hands over his dick.

“Here, get dressed.” “Bro, you need to like fuck me.” “Sorry dude. Not my type.” “Not cool bro. I sucked you.” “Get dressed and I’ll help you find someone.” “How you’ll do that, bro?” “I’ll set up some fuck app accounts for you. I’ll even take pics and write a bio for you.” “Dope. Hurry tho. I’m so fucking horny.”

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withoneheadlight · 5 years ago

Text

| kegboys | billy & tommy speak a bit of spanish. translations at the end |

"Do you have to eat your ice cream like that?"

Steve looks up at Billy with a frown, licks at his thumb, his middle finger. Takes another mouthful.

"Lai-wah?"

They're sitting on the sidewalk in the back of the Starcourt, entrenched in a patch of shade, Tommy in between the two of them, the soles of their snickers slowly cooking over the boiling pavement. It’s the third day in a row that Hawkins has reached the thirty-five degrees mark, and Tommy can tell Billy is growing restless, wearing his skin thin, like he's burning from the inside out with the heat of the season.

"Less like you're blowing it, more like you’re eating it" his voice sounds hoarse, dangling on some kind of edge.

It sounds hungry.

Steve keeps on looking at him like he doesn't understand, eyes round and big. Manages to catch some syrup right before it slides down the edge of the cone, but gets a bit of cream on his nose. Wipes it with his palm.

He looks devious and adorable and Tommy wants to lick him whole. He hopes it doesn't show when he says,

"I think he means a little less–uhm—dirty?"

Because when it comes to Steve and Billy, shockingly enough, Tommy is the one mediating.

And no, the heat is not helping.

"Dirty" Steve repeats, lips pursing, and takes all of his force of will not to stare at how red they look, how much they stand out of his skin, out of the electric-blue of that fucking uniform "Billy thinks I'm dirty" he crosses his legs at the ankles. His socks are pulled up. Tommy has never wanted to kiss this bad someone that wears his goddamn socks pulled up.

Steve thinks he looks ridiculous in that uniform. He doesn't know shit.

"For the lack of a better word" Billy smirks, canines bare. Looks at Tommy like he's thinking it too, that there isn't really a lack of words, there are plenty.

(Like filthy. Like obscene. Like hot as fuckin' fuck. Like I want you to do to me what you're doing to that fucking ice cream)

Steve rolls his eyes. The ice cream keeps on melting, dripping all over his knuckles. He sticks out his tongue and licks them clean, a long stripe all the way up to the tip, his mouth full of syrup and whipped cream and cookie bits and when Billy breathes out a ragged holy shit, he looks fucking pleased.

"Well, maybe Billy," he says, looking intently at Billy "shouldn't get all that squeamish. Considering the amount of disgusting shit he makes me witness on a regular basis"

It's not like he's not right. Usual circumstances, Billy is gross, he's nasty, but right now, and for some whimsical reason he's eating his ice cream with careful, deliberate precision, making it turn against his tongue, not missing a drop. And Tommy doesn't want to wonder how would it be to have all that meticulous intent aimed onto a different place but he does. He does. Even if it's not as if something like that could ever happen. Because Tommy knows about Billy and Billy knows about Tommy, but that only means they can torture each other about how much they lust and long and pine for Steve. That's all.

(They've only kissed once. Only to know what it feels like. Two days after getting so drunk together, so thoroughly high, that Billy ended up confessing the inconfessable "I would kiss him all day, Tommy, I swear. I would sit on his lap and do nothing fucking else. Just kiss him," two days after Tommy's ribcage pressed inwards, clutching at his heart "Sorry, Hargrove. But I saw him first", two days after Billy laughed at his face "Like that's gonna make any difference." They kissed because there's no one else, because when Billy asked, he did it straight into his ear, voice dripping down the hem of his shirt, sliding his sternum, and lower "If you want, I'll let you pretend I'm him". A single kiss that lasted for fifteen minutes straight and ended the moment Tommy began to feel his cock filling up in his jeans –the moment he began to realize that knowing that Billy Hargrove kisses as if he wants to drag you out of your own skin, that his mouth tastes sweet and warm, spicy with the aftertaste of nicotine, that it feels nothing like he imagines Steve’s would– is a little more risky than he had anticipated)

"I'd do that, but you're getting all filthy, King Steve" and the tone of his voice could pass for mean it wasn't because Tommy knows he always sounds meaner when he's horny (they've touched each other only once. No kisses. No closeness. Just hands. Cramped in the minuscule rectangle of Tommy's bed, because "What it is Tomas? Are you too scared try?" "I'm not scared" "Then pull your pants down" And Tommy shouldn't know he can't stop talking ––dirty, violent, like a fucking heart attack–– while he's coming but he knows, God he knows. "And we don't want those poor costumers getting the wrong impression about what was their lovely Scoops Sailor doing to stain that uniform, do we?"

Tommy sighs inwards. Takes a bite of his almost finished freeze pop. If it wasn't because the idea of his two best friends having a crush on him wouldn't occur to Steve in a million years they'd be totally screwed. It's not like they've been exactly subtle. Especially Billy.

"Mmhh. Guess who's not getting free ice cream next time?" says Steve, tone as bratty as it gets. Daring.

Billy bares his teeth.

"You're forgetting I have Robin, pretty boy"

"Oh. But you are forgetting whose side Robin is"

He’s smiling that angelic smile he always puts on whenever he is about to screw you. Opens up his mouth and sucks on the ice cream, lips pressed around the tip, lets out a groan of pure pleasure and swallows "It’s still too dirty for you like this, Hargrove?" he asks pointedly and Tommy shouldn't, really shouldn't be staring at him but––

(Tommy and Steve have never touched, never kissed, but Tommy knows that he snores softly when he falls asleep with his head buried in your neck and that you can tell how he feels by the way he’s saying your name. He knows how big he feels, how hot, when he gets hard against your thigh, even if it was just once and by pure accident, the two of them rubbing against each other while fighting for the remote, Steve red up to the roots of his hair, repeating "Sorry oh my god Tommy I'm so sorry" and Tommy feeling so thankful for the rough fabric of his jeans being tight enough to hide his own erection)

And there are a million other things that Tommy would like to know, a million times, but he can't.

He can’t)

"-mmy?"

"Uhm?"

"Can you help me clean this up?"

Steve manages to catch the drop of ice cream that's sliding down his neck, licks at the corner of his mouth, but he still has syrup just below his lower lip, on his cheek, and it's not the first time Tommy wets his thumb and wipes whatever he's gotten onto his face, there's been hundred before, but this time Steve looks at him with eyes blown into an impossible dark and Tommy is achingly aware that Billy is watching them too. His heart beats in his throat while he wipes Steve clean, ––his skin soft, sun-warmed–– while bringing his pad into his mouth to clean it up, tasting strawberry and vanilla. And it would also taste like caramel and cinnamon and that spicy aftertaste of the nicotine, if he turned right now and Billy let Tommy kiss him a second time.

(And Tommy will never know, but sometimes he wonders how the three of them would taste like together. Because sometimes Billy comes up from behind and leans all his weight against Steve's back, embraces him, when he's studying or eating at the cafeteria or sitting at the edge of the pool. Sometimes he sits beside him in the back of the car or at the movies, puts an arm around him and Steve lets him, always lets him. Allows Billy to insert himself point-blank into his personal space and Tommy should feel jealous, should feel weird, but what he feels is the blood rushing to the center of his body, pooling in there like an itch he shouldn't dare to even think about scratching)

Tommy hears the click of a lighter, catches the smell of the smoke. When Billy speaks, his voice doesn't reach Tommy's brain, it goes straight down to his cock.

