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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 15 - Noncon

Ghost x Reader - 4.6k (on ao3)

summary: You find yourself cornered in a Maze of Mirrors. (Reader POV)

cw: noncon everything, face fucking, pussy slapping, degradation, kinda a wedgie? like a front wedgie? is that a thing?, orgasm denial

note: if you like this (or hate it but like the concept) read Halloween Haunt by Harley Laroux <3 her erotica is top tier

You’ve always loved Halloween - always been the kid with the scariest costume in class, always had the house decorated with uncomfortably realistic decorations. When your sorority sisters dressed up as black cats and sexy witches, you spent hours painting the most realistic zombie makeup you could. (Your sisters complained for months that you ruined the pictures, but the frat boys had all thought your makeup was far more interesting than theirs. God, you do not miss college.)

Regardless, you’ve always been known to love any and everything scary. There’s something about the thrill of a scare - the creeping horror as you start to realize what’s coming, the ultimate reveal - that always gets you a little squirmy in your seat. Your first crush was Skeet Ulrich in Scream - specifically the scene where he’s covered in blood, licking his fingers.

You get all those ooey-gooey good scared feelings as your friend drags you through the decently crowded fairgrounds. The actual fair - the one that comes yearly, that no one ever calls anything but the fair - had left only two weeks ago, so this travelling fair had set things up in mostly the same arrangement and, you suspect, to trick certain people into thinking they were the same company.

You’ve already forgotten what your friend said the event was called. She hadn’t needed to give many details to convince you - you heard travelling circus, horror themed, interactive workers, and you were in. The branding isn’t very strong anyways, the only place the name was displayed was the entrance booth, and none of the workers seem to wear any sort of logo, so you don’t feel too forgetful for letting it slip your memory so easily.

You’re not very impressed with the fear factor so far. You hadn’t done too much makeup (hadn’t wanted to risk being mistaken for a cast member) but since it’s the night before Halloween you’ve got a half-done costume on - a clown. Just some white face paint, black lips, and overdrawn triangles around the eyes, a little smudged to make it look like you’ve been chasing someone down and working up a sweat. Your hoodie and tennis skirt look a bit out of place, but you’d wanted to be comfortable since you hoped you’d be spending your night running from actors.

But even a face full of makeup feels like it might’ve been too much effort for this place. Most of the costumes look like they’re from Party City at best - some of them even look very lazily hand-made - and none of the workers seem particularly interested in scaring people. Still, the crowd is easily amused and even a wave or a feint towards a customer has shrieks ringing in the air every few minutes.

You sigh a little disapointedly as you and your friend linger on the edge of the fairgrounds, off to the side and in the dark so you don’t have to deal with the crowd. She pulls out a cigarette and offers you her light.

“I’m sorry,” she says, lighting the stick between your teeth when you lean forward. “I really thought it would be scarier than this. Some of the posters…” she exagetates a shiver. “I thought they’d at least have better costumes.”

You eye a man in a werewolf mask across the pathway, pissing into the dirt. He’s got a flannel and jeans on, and the mask is a little bit crumpled like he pulled it out of a Walmart bin this morning. You’d bet money the flannel was just a happy coincidence he noticed when he showed up for work.

“Yeah,” you sigh, blowing out a lungful of smoke and watching the actor try not to get his dick stuck in his zipper. “Not really your fault, though, these things always look scarier in the ads. Wanna get out of here soon?”

You pass the cigarette to her. “In a bit,” she replies. “I want to try and find some food first. You hungry?”

You shake your head with a grunt. “I wouldn’t trust anything cooked here, honestly. Might just pick up something on the way back.”

She passes you the cigarette for one last breath. “Well I’m too hungry for that. You good on your own for a bit?”

You crouch down a moment to stub out the cigarette, leaving the butt in the gravel. “Yeah, sure. Might see if these fun houses have anything worth seeing in them.”

“You should!” She smiles over her shoulder at you as she starts off to a more well-lit section of the fair. “You never know, maybe they stick the real scares in there!”

You give her a final wave and shout, “Here’s hoping!” at her back as she leaves.

You linger outside for a little longer, scanning the few structures nearby to decide which one you want to waste a few tickets on.

There’s a Freak Show, but you already know you’d be horribly disappointed if you went in there, something labeled a “House of Horrors” that you’re sure is as much a scam as the freak show, and a few games that have cheap prizes lined up above them.

Across from you, with no lights around it and just one attendant - slumped over, hopefully sleeping - at the front, is a House of Mirrors. Figuring it’s the least likely to be a waste of time (and knowing the kid won’t wake up to charge you), you head over to the building.

The closer you get the more you worry about if he’s asleep or dead, but his snores rattle the little tickets resting on his desk so you figure he’s just a slacker. It’s almost too easy to get by him with all your tickets safe in your pocket. There’s no one else around the darkened corner of the fairgrounds, but you’re quite sure no one would bother snitching on you this late at night. All the parents with little kids left hours ago, leaving mostly teenagers and adults of varying ages left to wander the park.

There’s music playing from speakers that you can’t see, an old clown-themed song that sounds like it’s playing on a scratched up DVD. You’re pleasantly surprised as you make your way through the dusty lobby and into the main section of the building, creatively labeled MAZE OF MIRRORS.

