#anyways these are just some very late night weird thoughts that might be insane mostly i am curious if any other aroace people deal with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bopbopstyles · 5 years ago

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ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat. You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together. That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?” Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room. The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping, and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his, the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?” You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized, and shifted away so he could get at his computer.

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK, a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower, a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

#frat boy harry #frat boy au #frat boy fan fiction #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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multimetaverse · 4 years ago

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HSMTMTS 2x12 Review

Second Chances was a lacklustre finale for an uneven season. Let’s dig in!

Earlier this week I re-watched S1 in preparation for the S2 finale and the contrast between the two seasons is jarring. In almost every way S2 has been worse and after seeing this finale I’m less optimistic that Tim will be able to fix the long list of things that have gone wrong. Tim has said in some of his interviews today that pretty much all of S2 was written before the pandemic and that they didn’t have to do as much re-writing as people might think due to the stringent safety measures Disney put in place. Of course, that removes an excuse for the bad writing we’ve seen so much of this season as according to Tim what we saw of S2 is largely what he envisioned minus big crowds and background dancers.

Across his many interviews today, the one consistent point is that Tim does not have any real plans for future seasons; things like Ricky’s endgame he hasn’t decided on and he can’t even guarantee the summer season the finale sets up due to the weather in Salt Lake. I do think a S3 is an almost certainty given the show’s popularity but I’ll take Tim at his word that he truly doesn’t know if they’ll be renewed since it seems to be a new Disney tradition to wait until seasons are done airing before making a renewal decision (the same thing happened for the popular and well received Mighty Ducks: Game Changers which got a silent renewal only after all of S1 aired). That being said as poor of a season finale as Second Chances is it is also a terrible potential series finale. In large part it goes back to his lack of planning, he wants to keep all options open but in doing so Tim is crippling the show’s ability to deliver any pay offs or tie up loose ends.

The one mostly well done plot line this season was Portwell which got a happy ending tonight as they canoned. The only good thing about the big brother angst was that it was so insane that it had to be addressed and sure enough it was and Gina got her first kiss with a guy she really liked. If Tim is to be believed the reason we didn’t get an on screen Portwell kiss was not because of their age difference or covid concerns but because he felt that everyone’s first kiss was different so he wanted it off screen so viewers could fill in the blanks themselves. Tim’s line of reasoning is profoundly stupid. Imagine if they had Jamie show up and he and Gina talked off screen and Tim tried to claim that because everyone has a different relationship with their own siblings that he wanted the audience to fill in the blanks as to how their conversation went!

Still we saw great character development on Gina and EJ’s part as both really grew from the people they were in S1. As Tim noted, EJ bringing Gina back in 1x10 was kind of the set up for this story line. The only thing missing was a brief Portwell scene sometime in eps 2x01-2x04 to set them up. The consistent development they got from 2x05-2x12 is unlike any other ship on the show; only Rini exceeds their development.

Unfortunately I don’t think that will last in S3 because Tim will always favour Ricky over EJ and if he wants to do Rina he’ll dispose of Portwell before doing so. I was surprised that they never bothered to have Ricky and Gina have a conversation about Gina’s S1 confession. It was a huge mistake to have Gina pine over Ricky for half the season and it was no surprise that Gina’s story line got instantly better once she stopped interacting with Ricky. Tim has made clear in interviews that he’s still interested in the possibility of Rina which makes his poor writing of them even more bizarre. What conclusions are the audience supposed to draw from the Rina story line this season? That Ricky never cared that much about Gina? That it’s totally fine for the show if they don’t interact for 6 eps in a row? That Gina has moved on? I’ve said before that a wiser man than Tim would recognize that doing both Portwell and Rina will do tremendous damage to the show and he should pick one and not do the other. Of course he’s not that smart but it is wild how he’s accidentally written their story line to make for a perfect end to Rina.

Second Chances was great and is the only part of the finale that would have been well suited to being part of a potential series finale.

The Rini closure was a sad inverse of their S1 opening night confession. They’ve fallen so far from being the it couple of the series and I fear Tim doesn’t actually know what to do with them now. He really needs to decide if he’s tearing down that treehouse for real.

The less said about the Valentine’s chocolates the better but at least Gina and Nini are cool again and Nini can explore her budding music career with Jamie’s help. Tim repeatedly said in interviews that the scripts about Nini’s music career were all written before Driver’s License came out and I think he understands that the audience is just going to see the show as copying from Olivia’s life.

The wildcats just deciding to drop out of the Menkies was a lame cop out. Tim has said he always meant for that to happen though they were originally going to compete at the Menkies then drop out (presumably that’s where we would have heard Lily singing Home). Somebody should have mentioned the $50 000 prize money which the East High theatre department could surely use after Miss Jenn and Mr. Mazzara burned it down (remember that story line that had no consequences?). And that NYU scholarship could have been life changing for one of them and yet no one even brought it up once this season.

I did like the twist that it was EJ and his dad who got Mazzara into Caltech. He’d be a fool not to take it but I’m glad he confessed to Miss Jenn. She’s had a really rough season and I hope she redeems herself in S3.

Howie was acting so weird tonight and last ep that I have a hard time believing he was really so awed by Kourtney’s talent rather than feeling guilty for helping to steal the harness. The harness is another useless plot device; there are no consequences for Lily stealing it, she’s not caught, East High pulls off another version of the transformation off screen, and then East High withdraws from the Menkies anyways. Doubtless the harness will eventually come up to serve Rily angst.

At least Lily was straightforward, I’ll give her that. She has such an odd way of speaking, almost child like. As awful as it is there is potential for a forbidden/secret romance story line with Rily. It really does not speak well to Ricky’s character that he’s so easily fallen for Lily’s act when he has no reason to trust her and she never apologized for making fun of Big Red during the auditions or making Ashlyn feel insecure during the dance off.

The one way in which S2 was drastically better to S1 was in regards to the Seblos story line. Clearly Joe being bumped up to regular made a big difference. We got the first same-sex kiss between two boys and the first love song sung by one boy to another in Disney history and that is a legacy to be proud of. Of course, there was still some Disney censorship such as Carlos and Seblos being unable to use the word gay in the same ep that focused on Carlos singing In a Heartbeat to Seb.

S1 of HSMTMTS had a clear direction, the wildcats would have to try and come together to stage High School Musical and Ricky and Nini would have to decide if they still had a future together while Gina and EJ had to work on being better versions of themselves. It was simple sure but it worked very well. There was a lot of heart but also a lot of humor and the show never took itself too seriously. What has S2 had? Beauty and the Beast was hardly the main focus of the cast or the writers and the central couple that S1 was built around is now broken up either for a long time or for good. There was a lot less of the meta moments that jokes that made S1 such a hit, for far too many eps this season the show took itself way too seriously. Hell even the lighting this season was darker than in S1.

Olivia Rodrigo’s team had complained in a recent article that Olivia wouldn’t be able to potentially tour until fall 2022 due to her contractual commitments which is a sign that they think a S3 is very likely though I wonder how late S3 filming would have to start to keep her occupied until late 2022. There’s no confirmation of this but I thought it might be worth keeping an eye on; a post on r/hsmtmts by someone who claims to have a source working on production says that the plan is for S3 to be a summer theatre camp possibly with Camp Rock renditions and the plan for S4 is to jump 6 months ahead to the final semester of senior year and end with Ricky, Nini, Big Red, and Kourtney graduating from East High. They also say that part of the delay in the S3 announcement is a conflict between Tim and Disney executives. Tim wants to move production to LA and film on sets as it’s easier and cheaper while the Disney execs still want some on location shooting in Salt Lake. Again this is all unconfirmed but if it pans out it will represent a major shift in the series.

Regardless if Tim wants the show to remain successful he needs start planning out what he wants to happen. He should not assume he’s getting more than 4 seasons. If the series gets a S3 but then is suddenly cancelled then how would he want all the main story lines to wrap up? And if they make it to S4 where does he see it ending? The graduation of the current juniors is a logical series ending point but if Tim wants to do something different he needs to start thinking of that now. I can’t say I’m excited anymore for S3 but I do really hope that Tim and his writers can turn things around and that will only happen if they recognize what they did wrong and learn from their mistakes.

Until next season Wildcats

#HSMTMTS #Portwell #Rini #Gina Porter #EJ Caswell #Ricky Bowen #Nini Salazar-Roberts #Kourtney Greene #lily #HSMTMTS Reviews

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joneswuzhere · 4 years ago

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hello join me in thinking about some books and authors that are, or might be, part of s5′s intertextuality

5.10 in particular offered specific shout outs, and also u know i’m always wondering what might be ahead so i have some ideas on that:

- first, as mentioned in a previous ask post, i know i wasn’t alone in keeping an eye out for 5.10 parallels to the lost weekend (1945) the film that gave episode 1.10 its name and several themes - or to the 1944 book by charles r jackson which the film is based on

- s5 has not been shy about revisiting earlier seasons, especially s1. altho i feel that 1.10′s parallels to the lost weekend centered characters other than jughead (mostly betty), a 1.10-5.10 connection involving jughead and themes from jackson’s story (addiction, writers block, self reflection) seemed v possible if not inevitable

- but like,, , for a hot minute after the ep, i was really stumped on understanding how anything from the book or film could apply, even tho the pieces were almost all there

- jackson’s protagonist don birnam goes thru and comes out the other side of a harrowing days-long drinking binge that could be compared to jughead’s one-night hallucinogenic writing retreat

- but jughead is struggling primarily with traumatic memories, not addiction and self control like birnam. and tho drinking activates birnam’s creativity, it paralyzes his writing as he gets lost in fantasies; he’s never published anything. jughead’s drug trip recreates circumstances that already helped him write one successful book. even the rat that startles him mid-high doesn’t line up with birnam’s withdrawal vision of a dying mouse, symbolic of his horror at his own self-destruction thru alcohol

- and maybe the most visible discordance: in the film there’s a romantic motif around a typewriter. first it’s an object of shame; birnam’s failure to write, tied up with his drinking, makes him flee his relationship. he tries to pawn the typewriter for booze money and finally a gun when shooting himself feels easier than getting sober. but with the help of relentless encouragement from girlfriend helen, he quits drinking, commits to her, and focuses on typing out the story he’s dreamt of writing. rd goes so far to avoid setting any comparable scenario that jughead has brought a wholeass printer into the bunker so there can still be a physical manuscript to cover in blood by the end, even without his own typewriter. the subtle detail of his laptop bg image is a little less noticeable than his avoidance of betty’s gift

- tabitha might be closer to a parallel than jughead is, but she’s still no helen. both refuse to take advantage of the inebriated men in their care, but birnam takes advantage of helen, financially and emotionally. jughead refused a loan from the tate family and now has resolved to deal with his shit before he considers a relationship with tabitha. instead of helen’s relentless and unwelcomed attempts to get birnam sober, tabitha reluctantly agrees to help jughead trip safely bondage escape notwithstanding. she even helps him get the drugs.

- whatever potentials exist for parallels to jackson’s story, they were not explored for this episode. ok so why tf am i even talking about this? what was there instead?

- i have arrived at the point

- s5 has been revisiting s1, not directly but with a twist. and jughead’s agent samm pansky is back. u may recall, pansky is named for sam lansky

- jughead’s trip-thru-trauma is a story device tapped straight from lansky’s book ‘broken people’

- lansky is like if a millenial john rechy wrote extremely LA-flavored meta but just about himself no jk very like a modern successor to charles r jackson. both play with the boundary between memoir and fiction. lansky is gay; jackson wrote his lost weekend counterpart as closeted and remained closeted himself until only a few years before his death. both write with emotional clarity and self-scrutiny on the experiences of addiction, sobriety, and the surrounding issues of shame and self worth

- i feel like a fool bc after this ep i had been thinking about de quincey and his early writings on addiction (c.1800s), but i failed to carry the thought in the other direction, to contemporary writers in the genre, to make this connection sooner

- lansky’s second book, broken people, follows narrator ‘sam’, mid-20s, super depressed, hastled by his agent to write a decent follow-up to his first book, but too busy struggling with his self-worth and baggage from several past relationships. desperate, he takes up an offer to visit a new age shaman who promises to fix everything wrong with him in a matter of days. not to over simplify it but he literally spends a weekend doing psychedelics and hallucinating about his exes. jughead took note

- unless u want me to hurl myself into yet another dissertation about queer jughead, i think his parallel to sam - who, unlike jughead, has considerable financial privilege and whose anxieties center on body dysmorphia, hiv scares, and his own self-centeredness - pretty much ends there

- But,, the gist of the book could not be more harmonius with a major theme shared by the 2 films that inform the actual hallucination part of jughead’s bunker scene: mentally reframing past relationships to get closure + confronting trauma head-on in order to move forward

- so that’s neat. what other book and author stuff was in 5.10?

- stephen king and raymond carver get name dropped. i’m passingly familiar with them both but u bet i just skimmed their wiki bios in case anything relevant jumped out

- like jughead, carver was a student (later a lecturer) at the iowa writers workshop. also the son of an alcoholic and one himself

- i recall carver’s ‘what we talk about when we talk about love’ is what jughead was reading in 2.14 ‘the hills have eyes’ after he finds out about the first time betty kissed archie (at that time he does not respond as would any of carver’s characters)

- this collection of carver stories deals especially with infidelity, failings of communication, and the complexities and destructiveness of love. to unashamedly quote the resource that is course hero, ‘carver renders love as an experience that is inherently violent bc it produces psychic and emotional wounds.’ very fun to wonder about the significance of this collection within the s2 episode and in jughead’s thoughts. and maybe now in the context of the s5 state of relationships. or, at least, the state of jughead’s writing as seen by his agent

- anyway pansky doesn’t want carver, he wants stephen king

- i have too much to say about gerald’s game in 5.10, that’s getting its own post someday soon

- lol wait king’s wife is named tabitha uhhh king’s wiki reminded me of his childhood experience that possibly inspired his short story ‘the body’ (+1986 movie ‘stand by me’) when he ‘apparently witnessed one of his friends being struck and killed by a train tho he has no memory of the event’

- no mention of that in this rd episode but memories of a train could be interesting to consider with the imagery that intrudes on jughead’s hallucination. i still feel like it was a truck but the lights and sounds he experiences may be a train

- ok now we’re in the speculation part of today’s segment

- if jughead’s traumatic memory involves trains, then it’s possible this plot will take influence from la bête humaine <- this 1938 movie is based on the 1890 novel by french writer émile zola. this story deals with alcoholism and possessive jealousy in relationships, sometimes leading to murder. huh, kind of like carver. zola def comes down on the nature side of the nature-vs-nuture bad seed question (tho i should say he approaches this with great or maybe just v french compassion). also i can’t tell if this is me reaching but, something about la bête humaine reminds me of king’s ‘secret window’ which we’ve observed to be at least a style influence on jughead post time jump

- but wow a late-19th century french writer would be a random thing to drop into this season, right? then again zola also wrote about miners, which we’ve learned are an important part of this town’s history + whatever hiram is up to this time. and most notably, zola wrote ‘j’accuse...!’ an open letter in defense of a soldier falsely accused and unlawfully jailed for treason: alfred dreyfus. archie’s recent army trouble comes to mind.

