#anyway. where my fellow car fuckers at

[feketeribizli]

since they put so much effort into revealing them... heres the 2025 season car fuckability poll strictly based on liveries 😁

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #25

They said it couldn't be done. Haters said I would NEVER catch back up to the book club schedule. WELL GUESS WHAT SUCKERS!!! YA BOI IS ALMOST ON WINTER BREAK AND THEN I CAN READ AS MANY DUCK COMICS AS I WANT!!!!!! Anyways today is the second PKNA Special Issue: Zero Slash One which is another fun collection of short stories where NOTHING SAD HAPPENS! (ignore the thumbnail image)

Extra long post warning my dumbass hit the image limit

Shoutout to this special indented cover of PK's eyes that probably looks really cool in person but when scanned like this is just. White.

Literally only 3 pages in and I have no idea how I'm NOT supposed to read this dialogue like they're having a tragic breakup

HE'S JUST REALLY SMALL AND SCARED. AND SMALL. HE WAS BORN IN A WET CARDBOARD BOX ALL ALONE!!! AND ALIENS ARE SCARY.

Ok so the first time I read this comic I was like "who the FUCK is Archie" completely forgetting that Gyro's Italian name is Archimede Pitagorico (fucking insane name btw). Anyways imagine if this comic was about Archie from Darkwing Duck they should introduce him into the lore I think

Replacing the guy that builds robots with two actual robots is crazyyy

He thought he was gonna have to break up with Gyro but GYRO is breaking up with HIM, RIP bozo

First of all. I am so sad. Second of all, I know WHY it had to be done but I can't deny that it's kinda funny for Uno to enter Donald's life and then IMMEDIATELY hit up his other friend like "he can't hang out with you anymore" like DAMN 😭 and then his argument in the present that's basically like "you can't leave me you already left Gyro!" like I KNOW that Uno is just trying to explain to Donald that he shouldn't let his fear ruin all his relationships but if this story had taken a more sinister turn it could look like Uno is trying to cut him off from other people which is NUTS.

But we already have so many memories in common! Like that time we fought aliens together, that time we fought aliens together, that time we fought alie

THE SNOOZERRRRRR

THE SNOOZERRRRRR (part 2)

I love how they're acting so shocked that someone could have possibly become aware of the 151st floor when all you have to do to find it is just. count the floors on the tower. You think Everett would try to camouflage it or make it look like it's just one bigger floor at the top 😭

Again, should that not be active all the time? Like as part of the tower's design?

Plan B: Act like a fellow old person Plan C: Dress in drag Plan D: Stefan Vladuck cosplay Plan E: Give him head trauma

DONALD'S FACE 😭😭😭 I love this comic it's so stupid

HOLY SHIT TRIPLET SIGHTING!!!! In photo form but y'know

(walrus) Man.

dude he's fucking ascending

hrgnhghh.... burber

WELL THAT'S NOT HORRIFYING AT ALL

GOOOO DONALD PROTECT ALL THE PEOPLE THAT WE NEVER GET TO SEE IN THIS SERIES!!!!!

No comment I just think people should look at this panel

Hey look it's Daisy hahaaaAAAAH AAAAH GLADSTONE JUMPSCARE!!! I THOUGHT I WAS SAFE FROM YOU IN THIS SERIES YOU FUCKER!!!!! GET OFF THE PAGE

WHY ARE ALL THESE STORIES DEPRESSING I'M NOT HAVING FUN ANYMORE

Uno that is NOT the response you what to give to someone who just confided in you about a traumatic experience 💀

:(

Nvm he ruined it by saying he cares about his car more LMAOOO

But I have a face :(((

DAMN DONALD TORE HIM UP

It's the PANELLL I hate this I hate them... affection for a duck. corny ass

Also does anyone else find it interesting that Uno can't understand how someone could feel affection towards a machine given. Y'know... like take a look in the mirror? (Though he did just refer to himself as THE machine so he probably just thinks of himself as above that status) ANYWAYS I'm going to choose to ignore that fact, Uno thinks he's not worthy of love this is so sad you guys

NEVERMIND THE DIVORCE IS OFF WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK BABY!!! 🎉🎉🎉

So we finally got some explanations for why certain Duckverse characters aren't present in this series and they're ALL sad. PK doesn't hang out with Gyro anymore cause he's worried about his safety bringing him into the world of aliens and time travel and shit. Also Daisy isn't dating him anymore because he has to spend all his time fighting aliens, not that SHE knows that of course. Like WHAT. THIS IS SO DEPRESSING I AM SO SAD!!! Like sure Donald has NEW friends now but :( and also the triplets are in AFRICA!!! Sometimes. I think they're home now but it's not like we ever see them.

At least he has Uno and Lyla and Xadhoom and the Raider and NOTHING BAD WILL EVER HAPPEN TO ANY OF THESE NEW CHARACTERS!!!!!!!

[seeyouonsaturn]

I need to actually post about my OCs instead of keeping them inside my mind, unfortunately I cannot DRAW half of these fuckers you all you're getting is words.

✨️ Behold: Havoc ✨️

So Havoc is made for the IDW/MTMTE continuity, though I haven't actually read the comics yet (I will I promise I will) so minor details are likely to get tweaked once I do and shamefully realize that I have misunderstood certain things. Go easy on me.

Havoc is a medic on the Lost Light. She's also shipped with Whirl (but it's a very slow slow burn because. It's Whirl. Yeah we all know that ain't happening any time soon lmao). Mainly their interactions take place in the med bay when he gets his ass kicked for the third time this week (it's only Monday) and Havoc has to fix him up and get on his nerves about him wasting their resources with his bullshit. They care about each other. She's his favorite doctor.

She's also something along the lines of one of these thingies ⬇️

Don't ask me for specific models, I'm not a car guy, idk their breeds. Plus she's got a Cybertronian alt mode so it doesn't matter anyway. Point is, she's a fuckoff big military tank. She's taller than Whirl and Whirl is already big af. (Okay, she's not a lot taller than him, but definitely a lot bulkier than that chicken leg man).

Which is where the backstory comes into play: Havoc is a weapon. Assigned war machine at birth. Back in the good old days of the Functionist Council, she was deemed to be the perfect soldier/warrior/occasionally bodyguard. Problem is, she abhors violence. She could never stand having to hurt or even kill other bots – but if that's what you're made to do, you don't get much of a choice in the matter.

Havoc got so used to not having a choice that, even when the war broke out and everything changed, she allowed herself to be drafted to the front lines, because clearly that's where she belongs. She hated it, but at least she was useful. Until her closest, lifelong friend and fellow soldier Mayhem got shot down right in front of her, bleeding out in her arms with Havoc entirely unable to help her. That moment changed something within her, and finally gave her the courage to do something about her own life. She asked to be transferred from the battlefield to medical school, got approved, and has since become a fully-fledged doctor. She towers over all her colleagues and sometimes it's a bit difficult to hold the tools made for hands much smaller than her own, but she works hard and she's not letting it hold her back.

Havoc is a gentle giant, very socially awkward but incredibly careful and reassuring towards her patients. She's rather reserved and quiet, unless she's comfortable around people; she can be fun once she lets loose a bit! It just doesn't happen often, because it's the middle of a seemingly eternal war and she's constantly stressed.

She does have anger issues/violence pre-programmed in her processor, but she's trying incredibly hard to surpress that side of herself, often to unhealthy limits. Unless you're Whirl. She will tell Whirl to go fuck himself sideways if he got himself bent out of shape again, and he will respond in kind. It's fine, it's how they communicate. Somehow this works for them. Whirl doesn't get any unwanted pity, and Havoc gets to let loose just a little bit for once. A beautiful friendship.

Also, with Havoc being a big, burly, powerful warframe, and clearly mech-coded, her using she/her pronouns is very much intentional. She's already incredibly trans coded, I might as well make it official. Good for her.

Theme songs are

Salt - Bad Suns (seriously the lyrics fit SO well I'm obsessed)

Nobody's Soldier - Hozier

My Life - Imagine Dragons

Once in a Dream - In the City

Additional Lore - Relationships

Whirl

Ratchet

Megatron

More Lore from ask games

1

2

3

The Whoc Post

[lilypadlys]

Oopsie

Summary: After a ritual, the band heads to their hotel for the night, eager to get some sleep. One small problem though. They left Dewdrop behind at the venue.

Word Count: 1115

Rating: Teen (Dew has a filthy mouth)

Tags: SFW, Literally just a shit post.

AO3 Link

How none of the ghouls, roadies, or other tour crew noticed that Dewdrop was suspiciously absent, Copia will never know. Given that the trouble making spitfire was constantly underfoot, getting into something, or drawing attention to himself; someone really should have noticed sooner. He also doesn’t know how, as being the man basically responsible for corralling the ghouls, he missed it. All he knows for sure is that he’s determined to never let it happen again.

It happened one night after a ritual late in the tour. Copia tiredly hopped on the bus after the ghouls. Normally he rode on the other bus with the rest of the team; fellow ministry staff, roadies, instrument techs, stage crew, and the like. Tonight however, it was just easier to ride with the ghouls. It was only a twenty minute drive to the hotel and fatigue would keep their antics to a minimum.

Copia would be kicking himself later for not realizing the now obvious problem but, as it was, he was too exhausted to really pay attention. He just slumped in a seat near the front; far enough away from the noise of the ghouls chattering in the back, close enough to keep an eye on them, just in case. The ride being surprisingly quiet should have been a sign. Instead, Copia was just happy that the ghouls were behaving for once.

They arrived at the hotel on time. Traffic had been insanely backed up on the opposite side of the highway, but thankfully clear on their side. They parked, sleepily stumbled off the bus, and filed into the hotel lobby. It wasn’t until Copia began handing out room keys that anyone noticed that something was amiss. Or rather, someone was missing.

Copia glanced down at his spreadsheet detailing room assignments, and sighed. The purpose of the meticulous chart was to separate the trouble makers and pair them off with roommates who could hopefully keep them in check. He didn’t know why he even bothered though; the ghouls always swapped key cards anyway.

Still he used it to do headcounts and make sure everyone at least got a key. “Dewdrop and Mountain. He’s your keys.” Copia held out the corresponding keycards, still looking down at the chart. He was surprised when only one key was taken. He looked up.

“Ciao Mountain. Where’s Dew?”

Mountain just shrugged exhaustedly. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to find him.”

“Is he still on the bus?” Copia asked. Prayed really. “Did he fall asleep?”

Swiss trotted over, shaking his head. “Nope. I just ran out to grab my bag but I didn’t see him.”

Copia and Mountain both stared at Swiss with panicked expressions.

Swiss blanched. “I’ll call him.” He said, already pulling out his phone. He was just about to dial when a text came across the group chat.

“Where in the Hell are you guys?! I’ve been standing around backstage waiting for you for like 20 minutes!”

“Ah shit.” Swiss whimpered.

“Satanas.” Mountain grumbled.

“Cazzo!” Copia pinched the bridge of his nose. “Merda!” He waved at one of the ministry secretaries who happened to drive their own car. “Sibling! Can I borrow your car? And can you get the ghouls settled in? I have to go retrieve Dewdrop. He was left behind at the venue.”

The sibling went white in the face. “Of course Papa!” They yelped, scrambling for their keys and tossing them to Copia.

“Thank you Sibling. We’ll be right back.” Copia headed for the door. He looked back long enough to yell, “Behave yourselves!” to the rest of the ghouls, before stepping out into the parking lot. He only slowed slightly as Swiss and Mountain jogged over to catch up; Mountain’s face set in a stern expression, and Swiss on the phone with a very angry sounding Dew.

“What do you mean you left without me you mother fuckers?!”

“It was an accident Dewy!” Swiss attempted to soothe. “We're on our way and we’ll be right there.”

“Don’t Dewy me! Get your asses over here!”

The three piled into the small sedan, Copia driving, Mountain riding shotgun and Swiss in the backseat. They peeled out of the parking lot and back onto the highway; Copia breaking several traffic laws, not to mention ignoring the speed limit entirely.

“Wow. And you’re the one always going on about following the rules and driving safely.” Swiss joked, trying to lighten the mood. It’s greeted by dead silence from Copia and Mountain. “I’ll shut up.” Swiss mumbled.

Their pace was quickly slowed and then halted entirely as they encountered the traffic they had managed to avoid on their way to the hotel.

Mountain glanced at the GPS app on his phone and sighed. “ETA with traffic is another hour at least.”

“Who wants to tell him?” Swiss laughed nervously. More silence. “I guess I will.” He gulped.

“Heyyyyyy Dewy.” He texted.

“What.” Swiss could practically feel the fury contained in that single syllable.

“Soooo. We ran into some traffic and we’re gonna be a little bit delayed.”

“How long?”

“...”

“...?”

“An hour.”

Swiss silenced and then finally turned off his phone to escape the tirade of curse word laden replies from Dew.

“So how’s he taking it?” Mountain asked.

“Not well.”

Unfortunately for everyone involved, what should have been a half hour drive at the longest, ended up taking closer to two hours. A soaking drizzle had started up about halfway through the trip, making the road slippery and further delaying things.

Dew was not amused.

They found him standing in the parking lot of the venue. He was drenched from getting caught in the rain after security had booted him out. Apparently he’d misplaced his backstage pass. They didn’t believe him when he said he’d been left behind and they assumed he was just an over zealous fan looking for an autograph.

Even with his helmet still on, obscuring his scowl, his body language betrayed his ire. His shoulders tensed, fists clenched, and foot tapping in annoyance. As Copia pulled the car up, Dew stomped over and threw the back passenger door open. He sagged into the seat and settled in to glower out the window. Swiss scooched over to give him a wide berth.

Copia apologized sheepishly. “I’m so sorry Caro. It was an honest mistake. Did you not hear the call to get to the buses?”

“Am I not allowed to take a shit in peace?” Dew grumbled back.

“Ah…” Copia didn’t know what to say to that.

“Let's go. I want to get dried off and go to bed.”

“Sì. Let’s head back.” Copia pulled away from the curb.

It was a very quiet ride back to the hotel.

[kiridarling]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒

izuku midoriya | ft. ceo!au + praise + exhibitionism + breaking and entering + body worship + f!reader + more! minors dni.

— 3.8k words

“When I saw you this evening, in that ballgown, I knew I just had to have you. But I can't be a gentleman for much longer, as much as I'd like to."

You’ve always hated Chopin.

“L’œuf mimosa, Madame?”

After turning down the poor waiter whose arms quiver under the weight of the plates, you turn back to your red wine and people-watching. The ballroom is full of golds and reds, the amber lighting illuminating the intricately decorated walls. And you sit in the middle of it all—you and your 147 billion net-worth, with a ball gown that’s caught at least half the aristocratic asshole’s attention, not that they were very loyal to their wives in the first place.

You're not here for their attention, though. You’re strictly here for business—and frankly, you want to do nothing more than sock these fat business moguls in their chubby faces until their teeth fall out and demand they pay their taxes. But, seeing as you’re the only woman here who isn’t a gold-digging wife, you bite your tongue.

You’ve always dreaded black tie events, but as you’ve said, duty calls.

A whine filters through the speakers, followed by two amplified taps and a clear of a throat. The murmur down as the auction's owner takes the center of the stage, stilling in front of the next piece of art—hidden behind a black veil—before adjusting the tie to his business suit.

“I’m glad that you all could be with us tonight. I have both a great privilege and honor to host this event,” he announces, bulbous head already growing damp under the heat of the stage lights. “Now that we're almost at the end, I'm sure you won't be disappointed. Saving the best for last, as one does."

He includes a casual wave to his comment and the audience erupts in a flurry of chuckles, though not for long. As he walks over to the piece, hand raised and ready to reveal, silence seizes the room by the neck.

"Well. Shall we?”

The audience balances on the edges of their seats, with millions of wide eyes and thrumming chests in anticipation. A smooth flick of a hand and the black sheet is removed, and there sits the only piece you’ve had your eyes on all night. She’s even more beautiful up close.

“El Bacio, The Kiss. Francesco Hayez, 1859.”

The grip around your glass tightens. The brilliant blue from the woman’s dress in the oil painting may as well burn your eyes, and the surrounding murmurs peak with your interest. You know it's yours without question, though—you can outbid almost anyone in this room. Anyone that matters, anyway.

“This is the original version, originally commissioned by Count Alfonso Maria Visconti of Saliceto. It was donated to the Pinacoteca di Brera in 1886 and went missing in 1937. Starting at ten million.”

You try not to scowl. The fucker jacked up the price by two million.

“Twelve million,” the man says as he recognizes whoever lifted a hand. You sit tight, your hands throbbing in your lap for the right moment as you survey the room for anyone who could possibly pose a threat. You find none.

The bidding continues. The price elevates from twelve million to fifteen to thirty to fifty. You raise a hand, finally, fingers splayed wide and confident to signify a five.

“Fifty-five million.”

The room falls silent; you try not to smile. You know for a fact no one wants this painting more than you do, and you’re determined to have it.

“No one else?”

His eyes scan the room but no one makes a motion. It’s yours.

Until there’s movement from your peripheral.

“Sixty million!”

You eye whoever had the audacity to raise their hand, only to be met with a rather peculiar sight—a man, roughly your age, with slicked-back green hair and a hand twice the size of yours, lifted lazily in the air.

With a huff, you find yourself thrusting another five into the air.

“Sixty-five millio—Seventy million!”

You know that green-haired (probably) trust fund baby has got to be doing this for fun because the poorly hidden smirk hidden behind the hand he rests his chin on is more than obvious.

You dislike him already, immediately categorizing him with the rest—another sleazeball.

“Seventy-five million!”

“Eighty million!”

“One hundred million!”

In your defense, you were getting frustrated.

Either way, the green-haired stranger backs off with a nonchalant shrug, and it makes you burn this discontent. The business mogul-turned-auctioneer steps off the stage for another twenty-minute intermission and folks turn to one another for conversation. You sigh, simply satisfied that you’ve gotten what you came for.

You find yourself faintly puzzled by the boy with the green hair, and you're sure it's solely due to his age. Frankly, you've been the only one under thirty in the Top 100 Richest People since you achieved such a feat, and the fact that you haven't heard of him is...puzzling. But it doesn't matter. Clearly, he’s just another fellow looking to put another pretty thing in his foyer—you doubt he knows a thing about art, and definitely not an appreciation for it. You find solace in the fact that it's the new addition to your precious art collection instead, and will be owned and taken care of by someone who actually enjoys it.

“Good evening.”

You jump. Wrapped up in all of your inner turmoil (complemented by inner bragging, naturally) you fail to notice the greenette cross the expanse of the ballroom and make himself comfortable in the open seat next to you, despite your lack of approval.

“Hello,” you say, unsure of why he's here. He offers a hand to shake, Rolex glinting under the golden lighting.

“Izuku Midoriya,” he introduces, and you suppose shaking his hand won’t hurt.

“Your name?” He snorts, raising a cocky eyebrow. You scowl.

“Does it matter?”

“Not particularly.” Izuku rests his forearms on the table as his evergreen eyes rake your figure up and down. “But if you prefer to remain nameless, be my guest.”

“[Y/N].”

“Hmm?”

“My name,” you clarify. “It’s [Y/N].”

You’re not exactly sure what possessed you to tell him your name so easily. Maybe the fact that most already know who you are, and the fact that this man—this stranger—doesn’t know who you are, irks you a bit.

Okay. It irks you a lot.

“Well, Miss [Y/N],” Izuku tilts his head sideways. “I think that’s a very pretty name.”

Your body betrays you with a light gasp. Stupid thing.

“Well. I’m bored,” Izuku announces childishly, relaxing against the chair. “Lets go somewhere.”

You roll your eyes at his asserted dominance—in no way does he expect you to go with him, does he? You raise an eyebrow.

“No.”

Izuku clicks his tongue as if it were a buzzer, and more importantly, as if you were wrong. “Why?”

That has you scoffing. “I don’t know you.”

Izuku’s eyes flash with a challenge and it’s gone just as quickly. He leans forwards, crowding your personal space yet again.

“I told you my name, no?”

“You did,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your back. You feel too small. “But I know nothing about you.“

“Well,” Izuku places an inquisitive finger on his lips, and it’s almost mocking, the way he takes a moment to think about it. “My name is Izuku Midoriya. I like...katsudon and hero movies. I’m here because I have too much time and money on my hands, and I’m, most importantly, bored.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you do for a living?”

Izuku’s lip curls, and it’s downright sinister, “I'll tell you if you come with me."

You roll your eyes, and he takes both your hands in his. You don’t pull away, but you don’t reciprocate it either.

“Where?”

Izuku shrugs, “Wherever the wind takes us.”

Your stomach growls loudly, interrupting your fairly intimate conversation and dying your cheeks pink. Izuku raises an eyebrow.

“I heard they’re feeding us escargo for dinner.”

“Ugh,” you sigh, shoulder sagging. “Looks like I’m not eating, then.”

But there’s a glint in his eyes, and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t one in your own. There's an ebb in the discourse, a beat, before Izuku's nodding towards the exit.

“Fast food?”

Wendy’s hits different during a Parisian midnight.

“—and so I had to be like: No Kacchan, you can’t hotwire his car to blow just because your food was, and I quote, lukewarm.”

You snicker behind a fist, digging your fancy heels into the grimy cement sidewalk, Wendy’s frostee in hand. Izuku hasn’t let go of your hand since you two left the fast-food joint, and for some reason, you haven’t pulled away.

"Violence seems to be a reoccurring theme with your friend," you say, laughing when Izuku nods in agreement, eyes stuck on the full moon hanging high in the air.

"You remind me of him, actually."

You raise an eyebrow, unable to see the correlation at all, "Because I'm a loud and angry and I like to blow things up."

"Or, because you're strong—independent. The type of woman to make men turn tail and run, you know?" Izuku turns to you with a lopsided grin.

You hum, averting your eyes to the moon. It's a stupid question, one that's all too loaded yet empty at the same time, and you hate that you hesitate to ask it.

"Why haven't you ran, then?"

"Easy." Izuku lets a smooth shrug roll off his shoulders, "I like strong women."

He continues to pull you to an undisclosed destination, the two of you stumbling through the heart of Paris with his suit jacket around your goosebump-ridden shoulders. People stare, but for the first time in forever, you find that you don't care much.

Finally, you two reach Izuku's "big reveal." You gaze at the magnificently lit french building in confusion, the golden under lights contrasting both of your beings against the navy blue sky.

"The Louvre?"

"Mhm," Izuku says, and he looks more than giddy. "Have you been?"

"Once," your voice is weary and you're sure he senses it, his grip tightening around your own. "For a fundraiser...but it's midnight Izuku, ho—"

But he's already tugging you to the right, dipping between columns and arches until you reach the back of the building. Izuku turns to you and whispers:

"Watch this."

It's hard to tell what he did exactly, especially with no light—it's just a bunch of jingles and ticks. Though, the moment you can't escape the sense that this is beyond sketchy, a lock clicks, and a door whines open.

"Hurry. And take your heels off," Izuku whispers, tilting his head towards the entrance. You hear the crunch of a leaf and see the beginning of a white flashlight curl around the building and fuck, this place has to be crawling with security guards, doesn't it?

"Don't tell me what to do," you grumble...as you take off your shoes. (Because you were going to do it anyway.) You enter and he closes the door behind the two of you, submerging you both in complete darkness.

"Security's only on the outside," Izuku grins. "They don't expect us to get inside, so as long as we're quiet, it should be fine."

"Until we have to get back out again," you say, huffing. Your heart pounds from the adrenaline because frankly, you've never been one for adventures, and breaking into a historical french museum is miles out of your comfort zone. "Seriously, did you think this through at all? What happens when we get caught?"

Izuku sighs, turning to you with a pout before grabbing your free hand again. "Women worry too much. C'mon—I wanna explore."

"You—let go, you misogynistic assho—"

You're cut off by a finger to your lips. Izuku bends down so he’s looking at you straight on, eyes dark as he sternly whispers, "Do you want us to get caught?"

It's not the prospect of getting caught that makes you falter, though—it's the way his stare pins you in place, voice swollen with that air of dominance you claim to hate. You have to tighten your grip on your heels to ensure they don't hit the ground.

"Now," Izuku‘s strangely childish manner returns, tugging your hand once your panicked whisper-yelling ceases, "Shall we?"

You roll your eyes, but your bare feet patter against the cold Louvre tile anyway. And you've got to say, the museum is much nicer when it isn't crawling with people.