"Cuidado, Tommy. Si lo sigues mirando así se va a dar cuenta de que es a él al que quieres comerte"

When Tommy turns to look at him, he merely raises an eyebrow, and it looks like he's trying not to grin but his teeth widen around the filter like he can’t stop them.

Because Tommy knows about Billy and Billy knows about Tommy, but this is all they do. Picking at each other. Playing games too close to the fire. And Tommy's skin feels burnt, aching, like this thing inside of him is about to peel it up, crawl outside of him.

"Vete a la mierda" he says, makes it a warning, but Billy blows the smoke to his face, blows a kiss after. Tommy pushes him "Gilipollas"

"Oh but of course" starts Steve as he gets up, brushing off any dust that might have got stuck to his pants, throwing the rests of his ice cream in the trash "You two are such a good example of fucking good manners, aren’t you?" He smacks Tommy on the head, steals Billy’s cigarette and takes a long, deep drag “Maybe instead of sitting here doing nothing for the rest of the fucking afternoon you two would grow a pair and talk about making a move about that thing you keep bickering about so secretly all around me” he says in one sitting, looking them alternatively in the eye, and Tommy only realizes that his mouth is hanging open when Steve leans in and places the cigarette between his lips “I'm starting to get a bit tired of waiting."

“But you don't spe–” Tommy starts, but Steve cuts him off before he can finish.

“Oh. No I don’t. But Robin does. I guess it's a good thing that you two were dumb enough not to take it into account" cocky, a little wicked “I'm out at eight”

The door closes behind him. Billy reaches out to retrieve his cigarette. Inhales so deep that in his lungs mustn’t be any room left for the oxygen.

"Fuck"

They hold each other's gaze.

Fuck.

He’s feeling the heat in a lot more places now than only those reached by the burning sun.

At eight.

Translations:

“Be careful, Tommy. If you keep looking at him like that he’s gonna realize its him what you wanna be eating”

“Go fuck yourself”

“Asshole”

#kegboys #key boys #harringrove #tomgrove #stommy #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #tommy hagan #tommy h #tommy hernández #keg gang #xkegboys

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damianwaynerocks · 5 years ago

Text

Ghosts in Gotham

Danny Phantom / DC Comics

Dedicated to: @wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever

Summary: The Batfamily has been through their fair share of the supernatural. That’s why they originally weren’t worried whenever ghosts started showing up in Gotham City. Until one day, something happens; Batman is captured and taken into the Ghost Zone. With no way to go in there themselves, with no way to fight the ghosts inside, the bats decide to call the person who can; Danny Phantom. Together, Danny takes Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne into the Ghost Zone before the Batman is lost forever.

Words: 3599

Ch 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2:

"Wow. This is the gloomiest place I've ever been to." Danny rested his head against the window as he stared dully outside the vehicle.

"Now Danny, that is not true." Maddie looked over her shoulder at her son from the front seat. "We've been to some dark places in the Ghost Zone."

"I guess."

The Fentons were in a large white and green van. They had left Amity Park the day before and were finally arriving in Gotham City.

"Well, I think it's beautiful." Jazz said cheerfully. "My future home. Just look at it!" She gestured outside. Danny followed her gaze.

Dark clouds blocked out the sun above Gotham City. There weren't too many people walking around, probably due to the insanely high crime rate the city was infamous for. Danny raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"Don't be so glum, Danny boy!" Jack said, grinning at his son in the rear view mirror. "I've heard that there's ghosts afoot here! Maybe you can catch the ghost of Jason Todd!

Jason Todd was the second child of Batman, who died just a few years after being adopted. Recently, pictures had been popping up of a man who looked like an older version of Jason Todd walking around Gotham. A few people had even supposedly spoken to him, and apparently the man said his name was Jason. The Waynes vehemently denied the theory, but many people believed it.

Danny snorted. "I bet if I caught Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne would sue me."

Jazz scowled. "No way! He would be so grateful that you brought his son home! Bruce Wayne is a good man!" Danny laughed.

"We get it, you think Bruce Wayne is hot." he ducked a swing from his sister as he added to his father, "I don't think that guy is Jason Todd. It looks like a human, not a ghost."

"So did Johnny 13."

Despite his air of nonchalance, Danny was on alert. Gotham City had had an influx of ghost activity the past few weeks, and he knew he might have to go ghost at any moment.

He just hoped he would be able to eat first.

"I'm excited about the food," he voiced his thoughts, putting his hands behind on his head as he reclined his seat. "Like, this guy's a billionaire. The food is going to be so good."

"Oh ho ho, that's what I'm most excited for too! Uh, but not as excited as I am that Jazz is getting this opportunity!" Jack quickly added after Maddie's glare.

"Do you remember where the letter said our hotel is?" she asked. Jack nodded.

"Of course, Maddie!" he said. "It's right where Brucie said! Wayne Motel! And we get a master suite!"

"Sweet!" Danny and Jazz exclaimed simultaneously as the family pulled into the parking garage.

They opened the door to their suite, dragging their obscenely large amount of luggage with them. They had packed some ghost hunting gear just in case they encountered a ghost, and they took up a lot of room and a lot of suitcases.

Jack breathed in. "Home sweet Hotel!" he grinned. "Danny, Jazz, go pick a room! But not the one with the water bed, that belongs to your mom and me."

The two siblings exchanged a look and then darted in different directions. Danny skidded to a halt as he reached the last room at the end of the hall, and opened the door.

It was a massive room. It had marble floors, a canopy bed, a huge tv, and a private bathroom. Danny smirked, his eyelids relaxing. "This pleases me."

"Danny! Hurry up!" Jazz yelled two hours later. "The limo's gonna get here in twenty minutes!" Wayne Enterprises was sending each intern a limo to take them to Wayne Manor.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Danny grumbled, adjusting his bow tie. They were expected to wear the nicest clothes possible, so his parents had forced him into a suit. He sighed into the mirror. "Well," he muttered. "Here we go."

He met his family in the living room and grabbed a soda from the fridge. He was about to drink it whenever Jazz smacked it out of his hand. "Hey! What gives!?"

"You can't risk anything staining your suit!" His sister snapped. "Are you crazy? I don't want the Waynes to think I come from a weird family!"

Danny gave her an incredulous look. "Um, you are from a weird family. Your parents are ghost hunters and your brother is part ghost." Jazz scowled.

"Well, we don't need to make a scene!" she retorted. "Which means no going ghost."

"Fine, I won't go ghost unless I see one." Danny put his hands up in the universal don't shoot, I'm unarmed stance, almost unnerved by the ferocity in her eyes.

Jazz gritted her teeth. "Yeah, well, don't let anyone see you do it."

"Okay, if you say so."

Jazz nodded stiffly. She fished her phone out of her pocket as it vibrated. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh! The limo's here!" She opened the door excitedly and rushed down the stairs. She stopped at the entranceway to the hotel, Danny smacking into her at her sudden stop. She laughed nervously at her brother's glare. "Sorry. Just nervous," she cleared her throat and combed her fingers through her hair. "Let's go."

They arrived at the manor thirty minutes later, and Danny's eyes widened.

The manor was huge. Easily three times as large as his high school. He couldn't believe only one man a few kids lived in such a large house.

He was still gawking as he stumbled out of the limo and walked inside. His eyes widened even further as he took in his surroundings.

The manor seemed even bigger on the inside. It looked like a castle. And the people? They looked like royalty with how fancy they were dressed. And the food?

There was more food than he'd ever seen in one place.

"This. Is. Amazing." he whispered, almost salivating. Jazz glared at him.