- since the introduction of old man dreyfuss (plausibly Just a nod to close encounters actor richard dreyfuss, but also when is anything in this show Just one thing) i’ve been wondering if these little things could add up to a season-long reference to zola’s writings. but i had doubts and didn’t want to speak on it too soon bc, u know, it’s weird but is it weird enough for riverdale??

- however,,,

- (come on, u knew where i was going with this)

- a24′s film zola just came out. absolutely no relation to the french writer, it’s not based on a book but an insane and explicit twitter thread by aziah ‘zola’ wells about stripping and? human trafficking?? this feels ripe for rd even outside the potentials here for the lonely highway/missing girls plot.

- that would add up to a combination of homage that feels natural to this show

- anyway pls understand i’m just having fun speculating, most of this is based on nothing more concrete than the torturous mental tendril ras has hooked into my skull pls let go ras pls let go

#accompanying image has no meaningful organization it's just there to make me look insane. enjoy #riverdale speculation #filmref #but books #adhd has me like. this is Not the post i've been trying to write for weeks but my brain gave me no choice

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purpleyellow · 4 years ago

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Mae’s relationship with The boyz

The boyz 12th member

Mae’s masterlist

a/n: happy new year everyone!! Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open! 🧡

Sangyeon

They are a comforting presence for each other. Mae would trust her entire life to Sangyeon as he is someone she’s sure will never outright judge her or demand something she is not comfortable with. On the other hand, I can see him not worrying too much about her but being careful when her mood seems off, and asking what it was afterward so he’s sure she’s fine again.

The girl usually laughs at his impersonations or weird jokes, which instantly put her into his goody list, and Sangyeon is very thankful for having someone that will hear his random rants without getting caught up in it. More often than not, you can see him standing on the sidelines, cheering for her when he’s aware she’s doing something she’s not very confident in.

Jacob

Becoming trainees at the same time might have been the best thing for them, seeing as they often struggled with the same stuff, and pushed the other through their rough times. Mae sometimes wonders where she would be if it weren’t for Jacob and his insane amount of patience. Also, their personality is very comparable and they’re both soft-spoken most of the time, deobis aren’t even surprised whenever they find out something else they have in common.

They made a habit of going to karaoke rooms before debuting as a way to both practice singing and his Korean but to also rest and have fun. After Kevin joined the company he went along as well and after they became rookies all of the members would occasionally join in on the trio.

Younghoon

Soft, just soft. Both together and for each other. When she’s around Younghoon, Mae actually becomes more clingy and he’s the only one she goes out of her way to show skinship with (back hugs are her favorite). He also gets easily entertained by her antics and likes to joke that he’s her bodyguard.

Vlive moments that usually lead to him making an unintentional innuendo and she gets embarrassed and leaves the room so she doesn’t have to explain what just happened. On that note, Mae doesn’t like helping with English that much because it usually leads the members to getting entertained by her accent, but she makes an exception to Younghoon

Hyunjae

His number one hobby is to make her embarrassed, and considering they, as well as Haknyeon, have been roommates for the longest time Hyunjae has a lot of material to share. He clings to her at every opportunity and is constantly nagging about the amount of clothes Mae has as well as the closet space they take.

Surprisingly or not, he often helps her with choreography and is overall a good listener. She’s also not that bothered by his antics and has grown comfortable enough to tell him to knock it off once she gets over them. Fans didn’t know they were as close until she answered “Hyunjae” when asked which of them she’d want as an actual brother.

Juyeon

The “looks tough but is actually soft” duo. Over the years, he became her number one dance instructor seeing as he’s mostly calm and doesn’t really mind pulling extra hours to help her. We know how Juyeon usually babies Eric, and many fans think he’s like that to Mae as well, but on the contrary, he also prefers to be wary instead of butt in on her business.

Having that said, when the girl shows even 1% discomfort or annoyance in general he’s the first one to step in and help her out. Mae usually feels weird that he acts like that but it usually comes in handy when the group is having a discussion and she needs someone to back her up and be on her side.

Kevin

Kevin has taken pride in being the main reason for her meme awakening. Before he arrived, Mae and Jacob were as close as friends could get, but as Kevin and the boy hit it off, Mae expected to be thrown into the sidelines. She couldn’t be more wrong, considering that he also made a lot of effort into keeping her close, thus beginning the “Kevin getting frustrated at Mae not getting his references” saga.

Lowkey, they just want to chill and listen to questionable music together. Highkey, he wants to get her to twerk with him (he’ll kiss the ground the day she does). Again, Mae is a good listener and often joins in on his random thoughts or simply goes along with whatever he’s doing.

New

Random high note battles and both of them silently judging the others. Chanhee and Mae often fall into a cycle of complaining around but instead of tackling the matter with him she often does nothing, which makes him complain ten times harder. Objectively speaking, he’s the member who helps her the most with organizing her stuff and adulting in general.

The girl randomly drags him with her to the mall to people-watch or makes him do vlives with her just for the sake of it. For some reason, it took them a little while to find common ground but once they did, New became one of her go tos when it came to sharing struggles. On a random note, Mae thought his math tricks were an absolute scam and believed none of it until they were actually tested.

Playfully bickering 24/7. They have many fake arguments, usually around her struggles with some choreographies and his lack of patience when it comes to teaching her. Two months after their debut he decided to let that job fall onto Juyeon and his life became a lot more fun. Around the release of Right Here he went back to randomly giving her tips but please don't leave them alone in a practice room.

When it comes to interests Changmin didn’t think they’d have many in common but after many movie nights, he was quick to find out Mae doesn’t really mind horror and thriller which made her perfect to watch them with him. She does, however, have a problem with the creepy-ass dolls and masks he buys and has sworn someday she will make a bonfire out of them.

Haknyeon

99 babies and eternal roommates. They’re an interesting pair considering Juhaknyeon is more laid back and outgoing and Mae is - according to him - more high maintenance. They did find common ground around the fact that they’re both foodies and 99s vlive mukbangs are a very constant thing.

Also, kind of random but he’s one of the members she would stand by without a second thought. Hak just tries his best to make any situation lively and the girl appreciates it a lot, especially when she’s having a tough time herself, so as gratitude she’s ready to fight anyone for him.

Sunwoo

The other person she would stand by without a problem. It doesn’t really help that Sunwoo acts like an absolute child whenever Mae is near and constantly clings to her like she’ll solve every trouble in the world (flash news, she won’t). The girl finds it kind of comical how he’s always giving her puppy eyes and just pushes his head out of the way for him to snap out of it.

Back to Younghoon when I said someone gets entertained by her accent, that is Sunwoo. He’s constantly repeating the way she says some words or asking her to help him say something, which he knows she doesn’t quite like but does it anyway. Also, not her go-to pastime, but random rap battles are always fun when they happen and they usually end up with one of them on the ground laughing.

Eric

Aka the non-Canadian half of the English line. Also mildly entertained by her Aussie accent but doesn’t show it as often as Sunwoo. When they first met, Eric instantly decided they were going to be friends but once she figured it out it was too late and she couldn’t back down anymore (that’s what she says at least, deep down we know she enjoyed his company just as much).

Mae is the introverted friend to his outgoing self, she usually has to tell Eric to calm down because she grew tired of following him around or got very embarrassed by him randomly approaching a senior. Also worth mentioning he’s her number one hype person and has multiple times made her embarrassed by complimenting her in front of deobis or just random people.

Former member: Hwall/Hyunjun

Fashion buddies. Mae has a habit of randomly dragging him to go shopping and they’ve got to the point of adding items into each other’s carts when they think the other might like it. They have a fun time just walking around and chatting as well, before debuting they’d often share what’s bothering them before getting ice cream to cheer up.

Due to different scheduling, it became harder to keep meeting up but Mae often does her best to sneak around into whatever he’s doing. Also, late-night phonecalls became more regular which led the members into believing she had a boyfriend before finding out it was just Mae catching up with him.

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twdbegins · 4 years ago

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Spooked

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language.

A/N: A lot of pet names in this...haha SHOCKER. Here’s a little early Halloween addition fic! I’ll have more holiday fics coming soon.

Requested by: @birdieofloxley

Word Count: 1,835

“Why would you make up something like that? You really scared me.”

The legs of the chair you were sitting in squeaked as you leaned forward, tuned in to what Negan was saying. It was late October (or at least, you had estimated that it was October) meaning Halloween was soon approaching. Halloween was one of your favorite holidays as a kid. The candy, the trick or treating, the costumes were all part of the spooky experience. As you got older, you cared less about the costumes and more about the scary movies. Almost every Halloween (pre-apocalypse of course) consisted of you curling up on the sofa with a bowl of wrapped chocolate with some sort of scary movie on.

The only downside to this was that you were a bit jumpy. It didn’t take much to get you feeling paranoid and have you checking under your bed for monsters. Which was ironic considering you literally lived in a world where there were horror movie like creatures roaming at every turn.

So you weren’t really sure how you ended up here. Sitting with Negan and Simon outside of The Sanctuary after hours on a particularly cold night, listening to the two of them tell scary stories. Negan was recalling the time he almost became walker food when he was out on a run alone once. His voice was low and deep, his eyes fixed on yours as he spoke;

“Its hand barely had any skin left on it...it was basically all bone at that point,” He described; “For a half rotted roamer, it had a nasty grip on me though.”

Your heart was beating crazy fast in your chest. You couldn’t even imagine how scared you’d be if that had happened to you. The fact that he was able to laugh about it now was astonishing.

“I was able to reach my knife and just as it went to sink its teeth into my calf, I drilled the blade into its head,” He told; “I stabbed it an extra time for good measure. It took me at least a good five minutes to get it completely off of me because I was shaking so bad.”

You were wide eyed now as you processed everything he was saying. Simon sucked in a breath before sighing it out;

“Shit. I don’t even think I’ve ever come that close to being roamer chow,” He admitted. He noticed the chill that went up your spine, prompting him to one up Negan’s story by telling his own; “You think that’s bad? Let me tell you about the time I was chased by my neighbor who was an escaped convict for murder.”

Your head snapped in his direction;

“You’re not serious.” You gaped.

Simon put his hands up in defense;

“It’s true. I swear.” He said with a hint of smirk appearing.

It wasn’t true. As excitedly terrifying as it may sound, Simon had never known any murderers or real criminals in his day. He was just making this up off the top of his head.

“You’re fucking with us. No damn way that happened.” Negan bantered.

Simon chuckled;

“You wanna hear the story or not?” He asked sassily.

You and Negan shot each other glances, before turning your attention back to Simon.

“I was about 18. Just about to go off to college,” He began; “This guy lived about three doors down and had always been a little odd. He very rarely came out of his house, but it was always dark. He had weird vibes all around. All the parents in the neighborhood wouldn’t dare let their kids go play around his house.”

You were nervously chewing on your thumb nail as you listened intently. You didn’t like the fuzzy feeling that was bubbling in your belly.

“It wasn’t a surprise that none of us knew that he had been arrested and thrown in prison. His house was exactly the same when he wasn’t around. I felt bad for the guy. For all I knew, he was just a lonely guy with no one to talk to,” He continued; “So one day I thought it would be nice to hand deliver his morning newspaper to him. I went to the front door, knocked, but didn’t get an answer.”

You didn’t like where this was going. You were quite literally on the edge of your seat as you took it all in. Negan himself even refrained from interrupting, curious to see how this would end.

“I heard some sort of racket in his backyard, so I walked around and through the fence. And what I saw about made me damn near sick,” He explained; “He was in his prison jumpsuit and all. And he was burying a body in his backyard.”

Your heart hit your shoes and bounced back up to your throat. Negan’s jaw dropped and his face went pale. This was the most insane story you had ever heard.

“I was going to just make a run for it and pray to God I could forget about it. But then he saw me standing there like a deer in headlights,” He said rubbing his slightly chilled hands together; “I shit you not, the fucker dropped the shovel and started running at me.”

You were speechless. How had he never told you this story before? More importantly, how did this not traumatize him? Now Negan was just as wide eyed as you, stunned at what he was hearing.

“I swear my feet left the ground before I could even think. I sprinted in the other direction and started screaming bloody murder...no pun intended,” He snorted; “Anyways, to make a long story short, I managed to run out of my neighborhood and found a policeman down the street. Turns out he had escaped his cell that morning and they had been on the hunt for him all day because they were afraid of what he might do. That body was some random guy that he encountered after his escape.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The hairs on your arms and legs were sticking straight up. You suddenly had the eery feeling that someone was looking at you.

“My mom had to come pick me up from the police station. I was convinced she wasn’t going to let me go off to school after that,” He joked; “But once it was all cleared up, things turned back to normal...but I still would get a sense of fight or flight every time I visited home. But, hey, shit happens.”

Simon finished his story nonchalantly. As if he hadn’t just confessed that he had almost been chopped to bits by a psycho killer. You felt like your heart was going to make a leap of faith out of your chest. You had never heard anything like that in your entire life. Negan shook his head to shake the thought;

“You were had a life or death encounter with a serial killer and all you can say is ‘shit happens’? Simon, I may have pegged you wrong,” Negan stated; “You are one badass motherfucker.”

Simon grinned and shrugged. He had been lying, of course, but if it earned him brownie points with the boss, then he didn’t mind dragging it out. You were shocked silent. What do you even say to that? Negan smiled, shaking his story off effortlessly;

“I don’t know if I can top that, but have I ever told you two about the time I fought off a rabid raccoon?” Negan asked with a raised brow.

Simon caught your ghostly and tired look and stood from his chair;

“No and I’d love to hear it, but I think she’s had enough storytelling for one night.” Simon said guiding you up from your chair.

Negan shrugged with a scoff;

“Suit yourself. It’s one hell of a story though.” He said standing from his own seat.

Simon assured him of another time to tell it and finally walked you back inside from the courtyard. Simon had already completely discarded the story he had just burned into your head. He didn’t even catch the slight shiver in your limbs. You were rattled and even a little terrified. You felt like a little kid who swears they had heard a monster under their bed. Simon slipped his hand into yours as you walked back to your floor;

“So, I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” He asked softly in your ear, careful not to wake anybody else up.

He wasn’t going to leave you alone tonight, was he? Surely not after all that. You stopped his trek and looked at him with pleading eyes;

“Can I stay with you tonight? Please?” You asked gently; “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” You confessed.

Now, he realized something was up. He instantly agreed, leading you to his room. He watched as you quietly got ready for bed and crawled under the sheets and covers. He followed suit, pulling you to him. You latched onto him like he’d float away if you didn’t. Simon looked down at you with worried eyes;

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asked sweetly.

You buried your face into his soft shirt and shook your head. You didn’t want to admit you were scared, but you also couldn’t get the thought of being chased by a crazed killer out of your head either. He rubbed your back comfortingly and encouraged you;

“Darlin’, you can talk to me. Always.” He cooed.

You mumbled against him. He rested his chin on your head, taking in the scent of your favorite soap. His brain racked up any ideas of what was making you so fidgety. He finally thought back to the story that he had just told about a half hour prior. He suddenly felt guilty. He didn’t think it would’ve scared you this bad...especially since it wasn’t even true.

“Is it the story I told just a little while ago?” He asked.

When you nodded, he whimpered out an airy sympathetic sound. He held you tighter and admitted his lie;

“Oh, sweetheart, that didn’t actually happen. I just made it up.”

You paused and looked up at him. The way your glossy eyes shimmered and lower lip quivered broke his heart;

“Really? You’re not just saying that?” You asked desperately.

“I promise. The whole thing was just a story.”