"Mona Lisa's forehead is bigger than I thought," Izuku observes with a finger on his lip. He's on the wrong side of the railing, his nose close to kissing the glass protecting the piece. You snort, dropping your head to pinch the bridge. He turns to give you a weird look.

"What?"

"Nothing, just," you shake your head, the cool wood of the railing digging into your forearms. "Did you actually want that painting?"

Izuku frowns. "Which one?"

"El Bacio."

"Mm," the greenette hums as he thinks, blinking to the corner of the room."I suppose. You seemed like you wanted it more, though."

You roll your eyes, "So you cap at eighty million?"

Izuku shrugs, hopping the railing. Seems like he's finally done insulting poor Lisa, "I capped when you started to sweat."

You huff, but stomping instead of walking isn't so intimidating when you're barefoot. "I wasn't sweating."

You see a hidden smirk on Izuku's face once you catch up to him, and it's frustrating and insulting, to say the least. Both of you proceed down a hall of statues. "You're much easier to read than you think, Miss [Y/N]."

"And you're not as perceptive as you think, Mister Midoriya."

Izuku chuckles at that, shaking his head. "Well played, Miss [Y/N]. Well played."

You're not sure why your chest swells, but it does, and it takes both you and your limited lung capacity off guard. But you don't have much time to sort it out—Izuku's grabbing your hand again, and redirecting your attention to the last statue in the hall. You recognize it and frown.

“Cupid and Psyche?”

The silver moonlight pours in through the window, spilling down Cupid’s tipped wings and the softest points of the Psyche’s curves. Izuku hums in confirmation, hands sliding to encompass your hips as his chin hooks on your shoulder.

"Well done, Miss [Y/N]."

His voice deepens—it's coarse and heady, and gets your blood rushing in a way breaking and entering never could have.

"Amore e Psiche, Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. Antonio Canova, 1793."

You fail to understand why this statue stood out to him compared to all the others, but the circles Izuku’s thumb presses into your hips signifies that you’ll find out soon.

"Cupid represents desire, and Psyche, the human soul," Izuku says, running his hands up your sides. "Together, they make the perfect union."

Dipping his nose into your neck, Izuku inhales, and the hands around your waist tighten, if the smallest bit. "Psyche was the prettiest woman in the world; so pretty she rivaled Venus' beauty with her own. It didn't matter if it broke rules—Cupid knew he had to have her."

The gentle nudge of a neck evolves into a set of butterfly kisses, tracing the column of your neck until his mouth reaches your ear. A hand slides to gently cup your breast, and the other to your thigh.

"Miss [Y/N], when I saw you this evening, in that ballgown, I knew I just had to have you. But I can't be a gentleman for much longer, as much as I'd like to." Izuku groans into your neck, hips gently grinding forwards. "So, it's up to you what we do next—I could drop you off at your home to probably never see you again, or...”

Izuku shifts, and you can feel his hardening cock against your back. “I can bend you over right here. Your choice.”

You hesitate, determined to think this through—but Izuku's wandering hands and rutting hips prove to be too much of a distraction.

"Fine," is all you say, before whirling around, grabbing the greenette by his dress shirt, and slamming your lips onto his.

Izuku kisses back with a grin—like he knew you were going to say yes—and places his hands around your waist yet again, backing you up against the marble statue.

"Sit on the platform," he breathes into your mouth. You frown.

"Like, the platform to the statue? Caus—"

"Yes on the statue, now sit," Izuku demands, but he doesn't give you much room to protest, forcing you onto the marble platform. Hiking your dress to your waist, Izuku's calloused palms slide up your inner thighs, spreading them apart to make room for himself in between. He pauses.

"No panties?"

You flush red—from the exposure or the comment, you aren't sure—but you huff in defiance nevertheless, determined to stand your ground and keep some of your dignity. (Though you're positive Izuku can feel you shaking already.)

"I'm wearing a dress," you defend weakly.

Izuku hums behind a bitten lip, lying a heavy thumb on your clit. It's enough pressure to make your thighs tense but not much else, until it flicks downwards.

"I wanna taste you," Izuku growls with dilated pupils once he finally tears his gaze from your exposed body. "Can I?"

Heat surges through your veins, and you let him pry your thighs apart as you respond with an unsteady, "Yeah—yeah, that's fine."

Izuku's chest rumbles with a growl as he closes in on your pussy, hands gripping underneath your thighs. You whimper when he trails butterfly kisses down your inner legs, the grip you have around the skirt of your dress tightening.

"So pretty," Izuku groans, chuckling when you shiver as he flattens his tongue against your slit, "My Goddess."

With that he dives in, almost sending you toppling with the force. The moonlight dyes his green locks a navy blue, and you can't resist seizing them into a fist when he pushes a finger in.

"Feel good, Gorgeous?" Izuku says with a knowing smirk on his sinfully glossed lips. Another digit enters and it has your toes curling as you nod. “Shit, you’re tight.”

Izuku spits on your pussy and it’s downright dirty, before looks at you under forest green eyelashes, the other hand finally letting go of your thigh in favor for pulling at the top of your dress.

“Izuku, wha—“

“I wanna see your tits,” he huffs. You’d laugh at his enthusiasm if you weren’t so aroused, and you find your hands joining in the flurry. The moment they’re free, Izuku’s mouth latches onto your breast in an instant.

“F-Fuck, ‘Zuku—“

“You sound so good when you moan my name, sweetheart,” Izuku groans, and you jolt as he tweaks a bud.

“Say it again.”

He pinches your nipple and clit at the same time, and it has your legs kicking as you squeal his name again.

The Izuku growls and it's nothing but feral, and another yelp of his name has him pulling you to your feet to the point where your noses almost touch. Aggravated from being so close before the greenette ripped his fingers away has you scowling.

"Wha—"

"Can I fuck you?" His breath ghosts your lips. You hide your shock by a roll of your eyes.

"Do you always ask stupid questions?"

Izuku hums in contemplation before grabbing you harshly by the jaw, to the point where your cheeks squish into your eyes and your lips pucker. "Say it, Bunny."

"I just sa—"

"Say 'I want you to fuck me, Izuku,'" he says with a cruel snarl. "’Hard.’"

Your eyes dart from his heavy gaze to the statue, and you can't help but feel more fragile than glass. "I litera—"

"Say it, brat."

"I—" you try but nothing comes out, and you blame that darkened stare of his, "I w-want you to fuck me. Izuku."

Izuku inhales sharply, the fingers cradling your face tightening before he speaks again.

"Good girl."

He spins you so your hands lay on the statue's base, yanking your hips back and flipping your dress so your bare ass is exposed to the cool air.

Izuku's palms caress your behind, kneading both globes before he pulls you against his bare cock. (When he took off his pants is beyond you.) He slaps his cock against your clit until you huff in frustration, turning around to shoot him an angry glare.

"Today, Izuku."

The greenette blinks out of his absorbed gaze on your behind in favor of glowering you down. You waver under his glare despite your best efforts.

His cock kisses your entrance and then all of it is in you at once, and his size is enough to make your inner thighs ache from the stretch. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle a moan, but that crashes and burns fairly quickly.

"O-Oh shi—"

"You said today, didn't you?" Izuku rasps, before pulling out and stuffing you full at a quick and steady pace. Your hands scramble for proper purchase against the statue—without breaking it, for gods sake—but the harder he fucks you into it, the harder it is to stay upright. "Quiet, baby. We're not supposed to be here, remember?"

You nod frantically, teeth digging into your bottom lip. The thought of getting caught, you, of all people, while being railed against a marble statue—

Izuku moans in your ear, a hand moving between your thighs to rub at your clit. "Oh, you tightened when I said that—you like the idea of getting caught, Bunny?"

You respond with a choked moan, thighs quivering with an impending orgasm. Izuku groans as you tighten around him again, but they quickly turn into shushes.

"Bu—"

"I-I know," your voice cracks and it's absolutely pathetic. "But I can't—"

Izuku's hand wraps around your mouth to the point where his fingertips just barely brush your ears. You whine, eyes fluttering as the new grip adjusts the angle ever so slightly, and pushes him so much deeper.

"You're gonna kill me," Izuku says, wheezing out a laugh. "I—fuck Bunny, I'm close."

You whimper behind his hand and nod as if to say me too, and you're sure Izuku understands from the way he groans before he speeds up in all aspects. "Good. G-Good—cum for me baby, I know you can—"

Your toes curl into the marble floor as the coil in your gut snaps, knocking the wind out of you and sending you thrashing in Izuku's arms. You hear the greenette curse and shudder behind you, stuttering hips slowing to an eventual stop. Both of you stand there for a moment, comfortable interrupting the silence with nothing but your heaving breaths.

"You okay?"

You chuckle. It's dry and scratchy, and your lip throbs from biting it so hard, but it isn’t...aggravating, per-se. "You sound worse than me."

Izuku laughs at that, though it waters down as he pulls out with a hiss. "I don't think worse is the correct adjective here, Miss [Y/N].”

You snort. Back to “Miss [Y/N]” it is, then.

Your ears catch the distinct wail of ever-increasing sirens, but you don't think much of it until the side of Izuku's face starts flashing blue and red. Both you and the greenette falter, sharing a look.

"Police! Hands in the air!"

i wrote this while watching a hysterectomy in physio aah (also yes, the french police speak in english leave me alone skjdhfgk) — sun

[in-tua-deep]

idk if you still do au ideas but what if delores was a real person in the apocalypse? how it woul dbe done i have no idea but i love all your aus and thought it would be cool

okay okay I don't tend to go for real!Dolores aus admittedly because I find her much more compelling as what she is: a reflection of five himself and a symptom of his crushing loneliness

but i started thinking about it and you know what?? i think five deserves a little socialization, as a treat

so say like, 0.5% of the population is resistant to abilities. Allison would really struggle to rumor them, Five wouldn't be able to jump with them, and, most importantly, whatever the fuck Vanya's ability does has like, reduced damage or something

and the og apocalypse isn't the moon apocalypse, so let's say that it was pure waves of Vanya's powers that fucked over the earth

so 0.5% of the population survives the apocalypse. though, let's be honestly, the real number is a lot smaller than that. People who might have survived Vanya's initial power wave (miraculously) did not survive buildings crushing them or survive the car/plane/bus/train/other transportation crashes or survive being left alone when they are too young to reliably look after themselves, or the variety of other problems that come with 99.5% of the population dying at once

So, Five arrives in the apocalypse and is met with ruin and fire and a whole lot of dead people. He finds his siblings, but it doesn't matter. They're dead. He doesn't even recognize them at first, these strange grown-ups who he identifies not by their faces but by the umbrellas on their wrists that match his own

As he realizes the full impact of his situation, he hears a voice that says, very succinctly, "holy shit!"

It's a girl a few years older than Five himself, maybe 15 or 16, and she is very excited to see another survivor.

And here's where I u-turn this au around bc i'm not all that interested in real!Dolores, but I would be down to talk about Five meeting survivors in the apocalypse, because if Dolores is real I don't buy no one else survived.

So Dolores shows up and see a Literal Child crying over the corpses of his family and assumes that Five is a fellow survivor, and she immediately grabs him up. Five is incoherent with grief at this point anyway, so he doesn't even protest when she basically hauls him away from the bodies. She's babbling at him, but he doesn't really hear anything she's saying

And then she takes him to her dad

(Why not, let's have the 1% potentially be a heritable thing)

and her dad, let's call him just some dad name. like Rick. it has been a fucking WEEK for him, okay. he had his daughter with him, his ex-wife is on the other coast for her work, and by some miracle he survived the apocalypse and so did his child, and he's been wracking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck to do next

and then his daughter shows up with a traumatized thirteen-year-old in tow

now rick is a good dude. he's a dad. they get out of five that his name is five ("what the fuck" dolores mouths to him over five's shoulder and rick can't help but agree) and the bodies he found were his siblings ("Dad and Ben and Vanya weren't there though," this child cries desperately and rick feels his own heart clench in response, "They might still be alive!")

"We can look for them." Rick assures his new adopted child, because he is an adult in a fresh apocalypse and this kid has presumably lost everything he's ever known (more than rick even knows at the time)

and they do. They each get wagons and they go out and find supplies and look for other survivors. Five is... surprisingly helpful and also surprisingly docile as he is able to rely on Someone Else to give orders while he attempts to (dissociate) process what the fuck has happened

and here's the thing: Five prides himself on being independent, sort of. He's independent for a child soldier, but he's used to taking orders from a male authority figure and Rick happens to be just that

The first time that Five does something dangerous and Rick yells is a revelation

(Rick isn't sure if he hopes that Five's dad is alive or not, because if they find that man alive then Rick might just kill the jackass himself. Also like, Five is bizarrely knowledgeable out survival skills, like way too knowledgeable about it, which is helpful for them but also very concerning)

they find a newspaper and Five finds the article that mentions his father's recent death ("Huh. Heart attack." Five says, and there is no emotion in his voice)

(Years later, years later, Five and Rick talk. "I don't think I wanted to find him, either." Five admits, softly because Dolores is asleep, "I think I was more scared of finding him alive than I was of finding his body. He would've been so mad at me, I think.")

this newspaper is how Rick and Dolores find out about Five being Number Five, Umbrella Academy Missing Person

"Dude, what the fuck." Dolores says, wide eyes, "You're like, thirty?"

"I'm thirteen." Five says, and then checks the date on the newspaper again, "Also I think I would technically be 29 if I lived through all of it, 'cause it's April and my birthday is in October."

"You... time travelled?" Rick asks, which is honestly the more relevant question, "Can you go back?"

And Five just,,, crumples on himself. Because he tried, he tried really hard. It didn't work. "I'm gonna figure it out. I'm gonna go back, I'm going to save them."

That, Rick thinks, is a lot of weight to put on one person's shoulders, but especially the shoulders of a child.

"Alright." Rick says, because what else can he say after finding out his new child has superpowers and is from like, 2004? "What do you need?"

("Oh my god I have so many memes to teach you." Dolores says later, reverently. Five blinks in confusion and Rick mentally prepares himself for the recitation of so many vines)

And it's easier, somehow. Five sometimes feels like it's a betrayal, but he settles into apocalypse life with an ease that surprises him.

He lets Rick fuss over him and help tie his scarf securely around his head every morning before he sets off on supply runs with Dolores. And they're kids! Five has never had a friend before, and Dolores is funny and smart and she's struggling just as much as he is.

"I don't know if my mom's alive." She says to him, in solidarity when he checks the face of every corpse to see if they're Vanya.

Five is practical in the way only a child soldier can be. He's economical with the room in their wagons, carefully examining what might and what might not be useful.

Dolores, on the other hand, constantly takes up space with what Five sees as useless shit.

"Excuse you," Dolores says, shoving a game of monopoly, the entire discworld series, and a pack of glitter gel pens into her wagon, "These are absolutely vital apocalypse supplies."

She challenges him, plays with him in a way no one ever has. "I bet you I can find more batteries today than you can," She grins at him, "Winner gets to pick dinner first?"

"You're on." Five says, directly before Dolores pulls two packs of 24 AA batteries from behind her back, like a cheat.

Dolores makes him take a ten minute break when they find a playground that has been mostly not-destroyed. They rummage around kids backpacks and mother's handbags for some good loot, too numb to corpses to even be bothered all that badly about the corpses they belong to.

"I'm getting on the swings." Dolores says when Five starts making noises about moving on, "I haven't been on a swingset in ages."

"What's the point?" Five grumps.

"Don't be sour because you can't swing as high as I can!" Dolores laughs, getting higher and higher as the swings creak ominously.

Five grumpily gets into the other swing and grudgingly kicks himself back and forth until Dolores takes pity on him and teaches him how to properly move his legs and body to get higher and higher.

Dolores jumps from the swing seat and lands with a flourish and smile. Five jumps out of his seat and then jumps, warping right in front of Dolores and making her yell and hit at him in outrage. Five smiles the widest he has all week.

This is how Five grows up in the apocalypse, with Dolores teasing him into taking breaks and leaning over his shoulder to look at his math and scandalizing him by stating that she'd only just started on matrices in her own high school math class.

Every night they huddle around Rick while he picks up whatever book Dolores picked out that day because it is a travesty that Five has never read hunger games or whatever, and then they read together because it would be a genuine blood bath if they all took turns. The first time Five accidentally mentioned a spoiler and Dolores genuinely considered murder was the birthday of this tradition

Some days the air is too smoky or there are dust storms or it's just plain too dangerous to go out, and they all stay in. Dolores regales Five with stories about public school, and Five tells them about his siblings.

Then they all cry

"I shouldn't be crying." Five sobs.

"Shut the fuck up," Dolores sobs back, "You literally watched me lose my shit over remembering my shitty eighth grade dance and listened to me sob-sing toxic for like four hours."

"In fairness I also wished you would shut up then."

"Let me hug you or I will start singing songs that I only remember the chorus for again you absolute fucker."

"I could always sing some -"

"No, Rick/Dad."

And Five grows up. Rick shows him how to shave very carefully in front of cracked mirrors. Dolores teases him every time his voice cracks. Rick tells Five in no uncertain terms that he loves and cares for him, and that Reginald was a little bitch. There are a lot of heartfelt conversations around that, honestly. Rick telling Five that he and the siblings deserved better, that they were children and deserved to have a childhood.

And that he has faith in Five. Rick and Dolores both do, they bring him back paper and pens and pencils and chalk and anything Five can use to write equations. They poke around any libraries for books on theoretical mathematics and quantum physics. Rick and Dolores go out scouting for food while Five stays home and can work longer.

They also make him take breaks, make sure that he's looking after himself.

They're a little better off than OG!Five when it comes to food, because some animals survive. Enough that Rick figures out how to hunt. Five is the first one to each bugs, and even though Dolores makes faces they all start eating bugs as well.

"Pretty sure there's loads of cultures that eat bugs." Rick says grudgingly, wondering if he should try stirfry the cockroaches and if that would improve the taste. "There's even, uh, cricket flour or whatever, right?"

"Plus you eat like, five spiders a year when you're asleep." Dolores says cheerfully, just to watch her dad's face scrunch up in displeasure.

"That doesn't sound true, but I don't know enough about spiders to dispute it." Five mutters, and Dolores gives him such a proud look that it makes him roll his eyes.

They're in their thirties when Rick dies. He's out foraging and hunting, and the rubble he's standing on gives way and he ends up with a gash in his leg. He manages to stop the bleeding, but the world is filthy and they don't have any antibiotics.

He gets an infection.

"It's okay." He tells both of his kids, "It's okay. I'm just so glad that you guys have each other, y'hear? I'm so glad."

"It's not okay." Five says, voice thick and choked, "It's not."

"Yeah, well, you're going to figure out how to go back, right? Go back in time and save everyone. Then I'll have never died, right?" Rick smiles, "And even if you don't, I'll be waiting for you on the other side and we'll see each other again anyway."

"I'm going to fix it."

"I know. I have faith in you, Five." Ricks says honestly, and that's more than Reginald ever said.

They sit quietly together while Dolores is out scavenging. They've been taking turns sitting with Rick.

"I won't remember you, in the past, will I?" Rick says rhetorically, but Five answers anyway.

"I don't think so."

Rick hums, "Well, doesn't matter. If you need help in the past, you come to me, y'hear?"

"You won't remember me."

"Doesn't matter. You come find me, and you tell me your crazy story until I believe you, and then I'll help you." Rick says firmly, "You're family. You're my son. Timelines? Don't matter. If you need help, with anything, even if it's just with - with filling out a bowling team or something -"

"I have never been bowling in my life and you know it." Five interrupts, but it makes him laugh just a little bit which was clearly Rick's intention.

"Well who knows what you'll get up to in the past! You'll be able to go bowling, you know. Get to wear those uncomfortable shoes. Hey, you go far enough back maybe you can go to Dolores's tenth birthday party and put me out of my misery."

"Was she bad at bowling?"

"Oh, she was wiping the floor with me. No contest."

"Honestly, that sounds absolutely accurate."

"Shut up, bowling just wasn't my sport. Regardless, the point was that I'm giving you a free pass to come and get me. Because I know you, I know how you think." Rick brings up his hand to tap his finger against Five's forehead, "You get it into your head that you need to go it alone, take it all on your shoulders. I'm telling you that if you do that I'll somehow manifest my memories and come smack you over the head for being stupid, you hear?"

"I'm not dragging you into anything." Five says firmly, "I'll have my siblings."

"Who were also children." Rick points out. "And dragging? Dragging is such a strong word for a volunteer."

"A volunteer who won't remember volunteering." Five shoots back.

Rick just shrugs, and then winces when the movement jolts his bad leg. "Five, I'm going to be honest with you here. And sappy. Can you handle a bit of sappiness for a minute?"

"No."

"Well too bad. Can't leave a dying man, you'd feel too bad. So you're stuck with me. But you listen good, okay? Because you aren't dragging me into anything. Whatever life you have, I want to have a part of that. Because you're my son. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I want to help because you're family. What you'd be doing by leaving me out of it is depriving me of someone I love, depriving me of knowing one of the best kids I've ever known."

"Shut up." Five says, choked.

"Nope, it's sappy time." Rick states, "Maybe asking you to come find me is selfish, but I don't care. No matter what version of me exists, I want to be in your life."

"My life is a walking joke, why would you want any part of that?"

"It has been my privilege to watch you grow up. To help you. To be here for you. Of course I'd want to be there to watch you grow up the rest of the way."

"But -"

"Shut up, just let me tell you that I am so proud of you. You never give up, and your heart is so big. You love so much and so loudly, and it's been the highest honor of my life to be included in your family."

Five pauses for a moment to collect himself before simply saying - "You're the best dad I've ever had."

Rick snorts, "Considering my competition, I'd sure hope so. That bar was so low old Reggie was practically limbo dancing with the devil. Now get over here and give an old man a hug."

They don't bury Rick, when he dies. They don't have time and the ground is too hard and they don't have the heart to move him. Instead the pack everything up and seal him in the shelter they'd lived in.

Dolores pulls out a bottle of ancient nail polish and painstakingly writes Rick's name on the wall with his birth year and an approximate current year. They aren't 100% sure though, since time blends together out in the apocalypse, but it's something.

They continue by themselves. They get older.

Dolores jokingly calls him her husband because the way his face scrunches up makes her cackle. They see other people very occasionally, usually passing through. Usually groups. Dolores and Five get to flex their hosting skills, though more than one group declines their cockroach stirfry.

("It's a family recipe." Five says with amusement in his eyes that usually manages to drown out old grief.)

"Jeeze, that kid couldn't have been older'n twenty-three." Dolores complains, "Makes me feels positively ancient."

"They wouldn't have known any world 'cept for the apocalypse." Five muses, pouring some boiled water into wine glasses because they might be living in the apocalypse but they can be fancy.

"Do you ever think about that?" Dolores asks, turning to him with no judgement, just curiosity. "When you go back, you'll be like, erasing them from existence."

Five shrugs, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this place will just split off into an alternate timeline."

"Maybe none of this is real." Dolores says, amusement coloring her voice. "Maybe you aren't talking to a real person at all. Maybe this is just a symbol of your insanity and cracked mind."

"Dolores, I literally have a scar where you stabbed me. Did I somehow manage to stab myself in the back?"

"Scraped you, I scraped you. By accident."

"So you maintain." Five says haughtily, swirling his water in his wine glass like a pretentious prick.

"I could totally be fake. You don't know my life."

"I know way too much about you, Dolores. Like, way way too much." Five scoffs, because Dolores and him have literally no secrets from one another at this point. Five even knows the truth behind what happened at Janet Scranton's thirteenth birthday party. Like, he said, way too much.

"Maybe you made it up. Maybe that's why you know so much."

"Dolores, I'm going to be honest with you right now." Five presses the tips of his fingers to his chin, "If you were a figment of my imagination, you would be so much better at math."

"Hey!" Dolores squawks indignantly, "I didn't even get to finish high school you pretentious prick!"

"Neither did I!"

"You didn't even go to high school, you brat."

"I'm fifty-two I think I've outgrown 'brat.'"

"Tell that to your attitude." Dolores says haughtily, "You're still younger than me."

"Won't be when I go back in time." Five says cheerfully, completely ignoring Dolores's venomous look.

"That's cheating."

"Sucks to suck." Five says loftily, taking another sip of his water.

Sometimes they talk about The Plan, with capital letters. What Five is going to do when he goes back in time, depending on when he pops out. Is he going to adopt his siblings? What about Reginald?