"Please, don't make a scene," she hissed. "Eat like a normal person." Danny didn't seem to hear her, though, as he walked towards the food in a trance-like state.

The food bar had everything. Every type of meat he could name, as well as a plethora of vegan options. It was beautiful. And the smell? Danny had never smelled anything better in both his life and the afterlife.

His mouth watered as he picked up a plate and put a few chicken wings on it. "This is so cool!" he whispered to himself as he continued adding food. "This is amazing." he put a few ribs on his plate.

He inhaled the aroma coming off of his plate and sighed. The only thing that could mess this up is that rude kid Damian. he thought with a smile on his face.

"Excuse me." Danny jumped in surprise at the voice behind him, whirling around and spilling his food in the process all over the person in front of him.

The person in front of him? Damian Wayne himself. Danny chuckled nervously.

"Oh, uh- hey Mr. Wayne! Or is it Damian? I'm so so sorry, please let me clean that up." He stammered as he used his napkin to try to wipe the food off of Damian. The latter scowled, clenching his fist.

"Don't bother," Damian snapped, slapping Danny's trembling hands aside. He looked down at his filthy suit in disgust. "I cannot believe somebody so incompetent at the mere act of standing was allowed in!" he shoved Danny aside as he stomped towards a door that Danny hadn't previously noticed.

Danny winced, closing his eyes tightly as if to shield himself from what had just happened.

"Don't mind him," another voice from behind him sighed. Danny turned around, hoping it wouldn't be a Wayne that saw him piss off the youngest.

But of course, Danny had never had the best of luck.

Tim Drake-Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, was smiling at him. "He's just in a bad mood because he isn't allowed to go on a business trip with us."

"So, you're not mad? I'm not kicked out or anything?" Danny asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he knelt down to clean the food off of the ground. Tim knelt down beside him, assisting him in cleaning up.

"No, you're good," he reassured him. "I'm Tim Drake-Wayne." He balanced on his heels as he held his hand out for Danny to the shake. The latter grasped his hand.

"Danny Fenton. My sister has an internship with Wayne Medical." Tim's eyes flickered with something Danny didn't recognize before he smiled again.

"It looks like you got sauce on your jacket," Danny looked down and grimaced as he realized Tim was right, but before he could say anything, Tim continued. "Here, I can get you another one. Follow me." He stood up, extended a hand to help Danny off of the floor and led him to the door Damian had stormed into.

They stepped into a large room with velvet seats and two pool tables. Tim walked into a nearby closet and pulled out another jacket that matched what Danny had on. "Here you go," Tim said as he tossed the jacket to him. "Catch."

"Thanks," Danny said as he caught the jacket, slipping it on. "You're a lifesaver, my sister would have killed me."

"I know the feeling, one time I embarrassed Damian by moonwalking out of movie theater and he chased me with a kitchen knife when we got home."

Damian ran a hand through his hair. "And that is why that kid scares me."

"He's not that scary once you get to know him," Tim shrugged, and motioned for Danny to follow him. "Come on dude, let's go." Danny blinked. Did arguably the richest seventeen-year-old in the world just call him dude?

The pair walked outside, Tim leading him to the rest of the Fentons, who were chatting with Bruce Wayne. Jazz turned around and waved him over.

"And this is my little brother Danny!" she introduced through gritted teeth. "Where you been, little brother?"

Before Danny could think of an excuse, Tim spoke up. "Oh, he was just helping me with something."

"Yeah," Danny agreed with a relieved smile. Jazz smiled.

"Oh, well, yeah, that's Danny! Always being helpful." she chirped. Danny sat down in the seat beside her and clasped his hands together, tuning into the conversation.

"Yes, Jasmine has always been passionate about helping people," Maddie said, smiling at the billionaire. "She's always known that she's wanted to be a neurosurgeon!"

"That's great!" Bruce responded, flashing a bright smile. "That's exactly what we're looking for here; driven people. People with a passion for helping others." His icy blue eyes rested on Danny. "How do you like the food, Mr. Fenton?"

"Oh, uh, it's great, Mr. Wayne!" Danny stuttered as he smiled nervously. "Best food I've ever had. And I should know because I definitely ate some!"

"That's great!" Bruce replied. "You look like you're an athlete. Do you play any sports?"

Danny had an athlete's body because of how often he fought ghosts. That was the closest thing he had to sports. "Well, I really like e-sports!" he raised his shoulders and smiled nervously as he answered.

Bruce chuckled. "So does my son, Tim." he then turned his attention back to Jazz.

Danny breathed a sigh of relief, sliding down a bit in his chair. He felt a sharp, cold burst in his chest as he breathed out a wisp of blue vapor.

There was a ghost nearby.

"Hey, uh," Danny stood up from the table. "I have to go to the bathroom." With a final smile at Bruce Wayne, Danny quickly left the ballroom and went through the door he and Tim had gone through.

Danny shut the door behind him, and in a bright ring of light, he transformed into the white-haired green-eyed Phantom. "Okay," he muttered, "Where are you?" He turned his body intangible and flew through the wall. He looked both ways as he entered into a massive hallway the length of a football field, with many doors on either side. "Great. This place is a maze."

Danny's eyes shot to his right as he sensed the ghost. He walked that way, still intangible, into a library. Danny froze as he spotted a butler, but continued on his way as the man walked right through him.

He saw a glowing light through one of the shelves and shot through the books. He skidded to a halt as he saw-

"Box Ghost!" Danny yelled, "Are you kidding me? You got the worst timing, pal."

Box Ghost turned around and flinched. In a blink of an eye, Box Ghost had disappeared through the floor. Danny followed suit and went to punch the ghost, before freezing. Box Ghost had vanished, but that wasn't the reason Danny was in shock.

He was in a cave. A dark cave with a plethora of high-tech machines. To his left was what looked like a row of memorials. There was one that had an old Robin suit, the one without pants, encased in glass. Another had a Batman suit. Danny's eyes widened as he realized where he must be.

His head was spinning, and he took a step back. The Bat Cave. He was in the Bat Cave. Bruce Wayne was Batman. And if Bruce Wayne was Batman, then that meant that Damian Wayne was Ro-

"No!" an angry voice interrupted the silent breakdown. Danny, still intangible, floated down to the bottom of the stairs in front of a large computer. Danny's eyes widened again as he saw an even better sight;

"Cheese Viking!" he yelled, and yelped in shock as Damian plunged a knife directly where Danny's chest was. Thankfully, the knife went straight through him, but it startled Danny enough to revert back to human form.

"You!" Damian snarled as he stood up. "How did you get in! This is a secure compound, you should not have bee-"

"Dude, that's the newest Cheese Viking!" Danny interrupted, his eyes still trained on the screen. "They were all sold out when I tried to get them!"

"Yes, well, I did not wait and set an alarm so I would know what time to order. That's called being prepared."

"Well you sure are luc-" Danny's jaw dropped. "Wait wait wait hold on hold on." He put his hands on his head as he paced back and forth. "You're Robin? This is the Bat Cave? Bruce Wayne is Batman!? Tucker was right!?"

"You're Phantom!?" Damian said as he realized who he was with. He hadn't seen a photo of Danny as a human before, as he had been too busy memorizing what he looked like as a ghost.

"Oh. I see you've found it." Tim said from behind Danny. Danny's eyes were still as wide as saucers.

"When did you get here? And does this mean you're the restaurant guy!?"

"Yes," Tim answered tightly as Damian snickered. "Yes, Red Robin."

"This is insane." Danny put his hands down, bringing his pacing to a still. "I'm in the Bat Cave! Wait, what do you mean 'found it?'" he added, frowning at Tim.