Their branding could definitely use some work, but you’ll give them points for ambience - the lights are turned so low that it’s nearly too dark to see, making all of the mirrors even more difficult to spot. You find yourself a little spooked as you start to make your way through the maze, grinning to yourself.

It’s a shockingly difficult maze, you quickly discover. The music is so loud in some spots that you can hardly hear your thoughts, and so faint in others that you think it might be turned off. The maze itself is a series of either tight, tiny hallways or large open rooms. Whoever designed it clearly knew how to take advantage of the space they were given, the maze feels ten times bigger than it looked on the outside as you wander through.

You know the trick to mazes - keep one hand on the right wall and eventually you’ll find your way out - but it’s fun to just wander around the place, so you let yourself get stuck wandering in circles. You’re glad your friend isn’t here to see how many times you manage to walk into a mirror fully confident that it’s not there, only to whack yourself in the face. For how low maintenance the rest of the fair is, you’re surprised that the hall of mirrors is what they focus their upkeep on.

You’ve been in the maze for about five minutes when you see him.

He scares the shit out of you at first. You spot him behind you in a mirror - one you’d just walked into, which is the only reason you can see well enough to notice him - standing at the entrance to the hallway you’d turned down. He’s clad in all black, except for the skull mask over his face. You think he’s just something taped onto the wall with the way that he blends in, but then that mask titls to the side and you’re struck with the bone-deep knowledge that you’re being watched.

“Shit!” You shout when it first registers that he’s not a piece of paper, one hand coming up to clasp at your erratically beating heart while the other steadies you against the mirror. He doesn’t move past tilting his head a bit further, and after a moment you relax.

You don’t turn around, but you study him a bit in the mirror. It’s too dark to see much more than the outline of his body, but he’s big. He looks like he’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans with the mask, and he must be wearing gloves to cover his hands since you can’t see them.

You huff out a laugh as you let both of your hands fall to your sides.

“You got me good,” you call, glancing over your shoulder. You almost jump again - he’s closer than you’d realized, but too far away for you to touch. “I didn’t even see you follow me in here.”

He doens’t say anything. You turn around more fully, leaning back against the mirror and crossing your arms across your chest.

“You gonna start chasin’ me now?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow. You’re playing up the sass, but it’s always fun to mess with theme park employees.

The man takes a few steps forward, heavy boots thudding against the cheap wood flooring. He really is an intimidating bastard, far scarier than any of the other actors you’d seen so far.

“Well?” You call out, standing up from your spot. “Do I get a head start?”

Still no answer. He rolls his head on his neck, then steps to the side and walks into one of the connecting hallways without sparing you a glance. When you step closer to see which direction he’s chosen, he’s already gone.

You huff another laugh to yourself, shaking out your limbs and bouncing a few times on your toes.

Now that you know there’s someone in here with you, the thrill of a scare is starting to get you worked up. You hope they don’t have any rules against physical contact between actors and customers, just imagining the skeleton man tackling you has shivers running up your spine.

You don’t bother to be any quieter as you keep wandering through the maze. You bump into just as many mirrors, continue to question the speaker placement, and keep an eye out for any skeleton masks lingering behind you.

You see him a few more times, always behind you, always just out of reach. He gets progressively closer everytime you spot him. You're reminded of the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who - every time you look away, he gets closer.

It’s fun. More fun than you’ve had all night.

He finally catches up to you what you guess is about half an hour later. Youre just turning another corner, thinking about how it’s been a bit since you’ve seen your shadow, when a hand plants itself firmly between your shoulder blades and shoves.

You’re sent to the ground with a cry, palms scraping against the floor. There’s a gloved hand collaring your throat before you can think to do much more than catch your breath, hauling you up and holding you in the air.

Your eyes fly to the mirror less than a foot away, staring wide-eyed at the image reflected.

There’s you, in your messy clown makeup and hoodie, being held up by a giant swath of black behind you. He’s not ducking down at all, his feet planted on either side of your splayed legs as he towers above you. The way you’re being held up, your head doesn’t even reach his belt buckle. The contrast of your shock and discomfort to his plastic mask has your thighs clenching, just a bit.

He doesn’t duck lower, just tilts his head in that now-familiar way of his and pulls you a little further up. His hand is absolutely massive, thumb resting beneath one ear and his fingers resting below the other. You choke a bit as you’re lifted, knees scrambling beneath you.

This close to the mirror you can see his eyes - bright blue, surrounded by black paint, and staring back into yours.

He lowers his head, his free hand tugging your hair until you lean back and look straight up. The hand on your neck shifts to hold you in that position, his other hand lifting to pull the black part of his mask up.

He’s white, with thin lips and a broad jaw. You pant as you stare up at him, incapable of processing what’s going on.

His jaw works for a moment, lips twitching, and before you realize what he’s about to do you feel something wet splatter against your cheek.

He spit on you. Who the fuck does that? Being tackled and manhandled is one thing but spitting? You recoil reflixivley, lips curling as you reach up to try and wipe disgusting liquid off.

“What the fuck-” You start, but before you can even finish your sentence you’re yanked forward by your neck.

You yelp as you’re thrown from between his thighs, hips twisted awkwardly and head slamming back against the mirror. You cry out at the sharp pain at the back of your skull, but before you can think of doing anything there’s a hand around your neck again, a body crouched in front of you - over you - keeping you from doing anything.