Your brows furrowed, suddenly a little annoyed;

“Why would you make up something like that? You really scared me.” You said truthfully.

He kissed your forehead and hummed deeply;

“I didn’t think you’d actually believe it. You always see through my bullshit.” He grinned brightly.

You growled faintly;

“Not always. I literally thought you were serious.”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N], I didn’t mean to.” He apologized.

You nuzzled back into his frame, accepting his apology. You were mostly relieved that didn’t actually happen to him though. You would’ve been scarred for life.

“That’s okay. You really could’ve been an actor, might I add.” You joked.

He scoffed, kissing your skin;

“I’ll stick to storytelling in the courtyard.”

#simon x reader #simon twd #twd simon #simon the walking dead #The Walking Dead #simon the walking dead imagines #the walking dead simon

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taiblogcomics · 4 years ago

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Further Issues Are Outlawed

Hey there, soggy waffles. Well, last week we finished The Ravagers, but we're not going to jump back into Teen Titans just yet. I got a new shipment! A pretty big one to boot. And normally we'd start with a bunch of MLP stuff, but... We have a rare opportunity here. We can do two finales in a row.

That's right, dear readers. This is... the last issue of Red Hood.

Here's the cover:

We actually get a good look at our new football-themed vigilante, Strike, here. It's actually a really good design! At least until you think about it for ten minutes, and realise: "Why is her name 'Strike'?" Like, shouldn't it be 'Touchdown' or something? I'm no sports expert, but I'm pretty sure strikes are in bowling. And either way, neither football or bowling uses a stick. Did Sportsmaster just not want to return your calls, ma'am? On the other hand, at least her design is still good, unlike our new villain Tommy Maxx in the middle there~

So let's see... It's been a while, but if I recall, last time Jason Todd finally ditched the Outlaws as both characters and comic title and returned home to Gotham City. He moves into the Hill, the local hellhole (hillhole?), where a new vigilante has been keeping the streets clean in the wake of the Joker War. Meanwhile, a goony fashion designer finally flips his lid and goes full supervill, naming himself Tommy Maxx and hiring Killer Croc as a minion. It's not the most exciting setup, but we're only here for one more issue anyways~

So we open with a big explosion, where Red Hood saves Strike. The news then reports that the explosion was caused in a designer shoe store, and accuses the culprit of being "yet another sloppy, amateur Joker", which I personally enjoy because of how accurate it is and how much it makes Masky McDouche upset. He calls up the news show to report he has more info on the bombing, which surely isn't going to incriminate him or anything. I should also note, since it's not as clear on the cover, it's 100% a mask he's wearing. He's also wearing a gator-skin jacket. I wonder how Croc feels about that. ...Is it Croc's skin? Eww...

There's no better cure for an explosion than chicken and waffles, so Jason Todd asks Strike (her real name is Dana, but let's go with Strike for simplicity) out for brunch. At the restaurant, they're chatting, mostly catching up on what Jason's missed in the years he's been gone. The news reporter from the previous night drops by, and it turns out she's Strike's sister Denise. They get kinda pissy at each other in short order, Denise hates vigilantes and Strike is one, and their dad was injured during the Joker War by vigilantes chasing down some goons. Neither agrees who's in the wrong. Strike leaves in a huff, and Jason chases after her.

After giving a bit of a lecture to Strike about the dangers of vigilantism, Jason spots Killer Croc hanging out in a fancy car a little way up the street. Changing into his costume, he goes over to chat. He asks what's up lately, since Croc's looking rather dapper nowadays. Croc tells him his latest job is "decoy", and Jason realises the target is Denise. And indeed, after finishing a raid on one of Black Mask's warehouses, it's Tommy Maxx who moves in to kidnap the reporter on her way to what she thinks is an interview with an eyewitness.

And then all heck breaks loose. Like, you see Tommy's goons sneaking up on Denise, flip the page, and suddenly it's an all-out car chase and gunfight. I believe the colloquial term is "That escalated quickly". In the end, though, Tommy makes off with Denise, and... This is his whole plan. He's petulant that she called him stupid on the news, so he wants to film a new introduction video with her, to show everyone he really means business. This is our villain. Additionally here, you can see his croc-skin jacket even has a tail hanging from the back of it.

To her credit, she keeps belittling him even while under his capture. That's guts. Strike and Jason pair up, and she unmasks herself to him to prove how serious this is to her. After all, just because they're fighting, Denise is still her sister. They bust in, and predictably, Strike manages to knock Tommy for a loop with just one swing, breaking his goofy mask in the process. Jason steps in before she continues to beat on a helpless, cringing opponent. Tommy goes to the hospital and then Arkham (his lawyer weaseled him an insanity plea to avoid the murder charges), and everyone else goes home.

The comic ends on two fronts. First, it turns out Croc was running the long game all along. He was working with the other gangsters from the last issue, and acted as Tommy's muscle just so he could be in a position to steal his tech when he inevitably failed and trade it back to this other gang. Croc gets the money and respect, the gang gets the tech, and Tommy got a moment in the spotlight. Everyone's happy!

In fact, the other ending is everyone being happy. Strike and Jason are painting his apartment when he spots a wrapped present. Jason opens it, declaring it to be a housewarming gift from Bruce Wayne, and then it just cuts up to Batman standing on a rooftop, staring at Jason through the window and smiling. That’s very weird, Bruce. A little stalker-y, even, some might say~

So then! I guess even Red Hood couldn’t survive as a solo act, considering his book lasted all of two issues after ditching the Outlaws. We really were reading it for everyone but Jason, I guess. Kind of a lackluster note to go out on, too. Like, Strike’s fine, I don’t have any actual issues with Strike. But Tommy Maxx was such a pathetic last villain for the series. Like, even in-universe everyone thought he was pathetic. Probably issue 51 was hoping to set it up more as an ongoing thing, flesh out the Hill as a setting. But with this issue ending the run, all the setup turned into nothing.

Speaking of setups turned into nothing, the ending seems weirdly ambiguous. Like, we never actually see what Bruce’s gift was (What’s in the box? What’s in the box??), so it just comes across as kind of a weird note to end the series on. Maybe it’s setup for a future series, but I’ll be hecked if I’ll ever follow up on that~

So! Golly, it’s been a ride. We’ve been following Jason Todd for ten years now, you realise that? All the way back in issue 1 of the first volume of Red Hood and the Outlaws, back at the beginning of the New 52 in 2011. Much like when we stopped following Suicide Squad, I think this is kind of just a much-needed break. We’ve earned this finale. As a series, it started off bad (possibly the worst of the New 52), and while it never really got to what I would call good, it did at least get better. The Artemis and Bizarro era were honestly pretty enjoyable. Farewell, Jason Todd! May you never darken our longboxes again~

Next time: fourteen weeks of MLP comics~

#comics #reviews #Red Hood and the Outlaws #Red Hood #Taiblog

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sambergscott · 5 years ago

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i'd wait forever and a day for you

summary: post-trying // jake is on an undercover mission and amy thinks she’s pregnant.

(you should read this just for the last line tbh)

Her period is late.

At first, she attributes it to stress. Jake is on a major undercover operation and while she is an incredibly proud, supportive wife, she knows how dangerous the situation is. He’s a great cop -- one of New York’s finest, in both senses of the word (...he’s hot) -- and he was so excited about getting this assignment. And she’s excited for him -- really, she is. But with updates filtering through to Captain Holt at a snail’s pace, it’s impossible not to worry about him, where he is, what he’s doing, whether he’s safe. Her cycle was shot to hell when he was in Witness Protection in Florida and it is entirely possible that history is repeating itself.

Four days pass, Jake is still undercover and her period still has not arrived. She tries to blame Hitchcock’s God-awful Zika cologne disrupting her cycle again until she remembers that both Hitchcock and Scully have been off work all week with food poisoning. She even Googles why is my period late?, quickly closing the tab and deleting her browser history when the first result that pops up is pregnancy.

There’s no way she’s pregnant. She refuses to even consider it for a second.

Despite her absolute certainty that her uterus is as empty as it’s always been, when Rosa invites her for drinks with her new boyfriend, Amy opts for a non-alcoholic beer.

“I’m driving,” she explains at Rosa’s raised eyebrows and swiftly changes the conversation. She finds out that Rosa’s boyfriend is a mechanic and they hit it off when she took her motorbike in for repair. She talks about Jake, about how he’s her favourite person in the entire world and how much she misses him (A Lot). He asks her what it’s like dating a cop and how to deal with the person you love putting themselves in danger every single day, which makes Rosa blush. Amy has never seen her blush before.

“It’s difficult,” she says truthfully. She hates seeing her husband hurting and being thrown in prison for crimes he didn’t commit and having guns pointed at his head. It’s why she instated the short-lived ‘no dating cops’ rule, before Jake kissed her and she decided screw it. “But it’s worth it. When you really love them, it’s worth the pain. Every second.”

“That’s what I thought,” he responds, looking at Rosa the way Jake looks at Amy.

She finishes her drink (which is so not as good as its alcoholic counterpart) and gathers her coat and purse. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. See you Monday,” she directs at Rosa and “it was nice to meet you” at her boyfriend, who she has a feeling might be sticking around for a while.

She opens up her Messages app and types out a full paragraph to Jake about how she met Rosa’s boyfriend before him and how he’s really nice and makes her blush! Rosa Disz!!! Blushing!!! She adds a gif of Jonathan Van Ness saying “can you believe?” and is about to click send when she realises his phone is on his nightstand where he left it before his mission and puts her phone back in her pocket in dismay.

Once home, she gets changed into one of his NYPD t-shirts and climbs straight into bed, crying herself to sleep.

She wakes up bright and early the next morning, a feat that is made significantly easier when there is no super cute husband to snuggle with. She showers, pulls on leggings and one of his plaid shirts and gets started on her Sunday Chores. Dancing around the apartment and pretending the mop is a microphone stand is a lot less fun on her own and she overcompensates, making herself dizzy and throwing up in the toilet she just cleaned.

Without thinking, she finds herself at the bodega on the corner, staring at the selection of pregnancy tests. She grabs three of the safest looking ones and bites her lip when the guy congratulates her as she pays. She’s wasted hundreds of dollars on pregnancy tests thus far and she knows she’s definitely wasting money on these ones too. She doesn’t need congratulating for making poor financial decisions and being bad at making babies, but she thanks him anyway.

Back at the apartment, she dumps the paper bag on the kitchen counter to deal with later. She makes a cup of tea, calls her mom and fills in The Times crossword. The paper bag screams out to her the entire time.

Reluctantly, she removes the boxes from the bag, fully intending to put them away in the back of the bathroom cabinet, out of sight.

A niggling voice tells her to just open one and find out.

She has the box open and the test in her hand when her phone buzzes with a text from Holt informing her that Jake is safe and the mission is going well.

She drops the test like it burnt her skin.

Jake. She can’t do this without him. If she is pregnant, she’d never forgive herself for finding out without him, for stripping him of that moment they’d been dreaming of forever.

She’s waited this long, she can wait a few more days. And she’s probably not pregnant anyway.

She ends up waiting two more weeks.

It’s torture.

She’s throwing up almost daily, crying in the break room for no apparent reason and her damn period has still not come. All symptoms which could be explained away by a lack of Jake Peralta and stress (due to missing the aforementioned Jake Peralta).

Rosa corners her in the ladies bathroom and asks if she wants her to run out for more pregnancy tests.

“I already have some at home.”

“And?” She prompts. “Did you take them? Are you pregnant?”

“I don’t know.” She tries to play it off as no big deal, but Rosa knows her pretty well these days.

“You’ve been trying for nearly a year, there’s a chance you are finally pregnant and you haven’t taken a test?”

“I can’t -- I want to -- Jake --.”

“Oh,” it dawns on her.

“Yeah,” Amy sighs. “I’ve been staring at the tests every night but I just can’t. Not without him. He’d be devastated.”

“He would not be devastated if you were pregnant, Amy Santiago.”

“You know what I mean. He’d want to be have been there. I want him to be there.”

“I guess he needs to hurry the hell up and catch the bad guys then.”

He must have heard her because, hours later, the elevator door opens and there he is, exhausted and still in his weird undercover clothes, with the biggest smile on his face.

She practically throws herself at him and, yeah, maybe she kisses him in a not-very-work-appropriate way and maybe some of the perps in the holding cell wolf whistle and maybe Charles is crying, but he is home and she can finally take those pregnancy tests.

Holt allows her to clock out early (she makes a mental note to buy him a glass of Charbonnay the next time they go to Shaw’s) and Jake excitedly tells her all about the case, barely taking a second to breathe.

“Sounds fun, babe,” she says when he gets to the part of the story when he handcuffed the bad guys and then made out with this super hot chick in front of all his co-workers.

“It was awesome,” he confirms. “What about you? What have you been up to? I missed you so much.”

“Aw,” she smiles, rubbing her hand over his thigh as he drives, “I missed you so much, too. As for what I’ve been up to, I’ve mostly just been kind of sick.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. I... um... actually think I might be pregnant.”

He swerves suddenly, nearly crashing the car. Ignoring the cars around them honking, he focuses on his wife. “Pregnant?”

“My period is nearly three weeks late, I’ve been throwing up and I’ve been extra emotional,” she debriefs him.

“Right. OK.” He takes a deep breath. “Have you taken a test?”

“I bought three but I couldn’t take them without you. It’s kind of been killing me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he laughs, pulling over in front of their apartment. Neither of them move. “We should probably take them now.”

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“You nervous?”

“Yeah,” she says again. She’s lost count of how many negative tests they’ve seen, how many times she’s felt that familiar crushing disappointment. The thought of going through it all over again...

“I understand. We can wait, if you want. Or we could rip the band-aid off, let the scab bleed all over the place. I’ll hold your hand.”

There’s this reassuring look in his eyes that she’s seen a million times over from back when they were newly-assigned partners and he was reassuring her they would solve a tough case to that time on the roof of 397 Barton Street when he said he always knew she was going to be his boss to his speech at Hitchcock’s (second) divorce party when he told her that they are a family and that they can take whatever ‘next step’ she wants because as long as they’re together, he’s happy.

Because it’s him, she nods. “Let’s do this.”

The wait for the timer to go off seems longer than ever. She squeezes his hand so tight she thinks she might cut off the circulation, but he doesn’t complain, just keeps talking about how they’ll be fine, no matter what the result.

The timer eventually goes off and she picks up the test and starts crying immediately.

Jake hugs her tight and she can feel him crying too and this is so crazy and insane and good.

“We’re having a baby,” he says in awe and it’s the best thing Amy’s ever heard.

“We’re having a baby!” She repeats, half-laughing, half-crying.

She yelps as he lifts her up and spins her around their tiny bathroom before kissing her tenderly.

“I can’t believe this,” he exclaims when he pulls away, rubbing his hand over his face, “can you?”

“Nope.” She grins, kissing him again.