"I was going to show you later, but you found it on your own," Tim replied with a shrug.

"Why were you going to show me?"

"Because we need your help."

Danny blinked. "Me? Batman needs help from me? Is it about the ghosts?"

"Bingo," Tim snapped his fingers, pointing a finger gun at Danny. "He really does. He's missing."

"What?" Danny asked, confused. "But I just saw him up there. He was fine."

"No, that was our brother, Dick," Tim explained. "He has a mask that makes him look like Bruce."

"Oh."

Tim put his hand on Danny's back, leading him towards the Bat Computer. Tim sat down in the chair, and pulled something up on to the screen. It was a video from Bruce's camera that was hidden in his cowl, which let the video feed of his night stream to the Bat Computer.

"We were fighting a ghost a few nights ago, whenever one grabbed him and pulled him into the portal," Tim narrated as the video showed exactly that. "We tried to follow him, but it just bounced us out. We've concluded that the only way a human or anything earthly could pass through needs a ghost to accompany them."

"That's not true," Danny said, crossing his arms. "Mine at home will let anything in. Trust me, I've lost things to the Ghost Zone." His mind flashed to when Jack's anniversary gift for Maddie had gone into the portal, and how chaotic things got whenever Danny tried to get it back.

"Well, it is true," Damian retorted, copying the action. "We would know. We've seen it. Yours must be different."

"So you need me to take you guys into the Ghost Zone to find him." It was more of a statement than a question. "I can do that, but that video didn't show who took him, and the Infi-Map doesn't work on humans."

"Infi-Map?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, it's a map that takes you anywhere you want to go. You can find anything in the Ghost Zone with it, besides anything with a heartbeat."

"Well, with or without it, we need your help," Tim turned around to face Danny, turning away from the computer. "He's been in there for three days. We need to find him."

"Yeah, I can help," Danny said instantly. "But we'll need some weapons for you two. The Infi-Map will take us to my place, and we can get some from there."

"No, Damian isn't going-" Tim began, but was cut off by Bruce walking down the stairs to join them.

No, not Bruce, Danny reminded himself as the man took off his bowtie and his face shifted to that of another. Dick Grayson.

"Damian's going," Dick said. "I know we agreed that he wasn't, but Jason can't go now. Something about Artemis, so Damian's taking his place.

Lovely, Danny thought, wincing at the idea of Damian snapping at him in the middle of a fight. He blinked as another thought entered his mind. "Jason? You don't mean Jason Todd, do you?"

"Yes sir, we do," Dick replied.

"He's alive?"

"Yeah, he was resurrected a couple of years ago. Long story. Don't ask him about it, he gets grumpy." Dick stretched his arms as he made his way to the group. "Steph is almost here, too, but she got delayed by some guy trying to mug an old lady."

"What a coward," Damian said.

"The lowest of the low." Tim agreed.

"So," Danny counted on his fingers, "Me, Tim, Damian, and someone named Steph?"

"Yep," Dick answered, and looked up as the group heard a motor running. "And here she is."

A teenage girl with blonde hair in a purple Bat-suit that drove into the cave. She skidded to a halt, and hopped off. Seeing Danny, she smiled a wide toothy grin.

"No way!" Stephanie Brown, yelled as she walked closer. "You're Danny Phantom! I'm a huge fan!" She encased one of Danny's hands with both of her own. "Stephanie Brown, also known as Batgirl, one-time Robin even though nobody ever remembers, nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you!" Maybe Damian wouldn't try anything if Danny had someone who liked him, someone he could use for backup.

"Alright, kiddos," Dick said, putting his tie back on, turning himself back into Bruce Wayne. "Suit up and then you better go. Bruce doesn't have much time to spare."

"Right," Danny said with a nod, simultaneously transforming back into Phantom. He pulled out the Infi-Map from his pocket. He looked back up, surprised to see Tim and Damian in their respective vigilante suits.

Holy fast dressing, Batman.

"All of you, grab on to me," Danny said as he unrolled the map. "Take me home!"

At the word, the map pulled the four out of the cave and into Gotham City at hyperspeed. The map found the portal and went through. In an instant, the foursome fell out of the portal in Danny's house, the Infi-Map having dragged them through the Ghost Zone in milliseconds.

"Home sweet home," Danny said as Tim, Stephanie, and Damian got to their feet.

"Oh, wow," Stephanie groaned. "That was crazy. Is this how Bart feels?"

Damian was already wandering around. "Hey," he turned his attention to Danny, "What are the chances you have a ghost sword?"

Danny waved him to the right, and the boy's eyes gleamed at the pile of swords Jack had been making. Tim and Stephanie were looking around too, picking up various weapons. Tim was putting grenades and other weapons into his utility belt, Stephanie doing the same.

"Fenton," Danny turned around to face Damian behind him, who had found a sword of his liking. "Do you have any capri-suns in this house?"

"Uh, yeah, upstairs in the fri- hey, you don't know where the kitchen is!" Damian had sprinted up the stairs as soon as Danny had confirmed that there were capri-suns in the house.

"I'll find it!" Damian's voice could be faintly heard. Danny rolled his eyes.

Tim had found a bo-staff, and Stephanie was looking at one of the vehicles. "What's this?" she asked.

"It's the Specter Speeder 2.0," Danny answered. "It's what we're taking. It's a ship that can fly in the Ghost Zone."

"Is it ready?"

"Yeah."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Damian, who was now sporting a mini cooler filled with capri-suns, opened the door to the Speeder. "Let's go save Father."

136 notes · View notes

lightwoodsmagic · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! So I agree Liam is queer, and the pink🔺in his video compels me not to ignore it. I saw one of your Ziam posts making its rounds after the SIU video, so I thought you were the person to ask. I only joined the fandom after Zayn left, and I’ve always had a hard time finding info on why and how that played out at the time (nobody seems to agree). Could you elaborate (or link to previous posts) on why you think Ziam is still a thing, and how they are telling us? Thanks for your insight so far!

Hi anon!

Thank you so much for thinking of me! I’m sorry it’s taken me a little while to answer, but it took me a bit to gather all the info I wanted (while I should’ve been working oop).

Okay, please know that this post is gonna be loooooong, so I’ve popped it under the cut.

You’re right about nobody agreeing on Zayn leaving the band, and it makes sense that people have differing views. It’s such a complicated thing; there was a lot happening at the time.

I’m going to start by saying there’s a brilliant masterpost about Zayn leaving here. It’s incredibly detailed, talks about pretty much every aspect of it, and there’s so much to look into. It’s also wonderful to demonstrate how much the boys and Zayn still hinted at things and loved each other, like Harry using Zayn’s mic one night, Liam talking about him fondly in interviews, Niall still calling him by his nickname, and Louis wearing his clothes.

It’s a long read, but incredibly worth it, as it this stunting timeline.

Everyone is absolutely entitled to their opinion, so I’ll just give you mine. I’m gonna keep it (kind of) short though. A lot of what I’m about to say can be found in the masterposts I’ve linked above.

I believe that Zayn leaving was out of his control, and was never completely his decision. I believe that he was set to return, but for some reason, the plan changed. Mind of Mine was apparently written before he left, and while I think he would’ve been working on solo music before he left (and that all of them were to some extent), to tease an album right after the announcement that he left makes no sense. A contract like the one that 1D had/has with Syco would cost an obscene amount of money to get out of, and Zayn’s net worth didn’t change at all. They made it seem so simple in the very few interviews with Zayn afterwards, saying he just called his security, got on a plane, and left. I think Zayn struggled a lot with everything, they all did, but I don’t think he could’ve just left. There were articles put out about his new album that mentioned Simco and everything, but when people pointed out that it didn’t make sense with the narrative that Simon felt ‘betrayed’, the references were removed straight away.