"You don't think I could kill Reginald?" Five says, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I think you should let me do it. I'll even give you control of tonight's music if you do."

"What are you doing to do? Bite his ankles? What if you're like, seven or something?"

"All the better to get away with it since I'll be too young to convict or whatever."

"Pretty sure that's not how the law works."

"How would you know? Just for that I'm playing Istanbul on repeat again."

"I don't know why you think that's a threat. That song slaps."

It takes a few more years before Five is close enough that the Commission comes to interfere. Because that's what I think happened - Five was getting too close and they stepped in because they might as well distract the man as much as they can with missions, right?

So the Handler shows up. And she offers Five a job, telling him that they have the ability to travel through time. And Five - hesitates.

"Give me some time?" Five asks, and the Handler graciously gives him 24 hours.

And he and Dolores talk it over, because now that his goal is more in sight than it has ever been and Five is scared.

"What are you waiting for? You have the chance to see your siblings again." Dolores says patiently.

"Yeah," Five says, and what he doesn't say is clear. But I won't see you.

"Five." Dolores says, and she cradles his face between her palms like he is something precious, "I have had so much time with you already. More than I would have ever. We have been so lucky, to have this time. How can I demand more than what we have already been given?"

"When have you ever not demanded the world, Dolores?" Five asks, his own hand coming up to cover Dolores's own.

"We've had decades together, Five. We're getting old. I was always going to lose you, one way or another. Nothing lasts forever."

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. But if I had to choose a way, if I could decide where our story ends, this would be it. Letting you go, because this way you get to live. You get to see your family again. You get to save the world. I could ask for nothing more than for you to get your happy ending."

Five removes Dolores's hand from his cheek so that he can cradle it between them, "I'm happy here with you. I've never been happier. Isn't that silly? That I was happier in the apocalypse?"

"I bet killing Reggie would make you happy." Dolores laughs rustily.

"One day you're going to see the mysterious disappearance of a famous billionaire in the paper and feel a twinge of satisfaction and now have a clue why." Five laughs as well, shaking his head.

Dolores pats Five's hands, "Five, look at me. We've had our time. And you're going to give me even more of it. More time with my father. More time with my mother. I'll never know it, but you'll have saved me."

"What if this is - what if this is an alternate reality? What if I leave you here alone?"

"Then you'll be saving a 15-year-old girl from the same fate as me. Because as much as I love you, as much as I have loved this time we have had together, this is still an apocalypse. This should never have happened, and if you have a chance to go back and prevent it, then I want you to take that chance with both hands."

"Even if it means leaving you alone?"

Dolores smiles at him, "I'm not going to be alone. Far too many creepy crawlies in the apocalypse for that."

"Shut up, I'm being serious."

"Hmm." Dolores hums consideringly, "Maybe I'll head North, to that new settlement that last group said they'd heard word of. Sure they'd find some use for an old woman who's survived this long in the wilderness."

"You can have my half of the record collection." Five says, pulling her against him into a hug that she easily returns.

"As if I wouldn't have stolen them as soon as you left." She scoffs, but it's a little wet, and Five pretends his own eyes aren't leaking tears.

When The Handler comes back, Dolores gives him another hug. She also slips something into his pocket - some photos. They'd taken it a year into the apocalypse, when Dolores had found an ancient looking polaroid camera and towed it home despite Five's protests about practicality. The photos are worn and faded at the edges, but the smiles on Five's little apocalypse family's faces are undeniable.

"You'll have to see if they magically fade when you change the timeline." Dolores whispers to him with a grin, "Like in the movies."

"Okay." Five whispers back.

"You have the list of movies to watch, right?" Dolores says. Five rolls his eyes and nods because he wrote the list last night into his Vanya-book while Dolores hovered over his shoulder and critiqued his handwriting.

"And you promise to try a proper non-expired twinkie at some point?"

"That I do not promise. I think even looking at one would make me lose my lunch. I have twinkie-trauma."

"Shut up and get going." Dolores says, because the Handler is starting to tap her foot impatiently.

And off Five goes to become an assassin. Though - he's much more gentle this time. He's careful, he doesn't kill children and he usually takes jobs that don't require killing at all. He distracts and manipulates events as much as he can without killing.

He's actually much more well socialized, thanks to Rick and Dolores. Less feral child and more determined man on a mission.

Which is why he's so frustrated when he finally, finally manages to get the equations to work and falls through and falls - directly back into his stupid thirteen-year-old body.

"Shit." Five says, loudly, and revels in the surprised look on his siblings faces.

He strides into the kitchen, and they all follow him like ducklings. They look exactly the way they did when they died.

"Wow this is actually way harder than I thought it would be." Five muses, looking at their dead faces. But as Dolores would say, life is hard but you have to keep on trucking sometimes. "Whatever, what's the date?"

"Five, where have you been?" Diego demands, looking irritated. It makes Five snort in amusement.

"The future. The past. If you want like, an exact list of dates you'll have to hold your horses. I spent like, two weeks in Peru once. No souvenirs though, unfortunately."

They look taken aback, like they didn't expect Five to have quite this much sass. Oops. That is definitely Dolores's influence. Or maybe he was always a little asshole. In fairness, what teenagers aren't tiny assholes? He has an excuse.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Diego's eyebrows are furrowed in anger. It kind of takes Five aback for a second, because he remembers a Diego who stutters when he argued.

"When did you learn the fuck-word?" Five asks, raising an eyebrow before her can help it, "Grace ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

Diego immediately goes red, "Shut up!"

"Wow you're so easy to rile up. Aren't you like, twenty-something? Actually, I could figure out for myself how old you are if you gave me the date."

"I'm twenty-nine." Diego growls, like that was the point.

"Haunting!" Five says cheerfully, because that means there is way less time than he would like, narrowing his time down to a six month window.

It's extremely funny how his cheer makes all of them make faces.

It's Klaus who leans forward, "Why do you need to know?"

Klaus's face is open and curious and - (looks exactly like he did when Five found him all those years ago) - and Five can't help but answer him. "The world end on April 1st, 2019. No it isn't an April Fools joke, yes I have heard that joke like a million different times. I just want to know how close I landed so I can, you know, start working on how to fix that."

"Woah woah woah, roll it back." Allison says, holding a hand up, "What?"

"The apocalypse occurs on April 1st, 2019." Five says, slowly. "I have traveled from afar to prevent this from happening, because like, everyone dies."

"Everyone?" Vanya says weakly from the side.

She's clearly expecting to be ignored, so Five turns his head to address her directly by wiggling his hand back and forth a little. "Sort of. Like, not too many people survive at all. A handful of the human population, you know."

"But you survived?" Diego recovers admirably, if bitingly.

"Well, no." Five says rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't you just know it, Klaus here has managed to figure out a new ability!"

Everyone turns to look at Klaus, who immediately holds up his hands like he's being arrested or something, "I did not!"

"Wonderful! Now that we've established that I'm alive -"

"Why should we trust a word you say?" Luther says for the first time, looking pensive.

Five blinks, genuinely taken aback. "Because... I'm your brother? Because I can clearly and obviously time travel? Like, yeah, it would have been more convenient if I'd arrived in like, my old-body for proof-purposes, but like. I mean. Thirteen is still a pretty convincing age to be to prove time travel considering if I hadn't, I would be like, almost thirty."

"Roll it back again." Allison says firmly, "What do you mean by 'old body'?"

"Great question!" Five says pointing at Allison and smiling. Everyone looks at him weird again, and Five takes a moment to wonder if they've ever experienced positive reinforcement. Knowing Reginald, probably not. "Wait! Is Reggie alive? Wait, no, answer that in a second. Uh. When I time traveled I fucked up my body I guess, I was like, old. White hair and wrinkles-type old from spending decades in the apocalypse. But I fucked up the calculations and got booted back to my thirteen-year-old body, I guess. How, I have no idea."

"What?" Vanya says, still equally weakly.

"You have no idea how fucked up time travel is." Five whispers conspiratorially to Vanya, loud enough for the whole table to hear, "There are so many ways to die. Or permanently tear a hold in space time. But like, with life as we know if ending soon-ish, I figured I couldn't possibly fuck it up worse than it already was, y'know? Speaking of, anyone have the date again?"

"Wait, what was that about dad?" Luther asks, very focused.

"Oh, you still call him dad? Big oof." Five says automatically, because apparently his verbal filter is shot to hell after living with Dolores. It does make Klaus bark out a too-loud laugh.

"What does that mean?" Luther asks aggressively.

"It means Reginald sucks and doesn't deserve the title of 'dad,' what did you think I meant?" Five asks, and now both Diego and Vanya and both cracking smiles, though Vanya is covering hers with a hand.

"Have some respect for the dead." Luther growls, standing up and looking very large and threatening.

Five sways back, craning his head up, "Woah there big buy, sit down before I injure my poor growing spine looking up at you. Jeeze, did Reggie force feed you steroids or something? I wouldn't put it past him but like, I just want to know he at least went over the side effects of the drug with you. Also like, thanks for narrowing it down. Also terrifying! Seriously though, exact date please because if I have less than 24 hours I am going to break down crying and that is a threat."

"I love this Five." Klaus says reverently.

"March 21st." Vanya offers, finally.

"Wow! Terrifying!" Five says, clapping his hands together, "Hate that. Ten days, huh? Well, who wants to get on board the save-the-world express?"

Klaus immediately flings his hand in the air, Five points at his brother appreciatively. "Yes, excellent! I'll take the volunteer in the lovely skirt as my first team member. Any other volunteers?"

"Danke!" Klaus simpers, grinning widely like this is the vest entertainment he's had in weeks.

"I'm not just going to stand here and listen to you badmouth dad and boss us around." Luther slams his hands on the table.

"Well not with that attitude." Five snarks.

Diego raises his hand, "I would like to join team fuck dad as well."

"We can certainly debate team names later." Five says, nodding wisely as Luther gives some sort of scandalized gasp.

"Honestly, I just want to see where this is going." Klaus confesses.

Five shrugs, because he doesn't really care about the reason. "Don't you want to prove me wrong them? Prove what a well-adjusted young man Reginald Hargreeves raised?"

"Shut up." Luther grinds out, looking a moment away from throwing a punch.

"If this is all true, I have to get home." Allison cuts in, looking concerned, "I have - I have a daughter."

"I mean, if you want to give Claire a world to live in then I'd stick around, but that's just me." Five shrugs.

"You know her name?" Allison asks, obviously taken aback.

Five is almost offended, "Uh, yeah. I have her photo as well. Y'all get on like, a bizarre number of gossip magazine covers did you know that?"

Allison manages to outdo herself in terms of being taken aback once more.

There's a beat of silence, and then Five turns, "Vanya? You in?"

"Me?" Vanya blinks, looking shocked. "What can I do?"

"Yeah, what can she do?" Diego asks, crossing his arms and suddenly looking grumpy.

It baffles Five, who scrunches his nose, "Uh, like, a lot? I assume? I mean. I'm going to be honest here, just looking at y'all right now is a lot. In more ways than one! Hashtag trauma and all that, but like, name a single one of you that wouldn't be the most obvious person in the room as soon as you walked into it. Except Vanya, who somehow manages to look like a well adjusted adult, by some miracle."

"Did you just verbally say the word hashtag?" Allison asks, looking so deeply confused.

"More concerned about the trauma he tacked onto there, but y'know, to each their own." Klaus immediately cuts in.

"You think I'm well-adjusted?" Vanya asks, looking oddly touched.

"I would like to direct your attention to Diego's leather pants-scowl combo and Luther's general aura of daddy-issues." Five says pointedly, "I can practically smell the tragic comic book backstory in this room. If I'd jumped back a decade earlier this would have been Batman's wet dream of orphan selection."

"Alright! Game plan!" Five says, waving Diego's knife in his hand.

Diego's hands immediately go to his weird harness looking thing, "Hey!"

"Give me just one moment to get the tracker out." Five rolls his eyes, "Then I'll give it back, I promise. Also if someone could ask Grace for like, some antibiotics that would be good."

"What?" Allison asks, directly before Five stabs himself and there is suddenly panic at the table.

"Relax!" Five says, allowing Diego to remove the knife from his hands. He doesn't need it anyway and his hand immediately drops down to root in the wound.

"Five what the fuck!" Diego yells, but Five just pulls up bloody fingers and waves the tracker into Diego's stupefied face.

"What the fuck is that, Five?" Allison demands, looking very shaken.

"I literally just said it was a tracker." Five points out, "Now, I think our first team activity should be voting on whether we destroy it or take it out to bumfuck nowhere and ditch it to confuse the Commission."

"What the fuck is the Commission?" Diego barks.

"Man. Maybe I should just hit up Rick." Five muses, "This is going to take so much explaining."

"Who is Rick."

"So much explaining."

[storiesforallfandoms]

kissing strangers ~ pete davidson

word count: 2522

request?: yes!

“Can you do a story where the reader is at New Year's Eve and she wants to kiss someone and she kisses a random man she finds out it's Pete Davidson after?”

description: in which she’s single for the first time in years and decides to kiss the first person she sees at midnight on new year’s eve

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol usage

masterlist (one, two)

Why did I think this would be a good idea? you thought to yourself as you looked around at your fellow partygoers.

Your best friend had convinced you to come to a New Year’s Eve party thrown by someone you didn’t even know. Your boyfriend of five years had broken up with you just a few days before (between Christmas and New Years, perfect timing), and all you wanted to do was lay in bed and cry. Your friend, however, wanted to get you out of the house, even if it was just for one night.

“I’ll be by your side all night,” she had promised. “I won’t leave you alone at all.”

That lasted all of ten minutes.

The moment you walked through the door, the host of the party whisked your friend away. She called over her shoulder that she would come find you soon. That was roughly three hours ago and you were still stood in a corner all by yourself, watching your fellow partygoers having a much better time than you.

There were too many couples sitting or dancing together, grinding or making out. They were all basically one step away from fucking right there in front of everyone. If it wasn’t couples, it was single people attempting to hook up with anything that moved.

Being what felt like the only single person in the room made you regret coming. You found yourself even becoming angry at this thought and wanting to leave. But you were already two drinks deep and you were sure your friend was more than shitfaced at this rate. So, instead of leaving or sitting there and continuing to feel angry, you decided to follow her lead and get completely obliterated.

You down your next two drinks in quick succession, and did a few shots with a group of very drunk people that were in the kitchen when you went for your third. By the time you had gotten halfway through your third drink, you could barley see straight and your stomach was starting to churn.

You went outside for some fresh air, nearly sighing with relief when the cold air hit your face. You hadn’t realized how stuffy it had gotten inside until that moment.

You were leaning on the railing of the balcony, two couples standing on either side of you, already getting started on their midnight kissing. You cringed at the very public displays of affection, but also secretly wished you were still with your ex to do the same thing.

Who breaks up with someone before New Year’s? you thought to yourself. Especially so close after Christmas? The greedy fucker probably only wanted his Christmas gifts then to kick you to the curb.

Your anger started to rise at this, and just in time for someone to announce that there was only 30 seconds left of the year. Everyone raced outside, either onto the balcony where you were or into the yard below, to start the countdown to the new year. As they began to chant from 10, you noticed almost everyone around you had someone for their midnight kiss. Everyone except for you.

A combination of your anger and drunkenness caused you to make a decision you never would’ve made if you were sober.

“Five, four, three, two, one!”

Without thinking, you turned to the person closest to you that wasn’t already attached to another girl, and pulled him in for a kiss as the fireworks lit up the sky around you. Your poor victim seemed shocked at first, going completely tense as your lips met his. The somewhat sober part of your brain was screaming at you for your stupid decision (You don’t even know who this guys is! What if he’s some creeper or he has herpes or something?!), but you were too faded to really care at that point.

His hands found your waist and he pulled you to him, pressing his body as close to yours as he possibly could. Your hands gripped at the soft material of the shirt he was wearing, slipping under for just a moment to feel his warm skin against your cold hands.

Before either of you could go further, though, your stomach lurched and you quickly pulled away from him. You had gotten just a glance of what he looked like before you went running back into the house and to the nearest bathroom.

After hogging the bathroom for upwards of 20 minutes, you finally stopped throwing up and were able to get up from your place beside the toilet. You splashed your face with some cold water and decided your best course of action was to get some water, find your friend, and leave as soon as possible.

The first stage was very easy to fulfil, however the party was so jam packed with people, and the lights were so dim, that it was hard to tell where your friend could’ve gone. You were starting to wonder if maybe she ditched you for the host of the party, or for some guy she had picked up along the way. Neither would’ve surprised you all that much.

You decided to take your water and sit outside the front door to see if she would leave any time soon. If you didn’t see her within the next hour, you decided you’d just walk home on your own.

You were finishing the contents of your cup when someone sat next to you. He was a tall guy, around your age, with messy black hair and brown eyes so deep you felt like you could get lost in them. You almost had to chastise yourself for thinking of him in this way so soon after your heartbreak, but you had to admit that he was a very attractive man.

“I hope my kissing wasn’t that bad that you had to go vomit,” he said.

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, and when you did you cringed. “Fuck, that was you?” He nodded, a slight grin on his face. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. That was so wrong of me, I hope I didn’t ruin your night or anything?”

“Again, only the thought that you threw up because you kissed me would have ruined my night,” he responded. “Trust me, I will not complain about a beautiful woman randomly kissing me during a party.”

You blushed at his compliment and looked down at your cup, hoping he wouldn’t see.

“I didn’t throw up because of the kiss,” you assured him. “I just had too much to drink way too quickly and it all caught up to me at once.”

“Sounds like normal New Year’s Eve party behavior.”

You shook your head. “Not for me. I don’t usually drink. I kinda went overboard tonight because...” You trailed off, looking up at your still unknown midnight kiss. “Sorry, you don’t wanna hear this. We don’t even really know each other.”

“Well, we can fix that. I’m Pete, and you are?”

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to properly meet you, (Y/N).” You giggled and shook the hand he offered to you. “Now, tell me, what has you so troubled that you got shitfaced, kissed a stranger, then threw up? And now has you sat out here all by yourself.”

You sighed and looked down at your lap. “My um...my boyfriend of five years broke up with me a few days ago. My friend dragged me to this party to get me out of the house, but she immediately ditched me, and watching all these couples being lovey dovey with one another, or horny drunks trying to hook up, just sort of set me off. I decided to get absolutely drunk, and at midnight I was drunk and angry so...I kissed the nearest single person.”

“Which was me,” Pete finished.

“Which was you,” you confirmed. “At least, I hope you’re single. If you have a girlfriend already I am very sorry.”

Pete chuckled. “Don’t be sorry. I am very much single. I don’t think a girl has even looked at me that way in months. That I know of, anyways.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that you hadn’t drunkenly made the moved on a man who was already taken.

“And, if I might add,” Pete continued, “I know that I literally know nothing about you besides your name, but your ex is definitely an idiot. Five years and he decides to end it? Not even put a ring on it? That’s shitty, and stupid. If I were your boyfriend, I’d put a ring on it within a few months.”

You giggled and shook your head. “You don’t mean that. You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t, but I know your kissing is so good that I’d never let it go.”

Your face heated up with blush again. This time, Pete caught it and smiled back at you.

The door opened behind the two of you and you looked over your shoulder, hoping to finally see your friend again. When a group of drunk girls walked out instead, narrowly avoiding kicking the two of you or tripping over you, you sighed and rolled your eyes to yourself.

“I know, drunk girls, right?” Pete joked, thinking your reaction was to the girls who were now walking away.

“That wasn’t meant for them,” you told him. “It was meant for the friend I came here with. I spent who knows how long trying to find her after I threw up so we could go, or at least so I could tell her I’m leaving, but there’s no sign of her anywhere. I’m just annoyed that she ditched me when she told me she wouldn’t.”

“That’s fucked up,” Pete agreed. “Listen, this may be a bit forward since we only just met, and I understand if the answer is no, but I haven’t been drinking tonight. If you want to go home, I can drive you home. Fuck your friend, leave her here to get home on her own. I think you have more than a good enough reason for that.”

While part of your mind was screaming at you to not get into a car with this man that you didn’t know, the other part was reminding you of your stomach, which was still not feeling the best, and the heartbreak that led you to coming to the party and meeting Pete in the first place. You just wanted to be home and, at this rate, you’d take any offer to get home.

“Yes please,” you responded. “That’d be fantastic.”

Pete smiled and stood. He offered you his hand and pulled you to your feet. You stumbled slightly, falling into him. He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. You looked down into his eyes and felt your legs turn to jelly (although, that also could’ve been thanks to the alcohol still in your system).

“Can you walk?” Pete teased.

“I can,” you confirmed, pulling from his embrace and slowly walking down the two small stairs. He laughed at your attempt to seem sober and led you to his car.

The minute he turned on the heat, you were blasted with hot air against your face. He quickly reached to turn it off, but you caught his hand before he could. “Leave it on, please. It was way too cold outside for me to just be sat around in jeans and a t-shirt.”

Pete chuckled and agreed.

As he started driving, you rested your head against the window, a weird sensation of the cold glass mixed with the hot air surrounding you. The world outside passed in a blur and you could barley focus on it too much as it was hurting your eyes and your head. You ended up closing your eyes for a while and, before you know it, Pete was waking you up outside of your apartment.

“I’m gonna help you to the door,” he decided. “Just to make sure you don’t pass out or anything on the way there.”

You wanted to protest, but you knew that was a smart idea. You were suddenly feeling very tired and could already feel the effects of the hangover you’d have in the morning.

Pete helped you out of the car and walked you to your door, one hand around your waist as he did so. His touch was warm and you just wanted to stay there forever.

You got to the door and unlocked it. You stepped in and turned to Pete, almost expecting him to be following you inside. Instead, he stayed just outside the door, leaning against the doorframe.

“Well, m’lady, you have made it home safe and sound,” he said. “Make sure you keep an Aspirin by your bedside table for your hangover tomorrow, and drink a lot of water.”

“I will,” you told him. “Thanks again for all of this, Pete. It means a lot to me that you’d drive me home.”

“Anything for my midnight kiss.”

You giggled at this. You both stood in silence for some time. You didn’t want Pete to go. Although you were still feeling an ache in your heart, you could also feel something else for Pete. Something that went beyond two strangers kissing at midnight, or a potential rebound with him. You felt like, once you got to know him, you might have some real feelings for him.

“I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you’re not completely miserable tomorrow when you wake up,” he said suddenly. “So, I hope it’s not too forward if I ask you for your number. Just so I can check on you tomorrow, of course.”

You smiled brightly. “Of course. Give me a second.”

You grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote your number down. As you passed it to him, his smile mirrored your own. He looked down at the number for a long time before looking back up at you.

“This is a real one, right? I’m not gonna call a Chinese place by accident tomorrow?”

You laughed. “Yes, it’s my number. You gotta have some faith in people, Pete.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I do. One last question before I go: do you think we could try that midnight kiss again? You know, without you running away to vomit afterwards.”

“I can’t promise I won’t vomit, but I’d love to try the kiss again.”

Pete smiled and almost immediately took you into his arms. Your lips pressed against his and you could almost hear the fireworks that had been lighting up the sky during your first kiss. Except, this time, there were no actual fireworks. It was just the feeling that came from kissing Pete.

He pulled away from the kiss first, literally having to drag himself away from you. “Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Pete.”

You closed and locked the door behind him, watching him walk back to his car and start it before silently celebrating to yourself.

I guess tonight didn’t turn out so bad after all.

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - The Weird Little Shit

For: @darks-ink

A class discussion held by Wes about Danny’s weirdness was never not going to be an absolute cluster fuck

Wes smacks the board, “alright, fuckers, thank you for coming-”.

“We’re only here because we lost a bet”.

“Shut up, Dash. You shouldn’t have to be strong-armed into learning the truth”. Everyone rolls their eyes at Wes pretty actively. “Anyway, since you all refuse to see or even listen to the truth of what Danny Fenton is. Instead, this. Weird shit about Danny Fenton one oh one”.

Dash snorts, “now this I can get behind, little shit weighs, like, ten pounds or some shit”. Wes points at him aggressively, “exactly”. Scribbling down ‘weighs less than a sack of potatoes' on the board. Star throwing in her two cents, “yeah and I’ve seen Sam just pick him up under her arm and run off”.

Brittney smacks her desk, “half the time he makes food directly in home ec it’s fucking cold, which ew, but also really weird”.

“Oh yeah he does that with his drinks too. He whole ass ‘drank’ a solid chunk of ice, major power move honestly”.