#my writing #b99 fic #jake x amy #hope this gives you all the feels it gave me as i was writing it

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q-u-a-c-k · 4 years ago

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im just gonna talk. I apologize for feed spam so I'll just talk under the cut

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

also I'm sorry for the complete spam I hope you can ignore me well enough, but I just wanted to say that I feel content for the first time in a while. I've been doing shitty lately but too scared to really say anything about it. my brain is constantly urging me to relapse or do something stupidly insanely harmful to myself. but right now the voice is quiet and I'm allowed to think and I like thinking happy things like this. I wish there was a way to have the voices this quiet without doing it this way (unintentionally high, I think there was something in my drink that I didn't put in there). like if anyone actually reads this and knows a way to quiet the voices in my head so I can think, please let me know. I know things like taking time to take care of myself or positivity things, but when the voices are back they dont really let me do that stuff. so if anyone has a quick and effective way of getting them to be quiet please tell me.

anyways I think I already told you two, but I have the potential to be quadruple gay and I think that's pretty cool. So identity crisis time trying to explain it. Although I'm still confused about how two of the parts work together but I'm gonna try to explain it while I can think. So I'm definitely gay and I think probably pan because I honestly have no preference, a pretty person is a pretty person. I believe I'm ace or at least under that umbrella term because ew. I think I might be nonbinary but I've never really outright said I use that label. because I honestly dont know yet but I'm not comfortable with male or female and I just am who I am but dont know what that is. so I'm hoping it's okay to use at least until I figure it out? and now the confusing part, possiblity of aro???? I'm not really sure because I could have just not really found the right (or any) person yet and I dont really want to use a label just because I'm not really sure. but like thinking about romantic stuff like... it's okay?? but that doesnt really sound like my thing. like I'd like to hang out with people and know them better and do things like dates but not with a romantic intention? just to vibe with the person? idk. but it's confusing because I also said I was pan but idk what about me is oen if in possibly under aroace. like I know they're both umbrella terms, but I dont know where under them I am. or where pan fits? idk identy crisis, yay!!

I wanna do a platonic date with someone. Like we can go to the movies or something and go to a park and just get to know each other better but like platonically. I think that just sounds fun. I need to get a job so I can have money to platonically take someone on a date. I've been meaning to look for places or put in applications but I keep forgetting. Which also reminds me, I want a fuckung sword. Imagine how cool that would be!! I have the money for this nice one that I've been looking at for a while, it's a pretty white longsword with a blue gem in the hilt. I want it so bad. but my parents wont let me get it which i think is stupid. like I'm gay and have themoney, let me get my sword >:(

I want an axe, too. it doesnt necessarily have to be a pretty one because I wanna get strong and chop wood with it. I want to be a lumberjack. like not cut down trees that dont need to be cut down, but anything that has fallen already I wanna chop up with an axe then make things out of it!! I like wood working stuff. it sounds like fun. but I would need the right stuff to do that that I dont have right now. like skills.

that is making me think about another life crisis but I dont wanna think about that so I'm gonna try to think of something else like how I cant wait to move out. because they have stuff planned out for me and what they want me to do but I realized I dont wanna do that. and now I'm thinking and vaguely talking about the crisis I dont wanna think about so I'm gonna think about what I actually want to do. I wanna do the plan thing you came up with where you're gonna have your cottage in a small town and we're gonna live hopefully somewhat close to you and we can visit each other a lot and vibe. you're gonna do what you want to do and work in a museum and talk about the things you enjoy.I dont really know what I want yet but I know I wanna live near you so we can hang out and be a lot closer because you're my family and my best friend. I think I wanna have lots of plants. I want to take better care of them than I do now and. have a lot and spend time with them and make sure they're doing well and growing. I like most plants vibes. they're mostly simple but very pretty and calming and looks like what home should feel like. you feel like what home should. like sometimes when the three of us are playing games like minecraft or something and it's getting all competitive and laughing it feels like home and makes me really happy. I'm excited to leave this place and have a real home.

I wanna leave as much of this as I can behind. and since I don't plan on coming out to them soon or possibly even at all, it might actually be easier to leave. because once I do I can go by Ash everywhere and not the name they gave me. I wont have to feel sad when I have to introduce myself as the name they gave me. and as far as people would know this is my name and the only one. they wouldn't even know what the other one is and cant call me it.

I still dont know what I want, but I know just being there I'll already be happier than here. they upset me a lot here. they say rude and insensitive things and insult me whether they know they are or not. and I think one day when I leave, if they try to justify themselves instead of fixing it, I have the freedom to leave them behind. they're not as bad as a lot of other people's family, especially since I thought compared to other people my family was nice. but still I think unlike the voice says I dont deserve to feel bad about who I am, especially when they're the ones who impacted me that way and made me a lot of who I am. or caused it.

I also cant wait until I move out because I'll have a lot more control of what I can and cant do, how I can be myself, and what kinds if things I'm eating. because right now, my parents dont really buy things that are good for you because it's cheaper to get processed foods. and when they do get better things, they get things I dont like. or I never get any because my siblings have it. bht I guess in some weird way it is good that they make me feel horrible about food stuff because then that's less of the bad stuff that I eat. I don't really like eating at all and I thought that was a good thing becuas ei vcd ont have access to the things I'm supposed to be having. so to me it's better to have nothing than things that are bad. and I've been kinda proud of myself for having less because it's not good stuff. like last night's I had a slice of cheese, half of minimal dinner, then only a little bit of chocolate. but then my siblings got taco bell and now I feel like shit. because I felt bad because they got it specifically for me but I didnt want it but I had it anyways. but I'm proud of how I did today before that!!!!

I want it ti rain. I wanna go outside when there thunder and lightning and pouring rain and just walk around. I want to stand in the rain. the rain makes me happy and calm. I feel safer in the rain. and it's just an overall pleasant thing. of course i don't want it to flood or cause harm to anyone else, but I want it to rain. good thing rain season is coming up soon. it might be cold but I dont care. I've waited too long for it.

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legendofzeldaalinktothepast · 4 years ago

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Opalescent Tides - Chapter 7

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

As she waited for Pearl to show up, Amethyst sat at a picnic table and drew shapes in the sand with her bare feet. The air grew cooler, and the shimmering sun descended over the ocean. Amethyst rubbed her bare arms and felt goosebumps on her skin; she wished she'd brought along a jacket.

"Good evening, Amethyst!"

Amethyst perked up and met a very familiar pair of baby blue eyes. "Oh, hey!" she greeted in response. She pulled herself to her feet and made her way towards Pearl, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jean shorts. "You ready for our little nighttime stroll?"

"I sure am." Pearl smiled warmly. She reached into the brown and black checkered bag hanging from her shoulder, grabbing a little bottle and pouring a fragrant pinkish-white substance onto her palms. Noticing Amethyst's curious expression, she offered the bottle over. "Do you want some lotion?"

"Ah, sure?" Amethyst said, though she had no idea what purpose it served. She cringed as Pearl squeezed some of the "lotion" onto her palms, and cautiously rubbed it in in the same manner Pearl had done. It smelled... fruity and floral, but she wasn't sure if she liked it.

"So... what goes on in Pearl world?" Amethyst asked; they'd spent a few moments walking together in silence, save for the sound of lapping waves, and she could sense Pearl's unease. It was clear she had something specific in mind she wanted to talk about.

"Ah... Quite a few things, actually." Pearl laughed nervously, a slight blush spreading across her cheeks. "Running a business can be a bit overwhelming... Thank goodness I'm not doing it alone, at least." she said.

"Yeah, sounds like it'd be a pain in the ass sometimes. I'd never be able to do something like that..." Amethyst said. "You ever get shitty customers? Aside from me, obviously."

Pearl chuckled. "Oh, please. I'm over that little incident by now." she said. "But aside from that, not very often... It is a tourist town, so it's inevitable that we'll get a few unpleasant folks here and there... But for the most part, customers are fairly pleasant..." She fidgeted with a button on her shirt as she spoke, keeping her gaze lowered.

"Well, that's good." Amethyst said. Damn, did she hate small talk... But when it was with a cute girl, it wasn't quite as bad.

"And..." Pearl continued, taking a deep breath. "I have something I need to get off my chest. Are you good at keeping secrets?"

The right answer to that was a big "hell no", but Amethyst's curiosity overpowered any shrivel of desire she had to be honest. "Totally."

Pearl smiled gratefully. "Perfect." she said, taking a deep breath and a long pause before she continued. "I... I've never fully trusted my own mind. Only Garnet knows this, but... I can't remember anything from before my twentieth birthday."

Amethyst's heart sank.

"According to Garnet, I had some sort of accident a little while after I turned twenty... Someone found me on the beach, unconscious. Nobody's really sure what happened to me; I didn't have any injuries, at least according to my doctors, so they're not sure why it happened, but... Whatever happened gave me permanent amnesia." Pearl sighed. "I don't really... have any contact with my family, so Garnet was the one who helped me through it. Over these past nine years, I've created new memories, reformed my relationships, but... For whatever reason, anything before the year 1986 is just... blank. I haven't been able to recover them, no matter how hard I try, or how much Garnet tells me, it just never sticks."

Her heart racing, Amethyst struggled to respond. She placed a comforting hand on Pearl's shoulder, thinking back to the night she woke up on the beach earlier that month... 'It can't be a coincidence... Something is up, and it involves both of us.' "Damn..." she finally responded. "I'm sorry, girlie. That sounds like it must've been hard..."

Pearl smiled softly. "Well, it's all in the past, now. No need to be sorry about it." She shrugged, biting her lip. "The only thing that really scares me is... Not being able to trust my own brain." Pearl continued. "Sometimes I... I struggle to fall asleep at night, worrying that I'll wake up and it'll happen again. And... and sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. A few weeks ago..." Pearl paused to swallow a lump in her throat. "I-I saw something that wasn't real. Garnet assured me that the heat was just getting to my head, and perhaps she was right, but... i-it was something involving you. So... that's why I've been so strange around you. It just... keeps reminding me of that night, of feeling like I can't trust myself, of feeling like I'm..." Her voice cracked, and she cupped a hand over her mouth.

Amethyst reached for Pearl's free hand and squeezed it tight. "Pearl..." she began, but she wasn't sure how to continue that sentence. Guilt tore at her chest; of all the people that could've found her in that pool, it had to be Pearl... Why couldn't it have been Rose? At least she wouldn't have reacted like this...

Tears flowed down Pearl's cheeks, and she pulled her other hand away from Amethyst's and wiped them away. "I'm sorry, I-I'm such a mess..." she whimpered.

"No, no, it's fine! Look, I..." Amethyst spoke again, unsure of where to go with this -- but she had to say something. The silence was killing her. "Listen, I'm not a... psychologist, is that the word? I don't know how brains work, you know? But... I think it's safe to say that you're gonna be okay. If you lose your memory again, you can just... start from scratch like you did before, right? You did it once, you could probably do it again..."

Pearl burst into tears. 'Shit. Maybe shouldn't have said that.' Amethyst thought, blushing.

"Trust me, I've thought of that many times before..." Pearl reached into her purse for a handkerchief, wiping her running nose. "But... I don't think you understand, Amethyst... It took so long to learn how to function on my own again... And on top of that, I just... worry that I can't trust my own mind. I've never hallucinated like that before... What if I go insane? What if I can't trust myself, and Garnet can't trust me? What if -- "

"Pearl, shh..." Amethyst cupped a hand over Pearl's mouth before she could go on any longer. "Just... Breathe for a minute before you say anything else. You're thinking way too much."

Pearl nudged Amethyst's hand away once more; the latter blushed, realizing she'd done the same thing not a minute ago. "Don't worry, my hands are clean, heh... Washed 'em before I came here."

Pearl smiled a little at that. She adjusted her purse, turning toward the horizon of the ocean. "It's alright... Perhaps you have a point, after all... I'm sorry for unpacking all of this on you."

"Don't be." Amethyst said.

Another silence lay between the two as they stood together, watching the sun finish its journey into the horizon. Amethyst caught a glimpse of the moon hanging up in the deepening blue sky; waning gibbous.

She glanced over towards Pearl again; a smile remained on her face, but Amethyst could sense that beneath the exterior... She was still terrified, and she didn't know how to handle it... Amethyst's heart raced as an idea crossed her mind -- it was stupid, and incredibly dangerous, but... If there was anything she could do about it, she wasn't going to let Pearl continue feeling this way.

"I think I know something that might help." Amethyst finally spoke up, causing Pearl to flinch.

"Oh?" She tilted her head in curiosity.

"I can't do it tonight. It'll... take a few days." Amethyst said. "This weekend, let's meet up again. Well, not here." She gestured towards the patch of trees nearby. "There's a little section of the beach just past those trees. Nobody ever goes there, at least that I know of, and well..." she trailed off as she realized just how suspicious that sounded. "We need to be alone. Well, mostly alone, anyway. I understand that sounds kinda shady, so if you want, you can bring Garnet along." She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth; spilling her secret to one human was enough, but telling two was just asking for trouble.

Pearl looked uncertain, and for a moment, Amethyst feared she'd still say no. But after a bit of hesitation, she responded. "Alright." she said, fidgeting with her purse. "I'm... skeptical, but I'll take your word for it. Is Saturday alright?"

"Saturday is perfect.”

Once Amethyst made her way back to the house, she was met with Rose sitting on the couch, stirring a cup of steaming tea.

"You were out late tonight." she remarked with a slightly concerned smile, taking a sip. "What were you up to? Hopefully keeping safe?"

"Oh, just... taking a walk with Pearl. And no, we weren't approached by any weird strangers this time, heh." Amethyst ran her fingers through her hair, making her way towards the stairs.

"Ah, alright." Rose nodded, setting her cup down on a coaster. "Make sure you're home early this Saturday, though. It's going to be a full moon, so it's important that you and Steven are safe."

Amethyst froze. Her instincts were telling her to just nod along and continue on her way upstairs, but... Her guilt got the best of her. "Oh, yeah..." Amethyst slowly turned around; in all honesty, she wasn't sure how Rose would react to her plans for this weekend. "About that..."

Rose glanced back from her place on the couch. "Hm?"

"So, uh... while I was out with Pearl today..." Amethyst walked over and sat down on the other end of the couch, fidgeting with the bottom of her skirt. "I kinda... Told her to meet up with me this weekend."

Rose chuckled. "You already forgot the full moon was coming?"

"No, no, I didn't. That's the thing." Amethyst continued. Rose's expression fell as she took another sip of tea; she wasn't angry, though, at least it didn't look like it… She seemed more confused than anything. "I, uh... Look, it's a long story, but…” Amethyst continued, “I think I want to tell her the truth."

Rose choked on her tea. She set her cup aside to cough, and Amethyst reluctantly patted her on the back. Once she recovered, she looked at Amethyst with a bewildered expression. "Um… I don't think that's going to happen." she finally said, clearing her throat.

"Look… I get why you're not thrilled about this." Amethyst began, "I'll leave you and Steven both out of it, I promise. But I really think I need to tell her; I think she might --"

"Except you can't leave us out of it." Rose narrowed her eyes. "Because if anyone finds out you're a mermaid, they'll start to question the people you've been living with. Do you realize what could happen to Steven if the wrong person finds out?"

"I... I mean, yeah." Amethyst sighed. "But... I dunno, Pearl's been really shaken up by this whole thing. Maybe you haven't noticed it yourself, but... She told me she's been really doubting her own brain after she... saw me. It's been really fucking her up... So I thought maybe... If I showed her that it wasn't all in her head, she'd feel a little better?"

"Amethyst..." Rose let out a sigh and rubbed her face. She went silent for a few moments, as if to ponder her words before she spoke again... Amethyst's gaze fell down to the floor. Her heart ached with guilt... but at the same time, she didn't want Pearl feeling like this if there was anything she could do about it.