You gape up at the actor, panting and surprised. None of the other employees even got close to touching customers - half of them didn’t even look like they wanted to be there - what the hell is this guy’s problem? Does he just take his job way too seriously

He’s far too close to you now, your nose nearly brushing where his shoulder be, his boots on either side of your thighs, his chest pressed so close that you can’t do anything with your hands.

The hand not around your neck comes up to your cheeks, grabbing them both in one hand and pinching until your lips pucker up. You squirm, letting out a noise of surprise and pain when his thumb and pointer finger dig in between your teeth to force your mouth open. One eye squeezes shut at the ache, but there’s nowhere for you to go with him caging you in.

This time when he spits, it lands right in the little hole he’s made for himself. With how close he is, you see the way his lips twitch up in the corners.

You try your best to get out from under him, hands pushing at his shoulders and legs desperately kicking. But he’s like a statute above you, hard as stone and immoveable.

He leans so close that his lips nearly brush yours, meeting your glare with a spark of amusement.

“Like how it tastes?” He purrs, chest rumbling against yours.

You make a noise somewhere between offended and annoyed, trying to throw yourself every which way for even an inch of freedom. All you manage is a tighter grip on your jaw and neck, leaving you wincing.

“Lots more where that came from,” he promises.

It’s insultingly easy for him to manhandle you, and you curse all the times you swore to yourself you’d finally start taking self-defense classes. You can barely manage a single blow, and when your hands or feet do make contact he doesn’t even flinch.

There’s absolutely nothing you can do as you’re wrestled to the floor. He gets you flat on your back then kneels over your head, his knees so close that you worry he’ll squeeze them together and pop your head like a berry.

He doesn’t give you a chance to sit up, planting one heavy hand in the center of your chest and leaning his weight forward, knocking the air out of you. You finally regain the ability to speak when his other hand moves to his belt, undoing it right above your face.

“What are you-? No, no, get the hell off me!” You shout, desperately pushing at his arm and trying to get enough leverage with your feet to squirm away. “Don’t you fucking dare- help! Somebody help!”

Your screams go ignored, blending right in with that stupid clown music and bouncing off the mirrors just to come straight back to your ears. Your noise doesn’t deter him at all, and he’s got his belt off and jeans yanked down despite your resistance.

“No, no, no, don’t- stop, please, you can’t-” you gasp, eyes flying wide as you find yourself staring up at his cock above you.

He doesn’t give you any warning, just grabs your jaw, holds it open, and sheathes himself down your throat.

Your limbs spasm, every instinct in your body screamin to get away as he slips right past your gag reflex. You’re terrified that you’ll vomit and choke on his cock, the fear dousing you in icy cold and leaving you limp for a minute. All you can think about is breathing around the intrusion in your throat, finding some way not to suffocate and die on a sticky mirror maze floor.

“Finally,” you hear him grunt from above you. He grabs both of your wrists, easily ignoring your weak pulls and tying them together with his belt. “Somethin’ to shut you up.”

You try and make a sound around his cock, yanking your hands away and panicking even more when you feel how firmly tied they are. You make another sound, insitively trying to cry out even with something stuffed in your mouth.

He moans above you, lowering himself to his elbows over your body. “Yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Mouth feel’s fuckin’ heavenly.”

You go silent, determined not to give this piece of shit anything he wants. Tears pour down your temples and across the tops of your ears, and your throat burns.

His hips move slowly against your face, grinding himself as deep as he can get before pulling out just a few inches and sliding back in. He’s got an unfairly large cock, and there’s already an ache developing in your jaw from just seconds held so wide open.

His foreskin catches on your teeth when he pulls the whole way out just to fuck back in, and you’re sharply reminded of the fact that you have teeth.

When his cock bottoms out, his balls resting against your eyes, you bite down, praying it’s enough to break skin.

It’s not. Instead of blood pouring into your mouth and a screaming man falling off of you, you hear the man snarl, pulling his dick out entirely and slamming it back down your throat so harshly that it feels almost like he’s punched you in the face.

“No fucking teeth,” he snaps above you, and you feel his weight shift back onto his knees, then his hands grab at your thighs and throw them open. He flips your skirt up and before you can think to bite down again lands a stinging slap against the gusset of your underwear.

You nearly scream around his cock, hips snapping closed to try and smother the pain. He only growls another sound, using one hand to hold you open and the other to rain down a series of progressively harder smacks.

Your breath hitches as you sob, hardly able to get any air in around his thrusts as he starts them back up again. Every time he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, he lands another hit to your poor pussy. You can’t help but wail around him.

“There it is,” he moans, the sound loud and unrestrained. “God you feel good screamin’ around my cock. Good fuckin’ hole, huh?”

He punctuates the last four words with slaps, leaving his length inside your throat and going back to that horrible grinding against your face. You go silent again, using all of your willpower to keep from screaming. What little thought is left in your head is used to figure out how best to breathe through your nose without choking on snot.

He doesn’t smack you again, but you feel his fingers trace around the edges of your panties. Your hips wiggle against your will, just trying to get away from the violation. One of your legs is pinned to the floor by the thigh, but the other oscillates between going limp and trying to get leverage and force your body up.

His fingers hook around the gusset of your underwear, but before you can even worry about him touching you there, he pulls them up towards your body.