There’s also a very solid theory that MoM was counted as One Direction’s sixth and final contracted album, and it really stands up. Check it out!

Look. There’s a lot to unpack with the whole situation, and I’ve hardly touched on it at all, but I really do encourage you to look into it with everything I’ve linked above 💞

Okay, now onto the second part of your ask!

Ziam. My loooovveesss.

I’m going to start by saying that there’s a lot of ways that Liam and Zayn have hinted that they’re still together, and honestly? The boys ain’t even subtle about it. I’ll start by talking about heaps of ways they’ve done that since Zayn left!

Alright, let’s start with the fact that they WILL NOT STOP LIKING, REBLOGGING, AND RETWEETING POSTS FROM ZIAM ACCOUNTS.

(x) (x)

These aren’t subtle Ziam accounts, and it’s not just these examples. This also isn’t just something in the past; that bottom right one references Stack It Up.

They’ve also both reposted fanart from a well known Ziam where each drawing referenced the other one.

(x)

The Zayn art says ‘Love Payne’ on the beanie. Well then.

And the Liam one? That he posted on his personal insta? The artist added the ‘love’ tattoo from Zayn’s hand onto Liam’s. It’s obvious, and it’s not like Liam wouldn’t have noticed that suddenly there was a new tattoo added ON HIS OWN HAND.

Not very subtle, hey.

It’s also not the only shady social media activity related to the boys 👀

There was the time that Liam explained why he’d written ‘personally’ twice in a thank you post in his insta story to Bvlgari.

But he hadn’t. What had happened was that Twitter account @TheZiamNews had made a small mistake, and had actually written it twice. The only explanation was that Liam saw it on a Ziam update page VERY quickly, thought he had made the original mistake, and then explained. Interesting that Liam keeps up to date with them.

There was also the time Liam blocked an account for talking absolute shit about Zayn, or when Herbie Critchlow (a producer from Icarus Falls) retweeted a tweet about Common being about Ziam. Also can’t forget Brandon Colbein posting on insta about some songs he’d written, and somehow there was one for Zayn and one for Liam.

Oh, and when Liam’s friend Andy (who seems to…split the fandom, but alas) posted a video of him listening to Icarus Falls, or every single mirroring insta post Liam and Zayn can’t seem to help making.

And their eyebrow slits! 😊 this goes allllll the way back to One Direction days.

(x)

Now, this is a constant, recurring thing for them over the years.

It’s usually at the same time, and it usually signifies something.

Zayn went ALL OUT one day, just after Z*gi ‘broke up’, and put a slit in his eyebrow, but it wasn’t a normal one. It was in the shape of an L. That fucking sap. Not to be outdone though, Liam popped a lil’ Z in the graphics for his show last year in Japan.

SAPS, THE BOTH OF THEM.

Now, jewellery.

OOOOOF are we in for it now. You’re probably regretting this ask already.

Cartier.

Say that single word around someone who believes in Ziam and you’ve lost them forever.

Back in 2015 (so yes, a while ago but bear with me) during the OTRA tour, Zayn suddenly started wearing a gold Cartier bracelet. It was interesting because Zayn didn’t wear bracelets at the time. It was particularly interesting because Liam had been seen earlier that day with jewellery bags buying a present. Curious.

Or obvious.

Either or.

A similar thing happened when Zayn attended the ‘Straight Outta Compton’ premiere, one of his first appearances after he left the band. He was wearing a Hublot watch, which was also interesting because Zayn didn’t wear watches either.

But GUESS WHERE LIAM HAD BEEN 2 DAYS BEFORE THE PREMIERE?

You’re damn right, anon. It was Hublot.

Now, the Cartier love bracelet.

This picture was posted when Liam was getting ready for the Brits in 2017. For those that don’t know, the Cartier love bracelet has little screws, and can only be undone with a little gold screwdriver that comes with it.

Liam wore it everywhere that year, and so often. It didn’t make sense for it to be ‘given to him by Ch*ryl’, because they would’ve used every opportunity to show that damn screwdriver.

But they didn’t, because she didn’t have it. Zayn did.

There’s also the other matching bracelets they’ve worn by Alexander McQueen.

And also the other time Zayn wore Cartier in his film clip, or the fact that Zayn started wearing a ring on his right ring finger that was sold and marketed by Cartier AS A WEDDING RING.

They also share watches if Zayn decides to wear one, because they’re cute like that.

Now, they also share clothes.

So many clothes, ohmygod.

(x)

A prime example of this actually happened just last year! TWICE! IN NYC WHEN LIAM WAS THERE (obviously to see his husband). Both times, Liam was out and about wearing two of Zayn’s jackets.

It’s also absolutely not a coincidence that when Zayn was staying at G*gi’s apartment on Bond Street, Liam stayed at a hotel a few minutes away a number of times, but when Zayn moved to Soho, Liam suddenly switched hotels to one in Soho, a few minutes away from Zayn’s new place. Just can’t stay away from an old band mate you hardly talk to, hey.

Also can’t ignore Liam wearing numerous Kooples shirts during the time Zayn was doing promotional stuff for them. Husbands givin’ gifts.

NYC isn’t the only city that relates to Ziam though!

Ahhhhhhhh. Ziami. What a time, what a time, what a time (for you and I).

Anyway.

At the start of last year, Liam and Zayn were both in Miami at the same time filming music videos for Let Me and Familiar respectively, arriving either at the same time or a day apart. It was at a time when Zayn was all over his socials, posting poems and selfies and generally being his relaxed, gorgeous self, which wasn’t incredibly common for a while.

People were convinced they could hear Zayn in one of Liam’s insta stories, talking in the background just before Liam realises and raises his voice. It’s definitely not firm though, and Liam has someone in his team with a similar accent, but I’ve linked it so you can judge for yourself! Regardless, we knew they were both there, but it was a fun lil’ talking point!

Anyway, according to people who live in the area and know the coastline, they were in the same area at the same time, and we also knew that Liam wasn’t with Ch*ryl because she was back in the UK. Now, Liam posted an Instagram story the next morning half naked in bed, his 4 tattoo (we’ll get to that) and roses on full display, and saying he’d wrecked his voice.

Well then.

He also posted this.

It was a video, but it was Liam, in his room ‘alone’ with two desserts for breakfast at a time when we knew Zayn was there and no one else was, and he suddenly had no voice.

Okay okay, we get it.

They also consistently reference the number 25, and honestly, no one knows why the fuck.

Just casually on Liam’s jackets and shoes, Zayn’s shoes and a shirt that was sold (even the red and yellow, ffs Zayn), and also Zayn’s NECK, which he got in 2018. There was also chevrons on a collection for Zayn, just like Liam’s tattoos.

Speaking of tattoos Zayn got in 2018.

That big, red wolf on his chest just up there?

One of the biggest Ziam things to ever happen.

Red was Liam’s mic colour in 1D, everything they fucking do seems to be related to red, and Liam’s nickname is Wolfie because he’s from Wolverhampton.

It’s a red wolf, directly on his chest, and it’s 100% for Liam. It’s not the only red wolf tattoo Zayn has; he also has one on his leg with feathers, just like Liam’s feather tattoo.

The media often talk about the eyes Zayn has underneath that, and that they’re for G*gi, but the eyes underneath are so much lighter than the surrounding ink, the shape fits easily, and to me, it seems clear they’ve been done in a way that they can easily be inked over. It was designed for a cover up, and hopefully it’s coming. Zayn also has Liam’s name literally inked into his skin.