“And remember that snowball fight? I don’t think he ever actually made any snowballs, he just kept acquiring them”.

“Kid made for a great air conditioner when all the windows got stuck shut though; guy runs cold as fuck”.

Wes is just aggressively scribbling more down with a mildly manic grin.

“We should totally invite him to parties so he can keep the fucking beer cold”.

Dash laughs loudly and smacks Dale on the arm, “now there’s an idea!”, deadpanning, “still not inviting freaky Fenton though”. Dale chuckles very awkwardly.

“Well he’s an ice sculptor so that’s not surprising”.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘ice sculptor’? He clearly lifts weights in his spare time”.

“Oh yeah, he lowkey picked up the back end of my car once”.

“James, your car is a tiny little piece of shit. I could lift that damn thing”.

“Hey”.

“Anyway. Like I was saying, people who handle cold shit all the time, you know, like ice sculptors, usually have cold hands”.

“He lifts weights! Not ice sculpts!”.

“Here I though he was a painter”.

“Why the fuck would he be doing that?”.

“Well he’s always randomly splattered in green paint”.

Basically everyone pauses to look at Hanna. Kwan blinking, “the green is ectoplasm, duh”. Emilie shrugging and nodding, “everyone knows that”.

“Well I thought it was paint”.

“Well you’re clearly stupid”.

“Shut up”.

Dash waves everyone off, “so clearly not a painter or weight lifter, because have you seen his goddamn noodle arms?”.

“He lifts weights!”.

“No he doesn’t!”.

“Who cares! Have you seen his dad? Of course he’s a strong little shit! What really gets me is him getting out of locked rooms”.

“Oh he whole ass climbs out windows and shit”.

“All that ecto that gets on his skin makes his hands all sticky, hence why he can climb the side of buildings”.

“When the heck did you see him doing that?”.

“Oh I totally saw him showing off knife swallowing to some elementary kids”.

“I think he hangs out and does drugs or some shit on the roof”.

“So he climbs up the school building to do drugs? Why wouldn’t he just use the hidden steps like a normal person?”,

“I’m pretty sure the kitchen staff actually include him in their budget for missing utensils cause he eats so many of them”.

“Julie, no one’s saying Danny’s close to normal. Also kids got an iron stomach damn”.

Dash has to jump in there, “I totally made him eat my underwear once”. Earning him a round of judging glances. “What? I didn’t expect him to actually do it. I was planning to mock him for pussying out. But then the little fucker went and did it”.

“Power move”.

“Shut up”.

“You fed your underwear to a guy who builds guns?”.

“Excuse me but what?”.

“Maybe him doing so much dangerous shit is why his heartbeats all slow and stuff”.

“Again, excuse?”.

“Well we totally tested everyone’s heart rates and breathing and shit and he’s super low. He blamed his corn supper”.

“That’s stupid”.

“His corn supper had teeth, Todd”.

“Back to the gun making because what?”.

“FentonWorks is a weapon company what do you expect?”.

“James, he made a shotgun out of a pencil, two toothpicks, an elastic band, and a snapped in half penny. The thing was magically welded together”.

“You can’t weld a fucking pencil. It’s wood, moron”.

“Well it was goddamn wielded”.

Wes grumbles, “yeah he welded my binder zipper together once, stupid pyrokinesis”. Star glares at him, “I thought this wasn’t about your crazy conspiracy crap?”. Wes glares at her like she’s stupid.

“Ignoring Wes being crazy again. You guys do know he has laser beam lipstick right? He could totally weld stuff with that”.

“Didn’t he have a tail that one day?”.

“Huh?”.

“That lipstick of his is the plasma peach one right? Because girl I so need some, it makes amazing blush”.

“Oh no a dog just crawled under his shirt. I think he was trying to hide the treats or some shit?”.

“Fucking where? in his shoulder blades?!?”.

“Oh my god that’s right, he can totally pop all his joints out so probably yeah”.

“Since when could he do that? Better yet, why? Fucking ow”.

“His fingers also glow green when he cracks them”.

“Right Right I remember that! We also got him under a black light, totally wild”.

“I wish I could pop out my joints randomly”.

“He probably just eats glow sticks and they leaked into his joints and shit”.

“THAT MAKES NO SENSE”.

“Who cares, take him to a rave”.

“Oh my god yes he does amazing makeup”.

“Wait Fenton does makeup now too?”.

Wes points at Dash, “he’s got to cover up the dead parlour to his skin somehow”. With half the class shouting, “HE’S NOT DEAD”.

Emilie pursing her lips, “but what if he was, that would be hot”.

“EXCUSE ME!?!”.

“Oh get off your vanilla basic bitch high horse, Karen”.

Wes rubs his forehead, “not this shit again”. Smacking the board, “weird shit about Fenton, people! Not y’alls weird necrophilia fetish!”.

“Hey that’s just Emilie”.

Jesse looks genuinely offended, “bitch what? Have you seen a ghost? That glow? Mmmmmh yeah, daddy”.

Star chokes, “oh my god. I love our town”.

Wes sighs, “I should just start blocking you people from seeing ghosts at all. Cover those eyes until you stop BEING FUCKING BLIND”.

“Eyes never stop seeing, they just get covered”.

“NO! NO! BAD!“.

“That weirdly reminds me that Danny can totally walk with his eyes closed”.

“That’s weird how?”.

“How ‘bout you fucking try it then!”.

Dash shrugs, “well his eyes go glowy green all the time so no surprise he can just see through his eyelids”. More than a few people look to him, “why did you not add that to the weird list?”.

“Because it’s not weird”.

“Dash... do you know anyone with goddamn glowing eyes... besides ghosts”.

“Uhhh the entire Defect Quartet”.

“Excuse?!?”.

“Honestly him biting open pop-cans is weirder”.

“Oh god yeah, that’s horrible to hear”.

“He dead ass cut his lip up once doing that and just... kept doing it. There was blood all over his neck”.

“Why the heck didn’t anyone take an edgy aesthetic photo of that? Goddamn”.

“I feel like this is more an off-the-books class on discovering that Danny might actually be hot”.

“You wanna say Fenton’s hot again? I’ll goddamn choke you, motherfucker”.

“Do it you fake ass bear dom”.

A couple of people shuffle out of their desks and away when Dash actually throws a punch at Jasper.

“On a side note, once saw Danny sleeping in a trash can”.

“How is that weird”.

“How isn’t it? It’s a trashcan”.

“And he’s trash, your point”.

“YOU'RE GONNA HAVETA HIT HARDER IF YOU WANT TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION ON YOUR TWINK BOY! HE’S DURABLE AS FUCK!”.

“FUCK YOU!!!”.

“Huh, he did survive falling from the ceiling multiple times and that drowning once”.

“Fucker wasn’t drowned, he can breathe underwater”.

“Excuse me?”.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?!”.

Dash snapping his head around, “IM TEACHING HIM A LESSON!”. Jasper just smirks, “I DON’T NEED BREATH PLAY TIPS FROM YOU!”. Dash tries punching him again.

“This is ridiculous, I mean really, Danny would be the dom”. That silenced the entire room.

“What?”.

“Come on, he ate Skulker once ‘cause the guy was coping him an attitude”.

“DANNY EATS GHOSTS?!?”.

Wes turns around and slams his head on the board, “God fuck this is such a cluster fuck”.

“You’re hosting this and holding us hostage here”.

“YOU’RE NOT MY HOSTAGES! YALL LOST A BET!”.

“Oh suck my toes”.

“WHAT?!”.

“While Wes loses his mind for the fifth time this week, what we’ve got is he’s icy as shit, likes welding and makeup and ice sculptures and weight lifting, weighs fuck all, just vores goddamn everything, and climbs shit weirdly well?”.

“You’re forgetting all the glow shit”.

“HA! Glowing shit”.

“Fuck Todd, you are a dumbass”.

“IN SHORT LOCAL ELDRITCH TEEN BUT HE’S STILL NOT A GODDAMN GHOST WES!”

“FUCK YOU! IT’S SO GODDAMN OBVIOUS HOW ARE YOU PEOPLE LIKE THIS OHMYGOD!”.

Just then Danny Fenton opens up the door, the class going dead silent while he glances around slowly. Him looking to the whiteboard, then slowly back to his fellow teens, speaking “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no”, while slowly backing out and closing the door.

At first, no one says anything before Star snickers, “pffft”; the entire classroom bursting out into laughter directly afterwards.

Wes turning around and smacking his head on the board once again, “why. Just. Why me”.

END.

Prompt: Wacky reveals (ex: Danny drying up too quickly bc intangibility, Danny's drink stays cool way too long, people's electronic devices are always more charged when they've been near Danny, etc)

[aerynwrites]

Job Gone Wrong - Javier Peña x Reader

Author’s Note: How could I resist the urge to use this gif?? ugh, this man DOES THINGS TO ME. Anyway, I was VERY, inspired by this post from @spacedadheadcanons (Thank you so much for letting me use it!) and also thanks to @theforceofdarkandlight pretty much INSISTING that I write this 😂 Love you Lauren you da best ❤ And an even more special Thanks to my beta readers @anniebombannie and @amberthefiredemon y’all are so fun and amazing and make this whole process to much easier! love you guys!

p.s. I do NOT speak spanish. I literally punched stuff into SpanishDict! and hoped for the best lol, so i apologize to everyone who can speak/read spanish this is probably butchered XD

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Reader gets stabbed, mentiosn of blood, sticthes, cursing, re-injury, kising, angst and fluff.

///

You had been partners with Javier Peña and Steve Murphy for a little over a year at this point, and you had managed to get Javier into a relationship within about seven months of that time. To say you were surprised was more than an understatement. You had been pining after your fellow DEA agent pretty much the second you laid eyes on him, but you were quick to learn that he was not a relationship guy. 

He found what seemed like a new woman every night, slept with her, and then kicked her out before the birds started chirping in the early morning light. It was a routine you had learned very quickly due to the horrifyingly thin walls of your shared apartment building. So, when about two months into your transfer, the obscene sounds from next door stopped, it caught you off guard. You had almost wanted to ask Javier about it, but you knew that conversation would be awkward, so you let it be. However, you didn’t fail to notice the extra attention the agent started to give you soon after. The lingering gazes, the gentle grazes he gave your lower back as he scooted by you, and you definitely couldn’t ignore when he started to bring you coffee every morning, prepared just the way you liked. 

Steve let out a low chuckle as Javier walked away after just delivering your morning cup of coffee, having to talk to the ambassador about something.

“What?” you questioned, sipping slowly at the warm drink in your hands.

Steve just shook his head, “You both are just oblivious as hell,” he says, a smirk adorning his lips.

Your brows furrowed together, “What do you mean? He’s just being nice.”

You knew your words were bullshit, but what did Steve expect you to do? Fall down at Javier’s feet and confess your undying love?

Steve rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, “You both are like two lovesick puppies but are too stubborn to admit it.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Yeah well, you know how he is…he doesn’t do the relationship thing. I wouldn’t stand a chance,” you sigh bitterly.

Steve shrugs his shoulders, hands clasped together and resting on his stomach, “I don’t know…a little bird told me that a certain DEA agent has caught feelings for you.”

And that was the day you found out Javier Peña had feelings for you too. You had resolved that day to tell him how you felt, but he had beaten you to it when he knocked on your apartment door with a pizza and beer in hand. 

The rest was history as they say.

Since then, you two had been together happily. You both had flaws you had to work through but you did it together, hell it only took him a couple of weeks to convince you to move in with him since you practically live with him anyways with how much you stayed over. And of all of this lead you here, chasing down two of Escobar’s men through a local Comuna with Steve. Javier had been away for almost a week working with Carrillo on another lead. The news had made both you and Javier upset, never having been away from each other more than a day or two, but you knew it had to be done. So, you both had to settle for phone calls each night instead. But now you were missing Javier even more, he was usually the one to run after targets while you ambushed them, but now that you were the one running after them you realized just how out of shape you were. You had gotten separated from Steve somewhere along the way but had managed to stay on the Narcos’ tail, sighing in relief when you reached a dead end, corning the man in a small courtyard. 

“Pon tus manos arriba donde pueda verlas!” you commanded, gun raised and aimed at the perp in front of you.

He looked at you menacingly before dropping his gun and raising his hands above his head.

“¡ no te muevas!” you say, telling the man not to move as you approached him, gun still aimed while pulling the cuffs from your belt. 

You slowly approached him and commanded him to turn around before grabbing one of his hands and pulling it roughly behind his back, clicking one of the cuffs around his wrist. But before you could get his other hand down, he was ripping it from your grasp and grabbing something from his belt. It all happened so fast. One minute you were about to arrest the guy and the next he had turned around and drove a knife into your side before running off.

You let out a pained gasp as a sharp jolt shot through your side, “Motherfucker!” you cursed, hand immediately pressing into your side as you stumbled slightly, pressing your other hand against the wall for stability. You felt the thick and warm liquid run from your side and through your fingers, coating them in a dark crimson.

“Shit,” you whisper at first, “fuck!” you exclaimed, hand slamming against the wall next to you as the reality of the situation sank in. 

You had just lost your main lead to the case and gotten stabbed in the process, and you didn’t know where Steve was. This was just great. As if he could read your mind, you heard rapid footsteps followed by a familiar voice calling out your name.

“I’m over here!” you call, finally seeing Steve round the corner and his eyes widened at the red stain blossoming on your white shirt, “fucker stabbed me before he ran off,” you hiss as Steve approaches pulling his jacket off and replacing your hand with the fabric instead, trying to staunch the bleeding. 

“Are you okay? Can you walk?” he asks frantically. 

You nod, surprisingly it didn’t hurt all that much, you suppose the adrenaline pumping through you had something to do with that, “Yes, I’m fine, let’s just get the hell out of here before more trouble finds us,” you breathe, and let Steve lead you back to the car.

----

You let out a sigh as you carefully strip off your blood-stained shirt in favor of one of Javier’s clean ones lean back into the multitude of pillows you threw on the bed. Steve had just walked you to your and Javier’s apartment after a trip to the hospital and a dose of painkillers. 

“Remember to take these every six hours, and then your antibiotics twice a day,” Steve reminded you, pressing the bottles into your hands after you unlocked the doors, “And don’t rip your stitches, last thing we need is another trip to the hospital,” he teases.

you roll your eyes, and give the man a mock salute, “Sir, yes sir!” before walking into your apartment and closing the door.

Okay so maybe the painkillers were doing a little more than just taking the pain away. You mostly felt tired, but it was also mixed with a slightly fuzzy feeling in your mind. Just as you were about to crawl under the covers and get some much-needed rest you heard the door to your apartment open and close, followed by the jingling of keys being tossed onto the counter.

“Sweetheart?” Javier’s baritone voice drifted through the apartment.

A smile immediately lit up your face and you quickly, but carefully, swung your legs off the side of the bed and walked into the living room, eyes instantly falling onto a disheveled but relaxed looking Javier.

“Javi! You’re back!” you say, voice thick with relief as you walk over and wrap him in a hug.

His face falls instinctively to the crook of your neck and he takes in a deep breath, “I miss you so much, mi amor,” he whispers, hands coming to rest on your waist as he leaves a soft kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You can feel him start to push you backwards slightly and you pull away from the embrace looking at him questioningly, “Javi, babe what are you-“ 

Before you can finish Javier pushes you somewhat roughly into the wall behind you, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was gone,” he breathes, mouth moving from you neck to your jaw.

“I missed you too Javier,” you gasp as his mouth finally meets yours, days of longing and emotions poured into this single action. 

Javier’s hands drift from ups up to your sides, gripping you roughly through his thin t-shirt you were wearing, right over your newly injured side. You let out a loud gasp, pleasure and pain, and your foggy mind can’t tell which is more important in this moment. 

“Did you put this one for me?” he asks, voice thick with want and need, “because you look so fucking-“ his words catch in his throat as he squeezes your side once more, and his brows knit confusion as a new and unfamiliar warmth meets his hand. He pulls away from you slightly, ignoring your whine at the loss of contact and his eyes widen at the sight before him. 

His hand is covered in a thin coat of blood, as he pulls it away from the crimson stain on your shirt, “What the fuck? (y/n), what they hell is this?” he exclaims, voice rising several octaves as he takes your wrist in his non bloody hand and pulls it away from your body to get a better look at your now bleeding side.

You let out an indignant huff, “Some asshole stabbed me earlier today, nothing major now-“ you reached out for him again, wanting to feel his lips on your again, “Come here. I can’t even feel it!” you assure.

Javier lets out an angry sigh, shoving your grasping hands away and instead pulls you over to sit on a stool in the kitchen, “Stop! You got fucking stabbed? And you didn’t tell me?” he asks, anger and concern lacing his words as he hurriedly digs under the sink for the med kit he had there.

You roll your eyes, “I’m fine! Plus, I just got home a few minutes before you did, how was I supposed to tell you?” you argue.

Javier doesn’t say anything in return, he instead rushes back over to where you are sitting, med kit in hand. He quickly lifts your shirt up and over your head to inspect the damage. The bandages are soaked completely through with blood and he gently lifts up the bottom edge of your sports bra to unwrap the dirty bandages. 

“Why didn’t you tell me as soon as I walked in the door? It should have been the first thing you told me!” he scolded; voice harsher than he meant for it to be. You sighed and slumped over in your seat slightly, shame filling you at his words, “I’m sorry Javi,” you whisper, hand running through his hair lightly.

His heart was racing at the thought of what happened to you, and the fact that he wasn’t there when it happened. As he unwrapped the last layer, he cringes slightly at the damage he sees. It’s actually not as bad as it seemed, some of the stitches had just ripped from where he had been a little rough with you. he felt a pang of guilt shoot through him.

“No, I’m sorry, look at what I did,” he mutters, pulling the supplies he’d need from the med kit and setting them on the counter. 

You opened your mouth to refute his apology but were silenced with a quick peck to the lips instead. Javier brought a hand up to rest on your cheek and gently ran his thumb over your cheek bone, “Just…let me fix you up okay? Then I’ll order some food and we can relax.” Your eyes found his, flooded with concern but also bursting with love as he stared back at you.

You gave him a small smile, turning your head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand and nodded, “Okay.”

Javier gave you a small smile before kneeling down to your side and set to work on patching you up. He cleaned away the blood before disinfecting the area and carefully placing a few stitches back where they needed to be. He took notice of how you barely flinched as he threaded the needle through your skin and let out a small chuckle before tying a knot and cutting the thread.

“They must have you on some pretty strong painkillers,” he comments, now wrapping the bandages around your torso.

You let out a giggle, “I was telling you the truth when I said it didn’t hurt,” you begin, “But I think I’m just a badass, because it didn’t hurt when I actually got stabbed either,” you say, a large smile on your face. 

Javier finishes wrapping the bandages securing them with some medical tape before standing so you were looking up at him. he let out a small chuckle and gently placed his hands on your hips, “Yeah well you’re my badass,” he says playfully, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

You smile into the kiss, his moustache tickling your upper lip slightly before you pull away and rest your head against his chest, sighing contentedly. You both just stayed in that position for a while, his hands on your hips and your arms wrapped loosely around his waist, relishing in each other’s presence after a week of not seeing one another. 

You finally broke the silence, “Can we order from that pizza place a few blocks over? I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you mentioned food,” you said shyly.

Javier just gave you a bright smile and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling you up from the stool, “Anything for you amado,” he says gently.

You smile at his sweet words and follow him as he leads you over to the couch and sits you down, “Stay here I’ll be right back.” 

You nod and watch as he scurries off the bedroom, emerging moments later in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, his arms filled with pillows and blankets. You feel your heart swell as he comes over and places the pillows down near the armrest and motions for you to lay down before tossing the blanket over you. you gave him a warm smile as he went to go order the pizza before returning back to the living room and sitting down, pulling your legs into his lap and turning on the TV.

He gently strokes your legs over the covers, and you intertwine one of your hands with his free one, “You’re too sweet to me Javi,” you say quietly.

Javier looks over to you, and shakes his head, “Nothing is ever too much for you mi amor,” he says sweetly before leaning over, mindful of your injured side, and kissing you sweetly before pulling away and taking your hand in his again. 

“I love you Javi,” you say quietly, eyes on the TV.

Javier smiles, squeezing your hand gently as his other hand still stroked your leg slowly, a certain calm peace settling over him as he sat on the couch with the woman he loved.

“I love you too.” 

Bonus:

Steve watched as Javier walked into the embassy the next day, straight to his desk and dialing the phone. He was still as he waited for whoever it was to pick up then he caught Steve’s eye and turned away from him, as they answered. “Hey, yes I know I just left,” he casts Steve another glance and lowers his voice, Steve had to strain to hear the conversation.

 “Did you remember to take your pain killers?” Javier paused, “And the antibiotics?” he paused again, “Yes I know you can take care of yourself, I just wanted to make sure,” he defends, “Okay, yes, I will grab some on the way home, love you,” he says finally and hangs up the phone, turning to return to his desk across from his partners.

Steve gives him a shit eating grin, leaning back in his chair, he opens his mouth to say something, but Javier stops him with an accusing finger, “Not a fucking word,” word he bites. 

Steve fights to hold back a laugh and puts his hand up in mock surrender, “Okay Peña, but I will say I never took you for the mother hen type,” he smirked.

Javier wouldn’t admit it, and he definitely wouldn’t show it in front of the other guys at work, but Steve knew how much he cared about you. He had to hold back another laugh as he ducked to avoid the folder thrown his way, finally laughing at the disgruntled look Javier sent his way.

Oh yeah, he wasn’t fooling anybody...He was smitten.

///

Permanent Tag: @lord-wolfgen @petalduck @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @stillreadingfantasy @jokersdoll​ @simonsbluee​

Pedro Tag: @fleurdemiel145​ @sargesbestgirl @lustriix​ @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ @longitud-de-onda​ @jellyfishpoptart​ @ah-callie​ @mutantsandproud​ @pascalisthepunkest​

[justahopelessssromantic]

Perfect

Part 11

Part 10

A/N: Hey guys finally have the next part out for y’all! I’m going to tag the parts a little different and just link the one before this because it’s getting a little tedious 😅. Anyways I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for all the continued love and support! You all really mean the world to me! 💖

*gifs not mine*

Warnings: Angst, violence

A few weeks had passed and with each one you saw less and less of Angel and more of Matt. It wasn't your intention, Angel just wouldn't come around as often, avoided you the best he could whenever you were at the clubhouse, and was going on more runs than usual. He was trying to stay busy, to keep his mind busy.

He was waiting for you to blow up on him about the text but you never did. A few days after he sucked it up and came into his father's shop while you were working.

"Hey," he greeted you with a nod of the head. If you were going to say something about it now would be the time. He was ready for it.

"Hey," you smiled back at him. "How are you doing? I saw your text." You said gently.

"You did?" He assumed you did but you never said anything until now. Here it comes, he thought. Holding his breath he waited for you to explode, but you didn’t.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't reply I didn't see it until later and when you didn't show up I just assumed you weren't coming, that maybe club shit came up." You understood that the club would always come first and naturally if you didn't hear from him that was the reason. "I appreciate it though, you wanting to check on me. Thank you."

"Didn't think you needed me," he complained, "You seemed just fine with Matt there."

Now you realized why he hadn't stopped and you let out a sigh. You could just feel the stress headache coming on already.

“What’s the problem, querida?” He leaned onto the counter closer to you, his cologne strong and intoxicating bringing you a sense of nostalgia as he continued spitting words better left unsaid, “Didn’t want me to find out? He stay the night too? Fuck your pain away?”

“That’s your thing, not mine.” You spat back, your jaw clenched. “Remember?” You internally scolded yourself for letting him get under your skin, again. Stepping back from the counter closing your eyes you rubbed your temples. “How many times are we going to keep doing this Angel?" You asked before opening your eyes and looking back at him. 'Aren’t you tired of it?” You were feeling incredibly burned out and tired, tired of going round and round in the same circle over and over again. You couldn't understand how he couldn't be tired as well. You didn’t have the energy for this fight again, especially not today. “Because I am. I'm so very, very tired.”