He does it with such force that you’re left squealing, hips flying off the ground to try and lessen the pressure against your clit. His hand pulls so far up that you feel it resting nearly at your belly button. You can’t help the little gasping, gagging noises as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth again.

You hear - you feel - him laugh, swaying his hand from left to right. Your hips try to follow naturally, just desperate to alleviate any of the pressure you can.

“Like a little puppet,” he murmurs, yanking even further up, moaning when you scream.

He lets them go only a few thrusts later, big hand smoothing the fabric down over your cunt. You can feel that it’s stretched out, a little looser around the meat of your pussy, and the thought only makes you cry harder.

But you go silent again. It’s the one thing left in your control - even pinned to the floor, hands tied, legs useless, mouth stuff, you can decide how much noise you make.

He doesn’t like that. He groans a little when you go quiet again, tapping your thigh sharply.

“No, come on, make your little noises again. Feels real nice on my cock.”

This time you’re ready for the smack against your vulva, and you remain silent. You stay silent for the next three too.

His hips work with a little more force again, balls smacking against your face and leaving you to squeeze your eyes shut. After the next slap his hand doesn’t lift again, just rubs over your vulva slowly.

It’s pure luck on his part that he happens to rub over your clit. It’s a pure lack of luck on your part that you moan at the sudden and unexpected pleasure, completely taken off guard.

He stills above you, then slowly repeats the movement. You’re helpless to the little whimpers coming from your throat, and you curse the fact that you’ve always been loud during sex. He zeros in on exactly how to rub your clit unreasonably quickly, fingers sure through the fabric of your underwear.

“That what you need?” He rumbles a laugh above you. “Pain won’t make you noisy, but pleasure will? I can work with that.”

Before you can even begin to question what that means, your underwear are tucked to the side, and there’s a face buried in your pussy.

He doesn’t bother taking any time to explore or try and learn your body, just dives tongue-first to your clit. His technique of lick first, figure out what feels good later unfortunately works on you, and you’re left writhing beneath him, eyes rolled back in pleasure and moans muffled.

He groans agaisnt you, too, lips vibrating against your clit in a horrible and delicious way. “There you go.” You can barely hear him over the sounds of your own choking, especially with his own voice muffled in your folds. “That feels good, keep going.”

You don’t want to, but the magic he works against your clit leaves you no choice. You can’t help the hitched cries spilling from your lips, even if they make you cry all that much harder as you hear them.

He doesn’t take much longer to come, and you’re torn between resenting the fact that it’s your sounds that get him off and being glad that he does so he can get off of you.

He comes with a loud groan, sent right into your cunt and dragging you far too close to an edge you do not want to see, and sends thick ropes right down your throat. It’s almost a kindness that you can’t taste him, only have to swallow as quickly as possible so you don’t choke. The movements of your throat only draw out his orgasm though, and you’re locked in a terrible cycle for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t get you off. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or not.

You gasp when he finally pulls out of your throat, taking uninhibited breaths for the first time in far too many minutes. You can’t shut your jaw from the pain, but you also can’t kick your legs when he kneels up more fully.

He’s silent as he takes back his belt, and no matter how much you beg your arms to move, they remain still on your stomach. He shifts off of you, and you whine wordlessly when he grabs a handful of your hair, wiping his flaccid cock off in it.

Still, you don’t move.

He stands and redoes his belt silently, the jingle loud even with the clown music still playing. You stare up at him, and he holds eye contact with you. For some reason, you can’t look away.

He crouches down again before he leaves, and you can’t help but flinch away. He doesn’t touch you sexually again, though, only reaches out and pushes your jaw closed with two firm fingers.

You hate that he still has the mask pulled up, because it means you can see his smirk.

“That was fun. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

He’s gone before you manage to understand what he’s said, and the tears start all over again when you do.

—

It takes you a while to scrape yourself off of the floor. You only catch sight of yourself in one mirror before you stare at the ground.

Your makeup is ruined, teartracks running down your temples and both cheeks. There are smudges along your jaw where his hands grabbed. Your lips are swollen and red. It could not be more obvious what’s just happened to you.

You plant one hand on the wall to your right, and keep your eyes firmly planted on your sneakers as you leave the maze. You feel almost detached from yourself, unable to truly understand what happened, what it means.

The throbbing between your thighs is distracting. You worry you might chafe from how soaked your panties are.

It doesn’t take long to find your friend once you finally make it out. She takes one look at you and laughs, teases you about having fun without her. You can’t bring yourself to correct her, and she picks up on your tone quickly, dropping the subject.

The two of you walk silently to your car. You hate it, but you can’t help but scan every actor. Thankfully - or maybe not thankfully? You don’t know anymore - none of them are even close to as big as the masked man in the hall of mirrors was.

You tuck your hands beneath your armpits as you finally make it to the parking lot, walking as quickly as you can get away with without running. Your limbs go a little looser as you get to your car, mind relaxing as it recognizes how close you are to safety.

You freeze when you finally make it to the driver’s side door, lungs going still and heart beating so quickly you worry it’ll pound right out of your chest.

There, sitting in the driver’s seat, is a skeleton mask sewed onto a balaclava.