They also have coordinating hand tattoos. The mandala on Zayn’s hand and the roses on Liam’s are explained brilliantly in this post. The two of these together mean ‘Symbol of Eternity’. Fucking hell.

The three roses on Liam’s hand also translates to ‘I love you’. FUUUCCCKKKKKKK.

Liam also wore a ring for a while, until he was forced to take it off, but then he rebelled anyway, and got this.

It’s important because not only is it on his wedding finger, it’s also what he said about it, and when he got it.

Now, not only is 4 as an angel number about changing the only things that you can in a situation, but Liam directly said that’s what it was. He can’t wear a wedding ring, so he did the next best thing.

It also came when Liam and Ch*ryl became ‘official’, and when he’d already quashed marriage twice in an interview. Interesting choice, then. He also spoke of the 4 and a ring forming a halo, but still somehow shut down marriage talk?

…….okay then.

Some incredibly brilliant people pointed out that it also came just before Valentine’s Day.

And just before he started wearing the Cartier bracelet from earlier.

There’s also the blatant references to a gorgeous, loving relationship throughout Icarus Falls, especially in Common and There You Are. There You Are was pushed as a Z*gi song, but people realised it was impossible when they found old pictures of the name of the song on his original plan for Mind of Mine, and realised it just hadn’t made that album. It doesn’t fit their timeline at all, but it does fit Ziam.

We don’t see Zayn very much at the moment, and I’m glad that he’s taking his time just doing what he’s doing! It does mean that we hardly see them interact or reference each other much, but I have absolutely no reason to believe they’ve broken up. The fact that they’re both still going through PR relationship bullshit, and the timing of Liam getting a ‘girlfriend’ right now instead of just rumours is very interesting to me, because Z*gi officially finished again not that long ago. When one is ‘single’, the other can’t be, it seems.

This isn’t even everything, anon. They’re not subtle; Zayn just isn’t in the public eye as much.

Everything they do screams love, devotion, and commitment to each other.

And it’s fucking gorgeous.

#ziam #zayn leaving #ziam tattoos #ziam coincidences #zayn malik #liam payne #ziam evidence #masterpost

410 notes · View notes

screensirenfic · 4 years ago

Text

Menthol Cigarettes - Chapter 35

I barely slept a wink that night; too busy tossing and turning as I tried to come up with a reason why this had happened. Why he had done this to me.

I mean; it wasn’t like she actually saw him doing anything, and El insisted that he was fully dressed, but still; it was pretty obvious what was going on.

She liked to believe that that girl was in trouble; that somehow, for some reason Billy was hurting her, even after I tried to explain the ‘other’ possibilities that seemed much more likely.

I don’t know if I’d have preferred it; honestly?!

I mean; sometimes Billy acted a total psycho, and I knew that it wasn’t always aimed at me, but was I really gonna talk myself into this instead of just accepting he was cheating?!

So, that was why we were here, marching up to Max’s house, because El honestly believed that girl was in trouble, and I was too much of a paranoid bitch to leave everything to chance.

“It’s going to start pouring soon. We should be at the mall, or watching a movie, or something...” Said Max, for once being the naysayer in the situation.

“You don’t believe me?” Eleven asked; still set on confirming her vision with her own two eyes.

“I believe you saw some super weird stuff; totally!” Max reassured her; unwilling to come across as the skeptic, no matter what the reality was.

“But you said Mike’s senses you in there before, right?” Max asked, trying her best to sound reasonable.

“So maybe it was just like that. Maybe Billy sensed you somehow.”

Maybe she’d like to think that was true, but needless to say, it had Eleven’s hackles up; mine too, although that was for an entirely different reason.

I mean; could he really be that much of a scumbag?!

I thought we’d gotten over this months ago; Billy finally realising that just because he had a reputation as a ladies man, didn’t mean he had to keep it up when he was in a relationship.

Of course; this wasn’t just a simple case of harmless flirting.

This was a full on, hardcore fu-

“His car’s not here.”

Max stated; her and El having managed to trail ahead of all my fretting as we now stood in front of the house.

“Are you sure you both wanna do this?” She asked, to which both nodded resolutely.

Whatever laid in wait inside Billy’s room; I could handle it.

I’d already had to deal with much worse.

——————————————————-

Sometimes I was grateful my upbringing hadn’t been exactly conventional, and this was one of those times…

Some girl’s dads taught them to change a tire, or put up a shelf, but mine had taught me to shoot rifles, throw punches, and in this case; pick locks.

Not to say it was an easy task, especially with two teenagers breathing down your neck like this was an episode of Jeopardy!

“Almost got it…” I said; thankful that my bobby pin hadn’t decided to break on me yet.

A click sounded, and the pin turned.

“There…” I smiled, turning the handle and pushing the door open wide.

“Why do I get the feeling we’re gonna find all kinds of wrong in here?” Max asked, lingering by the doorway whilst I walked straight in, already intimately familiar with the room in question.

I don’t exactly know what we were planning to find in here.

I mean; I’m pretty sure we all had very different explanations of Billy’s weird behaviour; some wilder than others.

El was expecting to find a body, or something; too many late nights spent watching cop shows with dad to have any real grasp on what to expect in an investigation.

Max was…

Well; I’m not entirely sure what Max was looking for. Probably something to prove her brothers innocence; as weird as that sounded when referring to a boy like Billy Hargrove.

And I wanted to find… Well; nothing.

I wanted to find the place exactly how I’d left it in the vain hope that it would put my anxiety to bed, and I could go on living like I had before; with one dedicated, if a little over-possessive boyfriend, who’d never dream of hurting me.

El launched straight into investigator mode, heading over to his closet to sort through hanger after hanger of double denim and cotton shirts, whilst I stuck to the edges of the room; eyes and fingertips skimming over the culmination of my boyfriend’s existence.

It didn’t look like the room of a cheater.

Not with copious amounts of photographs of us together plastered on whatever surface they’d stick to.

Whether it be cute little polaroids of us in the Camaro when the sun hit just right and made us look like movie stars; or dumb photo booth print outs where we’d pull faces that he’d never let see the light of day outside his safe space; he kept them all.

My hand lingered over a particularly memorable one; a polaroid just bordering on decent of the pair of us in bed together, my bare chest barely covered by the sheet as Billy held the camera high in the air, grinning up at it whilst I buried my face in his neck.

I remembered the day he took that photo;

I’d just bought him that camera as a late birthday present, and he was complaining that I could’ve got him something more fun; “fun” being the key word here that usually translated as “obscene” to Billy.

I’d insisted that we could have plenty of “fun” with his polaroid camera, which proceeded in him coercing me into letting him take a couple of “artistic” shots; cuing the start of his little photograph collection that he was so keen on expanding.

After he’d finished, and taken liberties to indulging in a near dizzying amount of birthday sex, he’d reached across to take “one last photo”; this being one he could keep on his wall, despite my insistence otherwise.

I’d been nervous and embarrassed of it back then; not wanting him to get in trouble if his dad happened to find it taped to his mirror of something, but now; I could finally see the beauty in it.

Billy looked so relaxed and carefree; like it was honestly one of the happiest moments in his life, and even with my face half hidden against his skin, I was smiling too; a clear sign that despite my protests, I was loving every minute of-

“Ugh! Gag me with a spoon!”

Max groaned; having stumbled across Billy’s so-called “underwear” drawer in his nightstand, which was actually filled with girlie magazines and “souvenir” pairs of my panties.