"Pearl can recover from this..." Rose began, lifting her head from her hands. "But if the wrong person finds out about you, or me, or God forbid Steven... it could cost us our lives. Are you really willing to risk that for Pearl's feelings?"

"I mean..." Amethyst let out a sigh. "I don't have anything to lose. I still have no fucking clue why I'm even here."

"Maybe not, but I do." Rose said. "And if she finds out about you, it will affect all of us. This isn't about you. Do not tell her, Amethyst. Please." She reached for Amethyst's hands and squeezed them tight. "Don't leave the house on Saturday no matter what. Not for me, but for Steven."

Amethyst drew in a deep breath. 'There's no way I'll convince her...' she thought, refusing to look Rose in the eyes. Part of her knew, deep down, that Rose was right... And yet that selfish inkling of hope lingered right beside it, praying that her secret would be safe in Pearl’s hands... Or maybe that Pearl, too, was someone like them.

"Alright... Fine." Amethyst pulled her hands away. "I'll... tell her that we’ll go for our walk on Sunday instead." She refused to meet Rose's eyes.

Rose let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Amethyst." she said, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I hope you understand… I promise I’m not trying to control you. I just want all of us to be safe... You understand that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." Amethyst waved a hand dismissively. "Don't sweat it. Your house, your rules.”

Saturday had come; the sun still high in the sky, Rose had ensured that Steven and Amethyst were home for the night long before it would get dark. All doors were locked, a kiddy pool filled with water was set up in Steven's room, and the bath tub was filling up with warm water for Amethyst.

"Do you wanna rubber ducky?" Steven asked as Amethyst sat on the bathroom floor, watching the bath tub fill up with water.

"Huh?" Amethyst said, turning to him and spotting the duck-shaped toy in his hand. "Uh, sure, why not."

"Are you excited?" Steven sat down beside her and grinned. He placed the rubber duck in the water, giving it a nudge so it'd float across the tub. "I love transforming! It was scary when I was little, but now it's a lot of fun!"

"Really? It hurt like a bitch last time. I'm guessing it gets better?" Amethyst said, dipping her fingers into the water and swirling it around. She glanced up towards the clock on the wall; it was getting close to eight... Pearl was probably already at the beach.

"Yeah, it does. I started transforming when I was still a baby, so I don't even remember if it hurt." Steven said.

"Well, that's good. Maybe it won't be as awful this time around." Amethyst snorted.

A silence fell between the two; Amethyst glanced over at Steven, wondering why he was still sitting there.

"So, um..." Steven fidgeted once he noticed Amethyst was staring at him. "What's your favorite color? Mine's pink!"

Amethyst bit her lip. Had Rose sent him in here to keep her from sneaking out? "Purple." she finally said. "Hey, speaking of purple stuff, you wanna do me a favor?"

"Sure!" Steven grinned.

"Can you get me a popsicle from the freezer? You know which color I want." she said with a wink.

"On it, ma'am!" Steven jumped to his feet, scampering out of the bathroom and down the hallway.

'Finally.' Amethyst let out a sigh of relief. Cracking her knuckles, she pushed the bathroom window open and lifted herself up onto the windowsill with a grunt.

"Hey Amethyst, we're all outta purple!" Steven called from across the house.

"Keep looking! I know I saw one this morning!" she called back, climbing down onto the grass.

"Okaayyy..." Steven said in his I-don't-believe-you tone. It would keep him busy for another few moments, though, and that was what mattered; once she had both feet on the ground, Amethyst turned and hurried through the backyard and towards the fence.

With each step she took, though, her guilt rose up in her chest, forming a nervous lump in her throat... 'Rose is gonna be so pissed...' she thought with a gulp. As she reached the fence and began to climb over, she almost wished Rose would step outside and catch her red-handed... And deep down, she knew that what she was doing was selfish. But then she remembered Pearl, and her heart raced in her chest, and she pushed herself forward.

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todo-ho-ki · 5 years ago

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If It’s Convenient For You, pt. 6

Hello lovelies! It’s finally here! I finally got unlazy enough to type this out and send it into the world! I made these two absolute idiots wtf.

Word Count:2,024

Pairing: BakugoXReader

Warnings: Swearing

@chims-kookies @velvet-kissesss

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

"Can you handle it from here?" His sarcastic tone forced a sigh from you.

"Yeah. My arms work just fine. Nobody stabbed me there. I'm thinking I'll wheel myself right out of a window somewhere. You know, so you don't have to save me ever again."

His tongue clicked in disapproval. "You're not really that helpless, are you?" It was less like a question and more like he knew something you didn't. "You got a mouth on you. Smart people don't talk a big game and then do nothing about it."

Look who's fucking talking.

"Bold of you to assume I don't drink dumb bitch juice every day."

He leaned over your shoulder with a sinister smile on his face. "That's a given." His hot breath had a tingle running up your spine but his comeback left you seeing red.

"You! Are the actual worst!" A few eyes in the room turned to you. "What makes you think you can just-" you were cut off by the entirety of his hand covering your mouth without so much as a look in your direction.

"You're making a scene, asshole. You sure are feisty for someone who just got stabbed."

"Mmph mmm!" Your salty words didn't make it through the grip he had on your face.

Bite him! I swear to god just bite his fingers off!

Your teeth pinched the skin of his fingers and he gasped, eyes widening before he hopped up quickly, bending down to face level.

"You better watch yourself." His low voice was a little terrifying, his grip on the handles of your chair tightening as he refrained from fighting you immediately. But you felt a little satisfied as a smirk washed across your face. You were feeling a little tingly.

Why? Why did I like that so much? Do I...want him to hit me? Oh god, I think I might have a bigger problem than a crush.

"Ahem," The quiet nurse from earlier was definitely not inclined to interrupt, a streak of regret for making herself known painted across her face. "we have a room ready for you now."

"I can take it from here," you sighed dramatically, wiping a hand across your forehead like you'd done something other than get hurt.

Bakugo rolled his eyes as the nurse began wheeling you into your room.

----- As soon as they removed Bakugo's makeshift tourniquet and bandages and the blood flowed freely in your leg again, the pain shot back through you savagely. He must've actually known what he was doing, expertly cutting off your circulation to minimize the pain.

The wound cleaning was painful even with all the morphine and sleep didn't come easy that night, strange fever dreams and weird visions of a dark alley leaving you sweaty and nauseous.

Much to your chagrin, your eyelids pulled themselves open in the early hours of the morning.

"Good morning. Glad to see you're awake." The doctor greeted you with much-unneeded enthusiasm.

"Well, at least one of us is."

He chuckled as he took your vitals. "It's very lucky that wound was taken care of the way it was; you could've bled out without that handiwork."

You made a mental note to begrudgingly thank Bakugo for making sure you stayed alive, even if he was a total dick about it.

"But it looks good. You shouldn't sustain any permanent damage, so long as you stay off your leg for a couple of weeks." Your eyes followed his hands as he hooked up another dose of pain killers. "This should tide you over until we release you. The wound wasn't bad enough to warrant keeping you more than a night. You also have a visitor. Would you like to see them now?"

That piqued your interest. No one knew you were in the hospital except the boys. At this point, you just figured it was Bakugo since he was put on this earth to drive you insane.

"Yeah. Bring 'em in."

The doctor left for a moment then reappeared, bright red hair trailing behind him. Relief followed the realization that it was the very kind, very calm, and not at all annoying Kirishima.

"Kirishima?" You muttered. He rubbed the back of his head with a soft smile.

"Hi! Uh, sorry about last night. We got there as soon as we could."

"It's okay. I'm just glad you guys got there before I got myself killed. I wasn't exactly being the smartest.."

Good god, what the fuck was I thinking trying to fend off three villains alone?

"Bakugo wasn't too bad of an ambulance was he?

"Oh, he was absolutely horrible. But I guess I should've expected as much. He didn't tell you about it?"

"He's..still pretty rough around the edges. But I promise there's a reason he's a hero! He just gets a little out of control when there are lives at stake and he's not sure what to do. Also, he goes to bed really early, so that was a late night for him." His sly smile was impossible to combat.

"Not too big a deal. What are you doing here?"

"Well, we were thinking, if you're okay with it, we wanna keep watch over you. Just- just while you're healing!"He backpedaled, noticing the stunned look on your face. "It'll just be in shifts, since we're here on a different case. But you're injured, and we want to make sure nothing else happens. You won't be able to get away."

"I don't suppose I have a choice?" You asked, brow raised. Were you really in a position to turn down the help?

"Well, no. If Bakugo found out I let you say no, he'd raise hell. But it's totally up to you! Whatever you're comfortable with."

A smile crept up on you as you caught wind of the implication of Kirishima's words.

"Ah, so that little bastard put you up to this? Was it his idea?" Kirishima's cheeks were suddenly dusted with pink. He knew something you didn't.

"Uh. W-well, yeah. It was his idea, but we were all thinking the same thing. I volunteered to come down here though. You probably don't need your blood pressure rising."

There were a million questions aching to get out of your chest now. Something like this probably wasn't in the job description, right? Was Bakugo really just like that? Maybe you were just reaching for the stars. After all, the point of being a hero was to sacrifice whatever it took to keep people safe, right?

He didn't stay long after you accepted the offer, claiming that your medicine looked like it was kicking in and that he would be back in a couple of hours to get you.

What the hell is he hiding?

It was the only question you could ask yourself before the medicine actually kicked in, that same strange dark alley came into view clear as day. It was almost like you were really there, walking down the silent path, only the sound of the rocks shifting beneath you and only the feel of a cool night breeze wafting gently. It was akin to a hallway with all the lights off. There was no seeing past the dim light posts until you were about to reach the next one.

A chill surged through you with impressive force, stopping you in your tracks.

What the hell is that?

A particularly bright streetlight was posted about ten feet in front of you. Its glow was dreary, even though the light itself looked like it was a million watts.

Well, this is my dream. And I ain't no bitch, even if I'm not awake.

A careful step forward sent the ground before you tumbling away, the sensation of you falling forcing your body awake. You could've sworn you heard a whisper as you were swallowed up: 'You're safe this time.'

"What the fuck?" The words caught in your throat as your chest tightened. Your eyes caught a glint of ash blonde hair, then followed to catch the rest of the person attached, peering cautiously at you over the bedside.

"Can I fucking help you?" You were still a bit stirred from the previous chain of events but all of it was soon forgotten. You barely even remembered that you had a bad dream, Bakugo's presence taking up every available corner of the room.

"Glad to see you're finally awake."

"Probably because you were watching me sleep."

"I've been here for forty-three seconds. I counted. Figured you'd have something to say about it. That shitty-haired dumbass barely even waited for an answer so I came here to tell you the plan."

Shitty haired dumbass? Kirishima? He counted?

"Shitty hair? I thought Kirishima's hair was quite lovely. You can tell him I said that."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna do that. Don't care."

"I'd care if someone told me my hair was shitty."

"First of all, it is. Second of all, will you fucking stop with the retorts for one damn minute so I can talk?" He pulled up a chair with way more force than required as he sneered at you.

You felt a pout coming on, mostly at the insinuation that the wonderful, long curly hair you'd spent years growing out was shitty.

"Anyway, you brat, we're gonna take turns patrolling your neighborhood. I'll take the first shift-"

"Aww, grandpa has to go to bed early?"

His eyes glossed over for a moment like he'd shut down, just before his teeth clenched and his stare turned icy. "I'll kill you." It was a strained whisper accompanied by some sparks from his palm.

"You are going through a lot of trouble if you're just gonna kill me." It almost looked like he tried to reach for the extra pillow on your bed, but his hand hovered over your bandages and your eyes widened.

"You fucking wouldn't, you growled.

"Why don't you find out?" he whispered, no hint of it being a joke. For once, you had nothing to say. You weren't gonna fuck around and find out if he would.

"Like I was saying, I'll take the first patrol, Kirishima will take the second, and Half and Half will take the last shift. We're planning on-"

"Half and Half? Do you have a nickname for everyone? Do you have a nickname for me?"

There was a pained surprise on his face, like he was shocked that you were still talking, threat long forgotten. But soon he cleared his throat and smiled. "You know what? For once, I'll oblige. I'll give you a nickname," he countered mischievously. "I'll even let you choose from my two favorites. Would you like to be 'Annoying Fucking Idiot' or 'Useless Brat'? Or maybe 'Shitty Hair 2: Shittier Hair'?" His arms crossed on the edge of the bed as he smirked at you. Did he really think he won that one?

"Wow! The originality! The pizzaz! Next time you try to insult me, do us both a favor and don't half-ass it."

"You wanted a nickname. So go ahead and pick. I've got the first shift, so you're mine for the next eight hours. Plenty of time to choose." He relaxed into the chair, feet kicking up on the bed, expression remaining decidedly triumphant.

Your head was clouded by his choice of words. You knew he meant it in an annoying way, but it still didn’t register that way. He took note of your sudden thousand-yard stare, shoulders tensing.

"Oi. What the hell-" He was about to jump out of the chair when you turned your head suddenly.

"I guess useless brat isn't the worst thing I could be." His shoulders relaxed as he sunk back down to the 'maximum chill' position.

"Good. That one's my favorite-”

"It's better than "Really Giant Dickhead," you quipped, barely letting him finish his sentence. A smile teased the corners of his mouth.

"I've never met anyone so damn hard-headed in my life. Are you ready to listen?"

"What, you've never looked in a mirror?" His head lulled back and a soft groan escaped him.

"Just tell me where you live. We'll be there tonight."

#Bakugoxreader #bnha #mha #i made these two so stupid wtf

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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My kingdom for a fic where Dick just full on ignores the fuck out of every reservation, concern and condemnation Bruce has about Jason and his choices after his return, because like this is his brother, the only family member that’s ever come BACK from the dead after Dick’s lost them, and he’s not about to let anything get in the way of that, thanks.

(But also in this AU Jason didn’t almost kill Tim, because that’s the one thing Dick wouldn’t easily be able to look past or forgive and still be in character, even for the sake of another brother, and its crazy to me that it doesn’t come up more as Dick being like, hey Jaybird, you are Valid for a lot of what you feel and are doing but you were NOT Valid for almost killing Timmy and I can be and am quite rightfully peeved at you for that like wtf bro).

Right, so here, Jason doesn’t do that, and literally everything else he does Dick is more than capable and willing to shrug and go oh is that it? And then blithely resume having a relationship with his little brother wherein they hang out and have movie nights and be obnoxiously competitive, with not a single fuck given about anyone else’s feelings that Dick should not be doing this.

Meanwhile, the vein in Bruce’s forehead has grown so large its evolved its own consciousness and identity, its name is Vinnie, Vinnie the Vein, and Bruce and Vinnie are of one mind when they’re like “Richard John Grayson, I FORBID you from shenaniganning with your wayward brother until he has ceased his murder sprees.”

And Dick’s just like can’t stop, won’t stop, anyway love to stay and chat but I promised Jay I’d meet him in half an hour and I’m already running late, gotta go love ya lots, byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye.

Eventually Bruce really tries to put his foot down because its highly unlikely Jason will come in from the cold on Bruce’s terms if Dick keeps ‘enabling’ his brother, mostly because Jason’s not really out IN the cold in the first place as long as the brothers are hanging out, as they do, having a perfectly chill familial relationship whilst waiting for their father to get the hell over himself and also unclench long enough for Timbers to escape the inexorable magnetic pull that is Bruce’s Aura of Contagious Paranoia, and like...come join them on their brotherly outings, it’ll be fun.