#this is not very edited but i am BEHIND #this was originally gonna have like two more scenes but then it started to annoy me #i am coming to you again to confess: i did not read through this #ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #kinktober #kinktober day 15 #bo writes #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kinktober 2023

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andvys · 1 year ago

Note

What are some Eddie head canons you can tell us about him in this story? 💗 Or basically of how he was before being introduced

Anything really ♡

Eddie always had his eyes on reader and had a crush on her from the start. He always judged her relationship with Steve though. He didn't hate Steve but he disliked King!Steve. He saw the way he looked at other girls and the way he treated reader sometimes. In his eyes, she always deserved better.

Eddie always had a little sketching book with him and would take it to every class, he'd mostly draw DnD related stuff, things for his campaign etc.

He loves writing (storylines for his campaign and songtexts). He also created a DnD character, which was basically reader.

He loves horror movies. Can't decide on which one is his favorite because he loves too many.

He had never been on any dates and he didn't wish to go on any, (deep down he did). He knew how everyone always felt about him, he didn't care to ask out any girls, besides, there was never one he was interested in, except for one (that he thought he could never have *cough* reader *cough*)

He was never a fan of prom and couldn't care less about it. (He still showed up for reader)

He always admired reader, every chance he got, he'd watch her

Reader once slipped him a note when he drew a picture she fell in love with, telling him how much she loves it. He ripped the page off and gave it to her. She still has the drawing and he still has that note.

Eddie is not the most talented cook but he can make a few simple meals. He makes the best sandwiches.

Eddie may be chaotic and his room is always a mess, but it's still clean and it smells good. He always tries to cover up the smell of cigarettes and weed with a room spray that smells like vanilla (lol)

He has a sweet tooth. He loves anything sweet.

Secretly loves a few slow sad songs.

He would tease Steve in their shared classes and would piss him off (on purpose), especially after seeing reader upset.

His hair is very special to him (him and Steve do have things in common)

He is very insecure but doesn't really show it, he always has his walls up in front of everyone, mostly everyone.

The first time he hung out with reader was after a party at Steve's place (when they were still dating). She bumped into him after a fight with Steve, Eddie offered her a shoulder to cry on, then a drink and then a few more and they ended up spending the whole night together, sharing stories and laughing with each other. He was nervous and blushy but it was one of his best nights.

Weeks later him and reader became friends after Steve broke up with her. At that time, he didn't know how much she would change his life or how much he'd change her life and how deep their bond would be.

#andy’s asks #IKYLLATK #eddie munson headcanons

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kenny-the-ken · 2 years ago

Note

can you do a fic where kenny steals himself a hot goth gf from the sp goth kids?:) BUT she’s a dominatrix

Dark Seductress

ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS!!! Warnings!!! nsfw content, dirty talk

Kenny was besotted with you, he had been for about a year, it was more than a crush at this point, in fact, all his friends knew about it, and teased him for it. As if a 21 year old would go for someone a year younger than them, but Kenny didn't care, every time you passed him in the hallways of your college he felt his breath catch in his throat.

He had to do something about this, and quick. But you were so out of his league. You didn't seem the type to be attached to an average guy, not to mention that Kenny wasn't exactly rolling in cash either, which only made him even more self conscious. But he needed an answer, god he hoped you'd say yes.

Kenny knew you and your small group of friends sat out the back of the college, smoking cigarettes and chatting shit about everyone else. You were a goth, normally not Kenny's type, but by god were you perfect.

Long, black hair that cascaded down your back, and today he couldn't help but let his mind wander, you were wearing a leather corset top, that had straps a over your breasts in the shape of a pentagram, that connected round your throat, a black, pleated skirt, with chains and leather straps that hung in long loops from its waistband, fishnet stocking that were held up on your leg by a garter you wore under your shirt skirt, and a large pair of black platform boots, with straps and buckles across them.

Kenny swore you dressed like this on purpose, just for him to see, and when he saw your friends getting up to head to their classes, he watched on, seeing you stay seated on the step you were on, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

This was his chance! And by god he was going to take it! Kenny made his way over to you, trying his best to channel his typical confident swagger. And he approached you, stopping in front of you.

"Mind if I sit here?" Kenny questioned, and you held out your hand to where the others previously sat, indicating that he could indeed sit with you.

There was a small silence, as you opened up your cigarette box, plucking one from it before holding it out to Kenny, offering one to him.

"Thanks." Kenny shot you a gappy smile, taking one from the box and pulling a lighter from his pocket, both of you now smoking together in silence.

"What's your name?" You asked, turning slightly so you could see him better, cocking a brow, as he pulled down his orange parka hood, his messy blonde locks escaping from their prison.

"I'm Kenny. Kenny McCormick. And you are?" He asked, not that he didn't already know, but he didn't want to come across like a creep.

"I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you, Kenny. I'm surprised you spoke to me, most people think we're scary." You teased, a laugh emanating from both of you.

"You're not scary at all, just really fuckin' hot." Kenny spoke, taking a drag of his cigarette, and you did the same, exhaling the smoke as you spoke.

"That's good to know, personally I think you're a little cutie. I bet you'd look perfect tied up beneath me." You pushed further, and Kenny's cheeks shone red, almost lost for words.

"So you like to be dominant then?" Kenny questioned his eyebrow quirked in interest. Personally, till this point he'd never really thought of a woman dominating him, liking to be the dominant partner himself, but he reckons it would be pretty hot to be completely under your spell, I mean let's face it, he already was.