“Hey; Lo. This has got your name on it-“

I darted over to her, snatching the labelled envelope from her hand, absolutely adamant that the kid should never be exposed to its contents.

“Trust me. You do not want to see that.” I warned, watching as the kid’s face crinkled in disgust; probably already guessing exactly what Billy would keep in there.

I shoved the envelope back in the drawer, slamming it shut; because who knew what else Billy kept in there, and with that Max took the opportunity to further the parameters of her search to the bathroom, El following behind.

———————————

It was weird being here without Billy, looking at his things with a strange sort of detachment which I couldn’t quite grasp.

Everything in this room held so many memories for me; whether it be the spicy scent of his cologne triggering flashbacks of his arms around me, or the sight of his leather jacket slumped on a chair; my mind racing bak to all the times I’d seen him in it before and felt my heartbeat pick up.

I walked over to it, picking it up and just holding it for a minute, thumbs running over all the bumps and creases in the worn leather, reminding me of the first time he’d asked me to dance; a once bittersweet memory gotten sweeter with time and circumstance.

He’d been such an ass back then.

Still was, if I was being honest; but I’d learnt to love that about him, even when he drove me crazy half the time.

I wondered if he’d known back then?

That beneath all that macho horse crap, and maschoist sadism, that he’d seen the possibilities of what this really could be.

I lifted his jacket to my face, inhaling the scent of cigarette smoke and stale cologne that always seemed to put my mind at ease.

“Lola; I think you’re gonna want to see this…”

———————————

I walked into Billy’s bathroom, fully expecting my world to come tumbling down at the inevitable evidence of his cheating.

Instead; my heart dropped for another reason;

“Where did you find that?”

My eyes fell upon the red and yellow form of a lifeguard whistle; blood bright against the yellow plastic as it hand from Max’s hand.

“From the trash.” Max replied; picking up the dread in my tone.

“Do you think it could be-“

I opened my mouth to express denial, when Eleven interrupted;

“No. It’s hers.”

23 notes · View notes

az3422 · 4 years ago

Text

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PeppersGhost's Proposal, I guess.

K/O Failure Scenario Hub » SPC-001 » PeppersGhost's Proposal, I guess.

rating: +263+–X

You are now connected.

[13:04] Topic is "Fuck credentials, fuck passwords, fuck secrecy, fuck everything. Just, fuck in general. Fuck like it's the end of the world, because it is. Fuck me, please oh lord im so alone | Welcome! If you're still alive to read this, good luck finding someone to talk to."

[13:04] DrTsega: Hello? Anyone here?

[19:32] DrTsega: I'll take that as a no, then.

[22:48] DrTsega: I can't be the only one left.

[22:49] DrTsega: Hey Queg, are you still running?

[22:49] Queg: Hello, DrTsega. What can I do for you?

[22:49] DrTsega: thank god

[22:50] DrTsega: !backscroll 10

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] SgtYitay: I've looked through the entire building

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] SgtYitay: Everyone is dead

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] AgentCaleb: No shit

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] AgentCaleb: I know nobody uses this thing anyway but DAMN it's been EMPTY

[22:50] Queg: [04:34] AgentCaleb: You think it's just the two of us?

[22:50] Queg: [04:37] AgentCaleb: You still there

[22:50] Queg: [04:39] AgentCaleb: Saaarrrrge

[22:50] Queg: [04:50] SgtYitay has been disconnected (Ping timeout)

[22:50] Queg: [18:22] AgentCaleb: oooookay well i think im gonna call it quits then. If anyone sees this tell my husband I love him

[22:50] Queg: [18:22] AgentCaleb: lol jk i'll see that dogfaced whore in hell 👍🕶��

[22:51] DrTsega: hmm

[22:52] DrTsega: !seen Agent Caleb

[22:52] Queg: AgentCaleb was last seen 8 days ago saying: lol jk i'll see that dogfaced whore in hell 👍🕶👍

[22:52] DrTsega: shit

[22:53] DrTsega: shitballs

[22:53] DrTsega: shitmonkeys

[22:55] DrTsega: shit the nail on the head

[22:55] DrTsega: okay

[11:16] DrTsega: Good morning. If anyone sees this just ping me, I'll stay around as long as I can.

[09:48] DrTsega: I'm still here

[14:26] DrTsega: !quote CaptSumner

[14:26] Queg: CaptSumner: I may be shitting out of my pee parts but FUCK YOU I will WALK IT OFF

[14:26] DrTsega: haha what

[14:27] DrTsega: Good times, good times.

[14:28] DrTsega: I wish Sumner wasn't lying dead in the bathroom

[14:29] DrTsega: or anywhere, for that matter

[14:33] DrTsega: but especially the bathroom

[08:01] DrTsega: I'm still here

[12:55] DrTsega: Man, if anyone sees this later I'm going to look really pitiful

[05:51] DrTsega: okay I can't sleep so I guess I might as well do this

[05:52] DrTsega: !settopic Check the backscroll. Look for "Start here"

[05:52] Topic is "Check the backscroll. Look for "Start here""

[05:52] DrTsega: Start here

[05:53] DrTsega: If you're still alive to read this, congratulations. You survived.

[05:54] DrTsega: You also have access to working internet and enough knowledge about shadow governments to visit a (previously) private communications channel, so, hey, good on you.

[05:55] DrTsega: As a reward for being such a cool and alive person, I'm going to tell you the story of how we ended the world.

[05:55] DrTsega: For context, though, you'll probably want to start by reading a certain document…

[05:56] DrTsega: Actually, you can probably just skim it. A lot of this won't make sense to you anyway, so who cares?

[05:57] DrTsega: Anyway. I'll go find the link. If memory serves, they declassified everything when they realized we were all gonna die.

[06:13] DrTsega: How are these servers even still up? Isn't that just the craziest thing

[08:22] DrTsega: Found it.

NOTICE FROM THE CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE COORDINATION

AND PROJECTS OPERATION COMMAND OFFICE

There is nothing new to report regarding SPC-001 at this time.

Test subject displaying the results of his exposure to SPC-001.

Project #: SPC-001

Selachian Pugnātorial Capabilities: Individuals enhanced with SPC-001 display a dramatic improvement in pugilistic prowess and have consistently proven capable of easily dispatching 90% of squaloid entities in simulations, even with no prior training. Furthermore, SPC-001 subjects have reported a radical elevation in coastal requiescence position retention, even when under assault from extragranular sedimentary weaponry.

Project Components: SPC-001 is a manmade chemical substance which augments the biological strength and dexterity of human beings. After initial exposure to SPC-001, subjects will undergo a steady increase in muscle mass over the following 72 hours, accompanied by heightened energy levels and adroit perception of their surroundings. Increased lung capacity and resistance to deep-sea hydrostatic pressure are common side effects.

Following the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION and the subsequent activation of the ALL HANDS ON DECK PROTOCOL, SPC agents embedded in the food industry began introducing discreet amounts of SPC-001 into numerous products intended for public consumption. Centre researchers have projected a full global saturation of SPC-001 to be achieved by the year ████. In the event that the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION ends before global saturation can be achieved, more aggressive means of SPC-001 dispersal may be undertaken to prevent a complete End-of-World K/O Failure Scenario.

Nascency Impetus: On May 16, ████, all observed selachian entities across the globe simultaneously demanifested, including those in SPC captivity. No selachian entities or evidence of the continued presence of selachian entities have been observed since. A Maximum State of Emergency was declared soon after by the Executive Pugilist Assembly and the phenomenon was codified as the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION. It is the belief of the Assembly that the selachians are congregating in preparation for the FINAL CONFLICT, an event foretold by Elder Pugilord Azmanititas in the Centre's original constitutional documents in 1451.