And finally Bruce is all, Dick, you realize your brother is killing people, right? And Dick serenely is just like: “Oh is that what all the fuss is about? Gee, I thought it was all just a fight about the proper pronunciation of ‘gif.’ You know how out of control those can get. No shit Jason’s killing people. I’m aware. Also, I don’t care.”

Before Bruce can finish firing up his Righteous Indignation and Judgment and jump in there, Dick continues, ticking points off his fingers one at a time.

“One of my best friends is literally the daughter of Evil, and has on occasions, plural, been evil herself. I couldn’t care less. One of my best friends has a daughter with an internationally infamous assassin who has definitely tried to kill me multiple times, with this quite probably being a violation of some kind of Bro Code. I couldn’t care less. One of my best friends was possessed by evil spirits and did tons of terrible things right before he died and I couldn’t care less when visiting his grave, nor do I care that his dad, an even more internationally infamous assassin than Roy’s baby mama, and who has DEFINITELY tried to kill me multiple times, does lots of terrible things on the regular, both before and after we meet up for coffee every now and then to reminisce about Joey.”

He comes up for air, refuels his tank, keeps going.

“One of my teammates is an identical duplicate of the former teammate who betrayed us all and almost got us all killed. Its weird and awkward but we make it work. Another one of my teammates was a killer robot that previously murdered one of my dearest friends. SUPER fucking awkward, but again, we made it work. Other things I give no fucks about: the rap sheets of any of my teammates on the Outsiders, the rap sheet of one of your star-crossed lovers, the body count of your other star-crossed lover. I mean sure, I’m a snarky asshole about it, but I’m a snarky asshole about butter pecan pie too. I don’t like, care care. Not like the way you cared about Huntress’ unwholesome methods before I was her booty call, and yet that too played no part in my decision making before I let her hit this. Half of your teammates decided to treat your memory like an Etch-a-Sketch once, but somehow you all managed to make nice again, but not until after the invasive spy satellite you made got hijacked and unleashed an army of killer robots that definitely did kill a metric fuck ton of people. Major Disaster and multiple other Justice Leaguers have done some Very Bad Things, Diana snapped a guy’s neck on candid camera and still isn’t sorry, you play chess every once and a while with a guy who spends half his time as a millennia old demon who has eaten entire fucking civilizations, and do not even get me started on Hal Jordan. Are you starting to see a point here, B?”

Bruce says nothing, but Vinnie the Vein has a shit poker face. Dick sighs.

“And you know what all of those people have in common, Bruce?”

Bruce bites. “What’s that?”

“None of them are my goddamn brother. So if I can figure out a way to coexist in the same sphere as all of that insanely hot mess, I can figure out a way to coexist with my brother, so long as I know and trust he’s still fighting the good fight. Which I do. Do I like that he kills people? No. Does he know that? Yes. Do we fight about it? Occasionally. But know who I’m not gonna let be the reason me and my miraculously back from the dead brother don’t meet up for Taco Tuesday night? A bunch of murderers and rapists, because I wish they were sitting in Cell Block D for the next sixty years instead of dead. End of the day, their lives just aren’t as important to me as my little brother’s, and that may make me all kinds of hypocritical, but I’ll give you three guesses what’s another thing I don’t give a shit about. Now you can go home and spend the night hanging out with your moral convictions, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather spend it hanging out with Jay. And if we’re all done here, buh-bye, I’m late and I wouldn’t want Jay to think I flaked and wasn’t coming, who knows, he might go out and kill people instead.”

And eventually Bruce too pulls his head out of his ass because he can be Unconditionally Moral or he can be Unconditionally Dad but he can’t unconditionally be both, and this was kinda a choice he was supposed to have made back when he first signed on the dotted line that supposedly meant his kids would no longer be pinballing through life looking for someone to unconditionally love and support them, because he was volunteering as tribute to do just that.

And finally Bruce makes nice, or at least actively less hostile, baby steps are sometimes required with superhero cryptid shaped a-holes, and then they all live dysfunctionally ever after. Periodically interrupted by one of them dying and the rest of them besieging Death’s door and banging obnoxiously on it and refusing to let her get any sleep whatsoever until she crankily says none of them are worth this aggravation and she’s not getting paid enough for this shit and tosses their recently deceased relative on their ass back on the mortal coil just to be rid of the annoying pests.

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devnny · 6 years ago

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CHAPTER TWO.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

This is it fellas; the MEAT, the starting point that actually matters. It's all a damn mess hereafter. Devi, babey... forgive me, the Hell begins now! (And Johnny... please fucking behave yourself.)

Dear Diary,

I’m back from vacation.

I have a date FUCK meeting with Devi. Yes, that Devi. Weird, no?

She grew a head-thing too, but she can control it, and she’s going to try and help me do that too… We’ll see how well that works out. She yells a lot… scary.

I haven’t totally given up on my emotional enema idea, though! Just gotta work on my temper. Why does everything have to be so aggravating?

3:00PM:

“I must be out of my fucking mind, Tenna.”

“I thought you just got over being out of your mind.” Tenna replied from the couch, squeaking Spooky as punctuation to her sentence.

“Don’t chastise me.” Devi moaned, loosely draped over her armchair. “Sickness has nothing on Nny.”

She dragged herself into an upright position to continue her complaints.

“AN ART LESSON FOR A MURDEROUS LUNATIC, yeah, innovative idea there, Devi!” She cried to the gods in vain. No gods could save her from the bed she’d made so neatly for herself.

“Maybe he won’t show up?” Tenna tilted her head further off of the couch in an attempt to make eye contact with her forlorn companion. Devi only melted further down her seat.

“That’s my only hope.” She sighed. “But knowing my luck, he’ll show up with a bouquet of severed hands for me. God it was so… weird talking to him again. Besides the topic being about personal insanity and death, it was sorta like old times.”

Tenna sat up to stare at her skeptically.

“Don’t tell me you missed him.”

“NO, no! Nothing as stupid as that.” Devi insisted. “Well, I mean, I did miss the Nny I thought I knew, but that’s kinda “sucks to suck”, seeing as that Nny wasn’t… really him.”

“And what if that was the real him? And you’re going to slowly scrape Mister Nice-guy out of his skull with your bare hands, like some kind of monkey artist-therapist combo?”

“I doubt that even more.”

Devi got up from her chair to scoop up the art tablet that was besmirched with Johnny’s drawing from off of the coffee table. The little stick figure he scribbled down had stayed there, mocking her, since his creator had left in the early morning hours. Johnny had only shared a couple of his “Happy Noodle Boy” comics with her long ago, likely because he was embarrassed about them. He had said he used to paint and sketch very detailed pieces, but as “something” – which she now knew was the “Doughboys” and wall-demon, and whatever else was involved with these brain parasites – overtook him, he lost all ability to create beyond these meager doodles. She couldn’t imagine a more horrid fate for a creative. For herself.

To some degree, she pitied him, but then she would remember he that tried to murder her and felt a lot less pity. Even if she understood now that he was hapless pawn, set forth to do obscene violence in the name of some otherworldly creature, all that said about him was that he was too weak-willed to stubbornly commit to his art the way she had – so could she even help someone like that?

It was irrelevant, she decided, since his new little “voice” wanted to involve her in his scheme to eat the last remaining bits of Johnny’s brain. If she didn’t try and aid him now, he would probably just manifest in a couple of months to try and either murder her or… worse.

She shook her head. Disgusting!

“I don’t have a choice with this Tenna.” Devi grumbled. “Or rather, I guess I do, and I’m choosing to deal with this now, instead of trusting Nny to have any mental wherewithal to fight this off and not turn into a puppet again.”

“That’s very brave of you, Devi. You’re an inspiration.” Tenna joked, wiping a fake tear away. Devi groaned.

“Thanks. Now get out of here, before the creature himself shows up.” She tossed the tablet back onto the table haphazardly. “I know how he acts around me, relatively anyway, but I don’t need extra company throwing him off-balance, and this ends up a double murder.”

“Okayyy, but if things get hairy, give me a code, like, three stomps on the floor, or eerie silence, or something, and I’ll call the cops!” She grinned from the doorway.

“WHAT GOOD WOULD IT DO!?” Devi steamed and slammed the door shut. She still had very bitter feelings about the city’s useless police force – demon intervention or not.

6:01PM:

Johnny sat with his knees up under his chin in the driver’s seat of his car. He pressed his shins against the steering wheel anxiously while he tried to think about what to do. He had gone home and bummed around – the house was still as he’d left it, only dustier, which was to be expected -- until the afternoon, after which he started panicking like the madman he was. What the hell was he supposed to do, actually show up to this thing against his wishes? An ‘art lesson’ with that intimidating woman that he didn’t particularly enjoy being around anymore, mostly because she berated him with scathing honesty now!? Ridiculous!

Yet he was here, parked behind a 24/7, less than a block from her apartments, at the time she requested he come. Curse her, and curse her rightness about all of this. He didn’t want to go.

Hesitantly he moved a hand over and grabbed a small bag of his own art supplies from home. Nothing fancy, but he preferred his own pens for inking comics, as he knew how they performed. Small increments of control was better than none, after all.

Johnny, bag clutched to his chest, exited his vehicle and kicked the door shut. As he walked from the alleyway to the sidewalk that lead to Devi’s building, he questioned all the uncertainties that he was headed directly towards.

The most basic of those worries was his timing for this meeting – arriving early was out of the question, but he had arrived almost exactly on time, which also seemed kind of pathetic. He hated getting caught up in these sort of social dilemmas – but since it involved another person, and one that he kinda-sorta respected in the highest regard, he wanted to make a good impression! What if she was irritated that he was even a minute late? Or what if that made him look totally creepy, and arriving loosely around 6:00PM was more of what she imagined? Stupid social cues!

Amongst his inner-monologuing, he failed to realize how close he was to Devi’s apartment until he was at the steps of the building. He cursed to himself, then treaded up into the lobby and checked the time on the digital wall clock that hung lopsided by the elevators. 6:14PM.

“Shit.” Johnny mumbled again. He didn’t want to hurry if this was supposed to be a casual timeframe, but he didn’t want to doddle either! He decided to take the stairs, but briskly.

FOUR FLOORS UP:

Devi had just started to think that the glimmer of a chance that Johnny wouldn’t show up was plausible, when the door knock came.

“Shit.” She griped from the kitchen. Her chest heaved out a sigh, and she aggressively set down her glass of water on the counter. This was going to be a long night, surely.

A few short strides to the door, and she opened it up to her expected guest. At least he didn’t have a bouquet of human limbs.

“Hi.” Johnny shot her a sideways smile. Devi did her best to hold in any unhappy noises, and tried to force what little optimism she had out from the very bottom of her soul.

“Hey, Nny.” She replied, only a little dryly. Johnny smiled wider at that.

“No bat tonight?” He pointed to her bare right hand. Devi looked down to it, then back at him.

“Don’t tempt me.” She stepped aside and let him in, hoping that the act wasn’t just as good as signing her death certificate. Johnny strolled in much too casually for her liking, but she ignored that, hoping to put off any bursts of maniacal rantings from him as long as she could.

Johnny looked around her apartment, like a normal house guest might, seeing as he was one this time. He inspected a few of her paintings with a thoughtful smile on his face and his hands crossed behind his back, still clutching his pencil bag. Devi’s eyebrow ticked in annoyance.

“I didn’t really get a good look at your apartment last night. It’s nice. Very you.” He hummed.

“Thanks.”

“These are your paintings aren’t they? I like them.”

“Thank you, Nny.” Devi rolled her eyes tiredly. “Can we focus here, a little bit?”

“I’m only trying to be polite! You were so kind to invite me back despite desperately wanting to smash my skull in yesterday.” He smiled at her again, almost arrogant, as though trapping her in small talk was a necessary evil, and if he had to suffer this social outing, so did she. Devi snorted.

“Your immense politeness is noted. Now let’s get on to what you’re here for.” She tilted her chin in his direction as she walked by, leading him further into the living room. She sat with a leg tented up on the floor, and Nny followed, sitting across from her with his feet together.

“I see you came prepared for this. That’s good.” She noted the little bag in his lap, choosing to assume it was art supplies and nothing sinister. Johnny grinned while Devi took up the same drawing pad from the night previous. He eagerly opened the pouch to spill out his pens and pencils onto the table. Devi held in any relief that she was right in her assumption.

“So. You just want me to draw?”

“Yeah.”

“And you really think that’s the key thing here?” Johnny questioned skeptically.

“Sickness always talked about how annoying my work ethic was for her. While she was trying to form, I guess, I was using too much of my brain for painting stuff, so she couldn’t grow right, or quickly, or whatever.”

“I see…” Johnny brought a knuckle up to his mouth. “So it’s not so much using your brain, but using it for creative endeavors? Writing, drawing, thinking?”

“Seems like it.” Devi leaned back on her palms. “And to a further extent, not giving in to the temptation of sitting around and doing nothing. There were times where all day I’d be thinking; “I need to work, I need to work”, but I just sat there on the couch thinking about it, never actually got up and did anything, which is what she wanted. For you, it was probably a little different, seeing as – as far as I know – the only supernatural thing that lived in the apartments besides Sickness was the psychic fat of a morbidly obese woman.”

“…What?”

“Nevermind.” Devi looked around before settling her eyes on the paper again. “Just draw, for like, an hour. I need to get some work done too, so I’ll just sketch concept crap while you do that.”

“What should I draw?” Johnny inquired while he jammed the eraser of his pencil up against his gumline.

“I can’t tell you that, that defeats the purpose.” She sighed. “Just, draw a comic, I don’t know. It doesn’t have to make any fucking sense, just something.”

“HAH!” Johnny laughed. “Well I have good news about my Happy Noodle Boy comics, then.”

He seemed a little more enthused at that and pulled the tablet in his direction, before hunching over the table and skritching away at the paper beneath him. Devi watched him curiously a moment before returning to her art room to retrieve her own sketchbook.

45 MINUTES IN:

Devi looked up from her perch on her armchair at her struggling ‘student’. She’d already watched him wad up and throw three separate sheets of paper around him, and he was looking more unhinged the less his drawings were coming out like he wanted. Johnny stared at his current page with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed tightly. As he lifted a hand up to the spiral of the tablet, Devi interrupted him.

“Ah.” She scolded. “Keep going.”

“But it’s STUPID. It makes no SENSE.” He argued at her from the floor.

“I told you that’s fine. Don’t get frustrated on the details, it’s fine if it looks like crap as long as you finish.”

“IT’S NOT!”

“Nny.” Devi’s eyelids lowered, indicating as ungently as possible that she wasn’t budging on the subject. Johnny responded with collapsing across the table dramatically.

“THIS IS TOO ANNOYING, I WON’T CONTINUE.” He seethed. “I’m going to the 24/7 and getting a Brain-Freezy!!”

“No, you are not. Finish your stupid comic, you only have like, ten minutes until ‘break time’ anyway.”

“YOU CAN’T MAKE ME STAY!” He screamed back, raising up to glare at her with his hands flat on the table. “I’M TIRED of being controlled, this is idiotic!!”

Devi frowned and set her sketchbook aside.