"I mean, I like to switch, I like to be submissive too, but I also like being the dominant party too." You replied, stubbing your cigarette out on the floor beside you. And Kenny had a smirk on his face, sitting now on the step beside you, his hand on your thigh as he took one last drag of his cigarette, flicking the butt away, blowing the smoke from his mouth, and leaning closer to you ear.

"I mean, I'd let you have your way with me anytime. All you gotta do is ask." Kenny whispered, and you smirked back at him, surprised slightly by his confidence, but wanting to see how submissive he really could be.

You shifted your body ever so closer to him, your own hand moving to grip his thigh, dangerously close to his groin, and delivering a hard squeeze to it, making Kenny gasp ever so slightly.

"Then how about you come over tonight and you can show me what you're made of." You teased, Kenny's cheeks flushed as he nodded quickly, eyes wide and focused on you.

"I'd fuckin' love that." Kenny breathed out, his cock already starting to swell in his jeans, you could feel the fabric tightening, your hand still on his thigh, and you leaned closer to him, scoffing slightly.

"Aw look, you getting hard for me already, hm? So responsive." You teased further, as Kenny's teeth caught his bottom lip, and he was sure he was going to draw blood he bit down that hard.

"I'll send you my address. See you tonight, pretty boy." You spoke before standing, knowing from where Kenny was sitting he had a perfect view up your skirt, and by god was he glad he looked, you wore lace red panties, and he swore he came in his pants just looking at you.

You turned on your heel and walked away from him, glancing back to send him a quick wink, what had he gotten himself into? And why was he the most excited he'd ever been about a sexual encounter in his life?

Let me know if y'all want a part 2, cause I am so down for that 🫢

#kenny mccormick #kenny south park #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick smut #stan marsh #eric cartman #kyle south park #kyle brovlofski #stan south park #south park #south park kenny #south park x reader #south park x y/n #sp kenny #kenny sp #south park fanfiction #fanfic #south park boys

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opalcicle · 1 month ago

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uneditied WIP: class reunion

ty @lapse0freason for the inspiration 💜

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader m/f

Also just like, one day my reader pic will be not a girl but I'd have to come to terms with some dysphoria

Tw: a little bit of blood

I'm not particularly looking forward to the class reunion but I did want to check out the old highschool. It's been years since I've been back in that building and I want to revisit the places id made so many memories in. Curiosity makes my mind wander over old classrooms, the library, the secret places i'd snuck off to, the rooms most kids never saw.

I was a little bit of everything in highschool. I went to Bible studies on Friday evenings and watched teenagers snorting lines in adult mens living rooms on Saturday nights. I tried debate club, French classes, photography, the student council, band, advanced English and Biology. I worked, first at our local theater, then at a big chain grocery store, and then an office clothing store in our empty mall. I drank in first period chemistry class, out of a coffee cup, and tried cigarettes in the roof of some guys garage. I carried the tendancy to change trajectory well into my adult hood. I also held on to the nicotine addiction. With a handful of strange careers on my resume and a million crafty hobbies, I've only really started to know who I am.

I think maybe that's a big part of the reason I don't care to see my old friends. I was barely a person back then all most of those years were tainted by a deep longing to be someone. I'm a person now, I think. Therapy has helped with that. Most classmates either stayed in town and never changed or escaped this little city and really grew.

I'm stuck in between. I made it out more than once, but this black hole of a prarie town finds a way to suck you back to it when you're at your lowest. I've had a a few two many moments of being at my lowest.

I'm still going to go, purple hair, lip ring, tatoos, and all. I'm sure I'll get recognized, because while a little older, my face is the same. I've gained a little weight, I'm single, and I don't really have anything to show for myself. But I don't care? Like, how do I explain. Hmm. I used to care with every inch of my soul what these people thought of me and it was obvious. I give off an unsettling vibe that I can't describe, but that's just kind of who I am. It's the autism, I know it is, but it's fun to romanticize myself as a mysterious, unknowable main character.

I just don't think I'll have any reaction to anyone at the reunion. I just kind of want to see what happens, you know? There's a spark of cruelty in my heart that wants to see the people who never changed, never grew. I want to see them judging me and have the ability to just not care.

Little black dress, sheer black tights, knee high boots, and a jacket that makes it all look a little more professional. I debate over some of my stranger accessories, but there's no need to draw extra attention. Loud purple hair handles that in its own.

So hours later, when I'm standing alone near the punch bowl I really only have myself to blame. Friends and people I partied with said hi. I'd chatted with a few handfuls of people I used to know.

There was a commotion nearby as a group of men met up together. They were recognizable but hard to place. Zach, Nate, Eric and-

"Charlie!" one of the group yells out as the last approaches.

Him I recognize. He's different now, no glasses, nicer hair, and incredible clothes. Thankfully the group of them are too busy to notice me checking him out. I don't really make out what they say, but Charlie is shushing them and glancing nervously over his shoulder.

Charlie used to be the biggest nerd. Swim team, band practice, drama club, and always going on about D&D. Suddenly I'm wishing I took him up on his offer to join a campaign back in the day. He'd asked me out once when my interests had overlapped with his, but I was dating a musician- some guy who was way too old for me. John? Was that one of the John's I'd dated? Probably. Since then I'd played a bit, but adult life really sweeps you away if you let it.