[08:23] DrTsega: Did you get all that?

[08:23] DrTsega: No? Okay, I'll break it down for you.

[08:26] DrTsega: I was part of a group known as the Selachian Punching Centre. An organization dedicated to fighting the menace that plagued our oceans. "We punch underwater so you can live on the land." That's what we used to say.

[08:27] DrTsega: I know what you're thinking.

[08:29] DrTsega: Yes. It was us keeping you safe the entire time. The Centre safeguarded mankind for centuries. Civilization as we knew it wouldn't have been possible if we weren't around. Our influence was unparalleled, extending to every level of every government, changing the course of world events, yet remaining a complete secret from everybody, which was really quite tricky.

Then, one day, the selachian menace disappeared. Our immediate reaction was one of disbelief, followed by euphoria, followed by raucous celebration. We danced. We drank ourselves stupid. We sang the songs of our forefathers. The orgies weren't officially sanctioned, of course, but boy howdy-doo were they tremendous.

Sadly, our revelry wasn't meant to last.

"DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION", the Assembly called it. The prophesied gathering of every selachian, big or small. Every sharp, slimy, putrid horror that haunted our dreams, coming together in one place to bring about the end of all other life on our beautiful, green planet.

"But fear not," said our trusted Assembly. They told us that the human race would fight back. They said that when the selachians returned with their armies and squaloid murder-drones, we would be ready.

And they were right. We were ready. Thanks to SPC-001, we managed to get the entire human race fighting fit. At first people were alarmed when everyone started getting super ripped for no apparent reason, but then they realized it was awesome and the panic died down. Within a few months, every man, woman, and child was a lean, mean, punching machine. Even babies had abs you could wash your clothes on. It seemed like everything was going fine.

And that's how it went for the first couple of years: fine. Sure, boxing had to be outlawed once folks could punch with the same Newtonian force as your average car crash, and there were a few riots now and then over tank top shortages, but for the most part everything felt normal.

Year three, people started getting antsy. We had kept ourselves busy at the Centre by devising new weapons for selachian warfare, but every innovation felt hollow with a lack of anything to use them on. We grew listless. Surely the assault would begin any day, right?

Year four. There was an aura of dread hanging over the whole organization. I remember sitting in the Site-71 cafeteria, eating pickled cabbage and creamed corn salads with my comrades, when I finally heard someone ask aloud what we'd all wondered in the dark corners of our heads.

"What if they don't come back?"

It was Simmons who said that, of course. Of course. I kicked him in the face—a punch would have really hurt him—but the damage was done. It's a scary thought, losing your purpose in life. Faced with that kind of existential ennui, it's no wonder that everyone responded by flipping their shit. Hersberger screamed and started smearing her salad all over her face. Gertzler stabbed his fork tines into his cheek with no visible emotion. Bühler just broke down and cried until his tears turned to blood.

But Schwartzentruber was downright fuming. Started shouting all sorts of obscenities. Said he'd shove his fist down Simmons' throat and rip out his toenails from the inside. And Simmons was all defensive, "you all were thinking it" and that kind of stuff. The two kept going at it. We shouldn't have just sat there and watched, but no one thought fists would ever get involved. How could we have known?

I remember the entire cafeteria going silent. One moment, the two colleagues had been arguing. Next thing we knew, Schwartzentruber was wearing Simmons' face around his arm like a bracelet. Fist went straight through. Nobody knew what to say. Hersberger just picked the brain matter from her hair. There was no finishing our dinner after something like that.

We all tried to write it off as an isolated incident, an unhinged employee who forgot his own strength in a moment of pure emotion. That illusion was shattered when reports started coming in from the other sites. Similar incidents were happening all over the world, and within a few weeks it wasn't just limited to SPC personnel. These arms were made for punching, and that's just what they did.

As time went on, it became harder for us to fight the itch. Punching bags were laughable at that point, so instead we invented punching blocks out of a titanium-concrete composite. Even fashioned them into the shape of selachians to help take the pain away, but it still wasn’t enough. Whenever we came close to a cure, someone would end up atomizing the equipment with a flick of the wrist and we'd have to start over.

Eventually, one day I walked into the cafeteria and found the floor covered in what must have been two inches of blood. I thought maybe a pipe had burst until I saw Bühler sitting on a table in the corner. Guy was slathered in viscera from top to bottom, and he was wearing human heads around his arms like they were snap bracelets. I asked if he wanted to talk, but he didn't answer. He just stared at his fists and trembled. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was dead, hole in his beefy chest so big I coulda driven my Grampy's Volvo through it.

That was what broke me, I think. I had never seen someone self-pugilate before. I didn't know how many people were still alive in Site-71, but I knew that I would not perpetuate the carnage. I gathered some medical supplies from the surgical augmentations lab and tied a tourniquet around my burgeoning, well-defined bicep. Carefully, I injected myself with the nearest substance that resembled an anesthetic and bid my guns goodbye.

Screaming, writhing, I hacked off my arm using only a pair of rusty toenail clippers. Needless to say, I was dizzy from pain, blood loss, and the 5 CCs of green apple daiquiri I'd injected myself with, but somehow I managed to drag myself back to the cafeteria to cauterize my stump in the kitchen's oven. Barely clinging to consciousness, I set the oven to preheat, wrapped my stump in a tent of foil, and stuck it inside, turning regularly to promote an even cauter and applying a light baste to keep it moist.

When the bleeding stopped, I went back and repeated the process with my other arm. The second time was harder, I think. With no free hands remaining, I was forced to grip the toenail clippers with my teeth. I also ran out of baste. It was the most agonizing experience I could ever possibly fathom, but here I am. Alive. My cannonball deltoids still ripple with pugilistic vigor now and then, but the stubs are too short to be lethal.

And that's it. That's my story. That's how I ended up here, barricaded alone in an underground facility, typing on a keyboard with my tongue. I haven't been able to get in touch with any other Centre sites, and I can't leave the building. Every day I lose a little more hope. My personal hygiene has suffered, too—partly because I can't look at a pair of clippers without bursting into tears. My toenails are getting really long now. I'll probably have to use a pair of scissors or something. I could even use that electric carving knife I got for my birthday. Hell, I think there's a chainsaw in the supply closet. No shortage of options, really.

Even if I'm alive now, there's no telling how long that will last. Sometimes I hear people punching on the reinforced doors, desperate to break in and claim another victim to slake their drunken punchlust. Someday they may succeed. There's enough food left around to keep me going a while, though just for a while. I've kept my mind occupied and my spirits up by watching Dr. Cavender's Walking Dead box sets, but I can feel that post-Season-Six quality drop looming just around the corner.

Maybe this was their plan all along. Maybe they just left the planet, knowing full well we'd destroy ourselves. Maybe when the last human has passed their final breath, the selachians will return from wherever they went and feast on our tight, sculpted corpses. Or maybe they're happier where they are now. Maybe they're not coming back. I hope that's not the case. As much as it pains me to say it: I miss them.

I miss sharks.

[23:19] DrTsega: With all the squats I've been doing, I could probably pop their heads between my fucking thighs.

[23:20] DrTsega: pop 'em just like cherries. hell yeah

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Other interesting sites

Fire Emblem d20

A tabletop version of the RPG/Strategy game!

Chaos & Complexity Theories in Education Group

Also a Special Interest Group of the American Educational Research Association

Bootstrap Playground

Because we all need a place to play

Star Wars - Galactic Unity

A community of Star Wars Sims in Second Life.

#woah

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