“Don’t be such a baby!” She chided him. “Think of the goal you’re working towards, you moron! Complaining about not being free when working toward freedom? HELLO?”

Johnny kicked his legs out and let himself fall backwards onto the floor, glaring at the ceiling as though it had called him a slew of cusswords. After a few moments of heaving breaths, Devi watched his chest slow to childlike huffing.

“But… I HATE it, Devi. I HATE IT!” Johnny clenched his fists tightly. “I hardly even enjoy drawing these ASININE Noodle Boys anymore!! I want to draw the way I used to, and this just reminds me that I can’t!! Sometimes it’s still fun, but mostly it SUCKS! COMPLETELY SUCKS!”

“Jeezus… don’t look at it like that, Nny.” She sighed. Tenna joked about her being a therapist monkey, but that was barely an exaggeration if this was going to be how things went every encounter. “Look at your scribbles like the first step back to your previous talent, not a continuous path of stagnant shit you have to walk. I swear, Johnny, this is going to help.”

She hoped that she was swearing to something she could actually bolster, especially after Johnny rolled his head over to give her an immensely forlorn expression. After a moment he sighed and sat back up, lamely picking up his pencil to continue drawing. Devi watched him again, a pinch uncomfortable with the sudden seriousness of the mood, and tried to think of something funny to say.

“Well,” She picked up her work again. “I guess if all else fails, you can just die again.”

Anyone else might have thought the comment cruel, but Johnny burst into a fit of muffled hysterics. Devi smiled against herself, but did her best to hide it behind her sketchbook. Johnny’s giggling tapered off as he settled his hand back onto the page he was working on.

“You know,” He began as he started scribbling. “the funniest thing about the whole dying incident… the method was so stupid.”

“I told you about the RadioShack arm and all of that, but the way I rigged it, it shouldn’t have ever worked! It was hooked up to the phone, and would activate when I got a phone call, but wouldn’t actually go off until I picked up the receiver and said “hello” into it. As Psycho-Doughboy so kindly said, it was a load of shit! I never get calls, not even wrong numbers, and especially not at 2 o’clock in the fuck-all morning!”

Devi’s hand stopped moving mid-stroke, her eyes wide. Johnny didn’t notice, and continued speaking while he drew.

“But, out of all the shit luck I’ve had, the phone rings, right then, right when I was screaming with the Doughboys, saying I was calling the whole thing off! Now that I think about it… I don’t know why I didn’t just… not pick it up – BUT, thank fuck I did, right?”

Devi remained silent, her throat suddenly, and increasingly, dry. It couldn’t be, it just could not be. Her mind raced; maybe it was wrong, she was mistaken – but there was no way, it fit too well. All she heard was that fucking “hello”, then a bang – a gunshot. A thud. A scream. If Johnny was still talking now, she couldn’t hear him.

“It was me.” She said suddenly, bringing Johnny out of his thought.

“Huh?”

“…It… was me. It was me, I was the one that called you that night.” Devi’s widened eyes lifted to stare at him as she spoke. “Tenna said… I was just… checking if you still lived there.”

Her mumblings died off as her eyes wandered away from Johnny’s face to bore into the drywall across the room. Johnny blinked, barely processing what she was saying.

“What? You called me that night, Devi?” He wondered only briefly how she could know it was that exact night, but quickly rationalized that he hadn’t received any other phone calls besides that one, before or since. It was Devi. His eyes grew impossibly larger as the reality of it dawned on him.

He stood up, unable to keep still with the sudden surge of energy pulsing throughout his body.

“You, you – YOU called me Devi!” He paced as he handled the information. “You did – oh my God, I can’t believe I never thought of this before!”

Devi’s attention made it’s way back to her now manic guest, and she watched him uncomfortably from her seat. Johnny smiled uneasily, holding his head while he walked.

“The entire reaction, I gave the reaction the credit for removing those shitty horrors from me, but I never thought of the action! The call itself! It wasn’t just the GUNSHOT, it wasn’t just DYING, it was that phone call! MORE IMPORTANTLY, it was the one that placed that phone call!! My God, all this time I’ve been ambling around, a slave free from his shackles, thrust into a world unknown, when the KNOWING was right there!! It was so obvious!”

He stopped his frantic pacing to kneel into a lunge at the foot of Devi’s armchair, startling her further into the fabric of it’s back. Johnny grabbed the corners of her sketchbook, which she was using as a pathetic shield between her frazzled self and the man before her, and he smiled wide with excitement.

“Oh, Devi! Devi it was always YOU – who else would it be!? Who else COULD it be!” Johnny breathed through a laugh. “Devi, you KILLED ME.”

She could only stare at him in silent horror. It wasn’t like she meant to kill him! She did say that she wished he would die for making her like him so much and then letting her down so horrendously but – Christ, it wasn’t meant to be so literal! She didn’t want to be the cause of it! If he wanted to just go vaporize and leave her alone, that’s what she would have preferred back then. Johnny didn’t seem to realize her discomfort on the gruesome truth to his ‘demise’.

“You stripped me of those wretched little monsters – even the WALL-THING!” His smile didn’t waver. “I should have known; there was a reason you escaped! No, a reason I MET you!”

Devi wanted to interrupt before he convinced himself of some soulmates bullshit, but her throat felt clogged, and nothing would come out.

“And here you are, helping me again… Fuck’s sake, I’ve been so foolish! So BLIND!” Johnny’s fingers gripped onto her sketchbook harder, pulling it down so the top was under his chin as he leaned in further. “All this time, it was always you; you made me happy, you escaped, you released me of that Hell!! If fate’s a real thing, THIS is it! How else would I get aligned with the one person, after all of that previous shit, that has the mental fortitude to withstand an attack from those disgusting vermin!?”

“J… Johnny.” Devi managed finally, through her barely functioning jaw. The sound of her voice seemed to reel him in a ways, and he slid back to sit on his heel expectantly, but with a much less wild look in his eyes.

“Oh, I beg you, please don’t be nervous Devi! I don’t hold any resentment for your hand in my death, not at all!” He chuffed. “And I’m so sorry for… for yelling, and being an overall pain in your ass since visiting you. I swear, after this, that’s it! Whatever you say, goes.”

Devi blinked in surprise at that. Was he honestly pledging his loyalty out of sheer gratitude that she inadvertently kind-of murdered him? She could only stare at his eager eyes, unsure of whether to be horribly afraid of this new measure of weirdness in their relationship, or to feel safer in that she was his so-proclaimed Angel of Death.

“Um… uh…” She tried to think of something to say, but was still panicking internally. “Um, y-y’know what, Nny?”

She hated how his head perked up, like he was waiting on her word.

“A uh… a Brain-Freezy sounds good, actually. You wanna go grab us a couple while I… think about what kind of existential bullshit I’m experiencing right now?”

“YUM. Yes, okay! I will!” His smile pulled up on one side, letting his gums peak out, before he ran to the door. He halted abruptly and turned to her again. “Is Cherry Doom okay? That’s the flavor I get.”

“Yeah.” Devi didn’t even think about her answer, and watched him leave with an uncertain, disturbed look in her eyes. She melted unceremoniously against the chair, arms and legs splayed out, and continued to stare at nothing in particular. She didn’t want Johnny to like her so immensely -- she didn’t even want for him to like her much at all! The way this was going, she might be stuck with him as long as his gratitude lasts. How long could the frenzied gratefulness of a homicidal maniac last, exactly?

NEXT.

#devi: it cant last that long right???? right?#jtrm #mine #devnny #now i can write the fun parts #aka: leash #chapter

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merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale · 6 years ago

Text

“Hey man, where were you?” Chin asked as Steve joined him for lunch.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Random drug test.”

Kono and Chin both shared a raised eyebrow look before Chin asked, “Excuse me? You? Mr. I-Can’t-Ever-Let-An-Old-Lady-Cross-The-Street-Herself, star quarterback, honor roll, 4.0 GPA McGarrett was tested for drugs?”

Kono scoffed out a chuckle, “Why?”

“Whittemore’s still pissed I’m captain. He saw me talking with Williams and started making accusations.” Steve explained with a shrug. His lying has gotten way better since being in a relationship with Danny.

Part of him really hates the secrecy. He doesn’t have a problem with it, and both he and Danny were strong enough to deal with anyone stupid enough to try to bully them. And yet...they just weren’t ready.

Their lives were too different. Steve worked his butt off to get where he is now so he could go to the best school and make his dad proud. He doesn’t have time to properly date anyway. The amount of work he had to put into to get the full ride to Stanford was insane. And maintaining everything so he doesn’t lose it is still hard work.

So his thing with Danny works.

Though he has to keep reminding himself constantly that it does.

He has to keep reminding himself what it is. Mostly physical. Somewhat romantic.

It would be so much easier if Danny was the persona he pretends to be. If he were that rude, uncaring, lost cause that society has given up on.

But he’s not.

Relationship wise? Steve’s never felt more intense orgasms than when Danny has a hand in it. Danny worships his body and makes him feel things he didn’t think were possible. Not to mention he’s an amazing kisser.

When Steve began to tutor him, he dreaded it. He just wanted to get the points that tutoring would get him and just be done with it. The moment the clock struck 4, he’d be gone.

But Danny wasn’t stupid, he just needed someone to explain it in a different way. He was so clever. And he was funny. Sarcastic with a humor that was right up Steve’s alley.

And the body? Yeah, okay Steve’s lost more than a few hour’s of sleep just thinking about Danny’s body even before they kissed.

Danny was also not as bad a guy as people at school make him out to be. Yeah, he smokes. Both weed and cigarettes but he’s not violent. He’s gotten in fights before but Steve’s come to learn that the guys that Danny’s gotten into fights with were the rich ass hats that think they can get away with anything because of their family status.

Danny also works! Yeah it’s at a garage and sometimes he misses days if not a full week of school to work, but it’s not because he doesn’t care about education. His family is big and sometimes income is low. So Danny provides for his family.

Danny was an amazing guy, but no one outside of his family, a few co-workers, and Steve knew it.

“You’re still tutoring Williams? ACT’s are done. If he can’t grasp the material now, is it even worth it?” Kono asked.

Steve shrugged, “Tutoring looks good on my resume.”

“Well, with how often he’s at school, I can’t see you being bothered too much by him,” Chin added.

Steve frowned for a moment before he remembered he had to smile.

That was something he was trying to avoid thinking about. Graduation was coming up. He himself was nervous but excited at the same time. He was very proud of what he’s been able to do and the school he got into. His dad was really proud too. He’d thrown Steve the biggest ‘congratulations’ party they could afford and it was amazing.

But Danny hadn’t gotten into college. He had tried, and only Steve knew.

Steve was there to hold Danny as he cried and called himself stupid and a failure. He did everything he could to reassure Danny that he wasn’t either. But Danny still wouldn’t be going to college this fall. Steve would.

“What’s so bloody special about the West Coast anyway?” Danny demanded.

“It’s one of the best schools, Danny!” Steve argued.

“What about your family? You’re big on family. I know you’re always worried about your kid sister. How are ya gonna keep her outta trouble all the way from over there?”

“Mary’s gotta grow up some time and she will. She’s proud of me, and so is my dad. I...why can’t you be proud of me too?”

“I just...I am proud Steve, it’s amazing how smart you are. I just...I don’t see why you can’t stay here…” the ‘with me’ was left unsaid, but Steve heard it.

“I have to see how far I can go, Danny. I’m sorry.’

Danny hadn’t talked to him for about two weeks after that. It was actually their first conversation that Whittemore witness. Danny doesn’t sell, but when he’s at school he does tend to hang out with those who do. According to Danny, Whittemore is a frequent buyer of steroids, which is why he was so good. Their conversation that Whittemore witness was so forced and school-related that Steve seemed a bit angry while Danny remained stoic. Whittemore tried to tease Steve about being cut off by Danny.

Steve felt like he was, but not in the way Whittemore thought.

They hadn’t broken up officially, but it felt like it.

“Williams residence, Clara speaking.”

“Hey, Mrs. Williams. This is Steve McGarrett. I’m Danny’s tutor. We were supposed to meet up at the library today but he never showed.”

“Oh, hello dear. So sorry about that. Daniel...he uh...he had a doctor’s appointment. Wasn’t feeling so well.”

“Is he alright?” Steve asked with concern.

“He will be. I’ll tell him you called. Stuart, was it?”

“Steve. Steve McGarrett.”

“Of course. Sorry. Bye-bye.”

Danny had kept himself from getting hit in the face, but apparently, he got in a lot more trouble after Steve told him he wasn’t going to stay in Jersey. One week he was gone because he got arrested in a bar brawl and it took some time for his dad to get the bail money.

Another week he was in the hospital because of a street brawl.

They hadn’t officially broken up so Steve got to see him some nights when Danny snuck into Steve’s room. He wouldn’t go into detail, they barely talked any more. They both knew it was ending and they just wanted to hold on to what they had left.

Steve hoped to see Danny at graduation, but the blonde was nowhere in sight. Steve tried to call many times, even go to visit but Danny was avoiding him like the plague.

Eventually, it was time for Steve to leave.

The first few weeks he still thought about Danny. Even called a few times, but no answer.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and so much has happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! Look who’s back!”

Steve smiled as he hugged Kono. She led him through the crowd of parents and family to where Chin and Malia were. They both hugged her too.

“Hey man, good to see you.” Chin greeted.

“Very good to see you, Steve,” Malia added.

“Thanks, guys. How’s the score?” Steve asked as he tried to find Sara out in the field.

“Still zero zero. You’re not that late.” Chin informed him, then Malia told him which number Sara was. They cheered for their little soccer player, and he and Chin were ecstatic when Sara scored the winning goal.

Steve was standing by, not wanting to get too much in the way of Chin and Malia’s moment with Sara. That’s when he heard it.

“Daddy we won! We won!”

“I saw monkey! I’m so proud of you!”

Steve froze. He pushed a bit through the crowd to see if it was really him, and it was.

Danny. Looking amazing as ever and...god.

“Can we go celebrate with Sara?” Grace asked.

“Grace did kick the ball to Sara so they could win. I think they both deserve ice cream.” Kono said with a smile. She then saw Steve gaping at Danny. “Steve...you remember Danny Williams right?”

“Uh...I...um…”

“Is he okay?” Grace asked Sara.

Sara giggled and shrugged, “That’s my Uncle Steve. He’s kinda weird.”

“You’re a cop.” Steve blurted out. The badge was shiny and the sunlight bounced off of it.

Danny blinked and looked at it before he laughed, “Yeah. I am.”

“These things could get very rowdy, but luckily since Grace began playing and Danny coming to support her, the badge keeps some of the more overzealous parents at bay,” Malia informed him.

“I think Steve’s a bit more shocked about me being a cop than a referee...I’m sure Chin’s mentioned that I was....”

“Quite the bad boy,” Kono said with a smirk.

“Yeah. So being a cop might not be what he expected.” Danny said with an easy smile. Something he didn’t use to do. He would walk around angry at the world. This...this was a nice look on him.

“Ah. Well, how about that ice cream?” Malia asked.

“I agree that they both deserve it. We’ll meet you guys at Kamekona’s shaved ice?” Danny asked.

When they parted ways, Kono decided to drive with Steve.

“He’s...he’s got a kid. So uh...who...who did Danny marry?” Steve choked out. He hated it because Kono was never one to fall for his bullshit.