Angel laid his palms flat against the counter top looking down at the packages in the display case below him as he let out a sigh. He was tired just like you, maybe even more so, but he couldn’t give up on you. He couldn’t let you go. You held his heart and there was no one in the world he could ever give it to again. It belonged to you just like he did. It pained him to know how bad you were hurting to see how now that you were back everything was weighing down on you once more but this was a fight he couldn’t give up on. “Yeah, I’m tired too.” He said, looking up and meeting your eyes, getting lost in the familiarity of them. “I’m tired of not waking up next to you, tired of not being the reason behind your beautiful smile, tired of being the reason for the pain I can see so clearly in your eyes, mi dulce.” He swallowed trying to keep his emotions in check, which was almost nearly impossible when he was around you, “ And most of all I’m tired of missing you.”

“Angel I-”

The soft sound of candy spilling out of a box alerted the two of you to the presence that was now in the shop with you. You were so caught up in each other you didn’t even hear the man enter. Turning your attention to the man you watched as he plopped a couple of the Candy & Licorice candies he had into his mouth.

Angel tensed up beside you immediately holding himself taller. No one had said anything yet but you could tell by Angel’s reaction to the man that he was not a friend.

He slipped the box of candy into his pocket before returning his gaze back to the two of you. “Trouble in paradise?” he finally spoke up with an unsettling smile, “Please continue.” He motioned towards the two of you. “Don’t let me interrupt your little lover’s quarrel.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Angel spoke up stepping closer to the man.

“Meat of course. What other reasons would there be for someone to stop into Carniceria Reyes?” He said almost challenging Angel. Smiling once more he turned his attention to you and stepped up to the counter. “Forgive me. Where are my manners?” He said extending his hand out to you, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Lincoln Potter.”

Angel’s glare burned through Potter’s back. He didn’t like him being here, sniffing around you. It did nothing but add on to the stress and anger piling up inside him.The last thing he wanted was for Potter to involve you in any more of their shit then you already were.

His phone buzzed from within his cut and as much as he didn’t want to leave you alone with Potter he knew he had to take the call. He pulled the device out, “Yo.” He answered, walking towards the window.

You kept most of your attention on your new acquaintance, Lincoln Potter but were also very aware of Angel and his reaction to the man and did your best to be aware of any silent signals Angel may give you as well. He was ordering a roast and you smiled politely taking his order but you knew that wasn’t why he was really in the shop that day.

“I’ll be there.” You heard Angel say before hanging up his cellphone. You finished wrapping the produce and turned back around meeting his eyes. You gave him a little nod to let him know you would be okay before he ducked out of the shop, the bell dinging behind him and you turned your attention once more to the task at hand.

After that day you didn’t see as much of Angel. He’d ride by every once in a while to make sure Potter wasn’t giving you trouble and each time he would it seemed Matt’s truck was always outside his Pop’s shop. Eventually he couldn’t handle it anymore and stopped altogether. He was trying to give you space, trying not to lose his cool and if that meant he had to avoid you then avoid you he would.

Or at least he’d try.

But like you had said that was impossible. Everywhere he went if he wasn’t seeing you or Matt he was hearing all about you from the people of Santo Padre. And if it wasn’t you and Matt it was Coco and Matt, even sometimes the three of you. He understood now more than ever why you up and left him and the small town you held dear in your heart.

But Angel couldn’t run away so instead he found other ways to release some stress. Like after he saw Matt at your place again he took it out on the old piece of shit car that had been sitting at the scrapyard. He swung the crowbar over and over, shattering the glass, denting the car up beyond repair before tossing the crowbar to the side without paying any attention to his surroundings. The only thing on his mind was rage at that moment.

“Shit,” Gilly said, jumping away from the flying object. “Damn Angel, watch what you’re doing.”

Angel ran his hand through his hair. He turned his attention to his brother, completely out of breath. “Fuck, sorry hermano.” Angel pulled his pack out of his cut extending a cigarette Gilly’s way.

Gilly took it, flipping a couple of buckets over creating a seat for him and Angel. He sat down lighting it up watching as Angel did the same. The separation was rough on Angel but this was so much worse and Gilly was starting to really worry about his hermano. None of the guys knew what to do. They felt like they were walking on eggshells around him just waiting for him to explode, so they let him take his frustrations out as best they could. “What’d old Matilda ever do to you?” He tried to tease Angel nodding to the beat up junker.

He should have known better though. Angel hadn’t been much in the teasing mood for a long time. He just started ahead with his cigarette dangling between his fingers getting lost in the damage he had created both physically in the car before him and in his relationships.

Gilly missed the old Angel.

When Angel wasn’t beating the shit out of inanimate objects he was taking it out in the ring. Every opportunity he got he’d be busting it out in there, taking whoever it may be who would be willing to be his punching bag that day. The guys knew it wasn’t personal and all took turns taking the brunt of it just trying to help in any way they can.

“Alright,” Angel said, approaching the table of his fellow members, “Who wants to have a go in the ring?”

The men all groaned internally. Gilly sipped his beer, Riz pretended to be very involved in the current card game before him, Creeper acted as if his phone held something very important and EZ stood up making some excuse about needing to clean the bar up.

“C’mon,” Angel whined, “Really? None of you fuckers are gonna be man enough to take me on?” He said, trying to play at their egos.

The truth was they were all exhausted. They could only go this way for so long and it seemed that Angel never got tired, he was always ready for another fight. It wasn’t normal and sure as hell not healthy.

“Fine,” he spat, grabbing a beer off the table. “If you need me I’ll fucking be out back!” Beer in hand he stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Another method Angel used to distract himself was running. Every morning he would wake up at the crack of dawn, throw on some shorts and sneakers and head out the door with no destination in mind, just letting his feet take him. It was like he was training for a marathon that no one knew about.

Unfortunately though his feet were always taking him to your place where he’d stand across the street staring at the dark house before him. You were always sleeping so you would never know he was there but he’d be there a good twenty minutes before he’d suck it up and move on. If he wasn’t finding himself at your place then it was the park where you had your first official date. He’d stop and sit on the swing for a moment catching his breath as he remembered all the picnics you had shared there together, the birthdays, anniversaries, and just lazy days when you’d get the day just for the two of you.

Every place in this town held a memory of you, a memory of your time together as a couple. He really couldn’t escape you.

All these things provided him a momentary release but it wasn’t enough and it was only a matter of time before he snapped. Everyone could see that and were anxiously waiting for the moment to come only hoping there wouldn’t be too many casualties in the fallout.

Each day at the Carniceria got a little easier. You started to notice Angel’s lack of being around a little less and tried to push him to the back of your mind.

Matt would come by often, bringing you coffee or lunch. You’d take your breaks with him enjoying the food he provided and taking a nice stroll in the fresh air. He was easy to talk to, you never shared the deepest parts of your life but anything else was always on the table. There was nothing you felt like you couldn’t share with him.

He felt just as comfortable around you as well and would tell you about his mother who practically raised him all alone after his father split. His dad was a drunk so he nor his mother ever missed him once he was gone. He told you about his days serving with Coco and all the shenanigans they would get up to. His stories were always so detailed you could picture them vividly and you’d get lost in them.

When you were with Matt all your worries would go away, you felt free and the time would fly.

You were wiping down the counter as EZ browsed his father’s bookshelf looking for something new to read. Unlike Angel he was always stopping in, offering a hand and checking up on you and his Pops. He even would talk to Matt when he’d stop in. EZ liked him, he seemed decent and no one could deny how his presence seemed to lift your spirits, get you excited again.

It was nearing one in the afternoon, the time that Matt would usually come in and you’d close shop for your lunch break. You finished your cleaning, tossing your gloves in the trash bin and then removing your apron and hanging it up on the hook.

You stepped around the corner looking over at the shelf next to EZ as he pulled out a title and examined the back. “Find anything yet?” You asked.

“Yeah,” EZ grinned holding up the book and turning to you. “You know he likes you.” EZ said changing the subject.

“Who?”

“Matt.” He said. He chuckled noticing how you began fiddling with your hands. You might not want to admit it but he knew you liked him too. “He’s a good guy, makes you happy. You deserve that (Y/N). You should give him a chance.”

“I don’t know EZ..” you tried to protest. You did like Matt and he was a great guy but you still couldn’t fully comprehend him liking you back and even so your heart always tugged towards Angel.

“Just try,” EZ encouraged taking your hand in his. “I know you still love Angel but there’s a lot of pain there. Maybe Matt’s what you need right now, a fresh start.” EZ hated himself a little for telling you these. He knew Angel would kill him if ever found out but from how things were going right now your relationship together was toxic. Maybe this was what was best, to let go of each other. He just wanted to see the two of you happy again, to see you stop hurting one another.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You said leaving it at that. Sure you dated one guy since Angel but that was different. It never went farther than just a few dates and one kiss before you ended things knowing you didn’t feel for him the same way he did for you. You just couldn’t get Angel out of your head, constantly comparing the poor guy to him. With Matt however it was different, Angel was still in the back of your mind but it was easier to forget when you were around Matt. You never compared him to Angel and you couldn’t deny that he made you happy, or was easy on the eyes.

A few days later Matt was in the shop again. You had just had lunch together and he was getting ready to head back out as you resumed your position behind the counter.

He was headed out the door when he stopped himself just short of it. It was now or never he thought. He turned back around stepping up to the counter. You picked your head up smiling at him. Your smile would always be enough to take his breath away, he thought. “Would you like to go out with me? Like on a date?” He asked. On the outside he seemed cool and collected but inside he was more nervous than he had ever been. To say he was rusty would be an understatement. He hadn’t been on a date in forever let alone ask someone on one but you were special. You made him feel like he could have someone to come home to, someone to care for who also cared for him. Like he could have a family one day.

You felt like a silly teenager again, the butterflies swirling inside you. You had hung out plenty of times but never for a date which naturally made you a little nervous. If it wasn’t for EZ’s comment earlier you would have been completely caught off guard but thankfully you were a little prepared. “Okay, yeah.” You decided, giving him a smile before adding, “But only on one condition.”

“Deal,” he said maybe a little too quickly. He grinned back at you loving the way the corner of your eyes crinkled slightly when your smile grew.

“I haven’t even told you the conditions yet,” you laughed lightly at his eager response.

“Whatever it is will be worth it if it means I get to have the evening with you.”

You felt your face flush as you looked down. You met his eyes looking back at him, “Come to my place. Friday, eight pm sharp. Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied grinning. He nodded his head before stepping back. “I can’t wait. See you then (Y/N).” He said before stepping out of the shop and down the street.

Friday night and all the men sat around nursing their beers while they played a hand. The day had been fairly relaxed and everyone was enjoying having the day off.

Coco walked into the clubhouse seemingly just having ended a phone call. He nodded at Bishop getting his attention from the table. Bishop stood up excusing himself from the game and walked into Templo with Coco behind him.

“What’s up, Coco?” He asked once they were in the room.

“Just got off the phone with Matt, he’s on the other side,” Coco explained as Bishop listened carefully, “He’s in a bit of a situation, needs help getting back over.”

“Go,” Bishop told the younger Mayan, “We shouldn’t need you.”

“Aight,” Coco nodded, turning back around to head out.

“Coco!” Bishop called out getting his attention. “Take Angel and EZ with you, you’ll need some backup.”

“No offense, Bish.” Coco addressed his president, “But that sounds like a terribly fucking idea.” They all knew the situation between Angel and Matt was tense, more so with Angel.

“Doesn’t look like Matt’s going anywhere,” Bishop said, stepping closer to Coco, “They have to work this shit out, Angel needs that to get through to him. It’ll be good, for everyone.”

Coco nodded once more before turning back around and out. “Yo Boy Scout, Angel!” He called out. Getting their attention the two Reyes brothers followed him out and to van.

The ride to the tunnels was long and quiet. This was the last place Angel wanted to be but he sucked it up. At least in this way he felt like Coco still needed him even if it was just to save his other fucking best friend. Once there they made their way through and into the vehicle waiting for them on the other side.

They found the location Matt had shared and walked into the building. Matt sprung up aiming at the men causing them to draw their weapons as well before they all lowered them upon the realization of who the other was. Walking over, Matt pulled Coco in for a quick hug a young girl following behind him. “Thanks brother.” He said, patting his back.

“Who’s that?” EZ asked about the young girl. She looked frightened but at least wasn’t injured.

“Don’t need to know,” Matt said plainly. That’s all he could tell these men even if they were trusted friends.

“We come all the way over here to save your ass and you won’t even tell us why?” Angel spoke up, pissed. They were risking their tails without a clue to how dangerous the situation is and he didn’t like being in the damn dark.

“Angel!” Coco scolded. This wasn’t the time for this petty shit.

“I’m just saying we have a right to fuckin’ know! I’m not risking my life for-” Angel’s next words were interrupted by gunshots flying into the small room.

The girl screamed as Matt pushed her under a table to protect her from the bullets raining down on them. “EZ!” Matt called out getting his attention, “Watch the girl.” He ordered before stepping out and shooting back at the men who had ambushed them.

EZ ran over taking guard and cover near the girl shooting at anyone who came near. The four men took out the small team fairly easily. Bodies laid everywhere as they took in the carnage before them.

“Fuck!” Angel shouted, turning towards Matt. “What the fuck was that?! We almost got fucking killed!” He charged towards Matt when one last man who must have been hiding jumped out and tackled him to the ground. Matt, Coco, and EZ watched as the two tussled starting with Angel getting on top and pinning him down.

Angel was living for this. This man was just what he needed, someone he could best the shit out of like he wanted to do to Matt. He landed blow after blow to the guy's face before he managed to get the upper hand himself and got Angel turned around so he was on top with him in a tight choke hold. Angel fought the man taking a little longer than he would like but he knew he could take him down, that he’d kill him.

The fight was taking too long and they didn’t have time for this. Matt pulled his glock out and shot the man point blank in the head finishing the job and ending the struggle.

Angel gasped for air as the sound of the gunshot rang in his ears while he pushed the man off him and wiped the blood from himself. He caught his breath standing up and glared at Matt.

EZ came over in an attempt to make sure his brother was okay but Angel didn’t care. He only had one thing on his mind.

Angel was fuming as he stomped past EZ and up to Matt. “What the fuck was that?!” He barked. Adrenaline coursed through his body from the previous scuffle and his hatred towards this man who was stealing his life away. His chest heaved rapidly as he readied himself for the much needed release of shit that had been building up for too long now. It wasn’t enough to take it all out on everything and anything else around him. He needed to take it out on the root of his problem, Matt.

“Oh, you mean me saving your ass back there?” Matt wasn’t having this crap today. He had put up with Angel for too long now. He just saved his ass, and all Angel was doing was being an ungrateful little shit.

“I had it fucking handled!” Angel defended himself. He didn’t need Matt swooping in and saving the day. He could handle himself, could hold his own and that kill should have been his not fucking Matt’s.

Matt looked Angel up and down only adding to Angel’s irritation. “Could’ve fooled me. Looked like the fucker was going to kill you so I took him out, saved your life. You’re not going to hear an apology from me so if that what you’re waiting for I suggest you walk away and not waste anymore of my fucking time.”

“Right cause you have some big date tonight with my girl!” Angel spat. Yeah he knew about it, EZ had mentioned it to him after you had told him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The day was long enough as is and as soon as they got back he’d just be stuck thinking about that damn date that should be with him not Matt. He should be coming back from this shit show to your comforting embrace not Matt. That should be him. “Don’t act like you were doing me some big fucking favor. You did that for yourself! So you could play hero and brag all about it to (Y/N) so you can get in her fucking pants! I see right through you Matt, know what guys like you do.” He was lashing out now, hoping to get under Matt’s skin just as deep as he had his. There was no way he was as perfect as he seemed. “You’re just going to use her and then you’re going to throw her away once you get what you want. You’re gonna fucking break her heart, and when you do I’ll be there to clean up the mess.”

“You mean like I’m doing for you? I think we both know that you’ve already handled breaking her just fine yourself.” Matt said stepping up to Angel, the two men’s chests were practically touching by now. “I threaten you Angel, I get that. You’re scared that she’s going to find everything she needs in me. That I’m going to take care of her, respect her,” he spat, “like you should have and she’s going to realize she is much better off without you, that she deserves better.” He snarled. “You know that, I know that, and deep down she knows that too. It’s time you let her go.”

Angel’s eyes darkened with each word that was spat out at him. If steam could physically be coming out of someone’s ears it would be happening to Angel right now. Everything finally was bubbling up and over with actions winning over more words. Without missing a beat he grabbed Matt by the shirt swinging a right hook straight to the side of his face, his large metal rings cutting up his skin with the force of the punch.

Matt staggered back just a little before catching himself. He rolled his jaw, spitting the blood to the ground as he snarled at Angel. Before Angel could react the wind had been knocked out of him with a fierce blow from Matt.

EZ perked up ready to jump into the fight when Coco held his hand out keeping the young Mayan back. He shook his head, “They need this Boy Scout , he needs this.” He told EZ nodding to Angel.

Angel hunched over unable to breath as Matt held him up and pushed him back against the nearest wall. His voice was rough and hushed as he growled into Angel’s ear. “You know I’ve been real patient with you Angel, more so than you deserve, but you know what? You’re right. I did do it for her, not you, because for some reason,” he tightened his hold on Angel pulling back his face so he could look him in the eyes, “for some reason she still cares about you, and I care about her. That’s what you do Angel, when you care for someone. You put their needs above your own. And yeah I’d like more than anything to beat the ever living shit out of you right here and now but I won’t, for her.” It was difficult for him but if he started he may not be able to control himself. He wasn’t going to let Angel push his buttons, wasn’t going to let him feed that monster within. Turning his head to the side he spat more blood out from Angel’s hit, the cut on his lip stinging from the movement. He was done tiptoeing around Angel. He looked back at him challenging the man in front of him. “So Angel, tell me, do you really care about her? Are you going to put her needs for once above your own?”

Angel could finally breathe again as he regained his voice. “What? And that’s supposed to be you?” He snarked.

“Why don’t we let her decide for herself.” Matt said before pushing off Angel. Turning around he headed towards the exit of the building grabbing the girl on his way out. Coco shook his head looking at Angel now hunched over with his hands on his knees before jogging after Matt and catching up beside him patting his shoulder.

EZ walked over helping his brother up. “You okay, Angel?”

Angel wanted to shrug his brother off but he didn’t. He watched as Coco caught up to Matt the betrayal stinging him even more. “Yeah lil bro. Just fuckin’ peachy.”

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[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 02.01.21 lb

jesus christ itna toh ghar vansh/riddhima ke shaadi ke time pe nahi sajaaya tha.

sis ki phattttt rahi, to put it lightly.

hears vansh’s car and is about to run out when she’s stopped by.......

huh..... ishani looks different with her hair like this. anyway she tells her to go get ahaana, as part of badi bahu duties.

vansh looking at kabir like......... KAISA TU HAI NIRMOHIIIIIII, KAISA HARJAIYAAAAAAAAAA, RE KABIRAAAAAAA MAAAAAN JAAAA...........

actually he must be playing this mashup in his head:

idhar these two looking 🔥🔥🔥 mere sarr mein toh din shagna da is goonjofying; what a beautiful WLW wedding these two would make!

anyway riddhima is needling ahaana for “answers” and ahaana’s like bitch don’t kill my vibeeeeeeee, just coz you didn’t enjoy YOUR wedding doesn’t mine should be a dragfest too.

riddhima giving lecture on shaadi being a pavitra rishta and she shouldn’t just be doing it for shits and giggles and boy, do i relate with ahaana:

i say kill riddhima off and make ahaana the lead of this show, coz she’s infinitely more interesting and rootable for.

anyway ahaana’s like bitch i’m not married to you, so i don’t have to put up with this crap; go find your pavitra rishta fellow who’s legally mandated to deal with this crisis you’re having.

lmao i’d have the same expression if  knew my friend’s toxic love story was about to implode spectacularly. maybe not to her face, but i would definitely look like this on the inside.

lol kya din aa gaye; apne hi ex ko uski sagaai mein tilak lagaana. bhagwaan aise bure din kisi ko naa dikhaaye.

they cute. i wish they were real. actually i don’t care they’re not, they’re better this way, playing all the rest of these suckers (and each other) for fools. i think this might be the most non-dysfunctional marriage on this show!

idhar this one chabaa chabaa ke telling angre ki make sure no one disturbs when riddhima and i are gonna have our epiccccccccc showdown in a communal part of the house. jaake apne bedroom mein kar na kalesh, if you don’t want anyone to see/hear?? (but actually iss ghar mein uska bhi koi fayda nahi. this place like facebook. doesn’t even give the illusion of privacy.)

kabir cutely telling ahaana ki soon vansh/riddhima will be out, and we shall rule this house. SEE? A GOOD RELATIONSHIP, WITH SHARED GOALS AND EQUITY AMONG THE PARTNERS! LOVE IT! LOVE THEM! #KAHAANA ARE THE SUPERIOR SHIP OF THIS SHOW!

lmao ahaana mann hi mann mein like, lol fool, you don’t even know who the real players of this game are. dude i love her so much.

lol whyyyyyyyy is ishaani dancing so happily at the engagement of someone she doesn’t give a single fuck about? isse bhi vansh waala dance keeda hai kya?

anyway, vansh keeps getting called away every time riddhima wants to talk to him and ouff, i have had enough. fwding to the confrontation.

dramatic fucker set up a wholeass spotlight, to make this even more of a production.

aslkjdlaskjdlsakjdlaskjlkjlkj so much lighting change. imagine poor angre stuck in some back room changing the lights as per the script vansh has given him.

lmaoooooooooo this is like when you wanna confront your parents for some shit and they bring up some entirely different kaand you did and now the conversation where you were supposed to have the upper hand is all about how YOU suck .

“aaj ka din bohut saare sawaalon ko janam de gaya hai. aur main woh saare sawaal tumse poochna chaahti hoon.”

she’s legit asking for a promise that he’ll tell the truth. and sis, how THE FUCK would you know????? already apni maa ki jhooti kasam khaa chuka hai yeh, how the hell you trust anything this man says?

anyway he promises. with a look on his face like THE AUDACITY OF THIS B TO DEMAND THE TRUTH OF ME WHEN SHE’S A STONE COLD LIAR. he’s not wrong.

chaliye badhte hain sawaalon ke taraf.

“kyun chalti hai pawan?”

“kyun jhoome hai gagan?”

“kyun machalta hai mann?”

“oh and while you’re at it, can you also explain how to convert celcius to fahrenheit......... coz i still don’t really get it.”

lol ok ok her questions were “ahaana was in delhi on the day you said she saved your life. so she didn’t save your life?” (no.) “you lied to me? you brought ahaana into the house with some motive?” (yes.) “so all those attacks.............. you told her to try and kill me?” (yes.)

denial. it’s not just a river in egypt. it flows through the mind of every sis who thinks purely with her pussy instead of her god gifted brain.

the fact that this bitch is still standing here talking to him when he just straight-up said that he’s the one who plotted to kill her and then pretended to save her....... *tiktok waala HOW BIZARRE music plays*

OH MY GOD HER ASS IS HUNG UP ON THE FACT THAT THEY HAD SEX/HE IS PRETENDING TO BE IN LOVE WITH HER MORE THAN THE FACT THAT HE’S BEEN TRYING TO MURDER HER DIRECTLY/INDIRECTLY EVER SINCE THEY MET. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS CHICK?????? YOUR VIRGINITY MATTERS MORE TO YOU THAN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE??????????????

brief cut back to ahaana thanking bappa for making her a woman who thinks with her brain instead of her vajayjay.

idhar dhakka-mukki shuru.

toh ofc bhai kaise peeche rahein? unne bhi apna move maar liya.

bohut ban liya tumne derek o brien. time for ME to be the quizmaster, wifey.

ok his first question dumb as fuck. “did you love me when you married me?” ofc not, you coerced her into it, giving her three days. she told you that she didn’t wanna marry you. how the fuck you gonna hold that against her? even if a chick had feelings for you at that point, they’d outright hate you if you forced them into marriage.

“was i just a task for you when we got married?”

lmao she’s not liking it when she’s the one in the hotseat.

“didn’t you just marry me so that you could gather proof against me and get me jailed for murdering ragini?”

ah man, can’t say i don’t feel bad for the guy. just a little bit. bassss thodaaaa. ittu sa. 👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽

anyway, long story short, you a lying bitch who’s been cheating me since the moment you stepped into my life. so......................

this dumbass still like, but i wrote everything in the letter, and he read it and gave me the rose!!!!!! THE ROSE WAS A LIE?????????????/ someone hold me back coz this b really be testing my patience with how fucking dheent she is.

jeene ka will power ho toh vansh jaisa, who literally came back from death just to fuck with her because DHOKAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! idhar my internet goes down for half an hour and i’m crying out for death already.

riddhima trying to defend herself and he’s just like

how is she supposed to tell this knife business from the sexy knife business? main hoti toh pavalovian response se i’d get turned on whenever i saw the dude with a knife.

oh i think she’s kinda turned on anyway. nothing like the fear of impending death to make you horny, i guess.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life After Snowpiercer: Still Alive

Summery- Curtis (hints of You) makes his way through the cars, and reaches the end to find a surprise waiting for him. Violence. 