A group of girls I sometimes sat with at lunch approaches me with hugs and questions and my attention wanders away from the boy I used to know. I listen to them talk about their lives and families. Talk of careers, kids, and family vacations fill the air with chatter.

When one of the girls asks about me I answer, "Freelance writing, nothing exciting," and then talk about some blogs I've written for. It's not a lie, and I'm not really interested in letting old classmates know that the awkward kid they went to school with is the anonymous writer of last year's most popular spicy, fantasy romance novel. I wrote under a pseudonym for a reason.

Eventually I'm given a good moment to sneak away and wander out into the halls. Several of the hallways are closed off but as I make my way through the courtyard I see I'm not the only one with the idea to sneak away. A long-over couple reliving their glory years, kissing at the old metal picnic table, and some men who never really grew up trying to break into a teacher's classroom are easy to slip past. When I slip down a side hall and find my secret entrance to the library, I think I'm safe. As a naturally nosey kid, I'd found all of the strange rooms and extra hallways in this prison of a building. I smile to myself, it was always fun to tell people that the highschool I'd attended has been built decades ago by a man well known for designing prisons.

The layout is different, but not by much. It's dark, the library only half-lit after hours. I reminisce about the times sneaking in here to be alone after a club meeting, making my way out the exit that didn't set off fire alarms. My favorite seating place has new couches but they're arranged the same as before. I settle into my favorite spot and put my feet up on the low work table. Eyes closed, remembering all the books I'd finished in this exact spot, I'm startled when I hear him speak.

"Hi?" The voice asks quietly and I jump to my feet, spinning to defend myself to whatever staff caretaker had found me here.

"I'm sorry I-," my breath catches when I see it's not a staff member. It's Charlie.

"It's okay," he holds up his hands like he's going to calm me down, "I didn't know anyone else knew how to get in here,"

"Yeah," I stand there awkwardly, unsure if I should try to leave, "I used to hang out here in the evenings,"

He moves around the loveseat and takes the spot next to me, "I came here early morning, before practice,"

I smile nervously, settling back into my seat and trying to get comfy again. He fidgets with his fingers and brushes a hand back through messy hair. As he does I remember his side part, how he used to spend so much time tucking it into the right spot. I can't help but laugh.

"Everyone's older but exactly the same," I murmur.

He looks at me, uncertain, but responds, "Yeah. Yeah, it feels like being teenagers again,"

"So what have you been up to, Charlie?" I lean my head back into the couch again, "Still playing D&D?"

"Oh! Uh yeah, lots now actually," I can practically feel him perk up beside me, "There's a few campaigns in the go, I ran a vampire one a little while ago that was great,"

"The Masquerade?" I peak an eye open at him, "That's what my groups playing right now,"

"Damn, who's the lucky guy who convinced you to play?" The world's leave his mouth and I can feel his nerves in the air.

I chuckle again, "No guy, just some friends I used to work with. My main gm, she's great, loves vampire, but I've never done a traditional fantasy campaign."

"What's the story about?" He asks.

"We're a bunch of vampires living in a small town in British Columbia. We're only a couple of sessions in. I'm playing a musician- daughter of cacophony,"

Charlie and I take turns asking eachother questions about campaigns and the time passes easily. When I realize how late it's getting I stand, "There's another room that I want to see if I can get into, wanna come?"

"Sure!" Charlie stands with me, "What room?"

"You used to be able to get into the science lab through the room next to it. They share a closet." I grin, feeling pride in my knowledge of secret passage ways.

We sneak up the stares and around a barrier placed in the hall; the same kind they used to keep kids from sneaking around at school dances. There was no chaperone blocking the way this time and it was easy to get around.

I pull Charlie around stored science equipment and through the closet into the lab. He takes a seat at one of the tables and I walk through the rows, running fingertips over familiar cracks in the surface that had only deepened in the last decade.

"You know, I'm surprised you remembered me," he says eventually as I peer at the beakers and bottles on the side counter.

"Oh?" I turn back to look at him in the dark.

"Yeah I mean, we didn't really spend that much time together," he grabs into his sentence quickly, like he's covering for a real reason.

I take a seat at the table in front of his, turning a chair around to face him, "Hoping I forgot you asked me out?" When he starts to stammer I laugh again. "Sorry, just teasing you. You were cute, how could I forget?" My confidence is surprising, but I hold a steady grin.

"Uh, thanks!" He blurts out, hand fidgeting with his hair again.

"I probably didn't tell you back then, but I was dating some guy who was way too old to be with a teenager. Definately my loss that I turned you down," I reach across the table and touch his hand.

He doesn't meet my eye, just watches the place our fingers are touching. He doesn't pull away either.

I'm the one to break the moment, turning my head to the far wall, "Hey were you in the class when that kid set the lab on fire?"

"Oh my god, yeah! You too, right?" He stands up, goofy grin in his face, and walks over to the outlet.

I follow, "I wonder if they ever painted over the scorch marks," I shine my phone' flashlight at the wall. We both look closely, bodies brushing against eachother, until I look up at the bottom of the cabinets. "They missed a spot,"

Charlie turns to duck his head and peer up at the scorched wood. The wonder on his face is shiftry replaced with pain as he moves to stand back up and cracks his head into the cupboard.

"Shit!" He leans back on the counter, and flying up to his forehead.