“A Brit named Rachel. Didn’t work out. They divorced about two years ago. Danny’s living the single father life now.” Kono informed him.

“And he’s a cop?”

“Detective actually. Damn good at it too. You should see how sexy he looks in his Camaro.”

“Are you and him..?” God, he hoped not. He wasn’t sure he could stomach it.

“Hm? No. I think I missed my boat. After they got divorced, Danny decided to stop living a lie and came out as bi with a preference to men.”

“Ah. Cool. Very cool.” Steve said as he tried to remain cool, but he was secretly freaking out on the inside.

At the ice cream place, the girls were running back and forth trying to decide what they should get while simultaneously telling Kamekona about their win.

Chin and Malia kept an eye on them while deciding what to get for themselves, while Kono caught up with Flippa.

Danny approached Steve with a smile, “Hey...welcome home.”

Damn butterflies in Steve’s stomach. “Thanks. Congrats on the win.”

“We would train hard and it paid off. The girls did great.” Danny smiled at Grace and Sara. There was a pause there that Steve hated. Danny thankfully said something. “Hey, I know this is out of the blue but...would you let me take you out to dinner sometime while you’re here?”

“Like a date?” Steve asked instead of just saying yes. But part of him had to know.

“If that’s what you want it to be. I know I would. For all the times I couldn’t before.”

“You’d owe me a lot of dates then,” Steve told him.

“Are you staying long enough for me to take you out that many times?”

“I am,” Steve answered.

“Then tomorrow. Movies and dinner, yeah?”

“Movies and dinner. Sounds perfect.”

So I know it’s not perfect but I’m fighting some writer’s block and I saw this idea posted by @five-hoe and I hope it’s okay >.>

#mcdanno #steve mcgarrett #danny danno williams #hawaii 5-0 #au #fanfic #chin ho kelly #kono kalakaua #five-hoe

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sugarless-suki-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Panic

Rating: T Word Count: 2,998

Read on Ao3

Support me on Ko-Fi!

More vent, yay;;;;

Appearance are based on my sona

CW/TW: Stalking, Identity Crisis

(Left to Right: Suki, Plum & Bug. Art by @bitter-plum-art

As soon as Suki walked through the door, they made direct eye contact with him. They kept their expression stoic, quickly turning into the hallway and walking towards the sever's station. They didn’t know he’d be working tonight. They should’ve. He always worked weekends. Their stomach started to knot, a hard ball forming in the pit of their stomach as their hands began to shake.

The Hanged Man, See No Evil.

Their jaw set as their fangs dug into the skin of their lip. What utter bullshit.... What kind of cryptic bullshit was that? What did he think sending them a weird, cryptic, “poetic” message would do? And to send one to the other two? Suki didn’t care for that, not at all....

With a sigh, they walked up to the front, greeting their friends and coworkers as they set their bag down, then proceeded to head towards the back once more to get dressed.

The uniform was easy to put on, and they did it quickly. They then went into the server’s station to make themselves a drink, a cucumber water; they were trying to get better about drinking water and cut back on their soda/caffeine intake.

Their hands were trembling.

As they plopped the cucumbers in the glass and reached for the ice scoop, they heard the dish bin get slammed down and a chill ran down their spine as they felt eyes on them.

He was there.

They didn’t dare turn around.

Thankfully he didn’t stick around to stare but so long. Once they felt his eyes leave, Suki turned around to fill their glass with water. They almost dropped the glass in the sink.

Their head was pounding, their stomach was doing flips, and they felt like they could puke.

They set the water down on the table in the server’s station and ripped the paper off of a straw, sticking it in and casually tossing the paper to the side, towards the trash can. They took a long sip before reaching for the pill bottle on the counter, pressing down on the cap and unscrewing it. The grabbed two excedrin and then closed the bottle. Taking another sip of water, they popped the pills in their mouth and swallowed. The orthodontist today was rough, they didn’t need creepy stalker man on top of it. At least they could kill their headache.

They took another sip of water, soothing the strange feeling in their throat. It was still new to them to swallow pills; they still had to fight off the innate fear that tried desperately to claw its way to the surface. Why their preschool teachers thought it was a good idea to give four year olds hard candy, they would never understand. But at least now they were working past it.

Suki made their way back up to the front, just in time for their first table to walk in. A 5 top. Great. Seems like this is how their Friday night was going to go.

Once they were seated, Suki greeted them warmly. Two of the five were still on their way, but they all wanted water, and 3 iced coffees. Easy. They went to the back and put in the iced coffee orders and grabbed a tray. They set everything up before making the waters and bringing them out to the table. Once that was done, they went back into the kitchen, walking to the sushi bar and grabbing the three containers that held the coffee grounds.

Eyes.

They made quick work of walking back to the sever’s station. They uncapped the coffee and poured the grounds into the brewer and poured hot water into all three. They then turned around to make three glasses of ice, for the coffee.

Eyes.

Pressure.

Presence.

Stop stop stop stop stop.

Once the glasses were done, Suki turned around and, lo and behold, there he was. He was pretending to look at the coffee they were brewing. Suki slid past him, trying to keep some form of distance from him in the confined space, but he had started to turn around, making the space smaller and almost touching them. They did their best to not grimace, focusing on getting their tray prepped.

They could see him out of the corner of their eyes, taking his time putting ice in his cup, moving so much slower than usual. Standing in front of the soda machine and just staring.

Eyes. Eyes. Eyes.

The Hanged Man, See No Evil.

Suki was quick to walk out of the sever’s station, plastering a warm, welcoming, fake smile on their face.

Their customers were nice. Suki wished they could enjoy them....

It shouldn’t be like this. They shouldn’t have this overwhelming sense of dread coming into their place of work. They felt safer walking the downtown city streets alone at night than in their own workplace.

Every single male/male-presenting person they had interacted with/met lately had just been... awful. Of course, male-presenting people always set off at least one or two red flags, they all did. Every single one of them. That was normal, even though it shouldn’t be. You just have to ignore them before you can properly judge a person. That’s what they did with this guy.

He set off some flags. The three of them thought he might just be weird. Nothing wrong with weird. He barely talked. Could barely make eye contact with them. They talked about DND one night, and so he made a Discord account so he could join in a campaign.

That’s when it started. He friended Suki and Bug, but did absolutely nothing with Plum. He started messaging Suki. Just a sentence a night. Never replied to anything Suki said. One night, he sent them a compliment. Being polite, they thanked him. Then they changed their hair. It was the first time they had ever dyed it. They were so excited.

They came in to do the numbers for the restaurant that night, and as they were leaving, one of the managers walking with them, as he always did. (Previous employees had been attacked at night, so he went out with all the servers to make sure they got to their cars safe). They turned to wish the others a good night. He looked up, said some garbled nonsense, not even really words, something akin to a verbal keysmash, and went back to the dishes. Their manager laughed his fucking ass off. Suki simply raised an eyebrow as they furrowed together and let out a weird chuckle, mostly laughing because their manager was losing his mind and that always made them laugh.

“What was that?” he had asked as they walked out the door, before it had even closed behind them.

“I have no idea.”

That night he sent them a message, saying he was “taken aback”. It had made them slightly uncomfortable but they said thank you anyway. In all honesty, they thought it was kind of funny. Did he have a crush? After only talking to them a grand total of 5 times, each of those times just being one sentence from the both of them? They had to admit, it was a little ridiculous.

Then he had asked them out to lunch, and Suki was just... taken aback. It was unexpected. They... barely knew each other? He couldn’t even look them in the eye. They meant to reply, they really did, but they just kept forgetting, and every way they tried to phrase it in their head just sounded mean so they just.... didn’t.

The bell in the back dinged, drawing Suki out of their thoughts. Their food was ready. They let out a huff and stood up from the server’s table and walked towards the back. One roll combo and four dinner combos, three of which had tempura. This was gonna be fun to bring out...

They grabbed a tray and started to set two of the bento boxes on it, the ones that were ready. They had to finagle with it a bit, trying to find space to put the tempura sauce.

Pressure.

Presence.

Eyes.

He walked up behind them and stood there. They were off to the side, leaving the small walkway clear. He could’ve easily walked by. Out of the corner of their left eyes they could see him flipping the dish bin. Why wasn’t he walking by?

Stop staring stop staring stop staring stop staring stop staring stop staring stop staring stOP STARING STOP STARING STOP STARING!!!!

They finished putting what they could on the tray, picked it up along with another box with their other hand, and walked out of the kitchen.

He followed right behind.

Suki plastered a smile on their face.

It shouldn’t be like this... They shouldn’t feel scared to be in the back, thinking this fucking freak is going to come up and shank them if they weren’t careful. Their chef shouldn’t have to be waiting by the bathroom everytime he goes, holding a knife and waiting for him to come out with a gun. These complete, asinine, awful, insane and downright predatory interactions they’ve been having with men shouldn’t be making them question their sexuality, their gender.

For a while now, a couple months at least, Suki had been questioning their gender. They had never really felt comfortable in their body, and whether that was from all the bullying or the dysphoria.. that was something they figured a therapist could help them with, whenever they had the time to find one. But now.... they weren’t sure.

Maybe I’m not nonbinary.

I don’t want to come across masculine in any way.

I don’t want to be associated with them.

Maybe I’m cis.

Maybe.

Maybe.....

They had talked about it recently, on the ride home from work one night with Plum and Bug. Maybe part of the problem was they still thought along the lines of the binary - viewing being nonbinary as some sort of in between of masculine and feminine, male and female. But could they really be blamed? It’s how they were raised to think. It’s what society wanted. It’s how things were and they weren’t going to change so quickly over night, not here, not now, especially not in the south, where they lived.

Either way, all these interactions were making them question everything about themselves. Sure, Suki had never been the fondest of men in the first place; they’d only been in two relationships, both with men, both abusive, one long term and recent and still a very much open, festering wound.

Men made them uncomfortable.

Men pushed their boundaries.

Men hurt them one too many times.

Men were borderline repulsive at this point.

Maybe I’m a lesbian...

Maybe I should start identifying as that.

Maybe.

The night dragged on. He continued to come to the server’s station. Suki’s trembling never ceased; it slowed, but it never stopped. They came close to dropping glasses and dishes and trays multiple times. They bought food, hoping that would be the solution, but he came back so many times. He checked the dishes more often. He made small, very small trips to return the dishes to their proper places, trips he could’ve easily, and usually would condense, he continued to fill up his drink as slow as possible, and more frequently than normal.

Suki couldn’t eat.

They didn’t feel comfortable.

They didn’t feel safe.

The Hanged Man, See No Evil.

After Suki’s silence, he latched onto Bug. He posted music, raps specifically, in the group chat they had, and he messaged Bug whenever they worked together, just like he had with Suki. It was funny. The raps were terrible; the beats were okay, but his voice and lyrics were just... Let’s just say it sent the trio off to other planes of existence.

As he messaged Bug, he got aspects of the three of them confused, mixing them into one being and projecting them onto Bug. While Bug did take dance classes, they never mentioned them at work, Suki had, multiple times, loudly. Plum plays the cello. Both Plum and Bug draw. He once complimented Bug on how artistic they were, thinking it was crazy that they “dance, play the cello, and draw.” It was hilariously bad. A poor attempt. They laughed about it for days.

Eventually, he asked Bug out as well. Bug, of course, turned them down. They were very polite about it. He sent an odd... poetic message that made no sense. Then, the next day, he posted a new rap in the chat, that had other people in it as well, it was their group’s DnD chat afterall.

It was a diss rap.

He mentioned them by name, twice.

He talked about murder.

It wasn’t so funny anymore.

The red flags grew larger, brighter, blaring.

They laughed nervously and weren’t too eager to go into their next shift after that.

He later sent Bug another song, this time to their DMs. It was their name in all caps. After writing, creating, and posting such an angry, hateful, terrifying track in a public group chat, he made a song about how they were meant to be but there was *~*something*~* between them and keeping them apart. They told him his songs were making them uncomfortable. They weren’t as nice that time. They had to be blunt. They told him to stop.

A couple days later, at 4 a.m., he sent all three of them his final messages and, supposedly, deleted Discord.

They blocked him just to be safe.

They couldn’t take any risks.

They’ve been through this before, multiple times.

They knew what to do.

They knew what needed to be done.

It shouldn’t be like this.

They shouldn’t have to put up with this.

Suki shoved back any feeling of dread, anxiety, panic - they had a job to do. They needed to push through. They couldn’t afford to have a panic attack. They couldn’t show any sign of weakness. Not around him. They’d been through this before. They knew how to deal with stalkers. They’d had three in the past. They just needed to push down the panic. They needed to ignore it. She needed....

The end of the night couldn’t come quickly enough. When it did, Suki was grateful. They sat down with their receipts, doing their readings and chatting idly with Plum, Bug, and Hail. Once all their stuff was done and they were clocked out, they sat at the server’s table. They wanted to speak to their manager, but they needed to wait for him to leave.

They sat there, quietly, on their phones as they waited. It was nice. It was peaceful. It was what they needed after today.

“Alright, hope y’all have a good night.”

His voice made their stomach drop. A pain, sharp like a knife, twisted into Suki’s heart as fear and dread and panic and terror gripped them in an instant. They didn’t look up. They couldn’t. They continued to scroll through Twitter.

When had he walked up?

She didn’t hear him.

She heard him walk away though, his footsteps heavy against the laminate floor. He was probably pissed he got no response.

Drama queen.

He was a big drama queen. He thought he was an important figure in their lives. How could he be though? They only knew him for, cumulatively, 2 days. The only thing he had done was made the three of them nervous around white cars and fill them with dread when they came in to work at night. One could argue that that was an impact, but it was nothing new to the trio. They’d been stalked before, multiple times. They had a restraining order on someone. They knew what needed to be done.

They shouldn’t have to know.

It wasn’t long before their manager was done with his side work and he was joining them at the front of the restaurant. They then proceeded to tell him everything in great detail. He didn’t emote as they talked, voicing their concerns and Suki trying to keep themself calm and in check.

“In his message to me, he told me that he could handle a no, but not silence. Clearly he can’t handle a no, seeing as he wrote a diss track about Bug when they politely, politely, turned him down.”

Once they were all done, he sat there for a moment before shaking his head. “Man, I wish y’all had told me before he left!”

“We wanted to wait until he was gone. This isn’t our first rodeo, we know what we need to do to stay safe.” Plum said.

“Yeah, yeah I know. But man, I wish I had known. I’d’ve went and “talked” to him. You know...” He didn’t use air quotes, but they were implied in his tone. “Y’all... You guys know we’re all like family around here. We’re close. I’m here to look out for ya. I’ll talk with Billiford about it. We’ll take care of this.”

“Yeah, I talked to Billium before he left, but I couldn’t say too much cause he just kept walking by.” Plum said. “He said he was going to talk to you so..”

“Yeah, I’ll remind him. I’ll make sure to remind him. Man... maaan I really wish y’all had told me earlier.”

“We don’t want you killing a man.” Bug said with a laugh.

“I’d bail you out.” Suki said immediately.

“I think we all would.” Timothy replied, taking a pull from his “addiction stick” as he referred to it.

They chatted for a bit longer before they all walked out. The parking lot was desolate and Suki felt themselves breathe a little easier. Their manager walked the three of them to their car and watched as they got in. They then began to make their way home, keeping an eye out for white cars.

The Hanged Man, See No Evil.

#vent #stalking tw #identity crisis tw

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