If you want to read the story Curtis told Nam, read it here- Past Horrors

Word Count- 2967

Chapter 3 / Masterlist

“OPEN IT, OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!”

Curtis stood at the final gate, the final mother fucking gate, his palms slapping at it, his boots ramming into it, and his rage, all that rage from the past 17 years, and more recently the two days it took him to fight his way here, so many lives, gone. His revolution had become a blood bath, Gilliam executed, Grey stabbed, Tonya shot, You… well he couldnt even let himself go there, not yet. Edgar, well fuck Edgar he betrayed, having left him laying among the rest, setting out right after the battle of the tunnel, leaving the majority of people behind to care for the dead and wounded. There was no time to stall.  

Hours before in horror he watched the front enders slaughter his people in the television screen,among a car full of children singing praises to the almighty Wilford, the saviour. The armed men entered the gate and were lost from sight. Curtis just felt that all of you were gunned down without a care. No…. He almost broke right then and there, he could see them entering the last car, the one where he supposedly had you kept safe. His breathing picked up, his chest tightened and black stars swarmed in his vision. Then the tv crackled the noises of gunshots and flares of white could be seen coming out of the darkest gateway, all of it so grainy on the screen, but it was picture clear for him. No bodies could be seen, but the way his whole being just shattered into a million biting glass edges, slicing unseen wounds through his mind, he lost you, he couldnt keep you safe after all. Tonya smacked his face. “Curtis snap out of it, you have to lead us”

How can I? Shes gone, they shot her. His mind pieced together an image of your body crumbled in the middle of the aisle, bright red blossoming around you like a opening flower across your back, your hand outreaching for the darkness that might have hid you. Your eyes, the ones hes seen laughing, crying and loving, glassed over sightless, that part that was a persons soul, the spark that brought them life in there eyes, gone. Gone, could it really be? Curtis, she was doomed the day she chose you, and you kept her anyways. Monster. You killed her.

Suddenly Tonya came into his vision again, and beyond her, Minister Mason crumbled on her knees, her rat like face, with those beady eyes and oversized false teeth saying his name “Curtis, I can help you!” The heavy weight of the gun in his palm had a purpose, and it felt FUCKING GOOD just then. Without even a moment in between her words and him registering what the fuck she was pleading for, he marched over and right to her forehead the muzzle settled, her eyes rolling up to look at it in fear, the yellowish whites of her eyes brimming with tears, pupils focused on the muzzle indenting against her forehead. “Curtis pleeease, I beg you!”

His expression, was that of a man who no longer gave a shit what happened to him, his finger squeezed and that bullet, with a little satisfaction for him, drilled through her brain, a splatter of red grazing the entire area. A wipe of his hand across his face, he turned back towards the gate, Nam already working on it. Switching to a new cartridge, he told those still remaining. “We go forward” And just as he came to the gate, Nam got it to swing open, and now this man became the darkest part of himself he could possibly be, the compassion he would show his fellow kind was simply gone. There was no hestitation in his actions. If anyone crossed his path, they were met with cold killing rage.

Now at the final gate, that god damn signature W holding him back from Wilford. Nam tried to stall Curtis, refusing to open that final one for reasons Curtis couldnt understand. His daughter Yona, moaned on a pile of coats, drugged and drunk beyond rational thought, the child was a pitiful sight indeed. “Open the gate Nam, now. Is this what you want?” Curtis emptied his pockets of the kronoles, flinging them at the ex security intel “Take it! Open the fucking gate now!” 

In a moment of weariness, Curtis stumbled to the floor, leaning back against the frame work staring at the door. Nam took some pity on the man and tossed him a smoke “Fucker better enjoy it, its the last one.” What the hell, Curtis thought, and he lit it, taking a stale drag of nicotine he hadnt experienced since he was 16 at a party. Finally he started talking, telling Nam all about how the beginning of his life on the train went. Inside his mind though, was a totally different conversation, his way of saying goodbye he supposed although numb at this point to everything, he could still sense the pain it was causing, vibrating in waves from him. 

“Hey handsome” Your hands would slide up his chest and circle around his neck. “Almost at the end of the line”

“Appears so Baby” Another drag of smoke escaping from him. 

“I guess were lucky we got this far right? I knew you would Curtis” Plucking his smoke from his lips and taking an inhale, washing the two of you in a billowing nicotine haze. 

“Leave it to you babygirl to find the bright side here.” He chuckled, seeing you now rise to the balls of your feet to kiss him, hell even imaginary your kisses could score a fire to settle in him. How he wished it was real. That you were here, fuck he missed you it was an ache in his chest.”I dont think Im going to be returning… “ His voice drifted off softly. 

“Oh handsome, you know I will find you again, another lifetime. You dont think this is truly the end of us?” 

“No? it seems like it” 

“Handsome, this is just one of many. I love you and we will see each other again. Now go do what you came to do.” you winked and returned the camel between his lips. Stepping away and leaving him alone once more.

Curtis lifted his gaze, asking one last final time. “Open the gate, please” Nam again shook his head, going off in how they MIGHT survive outside of the train, that the snow was melting, there was no need to stay. 

“What are you fucking nuts? go out there and freeze. Leave all these people here, no. Open the GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING DOOR” 

Then like the gate just knew, it clicked open and a flash of yellow stepped out, Nam shot backwards and in Claudes hand was a pistol. Composed as ever, she looked at Curtis. “Wilford will see you now.” 

He simply spared a glance at Nam, whom Yona was wailing and shaking to bring back to her, and he pushed up, and into the room, all cold steel metal and blue glows, along one wall was a kitchen gallery, all dark masculine looking wood work and at the table in the car, sat an older man with intense blue eyes, staring at Curtis while frying his steak, smirking. “Curtis! Lets take a look at you.” Wilford almost sounded joyful, impressed? “You did a mans work coming all the way up here, did you know its been years since anyones walked the entire length of this train. How about you sit down, lets chat.” Claude nudged him towards the seat. With contempt he obliged, sitting down. “Would you believe Ive never been to the tail section?”

Curtis spat out “why the hell not, we to dirty for you in the tail section?”

“You think the engine isnt without its own complications Curtis?” Wilford turned from frying his steak for half a second, fixing Curtis with a look of disappointment. “It gets awful noisy up here, and not many to talk to.” 

Who the fuck does he think he is? Noisy? Trying living with a thousand people in a iron box. “Right, you got steaks, room, and that whore will bring you whatever you want.”

“Curtis, everyone has there preordained position. And everyone is in there place…” Pointing at him with the greasy spatula, the steak starting to smoke and sizzle on the stove top. “Except you.” Turning back he flipped the steaks on a plate. 

“Yea, thats what people with the best place say to those in the worst place. There is not one soul who wouldnt willingly trade places with you.” Damn straight Baby, your voice encouraged him. 

“Would you?” Wilford questioned, seasoning his steak, how in the hell do seasons still exist? Perhaps you werent always the best voice of reasoning. 

“Fuck you” Curtis spat at him with hatred and disgust. 

Wilford sighed, as if exasperated with him. “Curtis, were all stuck on this train, and its a enclosed ecosystem with a fragile balance. Med rare?” Breaking his line of thought, Curtis ignored the question entirely, which Wilford paid no heed to. “population must be kept in balance, everything rigidly maintained. Now there are times… we have to take more drastic measures.” Wilford brought the steaks over, setting one perfectly cooked one in front of Curtis. “we simply dont have time to let natural selection take over, we all would be overcrowded on this train, starving. Remember starving Curtis? It took us a while to get the protein blocks going. I am truly sorry about that.” Wilford cut a bite of his steak and chewed between the rest of his words. “So we occasionally stir the pot to speak. Get things moving… The cast out of the seven, The McGregor Riots, and this one… My new favorite. The Great Curtis Revolution. Nice ring to it, right? The kids will love it” He winked one icy blue eye at Curtis as if it was a big joke between them. “I mean who was to expect you to come through with torches through the  Yekaterina tunnel? Pure genius, nothing like Gilliam or I expected” 

Curtis snapped his head a bit and confusion clouded his face He didnt just say that. “What?”

“Now come on, dont tell me you didnt know, Gilliam and I?” Giving an amused chuckle at Curtis confusion. “Front end and Tail end, we work together Curtis, he was more then a partner, he was my friend.”

“Bullshit, I dont believe you” Curtis stated, there was no way Gilliam was friends with Wilford, the hours the two of them had spent together discussing how to get here. 

A grin crossed Wilfords face “well our plan was that the rebellion was to end at the tunnel. Kill off most of you, send the rest back. Curtis, why do you think Gilliam conditioned you to be the leader after McGregor? Sadly, it was supposed to be your hurrah. Your going out like in that old movie…. Braveheart? Going out in a fight. Your name was to give the remaining tail enders hope. So Gilliam gave you everything you could want back there. No one messed with you, got to keep the pretty girl, no one shamed you for keeping both your hands. Wasnt it nice, be able to hold her with both.” Dont you dare listen to him baby, we chose each other, Your voice echoed and stressed.  A sickness washed over Curtis as these words, Wilford seemed none the wiser over what his words were doing, or he simply didnt care. “Gilliam said you were smart, but he could control you. Sadly he didnt.” Wilford wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin down, not even eating half the steak. “And why he had to pay the price. Im going to miss my friend, our long nightly chats.”

Still in disbelief over the news, Gilliam had been a mentor to him, a father when he needed advice. All those years, and he just fueled Curtis rage for this moment. No one knew that the traitorous snake was the man they all pledged there allegiance to. 

“But your little stunt, well it took out more of the front end then I had hoped, but what fun, right? Its okay, you tail enders throw off brats pretty quickly, we will recover. Theres really just one last thing to do.” Picking up a phone, he pressed a button and waited for an answer. “How many you got left back there?” He listened and looked at Claude “We still at 75 percent?” she gave a nod and he returned to whomever was on the phone “Kill off 75 percent…. actually you know what? In celebration of our 18th year, keep 18 extra alive. Thank you” 

Before he hung up, the barely there sound of gunfire blasted from the phone, and Curtis sprang to his feet. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Claude gave off one warning shot, which ricochet the bullet around the room, causing them all to duck momentarily. “God damn it Claude! Mind the engine.” Turning to Curtis who was straightening himself out and at this point ready to get this fucken over with. “God damn high strung woman, cant do nothing with them when they get to that point.” Wilford muttered to himself, going up the steps to check on the cylinders circling. Curtis followed him up, preparing to end this now. Wilford pulling out his own pistol from his robes, he cocked it at Curtis.”Mind your next move son. I got a proposition for ya, you might want to consider.” 

Curtis merely paused cause of the gun pointing at his chest, basic human instinct still riding out his anger. Clenching his jaw, the twitch ticking in tandem, Wilford motioned him forward. “Listen, I like you, you got spunk, You get the job done. I already have a predecessor, but I need someone who can take over Minister Masons place since you disposed of her. About time someone did, I couldnt stand that woman. At the time, she was my finest choice though. You carry out what I need done, I know you have it in you.” Sliding the gun back into his robe when it seemed Curtis was no longer about to attack him. “Once in a while you dispose of some unnecessary lives we no longer have use for, do some intimidation to out of control groups. I will let you stay up front, even bring your girl up here.”

“Shes still alive?” Curtis croaked, the haze of your name clouding his senses, could it be true, was there actually hope?

“What? Of course shes still alive Curtis. First shes a woman, I wouldnt have my men kill off any women her age unless she was unfit to bear children. Even if you werent in the picture I would have her brought up here, resupply the front end. Shes a pretty thing, make someone a good wife. We need to continue the supply after all. Second, shes yours and Gilliam made it clear she was necessary to keep you compliant. Why do you think we allowed you two to play house with those orphans? Her little pet project. Why we never collected those kids, yes I knew all about them all along.” Wilford spoke as if he was doing You and Curtis a major favor. The fucken ass. Curtis could just see you now, the roll of your eyes and arms folding over your chest, Child Bearing Wife? Go Fuck Yourself Wilford.

All this information sunk in, Still alive, You were still alive. He could have you back, it was as simple as saying yes at this point. Sinking to his knees, his hands came to his face, relief watering his eyes and a soft sob broke. Wilford circled the man, whispering to him “Imagine it Curtis, life of luxury up here, have your girl back. You wouldnt ever have to live in a cage per say again. Just follow my orders like a good little soldier. Its really that easy. Minister Everett, sounds fitting right? The tail ender who actually made something of himself. Gilliam would want that for you.” Then he walked away, leaving Curtis all alone, choking on another sob, his hand came to his head and brushed his signature beanie off, rubbing his head.  No Curtis, you are here for a reason, echoes of your voice shouted at him.  “And if I say no?” Wilford snorted with disdain at Curtis, rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

“Im giving you the deal of a life time and you dont want to take it? Fine, I guess I will have her killed Curtis, marched right up here and you can watch her die, or bring her up here and give her away to someone else? You can watch another man have her. Is that a better option. Its either you do this or you die and shes mine.” He gave a shrug. “The choice of your fates is in your hands.” Wilford was no fool, he knew how to work Curtis, already he could see the mans shoulders sink in a sign of defeat. Claude was perched near the gate entrance when it opened, a glance over her shoulder widened her smile, and she stepped aside. “Ahhh, I was wondering where my predecessor had gone off to, its about time you arrived. I was just telling Curtis all about what we set up for him.”

Curtis looked over his shoulder and the familiarity of the man struck him hard, it was like looking at you, your features in this young man was so prominent, he croaked out in disbelief. 

“Matt?!” 

Yes, your brother was still alive, healthy and alive. Dressed in a fine suit, well groomed, the young man smirked at Curtis. “Long time Curtis, good to see you again.”

@what-is-your-plan-today​ @jtargaryen18​ @curtisbbq​ @p8tn0lish​

[silverlightqueen]

Grease - Teaser

greaser!Hoseok x cheerleader!reader - fluff, angst, humour, potential smut

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 5k+ (not really a teaser lmao, but let’s just roll with it)

Summary - During the best summer of their childhood, good girl y/n and greaser Jung Hoseok indulge in a sweet and innocent love affair before parting ways, believing they will never see one another again. But fate has other plans, and it is only the beginning of the story for y/n and Hoseok in this tale of cars, chicks and high school cliques... (ft. Red Velvet and NCT Jaehyun)

Warnings - mild profanity, mention of sex, mild threat of violence, misogyny and sexism (it was the 50s lol), a lot of 50s slang (it took me longer to find relevant slang than it did to actually write this lmao), bts and red velvet flirting, gross overuse of pet names, I think that’s it but tell me if I missed anything lol

a/n: this is actually edited and proofread by the love of my life @silverlightprincess​ who made me even more excited about this story than I was before. I hope y’all like it x

song I listened to whilst writing: Bad Boy (English Version) - Red Velvet (the album cover inspired their outfits - yes, I know Rydell’s colours are red and white but I don’t care lol)

divider credit: ? (lmk if you know whose it is pls)

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘Six strawberry milkshakes for the paper shakers!’ the chef behind the counter shouts. A waitress, stood mere feet away from him, winces at the volume of his voice in the quiet diner before picking up the tray of our milkshakes and heading over towards us. ‘Six strawberry milkshakes,’ she says softly, and we all thank her as she puts them down on the table in front of us.

‘You girls look neat. Rydell trying out some new threads?’ she asks, and we all look at Irene, the Cheer Captain, and the unspoken leader of our little group. ‘Yeah, but Coach didn’t really… dig them like I hoped he would. Says they’re impractical or something lame-brained like that,’ Irene says ruefully, and the waitress rolls her eyes. ‘And those skimpy little cheer kits aren’t? Coach is such a pooper – he’s probably just peed off he didn’t come up with these,’ she says, and Irene smiles, a hint of pride in her grin – she likes a little compliment. ‘He’ll warm up to them. Well, he has no choice – all the other girls have bought them too. Our parents will blow a fuse if we can’t wear them,’ Irene says, and the waitress nods, us five just sipping on our milkshakes as we listen. Just as she opens her mouth to reply, we hear the chef shout, ‘Mina! These tables ain’t gonna clean themselves!’ She rolls her eyes with an apologetic shrug before trudging over to the counter where the chef throws a cloth and disinfectant at her.

‘Irene, where did you get the idea for these duds?’ Joy asks, straw between her teeth as she speaks. ‘You know that girl group, Red Velvet? They dropped a new record a few weeks ago – you’ve heard it right? It’s all over the radio. Well, anyway, they did a video for it, and they were wearing these cute little skirts and tops, all in blue and yellow plaid,’ she explains, but I get the feeling Yeri and I are the only ones listening, all of the other girls staring out of the window behind us.

‘Oh, no. I recognise that hunk o’ junk. That’s Kim Seokjin and his little gang. They’ve just pulled up in the parking lot,’ Seulgi says, though the way she checks her reflection in her little pocket mirror shows she’s not quite as distressed about their arrival as she seems. ‘Don’t say that in front of Kim Taehyung. He calls it a ‘hot rod’; he’d flip out if he heard someone call it a hunk o’ junk,’ Wendy says warningly as she fixes her hair.

‘Wait, sorry, but who is Kim Seokjin? And who’re his gang?’ I ask, the girls all looking at me shock, quickly followed by realisation. ‘I keep forgettin’ you’re a newbie. They’re greasers – you’ve probably seen a couple of them at school. They’re… bad news. They have a reputation of humpin’ and dumpin’. Still doesn’t put all the girls off them though,’ Seulgi explains, saying the last bit under her breath.

‘What’s humping and dumping?’ I ask, the five of them shushing me instantly. ‘Keep your voice down, y/n, we can’t be heard talkin’ about things like that in public. Humpin’ and dumpin’ is, like… one minute, they’re all friendly, then they’re suddenly in your bed, and then they’ve forgotten you existed,’ Wendy explains quietly, and I nod in understanding, feeling my cheeks warm up a little bit at discussing something so crude.

‘That Jeon Jungkook did it to Lisa,’ Joy whispers as she applies fresh lipstick, and I picture our fellow cheerleader in my head, feeling a little bit of pity for the poor girl. ‘He’s so dreamy, though,’ Yeri says softly, and Irene rolls her eyes. ‘They’re all dreamy, Yeri, but they’re bad news,’ the girl says forcefully, echoing Seulgi’s earlier words.

And then the bell above the diner door rings behind me, followed by an absolute hubbub. ‘I’ll have you know, I got an A in Miss Lee’s class through workin’ my ass off!’ ‘No, it’s ‘cause you’re a little brownnoser, Jeon.’ ‘Hey! I am not!’ ‘So, if you’re workin’ your ass off in her class, why can’t you work your ass off in all the others? You’re failin’ everything else!’ ‘I’m not failin’ anything! I just don’t have time to do extra sessions with any other teachers.’ ‘You’re doing extra sessions with Miss Lee? Lucky fucker.’ ‘Lucky? How am I lucky?’ ‘She’s stacked.’ ‘So what? She might be a sex-pot, but we’re doin’ history work, not makin’ out.’ ‘Maybe you should make out with her. Drive her home, a little backseat bingo.’ ‘Jeon’s too much of a sissy for that.’ ‘I’m not a sissy! I could easy… backseat bingo with Miss Lee if I wanted too.’ ‘So you don’t want to? Are you queer?’

‘Hey, fat-heads, put a lid on it,’ one voice rises above all the squabbling. ‘Get a load of those dollies,’ the voice says softly, not softly enough for us to not hear. I feel a sudden rush of panic, knowing they’re about to join us. ���Are those paper shakers I spy?’ ‘It can’t be.’ The teasing voices get louder and closer, and Irene gives me an encouraging smile, obviously telling me not to worry.

‘Ah, if it isn’t Rydell’s resident greasers,’ Seulgi says with a small smirk, and then ‘Rydell’s resident greasers’ come into my view. All of them have their hair slicked back and wear black leather jackets over black or white t-shirts, and black or blue jeans, but that’s where the similarities end. All of them are handsome, but in their own ways; Irene was right – they’re all dreamy. ‘Speak for the rest of ‘em, my hair ain’t greasy,’ one of the boys says with a boxy smile, pushing himself into the booth beside Joy who welcomes him with a flirty grin. He’s right too; his hair isn’t greasy at all. None of their hair is. A little shiny and sleek, but not greasy. At the mention of grease, one of the boys begins singing ‘Grease Is The Word’ obnoxiously loud, another hitting him over the head.

‘Don’t you skirts look cute?’ another of the boys says with a smirk as he pulls a stool up to the side of our booth, and the girls all smile back. ‘Thanks, Jungkook,’ Yeri says with a little flutter of her eyelashes, and he ever-so-slightly leans over me towards her, ignoring me completely. ‘You’re most welcome, doll,’ he replies, and she giggles behind her hand.

‘Oh. Who’s this?’ one of the other boys asks, looking at me, and suddenly all of them are looking at me. I will myself to be confident and flirty like the other girls, and I sit up a little in my seat. ‘She’s new ‘round here,’ Wendy says, not giving me a proper introduction. But it seems it’s better she didn’t, all of the boys suddenly intrigued, eyes scanning me intently. I spot Seulgi and Joy exchange a little grin; they’ve been bugging me all week to try and talk to some boys, saying it’d be super easy for me because of how much of a ‘dish’ I am, but I’m way too shy for that. ‘Obviously. I woulda noticed a cute little piece like this before,’ a disembodied voice says, and when Jungkook moves his head to the side, I spot the source of the voice.

He’s… hot, to say the least, his good looks making my stomach turn a little. His skin sports a golden tan, his eyes and hair a dark brown, and he has nice proportions, not too built but not exactly small either. He gives me a little grin when he spots me looking at him, and I’m endeared when I notice his lips form a heart shape when he smiles. I’m certain I’ve seen a smile like that before.

‘Don’t call her a piece, Hoseok. That’s derogatory towards women,’ Irene says, all eyes turning to her with surprise. Hoseok. Nice name. ‘What? We all know I’m a feminist, it’s not a surprise,’ she says matter-of-factly, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, before taking a sip of her milkshake. ‘We’re just surprised you know a big word like derogary,’ one of the boys says, coaxing laughter from the rest of them. ‘It’s derogatory, doofus, not derogary,’ Irene says but her voice is lost under their laughter.

‘Hey, Yoongi, Mina’s workin’ tonight,’ one of the boys says, nudging another, presumably Yoongi, who instantly looks up with eager eyes, everyone else laughing. ‘Excuse me, ladies, knuckleheads. My lady awaits,’ he says, the other boys hollering and hooting at him, pushing him towards where poor Mina cleans tables on the other side of the diner.

‘So, what’s the dealio with you, sweetie? How’s a cute little dish like you managed to get in with the socs?’ one of the boys says to me in a teasing tone as he leans against the booth beside ours, the other girls rolling their eyes. ‘I hate it when you call us that, Jimin,’ Seulgi says with wide eyes and a little pout, and he grins at her, blowing her a kiss before he says, ‘sorry, baby, but ya know it’s true. Popular teeny queenies, you five.’ Seulgi certainly seems appeased, a satisfied little smirk on her face when she turns to take a sip of her milkshake.

‘I was a cheerleader at my old school, so the girls got me on the team as soon as I started at Rydell,’ I explain softly, the boys all listening with interest. ‘Ain’t you a cutie? So softly spoken, an’ all posh soundin'. Not like this noisy broad,’ the boy beside Joy says, nudging her, and she nudges him back with a scowl. ‘Shut it, Tae,’ she snaps, and the boy, Tae, grins as he throws an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side, Joy’s scowl quickly disappearing.

‘Ain’t you in one of my classes?’ Jungkook says, and I look at him for a moment, before nodding, realising he’s in my Math class. ‘Mmhmm. Math, right?’ I say, and he nods with a little grin at me, an unreadable expression on his face. ‘You’re awful quiet in class.’ ‘And you’re awful loud.’ The entire group bursts out laughing, Jungkook included, and he looks impressed.

‘The kitten has claws, huh?’ Hoseok says, my eyes flitting up to meet his amused ones, and then I realise – I’ve seen him before. ‘I recognise you,’ I say without thinking, and a little bit of surprise appears on his face before he quickly masks it with a grin. ‘That’s a line I usually use,’ he says, and everyone laughs, a little bit of embarrassment unfurling in my chest as I let out a giggle.

‘So what’s your name, sweetheart?’ the boy that thought ‘derogary’ was a word asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘What’s yours?’ I ask, and he grins, more laughter rippling around the group. ‘Kim Seokjin, Jin for short. I’m surprised you don’t know. Irene’s neighbours sure do,’ he jokes, a little gasp escaping my lips as everyone laughs, Irene shooting him a death stare. ‘Aw, ain’t you adorable?’ Tae says with an amused grin, having noticed my gasp, and I feel blood rushing to my cheeks as I duck my head to take a sip of my milkshake.

‘What’s the name then, doll?’ Hoseok asks, my heart fluttering at the nickname. ‘y/n,’ I say, and his mouth falls open. ‘Get outta here. There’s no way. y/n y/l/n?’ he asks, and I nod mutely, shocked that he knows my full name. ‘It’s me, Jung Hoseok,’ he says, and I vaguely recognise the name, but can’t remember where I know him from. One of the boys whistles to fill the awkward silence, another whispering ‘sheesh, ain’t that a bite?’. Hoseok looks at me with intense eyes, almost willing me to remember him. ‘Come on, y/n, you remember me. That summer. At the beach. You know me,’ he says, almost desperately, and then I realise exactly who he is, ice cold shock filling my veins.

‘Hobi! No way!’ I exclaim, a grin spreading across his face as he nods. ‘Hobi? Who the fuck is Hobi?’ Jimin asks, and Hobi rubs the back of his neck embarrassedly. ‘I am. It was my nickname when I was a kid,’ he admits, the boys all laughing, and annoyance appears on his face. ‘Put a lid on it, dipsticks. My old lady gave me that nickname, an’ I’ll be damned if you make me embarrassed of it,’ he says seriously, the boys all falling silent. ‘I like it,’ Seulgi says evenly, taking a sip of her milkshake. ‘Yeah, it’s cute. Hobi. Definitely suits you,’ Wendy says, and suddenly, Hobi’s sporting a little grin, and the other boys seem a little jealous at the attention from the girls.

‘So, you two childhood friends or somethin’?’ the only boy whose name I don’t know yet asks, and both Hobi and I nod. ‘We met a couple years back, when we were… 15?’ he asks me, and I nod. ‘Yeah, 15. I was nearly 16. It was summer, an’ our villas were next to each other on holiday. We spent the whole summer together,’ he says, the others listening with interest. ‘Ain’t that just adorable? Who woulda thought our big bad wolf would turn out to be a little softie?’ the boy replies, and Hobi glares at him. ‘You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Namjoon, so can it before you get a knuckle sandwich. I’m sure Wendy wouldn’t be too happy to see your face busted,’ Hobi threatens, and I’m shocked to see a new side to the gentle and kind boy so full of sunshine that I met a few years ago. He spots the look on my face, and suddenly looks ashamed of himself, the anger in his disposition instantly disappearing.

The conversation quickly moves on to Namjoon and Wendy, and I’m lost in my memories of that summer with Hobi. He was such a lovely boy, so funny and full of laughter. We made a lifetime of memories that summer, and I’ll always treasure it as the summer I fell in love for the first time.

‘Oh, y/n, your milkshake’s finished. Why don’t you get another one?’ Yeri says, nudging me out of my own mind, and I look down at my glass. Sure enough, it’s empty. I didn’t think I’d had that much. ‘Oh. Yeah, okay. Does anyone else want anything?’ I offer, and Yeri hands me some money to get her a basket of cheesy fries, and tells me to get my milkshake with her money too. And it’s then that I notice her glass is suspiciously full, around the amount that I had left in mine. She grins at me sneakily before her eyes flit to Hobi, and I know she’s plotting for him to follow me.

I slide out of the booth, and head up to the counter, my white cheer shoes squeaking against the clean vinyl floor. I cross paths with Yoongi, who’s glowering a little. ‘Any luck with Mina?’ I ask, my courage at speaking to a virtual stranger surprising me. ‘Not really,’ he admits, and I supress an amused laugh. ‘Maybe bring her some flowers next time you’re here? Girls love it when boys do things like that. It’s cute and romantic,’ I say, and he nods, digesting my words. ‘Yeah. Good idea. Thanks, new girl,’ he says, heading back to our booth with renewed energy.

I order a strawberry milkshake and Yeri’s fries at the counter, poor Mina looking like she could kill the chef when he shouts at her to clean the machine before getting my milkshake. ‘Shall I bring it over, or you gonna wait?’ she asks me, but I’m saved from answering, a voice behind me replying, ‘we’ll wait.’ Hobi appears, sliding on to the stool beside where I stand with an easy grin at me, my heart jumping.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,’ he admits, and I smile. ‘Me too. You’ve changed,’ I say, and his smile slips a little. I feel guilty, and so I make up for it by saying, ‘you’ve grown into a dreamboat.’ A grin instantly appears on his face, and he puffs out his chest a little, coaxing a laugh from me. ‘But look at you, y/n. You were always a pretty little thing, but now… well, you got a classy chassis, alright, an’ your face ain’t half bad either,’ he says as offhandedly as possible, a little grin on his face, and I can practically see his new greaser image fighting down the sweet boy that I know is inside. What he says is a little… not offensive, but I know Irene wouldn’t be too impressed if she heard it, and yet I can’t help but feel a little flattered. ‘Thank you. I think,’ I giggle, fingers toying with the hem of my skirt nervously, and he leans back against the counter, eyes skimming over my figure. ‘It was a compliment, doll. This new uniform’s cute, too. Reminds me of that little dress you wore, our last night that summer,’ he says, smiling widely, and my heart warms at him remembering.

I know exactly the dress he means; it was yellow and white plaid, sleeveless, and the hem came to just above my knee. I remember feeling so grown up in such a short dress, but it’s nothing compared to the outfit I’m wearing now. My grandparents would be scandalised if they saw me in my strappy, yellow plaid top – revealing my arms, the majority of my chest and a little bit of midriff when I stretch – and my blue plaid skirt, swishing around my thighs, with lacy white ankle socks and a yellow plaid scrunchie on my wrist. All the other girls are in variations of the same outfit, colours switched around on their tops and bottoms, different shape tops, different length skirts. It’s a little risqué, but times are slowly changing, and Irene is a firm believer that people like us will help to change it.

‘I barely remember that night,’ I say shyly, and he raises an eyebrow, knowing I’m lying. ‘I could never forget,’ he says lowly, eyes locked with mine, and the memory appears in my head. I shared my first kiss with him that night and whilst the memory is one that I treasure, I’m surprised it means anything to him. He’s a greaser, and they have a reputation for… ‘humping and dumping’ as Seulgi so eloquently put it. ‘You were my first kiss,’ he says casually, and I smile shyly, a little surprised at hearing so. ‘I never would’ve guessed,’ I say softly, and he grins. ‘I haven’t been a… greaser forever, you know,’ he says frankly, and I laugh. ‘Well, you were my first kiss too,’ I admit, and he grins even wider. ‘I know, kitten,’ he replies, and I feel my face fall a little, his face falling too. ‘No, no, I don’t mean it like that. It wasn’t bad, or anything,’ he says hastily, and I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. ‘You were just so…’ he trails off, and I give him a pointed look, prompting him to continue. ‘Innocent. Practically jail bait. A cute little Quentin Quail. It’s hot when a girl’s like that. Hotter than easy girls,’ he says, and I nod, holding back a laugh, and trying to mask how embarrassed I am at the flattery.

‘Here’s your milkshake, y/n, and your fries,’ Mina says, suddenly interrupting mine and Hobi’s eye contact. ‘Hey, Mina,’ Hobi says with a flirty grin, and I try to stop my smile from faltering. ‘Hi Hobi.’ ‘Why’s the diner so quiet tonight? It’s like Nowheresville in here.’ ‘Everyone’s at the bar, watching the football.’ ‘Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Well, anyway…’ ‘Yes, Hobi?’ Mina replies in a bored tone, and I suddenly like the girl. A lot. ‘Why don’t ya give Yoongi a chance? He’s real sweet on ya,’ Hobi says easily, and my heart warms when I realise that he’s trying to be a good friend. ‘And I told him already, I got a boyfriend,’ Mina says, and Hobi nods, impressed. ‘Yeah? What’s his name?’ ‘He goes by Bambam.’ ‘Still at school?’ ‘Na, he works at the garage ‘round the corner.’ ‘Good pay?’ ‘You writin’ a book or somethin? What’s with all the questions?’ ‘Just askin’. I wanna work there.’ ‘I’ll put in a word if you get Min over there to leave me be,’ Mina says, Hobi holding a hand out to her with a grin. ‘Deal,’ he says, Mina unable to keep a small smile off her face as she shakes his hand.

‘Come on, doll, let’s get back before Yeri’s fries go cold,’ Hobi says, his attention back on me as he hands me my milkshake, picking up the fries in one hand and snaking the other around my waist. A little thrill runs through my body at the feeling of his hand on me. He leads me back over to the table as I thank Mina over my shoulder. When we reach our booth, everyone’s staring at us, continuing to do so when Hobi puts Yeri’s fries down in front of her, slides into my seat and pulls me down onto his lap. My heart nearly pounds out of my chest.

‘You two look awful… close,’ Wendy says cautiously, and Hobi shrugs offhandedly. ‘We spent a whole summer together, ‘course we’re close.’ ‘Yeah, like two years ago.’ ‘So what?’ ‘Nothin’. Hobi.’ ‘Are ya laughin’ at my nickname?’ ‘No.’ ‘So, tell us more about this summer you two spent together,’ Taehyung says musingly, his elbow on the table and his chin resting on his hand. ‘Yeah, d’you get in her drawers?’ Jimin asks with a mischievous grin, and blood rushes to my cheeks from embarrassment. ‘Hey! Shut it, bozo, they were little kids,’ Seulgi exclaims, hitting him over the head, and he continues grinning, still looking at Hobi for an answer. ‘Mind your own beeswax,’ Hobi replies as his arms slide around my stomach. ‘Come on, let’s hear a little at least,’ Namjoon says softly, the others all nodding in agreement. ‘We wanna hear about your summer lovin’. Did you get friendly down in the sand?’ ‘D’you get far?’ ‘Did she put up a fight?’ Shut it, clods! Don’t ask questions like that, ‘specially not in front of her,’ Hobi exclaims, all of them exchanging grins. ‘Jeez, whatta grouch. You oughta tell us somethin’, since you didn’t even tell us about her after that summer,’ Jungkook says, leaning away from Hobi when the boy goes to hit him. ‘What are ya, the FBI? Lay off a little. There’s nothin’ to know. Like Seulgi said; we were little kids. Ain’t that right, kitten?’ Hobi says, and I nod in response to his question, butterflies in my stomach at being sat on his lap, having his arms around me, and having him speak to me like… like I’m his girl or something.

‘Well, whatever. I’m bored. Let’s cut out,’ Taehyung says, and I can see Joy deflate a little, my heart going out to her. ‘Na, let’s stick around a while,’ Jimin grins, eyes locked with Seulgi who grins right back. ‘Thought we were gonna hit the passion pit,’ Hobi says, Irene rolling her eyes. ‘The flick’s probably finished by now,’ Namjoon says, and Yoongi grins. ‘Let’s head down to Thunder Road,’ he says with a glint in his eyes, and the others exchange a glance before looking to Jin. ‘Na, my old lady said I gotta be home before midnight,’ Jungkook says, the others all mocking him. ‘Candy ass. Your old lady won’t say nothin’ if you’re late, let’s just go,’ Yoongi says, and Jin shakes his head. ‘Ice it. We get in enough trouble, let’s not go lookin’ for it,’ he says, surprisingly wisely, and the other boys respect his words, nodding.

‘We makin’ tracks or what? I really gotta get home or my old lady’ll crown me,’ Jungkook says, Yeri practically melting at his words – obviously she’s got a soft spot for a momma’s boy. ‘Yeah, let’s split. You dollies hangin’ ‘round here, or ya wanna come with?’ Jin asks, and the girls all look to Irene. ‘Where ya goin’? We ain’t comin’ if you’re goin’ to Thunder Road,’ Irene says, and I’m still unaware of what exactly Thunder Road is. ‘Na, we’re gonna drop the kid off an’ then… head to the bar,’ Jin says, the other boys cheering at his words. They all start to get up from their seats, and I feel Hobi fidgeting a little beneath me. I get out of the booth, and he gives me a smile before sliding out himself, and I take the empty seat. Irene looks around at us all before answering, ‘I think we’re gonna head home.’ ‘Any of ya need a ride?’ Jin offers, and Irene shakes her head. ‘I’m drivin’ Yeri and y/n home, and Seulgi’s old man said he’ll pick her, Joy and Wendy up on his way from work,’ Irene says, Jin nodding. Whilst he seemed a little immature at first, it’s obvious he’s a lot more grown up and responsible than the others.

‘Well. We’ll see you dollies at school on Monday then,’ Jin says, the other boys giving various goodbyes. Tae squeezes Joy’s thigh, the girl jumping a little in her seat as he grins, Jimin blowing Seulgi a kiss as he heads towards the door and she giggles, pretending to catch it and tuck it into her top. Namjoon gives Wendy a wink and she rolls her eyes, unable to hold back the grin on her face, as Jin exchanges a little glance with Irene and Jungkook presses a kiss to Yeri’s hand with a smirk, Yeri giggling as a blush colours her cheeks. ‘See ya Monday, y/n,’ Hobi says with a grin, and I smile back. ‘Bye, Hobi,’ I reply, the boys leaving moments later.

The diner seems eerily quiet now that they’re gone, and all of the girls look at me. ‘You and Jung Hoseok, huh? Who woulda thought?’ Joy says, looking at me with both curiosity and amusement in her eyes. ‘You’re so good, and sweet, y/n. I never woulda guessed you had the hots for him,’ Wendy says, and the true words are unspoken. So I say them. ‘And you never would’ve guessed he had the hots for me?’ I say plainly, Wendy looking a little guilty. ‘It sounds bad when you say it like that. I mean… the greasers, they flirt with us and all, but they’d choose an easy girl over us any day. And you’re not easy. You’re so innocent and soft, and I’m just surprised Hoseok would like someone like that,’ Wendy explains herself, and it makes perfect sense. ‘He wasn’t the same back then. He was… really nice, and gentle,’ I say, the girls exchanging a glance. ‘y/n, he’s been in that gang since he was, like, 14, ‘cause his big sister dates one of the older boys in the gang. Meanin’ he was a greaser back then too. Maybe… he dropped the act with you, though,’ Irene says, though she sounds sceptical. ‘Yeah. Maybe,’ I say, questioning our summer together in my head.

‘Speak of the devil,’ Wendy says gently, just before Hobi reappears beside me. ‘Hey, doll. I was wonderin’ if ya wanna do somethin’ with me? Maybe next Friday, after school?’ he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, and he looks almost nervous. My stomach turns with butterflies, and it’s only when Yeri nudges me that I remember I need to answer. ‘That… sounds real nice, but the pep rally’s next Friday. Maybe another day?’ I ask, and he nods, looking down at the floor, a little disheartened. ‘I can do something on the weekend after the pep rally?’ I offer, and he looks back up hopefully. ‘Yeah. Yeah, the weekend sounds good. You wanna… go to the passion pit? They’re showin’ Sunset Boulevard,’ he suggests, and I nod with a small smile. ‘I… I’d really like that, Hobi,’ I reply, and he smiles, real wide, his eyes practically shining. ‘I’ll pick you up. It’d be nice to see your parents again.’ ‘Yeah, that would be nice. They’d like to see you too.’ ‘Yeah. Neat. We’ll talk about it at school, but I gotta go. The boys are waitin’ for me,’ he says, and I nod, smiling. ‘Bye, Hobi,’ I say softly, and he grins back at me. ‘See ya, y/n,’ he says, taking a sip of my milkshake and laughing when I swat at him, before jogging towards the door.

I sigh happily, looking around at the girls, who all look back at me amusedly. ‘Oh, she’s a goner,’ Yeri says gently, and I laugh, rolling my eyes. ‘So is he, by the looks of it,’ Joy says, and Irene raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m not so sure. You know why people go to the passion pit,’ Irene says, and I look blankly at her. ‘Why?’ ‘To have the movie as background noise for… backseat bingo,’ she says quietly, and I feel my happiness deflate a little. I’ve met the first (and only) boy I loved again after a couple years, and I’m finding out he’s a horndog. ‘But maybe he just wants to watch the flick. I heard Sunset Boulevard’s real good,’ Seulgi says encouragingly, obviously trying to cheer me up, and I nod, though Irene’s words still ring in my ears. ‘I could be worryin’ for nothin’, y/n, don’t get sad about it. I just wanna look out for ya, that’s all,’ Irene says, and I smile at her, feeling gratitude for her being so kind this soon into our friendship. ‘Thanks, Irene. Don’t worry, I won’t let him… get into my drawers,’ I joke, repeating Jimin’s earlier words, and the girls all burst out laughing. ‘I sure hope not ‘cause my momma’s goin’ to watch Sunset Boulevard next weekend,’ Joy says between laughs, coaxing more laughter from us. I meet Irene’s eyes, and she gives me a gentle smile before mouthing, ‘be careful.’ ‘Don’t worry,’ I mouth back with a smile, ‘I will.’

[ackermanism]

anything but classy (daichi x reader nsfw)

daichi sawamura x reader (smut)

word count: 1,954

warnings: smut, nsfw, cussing, explicit sexual content, slightly ooc

a/n: the amount of times i’ve thought about nsfw daichi has brought me to finally write this. this is my first time writing smut and i have not written fanfics in a while, so sorry if the ending felt rushed. i’m happy to hear any thoughts or feedback though. enjoy, my fellow daichi fuckers. <3

and a special shoutout to my good friend deme, for your constant spark of inspiration and contributing to my daichi brainrot.

*

The elegant tune of Clair de Lune in the background mixes with the soft dinner conversations surrounding you and Daichi. Daichi. He had taken you to an upscale restaurant tonight as a treat to make up for his long absence.

Everything around you is classy. The waiters in their neatly fitted uniforms, the guests in lavish dresses and tuxedos, the dim lighting of the chandeliers, the clinking of wine glasses filling the air. And then there’s you. To the public eye, you must have looked like you belonged. When Daichi told you to “wear something fancy” for tonight, you played it safe and settled for a medium-length strapless black dress, to which he audibly gasped when he picked you up. You had blushed, not only at his compliment, but at seeing him in his suit and tie. Yes, to the public eye, you both look like you belong at this classy establishment.

But the thoughts that filled your mind and drowned out the restaurant’s ambience was anything but classy. Daichi was telling you a story about something silly that happened during volleyball camp, where he spent all summer. Over two months without him. You felt bad that you couldn’t focus on his words, but how could you when there was only one thing on your mind?

Under the dim glow of the room, his features were almost teasing you, enticing you. He was still talking and all you could do was stare at his lips hungrily. When a waiter walked by to pick up the plates and Daichi turned to say thanks, all you could do was fixate your eyes on his jawline.

Your mind started wandering to how much you missed his lips, his touch, his hands, his-- your senses came back to you when you felt his knee accidentally graze yours but he did not move away. At that moment he looked right at you, his gaze slowly making their way down your figure, as if undressing you with his eyes. Your breath stopped for a second. It’s been so long since he touched you that it was almost overwhelming.

And then all of a sudden, your mind was screaming for more. Your knees, still touching his, slowly push his apart. Under the long tablecloth, your hand grazes up his thigh slowly while maintaining eye contact. You can see his eyes darkening, jaws clenching, as he clears his throat, suddenly forgetting what he was even talking about. You flash a small smirk at him.

The next few minutes were silent as he paid the bill and simply said in a low voice. “Let’s go.”

You shudder a little. You knew you were going to pay for that later.

The car ride back was overwhelmingly quiet. The tension was unbearable as you both fixed your gaze on the road, not daring to look at the other for the longest time. As if he couldn’t restrain himself anymore, he places his hand on your thigh and momentarily rests it there before pushing your dress up slightly so his fingers were against your bare skin. His touch sent shivers down your spine as you felt heat building up inside you. His rough, warm palm and his fingers slowly trail to your center.

“Is that what I think it is?” He lets out a low chuckle and you feel your face flush.

His fingers follow the trail of your wetness slipping out on your thigh. As he feels more waiting for him, he mutters under his breath but loud enough for you to hear. “Fuck… you’re so wet for me baby.” He grips the steering wheel tightly with his other hand and hisses, “You’re already driving me crazy, y/n.”

The second he parks in the driveway, he is already rushing to open your door. He grips your hand and pulls you out, patience running thin. Daichi was usually soft and gentle, so his abrasive behavior was enough to tell you that he was about to ravage you tonight and your body shivers in anticipation.

He opens the door and not a second later, he shuts it by slamming your body onto the door. Within the same second, his lips are on yours. Aggressive. Needy. He does not give you any time to catch your breath. He pulls away slightly to growl in your ear. “You fucking tease, trying to get me hard at that restaurant?”

You say nothing, letting out deep breaths when you feel his teeth on your neck, sucking and leaving his mark. “Look at you now, can’t even get a word out, huh? I’m the one in control now.” You let out a soft moan and he takes this opportunity to kiss you again, forcing his tongue in to meet yours, his easily overpowering yours. Not that your body could do anything anyway, it felt like you were losing grip on your senses as he gave you no room to breathe.

He pushes his hips against yours and you felt how hard he was for you already. You moaned into his mouth and felt a slight grin in his kiss, his hands traveling down before settling on your ass and grabbing you, forcing you to press further against him. He knew it would get the reaction he wanted from you and he continued to grind until he would have you scream or beg for him. You feel so lightheaded from the lack of air in your lungs that every touch feels intensified. Despite your lungs screaming, you don’t want to pull away from him but he does first, a string of saliva thinning between your lips, finally allowing you to breathe.

As your senses slowly come back to you, you feel your core aching for him. Almost like he was reading your mind, he growls in your ear. “I know you want me… now be louder and tell me what it is you want from me… and I’ll take you.”

“Please, Daichi…” you say in between short moans.

“Please what?” he grips your hair to turn your head to the side, giving him access to your neck, his teeth finding their way on you again. You fought between catching your breath and responding to him, so instead you say nothing except a small mewl escaping your lips. At this, he presses into you again. “I don’t think I quite understood that. Please what?”

Your whole body feels weak, your mind is screaming for him to just fuck you already but your mouth can’t get the words out. He spreads your legs enough just for his hand to slowly reach under your panties. “Let me help you out, while I help myself.” He says before letting out a groan as his fingers touch you, becoming drenched, and lazily circling your opening. “Y/n tell me, where do you want me? Just give me one word.”

His voice is husky but you can hear him pleading just a little for you to say what he wants to hear. You whimper as his fingers tease your entrance and manage to say one word. “Inside.”

He chuckles in response and looks at you, his eyes dark, nothing but lust flooding his normally kind eyes. “Now beg.”

This was payback for teasing him at the restaurant and you couldn’t take it anymore. He already won and you both knew it, seeing how you were a complete mess already when he hasn’t even properly fucked you yet. Dropping all of your pride, you give in to him willingly. “Please Daichi… I need you… inside me.”

He wanted you to beg more but he also couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He kisses you again, rougher this time, and you moan loudly into his mouth as he enters you. He cursed as you clenched around his fingers and he nipped on your lips before praising you. “Fuck… such a good girl for me… only me.” He starts to pump his fingers inside you, still pinned to the door, his erection against your bare thigh throbbing.

A string of curses spews out of your lips as he showed no sign of slowing down, every word and every sound you made turning him on. He curls his fingers just right and presses his forehead against yours, his heavy breathing and your whimpers getting louder. “Come undone for me and I’ll give you what we both want,” he says, pressing his cock closer to your entrance.

You felt your core tightening and with another pump of his fingers, you felt your orgasm rush over your entire body. His fingers continue their motions as you do what he’s asked, completely coming undone while his other hand supports your shaking body. He pulls his fingers out and you feel empty already. The empty feeling doesn’t last long as he lifts one of your legs up to his side and without even waiting for you to come down from your orgasm, he is guiding himself into you. He grunts as you feel him slowly expanding your walls to fit him. It’s been so long since you had him that you hiss slightly, forgetting just how thick he is. He kisses you softly while he lets you adjust to his size again, the contrast from his overall behavior throughout the night shocking you slightly. Once he has pushed himself fully inside of you, his eyes are dark and ready to devour you, but he is caring enough to wait for your signal.

You give him a slight nod and almost immediately he kisses you aggressively as he thrusts into you repeatedly, increasing in speed every time. His strong arms hook on your legs so you are airborne against the door, your neck tilting back as you were overcome with his length inside you. With every moan and mention of his name matching up with his thrusts, his groans became louder until you felt his movements get sloppy. He must be close but he kept going so you could get closer too. Your hands were all over his toned back, nails digging into his skin as you desperately try to hold on, feeling yourself ready to come undone again.

“Daichi…” you moan his name softly. “I…”

“I know, baby. Come for me.”

With one last push, your walls clench around him, back arched against his hold, as you came on his dick and let out a string of curses. He came not long after while he was still inside, feeling him fill you up completely before pulling out. You were missing him already, a mixture of both your and his fluids dripping down your thigh.

“Fuck,” he groans, setting you back down on your feet and supporting you as your body melted into his chest, legs too weak to even stand. “I missed you so much, y/n,” he says, kissing you softly and passionately this time.

“I missed you too,” you mumble into the kiss. “But if this is what I can look forward to, maybe you should leave and come back in a month.”

He laughs as he picks up your limp body and leads you to the bedroom. He gently sets you down on the bed and slowly takes off his tie. Your eyes were drinking him in as he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his defined chest. He slowly crawls over you and presses his naked body onto yours.  You reach up to kiss him but he pulls away, tugging at your dress. “Take this off first,” his voice back to a low drawl. “Don’t think we’re even close to finished.”

You comply willingly, ready to make up a few months’ worth of rounds in one night. It’s going to be a long night.

[luckyjak]

fic: like 80/20 on the kinsey scale

Summary: Modern/College AU. Caleb sleeps with Essek and panics about his sexuality. Is he gay? Bi? Straight with exceptions? Beau gets to be his Obi-Gay Kenobi. Jester is there to look hot and paint Caleb’s nails. A story about friendship and identity, mostly.

Ships: Shadowgast, hints of Widomauk, past Caleb/Astrid, hints of Beau/Jester, one line of Jester/Cali, one line of Jester/the Bright Queen

There was a knock on her door. “Beauregard.” Another knock. “Beauregard.” Another knock. “Beaur--”

She slammed the door open. “What, Caleb? It’s--” she beadily looked over at the alarm clock before groaning, her face in her hands. “9:30 in the morning, fuck.”

“Ja, I know. I’ve already gone to my 8 am class. I need your help.”

“Can it wait an hour?” Despite her words, she opened the door wider to let him in, knowing he’d follow her. She made a beeline to the tiny keurig on top of her dorm minifridge and set about making a cup of coffee. “Maybe two?”

“I was nice and let you sleep this long, all things considered. As my closest queer friend who isn’t currently in Japan, you are obligated to help me. Please help me.” He flopped down onto her bed, face down into her pillow, curling around it needfully. “I’m having a full-blown gay panic attack, Beau.”

She rolled her eyes and dug around her and Jester’s things, looking for a coffee cup. She finally pulled one out that wasn’t clean, but wasn’t as disgusting as some of the others. “For the last time, finding Molly hot doesn’t make you gay, it makes you human. His gender is a question mark and shouldn’t be counted. I find Molly hot and I’m a capital L lesbian, so--”

“I slept with Essek last night.” Caleb mumbled into the pillow, his face bright red from what little of it Beau could see.

Essek? Essek Essek Essek--who the fuck was Essek? She’d heard the name before, but she couldn’t place who it was. It did sound masculine, though. Maybe there was a point to Caleb’s panic after all. 

It was only as she went to open the mini-fridge to grab cream for her coffee that she glanced at Jester’s schedule (9 am MWF, Intro to Physics, Kryn/Thelyss, Roshana hall 311) that her eyes widened with realization.

“Hot boy? Hot boy from the group chat?” She screeched, turning to Caleb, her coffee abandoned. “Essek Thelyss, the hot TA you and Jester have been obsessed with all semester? The one in the wheelchair? The one even fucking Reani is talking about now? That Essek Thelyss? You fucked him?”

Caleb nodded, his head still buried in the pillow.

“Oh my god,” Beau jumped in bed with Caleb, tackling him briefly. She then sat up straight, leaning with her back against the wall. “Tell me everything. Wait. Not everything. I don’t want to hear about dicks touching. But everything else is fair game.”

Slowly Caleb grinned at her, coming out from behind the pillow. He checked his phone quickly before he scooched up so Beau wasn’t sitting on his legs anymore, leaning against the wall as well. “I’m glad you are taking this seriously, Beauregard.”

“Cut me some slack, dude, I just woke up,” she yawned to prove her point. “Start at the beginning.”

“I took him up on the tutoring session that he offers--”

“The ones you don’t need?”

“I need them, just--not as much as I pretend to,” Caleb checked his phone again before he rubbed the back of his head. “You are distracting me.”

“Sorry dude.”

“Anyway, I went to tutoring, and then we started talking, about life and not just about physics, and he asked if I wanted to go get a drink, and I thought, you know, Astrid dumped me a year ago, I haven’t dated anyone else ever in my life, I don’t even know if I’m gay, or bi, or straight but appreciative--”

They had spent a long time talking about that, actually--when Molly had been around, he had dragged whoever was nearby and willing to the university’s Gay-Straight Alliance meetings, which usually consisted of the Mighty Nein and one or two other friends, like Cali and Shakaste. Molly was real good at making them talk about gay stuff, like identity and labels and experimenting, stuff like that. It helped that most of them were queer in some way: Fjord and Nott were mostly straight but good allies, Caduecus was asexual, Yasha, Jester, and Molly were all bi, Beau was a big ol’ lesbian, and Caleb?

Caleb was a question mark. He had, in his own words, only ever dated Astrid in his small podunk town in Zemni Fields, and so didn’t really know what label, if any, applied to him. He had admitted to the group that he found some men attractive, and Molly had argued that that was enough to be bi, but Caleb had hesitated.

...Man, she missed Molly. Stupid fucker had to go and move to fucking Japan in an area with shitty internet service, and thus, sometimes felt like he might as well be dead to them.

“--But I thought, one drink wouldn’t hurt, right?” He sat up on the bed, looking at Beau with a mischievous look on his face. “I must confess, we did not end up getting drinks, Beauregard.”

“Oh?” Beau grinned at him. “What did you end up doing instead, Caleb?” she teased.

“We made out in his car for an hour,” Caleb’s face was as red as his hair, but he didn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, there was a sort of confident smugness to Caleb as he told his story, like he was proud of his little tryst. “Then he invited me to his apartment, where I had a panic attack in his bathroom. After he managed to get me to calm down, we proceeded to have the best sex of my entire life--”

She held her fist out, which he bumped gingerly.

“And when I woke up in his bed this morning, I had another panic attack, left him a note with my phone number, and snuck out before he got up. Went to my 8 am class, didn’t hear a single word Professor Wacco said all hour, and then I came here,” he pulled his phone out, checking it anxiously. “And he still hasn’t texted me, and I want him to text me, and I don’t know what any of this means, and I need your help.”

“Help me Obi-Gay Kenobi, I’m your only help?”

“I still haven’t seen Star Wars, but I know enough to know that was a reference.”

“We’re gonna have to fix that one day. Alright,” she refocused her legs in the crisscross, reaching over and snatching Caleb’s phone out of his hands. “First things first, you gotta stop checking this. Dude is teaching Jester’s class right now, so he’s probably not on his phone. Hell, he may not have even seen your note yet, depending on how rushed he felt he was in the morning. I know I don’t always notice booty notes until way later, and he might be the same way.”

She put Caleb’s phone in her pocket, which he immediately protested. “Beau--”

“As soon as it vibrates I’ll hand it over dude, but you’ve got to calm down. Let’s figure you out first and then we can figure out Pretty Boy later.”

“Hot boy,” Caleb mumbled, but didn’t argue. 

“Whatever. Second, and I hate asking this because I really want to know nothing about how dudes have sex with each other, but was it like, hand jobs or blow jobs or--”

“His cock was in my ass, Beau,” Ah, the red on his face was from embarrassment, okay. “And it was amazing, and I’ve never come that hard before ever, and I’m re-evaluating my entire life because of it.”

“First off, props to you for bottoming for your first ever gay experience,” she held her fist out again for him to bump, which he did. “As a fellow bottom I’d like to welcome you to our ranks, we are a proud and noble people, etcetera etcetera.”

He put his head in a pillow. “Beauregard.”

“Second, you never do anything half-way, do you? Couldn’t you have, like, I don’t know, watched gay porn for a bit before you decided to try anal with your TA?”

Caleb shook his head. “I don’t like porn. It’s--I find it vulgar. And demeaning towards women. And I’m afraid I’m going to get a computer virus. I’d rather read.” His face was still red, but at least he’d lowered the pillow. 

“Your smut club with Jester.”

“It’s not a smut clu--well, I guess it sort of is because Jester picks out all the books, but it was always meant to be more than smut books!” He held the pillow close to his chest like he might his cat.

Beau ignored him, holding three fingers out in front of his face. “Third, remember what Molly said about how labels are meaningless unless you want them to mean something? That’s still true. You don’t have to be gay or straight or bi unless you want to.”

He turned his head, looking away from Beau and instead at the messy desk/kitchen area of her joint dorm room with Jester. 

“I think I am gay, though,” he said quietly, still not looking at her. “I--I really enjoyed myself last night. If that’s how sex with men usually is then that’s what I want. I don’t want to have sex with women, I don’t think. Not unless it’s the right woman.” He groaned into her pillow, pulling his brown hoodie over his head so that it covered his eyes. “Which makes me bi.”

“It’s the Kinsey scale,” Beau leaned back and grinned. “100 is attracted to men, 0 is attracted to women. Where do you fall?”

“Like, 80/20?” He pulled his hoodie back again. “I loved Astrid, but I feel if what happened with Essek is what sex with men feels like, then my attraction to her was the exception, not the rule.” He groaned and lowered his head again. “But what if Essek is the exception instead? What if I don’t actually like men but I like this man. Sheisse, this is so hard. I never worried about this back in Zemni Fields. Don’t--don’t most people figure this out earlier?”

She squeezed his shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “Look, dude, it’s fine. You can be an 80/20 bi. Or you can be a 50/50 bi. Or you can call yourself gay, or queer, or any other label you’d like. And if you end up dating a woman, the gay police aren’t going to show up and take away your licence or anything. That’s not how it works.”

“It’s just confusing, I guess,” he flopped his head back, banging it against the wall slightly. “I always thought I had it figured out, and then it turns out I didn’t. I’m twenty four years old and I’m in graduate school, I should know what I am and what I want already. Most people figure this out when they are teenagers,” he bit his lip hesitantly, as Caleb often did when anxious. “When--when did you realize you liked women, Beau?”

“When I was like, 11. But it doesn’t even matter. So you are a late bloomer? Who gives a shit. This stuff is hard and complicated, and nobody has all the answers. So you just do you, man.”

He smiled at her, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks, Beaur--”

There was a clicking noise at the door, and then Jester was home, swinging the door wide open and letting the sunshine in. “Good morning beautiful! It’s a beautiful morning outside and--oh! You are already awake!” She gasped, throwing her backpack at her desk with little care. “And Caleb’s here too!” She jumped on Beau’s bed, squeezing herself between Beau and Caleb. She wrapped her arms around Caleb with a tight squeeze. “Good morning Caleb!”

“...Good morning, Jester.”

“What are you doing here so early? Is everything okay?”

Before he could answer, Beau jumped in ahead. “Caleb slept with your TA last night and is experiencing his gay awakening.”

Caleb rolled his eyes as Jester gasped. “Thanks for outing me, Beau.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t even think about it, dude, I’m sorry--”

“It’s fine,” he reached over and hugged Jester again. “I did sleep with Essek though.”

“Essek’s gay?” Jester flopped out of Caleb’s embrace into Beau’s lap. Beau started running her fingers through Jester’s hair out of habit. “Of course he is. He has well-manicured nails and a skincare routine. I should have known. Beau, why is my type apparently hot gay men?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you need to date more women, then.”

From where Jester couldn’t see, Caleb wiggled his eyebrows towards Jester and made a scissoring motion with his fingers; Beau threw a pillow at him.

“Maybe you’re right. Last girl I dated was Cali before she transferred. Still, congrats on being gay, Caleb. I always knew you were one of us.” Jester yawned and stretched, curling up like a cat in Beau’s lap. “I need to redo my nails.”

“I need Essek to text me,” Caleb groaned, tossing the pillow back at Beau. “He hasn’t texted, right?”

Beau pulled out the phone to double check, but there were no new messages. “Sorry, bud.”

“If it makes you feel better, he was like, super distracted during class. We ended up getting out early because Professor Kryn needed to talk to him, and you know she only gets involved when things are super bad. Apparently they caught some Dwendlian kids on campus? Whatever,” she leaned back and yawned against Beau. “Professor Kryn is so beautiful, you guys. I don’t know where she gets all of her clothes but they are all so gorgeous and she is so hot. I know she’s like a thousand or whatever but that woman can still hit it, like, any time she wants to--”

“Dwendlian kids?” Caleb asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Like Beau and I?”

“Some other group, I think. Essek called them Scouragers or something? I wasn’t really listening; I was daydreaming that I was a moth and I got to eat some like, delicious curtains. Hey, do you think that’s a metaphor for anything? Anyway--”

Beau wasn’t listening: instead, she was watching Caleb. A lifetime ago, Caleb had been a Scourager, and it hadn’t ended well for him. It was part of why he was at Xhoraus now. Beau expected to see a bit of panic on Caleb’s part, but he mostly just looked relieved.

“Good,” he said, interrupting Jester’s train of thought. “They followed up on the lead we brought them.” 

Oh, right. The text message Jester found from the phone that had gotten left behind in the basement they cleaned out for Zorth. It had been written in Zemnian, so none of them could read it but Caleb, and he had insisted that they turn the phone in to Professor Kryn herself.

“We good, Caleb?”

“Better than before,” he breathed in deeply, then placed a hand on Jester’s knee. “Jester, would you like to paint my nails for me?”

“Sure! What color? I’ve got pink, and blue, oh, and Molly let me have this really cool purple color before he left, and red--”

“How about a rainbow?” He offered, studying his nails with quiet contemplation. “Like the flag.”

Jester gasped. “Caleb I love it,” she squealed, jumping off the bed to run to her dresser. “Oh my gosh, we have got to bring you to Pride this year, you will love it! Well, actually you might hate it because you hate crowds and stuff, but it’s super fun. Oh my gosh, I get to use this yellow nail polish! I never use yellow because Beau hates yellow but I gotta use it if I want to give accurate Pride nails. Which shade of red do you think?”

Beau wasn’t listening, because at that moment Caleb’s phone had vibrated.  It was Essek. Sorry I didn’t text sooner or see you off this morning--it’s been a hell of an eventful morning so far. I’d love to tell you more over coffee if you are free later? ;)

Caleb hadn’t noticed she pulled his phone out; instead, his attention and his arm were being held captive by Jester, who had started painting his thumb a glittery red. 

“Hey loverboy,” she teased, causing Caleb’s head to whip around towards her. “You better let Jester do well on your nails, because you’ve got a date later.” She waved his terrible old phone around the air.

The fact that Jester and Caleb let out an identical high pitched noise at the exact same time was going to be the highlight of her day. She could already tell.

[testifytime]

do everything for me, you already know about me BUT: im described as "chaotic faggot" by my friends, i have no filter, I can switch from being outgoing to really nervous in a second, i like drawing, dice, and divinitation. i hoard candles and incense, and i like paintball.

- A Pokemon team/type theme (+ fun facts abt your team!)

Your team is full of Poison types! They’re used the most often for rascly lil fucker trainers, so, it fits :3c

Your signature Pokemon is Toxtricity, though your team also consists of Whirlipede, Haunter, Gloom, Toxicroak, and Crobat!

Fun facts!

Your Toxtricity was sent to you by your juggabro. In his words, it’s a “cool Pokemon to fit your aesthetic but keep you on track”. It can be pretty overprotective, but sometimes it turns a blind eye to the more chaotic things you do. 

Your Whirlipede is just an entire baby. Even though it’s got toxic spikes on its shell that COULD kill you, it’s pretty much a lapbug. You just have to try and remind it to be careful before it goes in for snuggles. 

Your Haunter and Gloom actually kind of hate each other! Having them out at the same time often ends up with you either getting paralysed or put to sleep. They’re super sweet when they’re apart, though, and both LOVE scritches. 

Toxicroak used to be really loveydovey when it was a Croagunk, but now it acts like it’s too cool for school. It’s really not. If you pay more attention to another Pokemon it WILL jab you in the stomach. And then it’ll pretend like it totally wasn’t even because it was jealous. 

Your Crobat is the sweetest of the bunch!! It likes to collect (read: steal) things for you that it thinks you’ll like, and is almost always attached to your back out of its Pokeball. Sometimes without you wanting it to be. It can be a bit of a pain, sometimes. 

- Bloodcaste/lusus/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck troll (+lore)

You’re a purpleblood with a seaserpent lusus! Your chumhandle is acquiredTalisman. 

You live with your lusus in a hive that boarders where the jungle forest ends and the beach begins. It’s a pretty popular spot for violetbloods, admittedly, but it’s also the only place your giantass Seaserpentdad can actually fit; the mouth of the river is deep and leads directly out into the ocean, where he spends most of his time. The hive itself is pretty cluttered - because man, you suck at keeping shit tidy - and filled to the brim with your dice collections, your religious paraphenalia, and all the random junk you’ve stolen (of which there is a lot). 

You have a few interests, of which the main is your religion. You’re a diviner of sorts, oddly sought out by your fellow purplebloods to tell them what their purpose is in life as stated by the Great Mirthful Messiahs. You’re not entirely sure that they really do speak through you, but your readings are scary-accurate, and not only does it mean that you’ve made more friends, but you’ve made a fuck tonne of money, too. You’re more fond of practicing with your friends, or on your own, sneaking what you can beneath your lusus’ snout; so far, he hasn’t seemed to question the candle collection you have, or the alter with the Faygo bottlecaps, or the cards, or pendulum made from a grubbone you got from one of your customers. Actually, he hasn’t noticed much of anything? You’re hesitant to go TOO far, but you do like pushing at what you can get away with every now and then. 

On top of that, you love to draw - mostly as a form of worship, but also just for fun with your juggabros. You send drawings back and forth, even though you’ve never been able to meet them, and it’s pretty fun! You hope one day that you can get them to your favourite hangout spot to cause a little chaos - which usually means trashing the violetbloods’ rich boy shit and stealing things you know they’re too proud to tattle about. You don’t... always remember doing those things? But you definitely remember the amount of violetbloods that give you nasty glares whenever you walk past. It’s okay, though. You have a rifle and you’re not afraid to use it.

Beyond that, though, you’re... kind of lonely. There’s nobody that you really consider a friend around you, and when your friends do visit you, it’s only every few months. Having all those customers and the nasty violetbloods hanging around is great, sure, but... sometimes you wish you could move your hive closer inland to be near your juggabros. You could, you guess. But then where would your lusus go?

Your lusus is kind of ridiculously huge. You really couldn’t miss him even on the horizon, his giant form standing stark against the two moons. Not that he spends a whole lot of time above the water, though. He pretty much only comes back to get fed and throw a fit if he sees any of your purpleblood customers hanging around. 

- Symbol/guardian/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck kid (+lore)

Your symbol is a and your guardian is your big bro! Your chumhandle is augmentedTemptation.

You and your older bro kick it in a sweet lil bottom-floor apartment. It’s kinda dingy, kinda shitty, but it’s the best he can afford and you’re not really one to complain when you know how hard he works just to keep the leaky roof over your head. It’s got everything you want out of a home, anyway; separate bedrooms, tiny bathroom, sweet hangout pad that doubles as a kitchen (which you’ve got a curtain draped over so that it looks like they’re two rooms) - it’s pretty neat. It’s also got a fire escape out the back and easy access to the lobby doors that’re easy to pick, so you figure it’s kinda home. 

You absolutely fucking love to play paintball. You’ve got a painball gun that you maybe stole from the store once, and a couple pellets you’ve been buying for cheap online whenever you have the money. You don’t... actually have anyone to play with, but hey, cop cars make a great target. It feeds into your general need for chaos, which isn’t limited to - but has involved - petty theft, breaking into cars, and spray painting defametory phrases against racists and homophobes on billboards. You’ve never actually been caught. Okay, you got caught once, but you’re really good at crying. You’re pretty sure your bro doesn’t know about that.

You like to practice witchy shit in your spare time. You’ve got altars set up for your patrons, and a candle collection that you really don’t know that you’re ever gonna burn through. Plus, incense! Your bro kind of hates the smell, but you just crack open a window and it’s like he doesn’t even know. You’ve also got a pretty fair collection of crystals, but that’s more because people just keep giving them to you? It’s wild what they’ve thought were just normal rocks, and you’re pretty sure some of your collection could sell for a pretty buck, but they make way better offerings. 

Of course, you also love to talk to your friends online. You have a bunch! You’re pretty easy to get on with, you think, so you end up just kinda collecting people into one giant group of friends that never stops growing. You share art, play games, chat, make them worried sick when you do dumb shit - it’s great. 

Sometimes at dusk you like to go up to the roof of the apartment block you and your bro live in and stand right on the edge. It’s so high up you can see around for miles, and everything below you looks like a speck of dust beneath your feet. The stars twinkle above you in the darkening sky, just barely visible, and you think, every now and then, that you are very, very small. 

- A FNAF animatronic design and name

You’re a broken down animatronic, probably one of the earliest of your kind. Maybe even a prototype? Nobody really remembers anymore. You’ve just kind of always been there, at the back of the store, half a body and more coherent than people expect you to be, but never fully quite there. Your head lulls back and forth, your arms moving sluggishly, and in order to get around, you drag yourself across the floor.

You can speak, but not by much. It’s glitchy and switched out more often than not, absolutely terrifying to hear in the dark - but you’re a pretty sweet soul, all things considered. The few who’ve been brave enough to slip back behind the old, abandoned doors, past the cobwebs and through the narrow halls, who haven’t run at the first sight of you, tell tales of a sweet carcass who seemed more scared of being found than anything else. 

There are a couple kids who routinely come back to visit you. They like to give you things they’ve found outside the pizzaria, mostly coins and old dice and things that smell sweet to try and cover up how musty you are. 

You’ve never hurt a soul the entire time you’ve been there, but your reputation has been built on the whispers of kids who’ve seen the rotting maw of your muzzle, the glint of your endoskeleton and the shine of your eyes in the dark. They call you Thing - as if giving you a name will make you come to life. 

The ones that know you better call you Peppi. 

- A BNHA Quirk and hero title

Your Quirk is Corroding Touch. Despite its name, and how terrifying it sounds, your quirk is pretty simple! Anything you touch wastes away, and you can control how far along its own personal timeline it decays through. For instance, you could touch a flower and have it start wilting, and stop there on its timeline - or you could have it waste away to a point that it decays completely and turns to mush. 

The drawback here is that what you’re doing is essentially speeding up a natural process. Things that don’t waste away without outside forces - such as rocks through erosion - won’t be affected by your quirk. Things that live very long lives before decaying - such as turtles - will take up a lot more of your time to speed them through their natural timeline. Finally, you can’t reverse what you’ve done. Once you’ve sped it through its natural timeline, there’s no going back; another quirk will have to undo the effects.

Of course, it also means that if you plant an oak seed, instead of waiting hundreds of years for it to grow into an oak tree, you can just use your quirk to speed up the process. So it’s a good-bad thing!

Your hero title is the Wasteful Hero: Corrosion. You’re a sort of last-resort hero, and you don’t like being in the limelight. Your quirk is dangerous if not handled correctly, so you work on a team with another hero who has a counter-effective quirk to yours (essentially Hyper Growth!). A lot of civillians are scared of you, but that’s okay. You know that what you do is important, and that your ranking doesn’t matter so long as you’re saving lives.

You are a little bitter, though, that your partner is several ranks ahead of you.