"Oh fuck," concearn sweeps over me and I step up to him. "Close your eyes," I direct as I shine the light on his face. I pull his hand away and lift his hair. There's a small gash and a trickle of blood running down his forehead.

"Is it bad?" He asks.

"Here, hold your hair up, lean back," I direct, turning my body and light away to look for a first aid kit. "You're bleeding a little, it doesn't look deep," I quickly find a bandage and disenfectant wipe, returning to Charlie with the light.

"Hey!" He protests as my flashlight shines in he eyes.

"Sorry, don't move," I mutter, moving his hand to hold his hair back. One hand holding up my flashlight, I carefully clean the blood and apply the bandaid to his face. I turn off the light, and after the little crises is felt with, we're left standing in the dark, face to face.

After a charged moment standing in front of eachother Charlie breaks the silence, "Will I live, doc?"

"No, surely you'll pass in the night. Best to get your affairs in order," I play along with the bit.

"Well if it's my last night alive-" his words trail off and in the dark I feel his hand find the side of my face. My thoughts freeze at his gentle touch and after a moment I lean forward. His lips meet mine and we kiss. It's soft, tender, and my chest feels warm. Our faces break contact but neither of us move away. Charlie kisses me again, this time pressing harder, pulling my body millimeters closer. My arms make their way around his shoulders as our noses brush. Our lips meet for a third time and the desire between us becomes apparent. His hands find my lower back and my torso presses against him. Charlie surpresses a moan when I suck on his bottom lip.

While we catch our breath he speaks, keeping his voice low, "Wanna get out of here?"

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chrysothronos · 2 months ago

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november fic round up

had a busy november! all the fics that got updated and posted:

The Jacket Exchange: A Dallas Winston/Ponyboy Curtis Ship Manifesto — updated this, and addressed the musical. [chapter eight] exodus to eden — At the bottom of Jay Mountain lay the town Jasper. It wasn't a very big town — just enough to have its own zip code, a few neighborhoods within spitting distance of each other, more than one store, two movie theaters, three gas stations, two diners, and a host of various other locations solely meant to cater to the tourists that came through whether they be people entranced with the wildlife on Jay Mountain or wanting to indulge in skiing or other pursuit. [chapter ten here]

abel was no lamb, he was my brother — When Darry had envisioned everything, the day that he brought Ponyboy home, he thought it would be something he would remember for the rest of his life. It was a simple fantasy, the only one he allowed himself in the years as leads went cold, as life wore on, as things went on. [chapter three & four]

rain or shine — There's a fascination to Ponyboy's gaze whenever Dallas does something that he deems very human, whether it be the small signals of Dallas' oncoming ruts or cutting his fingernails or recently, shaving his facial hair until it's more manageable if not gone; those things seem to fascinate him endlessly, tracking whenever they happen with surprise and interest that is more than odd for Dallas.

nocturnal animals — "You keep eating that burger like that and you're gonna choke," Dallas says, leaning back as Ponyboy continues to tear into it, the cigarette behind his ear sticking out. Snow continues to fall in a steady pace through the windows, making shadows on his face. [chapter four]

pathways — The flowers in Ponyboy's hair makes him resemble those hippies that Angela saw on television or saw in magazines, his hair so long that he could almost be mistaken for one of those people — except he has no message about Vietnam, has no words coming out of his mouth talking about a guru and she's starting to believe a snake would look at home with him.

radiant — It was all Ponyboy could do, to give her the little food he had. His mother, who'd been so radiant, so gold was now almost a husk of herself. For once, she didn't turn him down for the offer, eating slowly, quietly in the living room. It had been six long, lonely months in that prison and it showed on every inch of her.

fire in the sky — "Mr. Curtis, please see me after class," Mr. Syme says as he places Ponyboy's quiz down in front of him, face down. Shit, that wasn't good.

Ponyboy feels dread creeping up his spine as Mr. Syme continues to pass back the quizzes to everyone. The looks he's getting from other students vary from amused to concerned — pity, really. Being in an honors class did that and as soon as Mr. Syme gets to the front of the class, Ponyboy peeks at his paper.

A B- stares up at him. [chapter 79 to 81]

summer nights — The music keeps going in the barn, and Dallas keeps tasting like bourbon as Ponyboy keeps on kissing him, keeps on letting Dallas get his hand around Ponyboy's belt.

in the dollhouse — Tulsa, 1967. It's the last spring break before Ponyboy goes to college. He's got more worries than what he thought he'd have, including his relationship with Dallas Winston. All he wants to do is have one last party before he goes to a future he's more than earned.

Too bad that the boardgame he brought to the party is not just a boardgame. It's a matter of life and death, to play against Julian. And it's not just Ponyboy who's a player in this game, but the whole gang, or what's left of it. They just have to survive their own nightmares, one by one and hope they'll all wake up in the morning, the victors.

get busy living, or get busy dying — Six months after Johnny dies, the prodigal son of Tulsa comes back home. Dallas has never exchanged more than two sentences with him. But… Ponyboy seems like a good place to start putting himself back together. [this is currently listed as anon until the wanksgiving 2024 event is over on 12.5.24!]

#dalpony #the outsiders #fic roundups #didn't include collections i updated bc those originate on here anyways

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years ago

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Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there...

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One)

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming. It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good. He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body. He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him. He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away. He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.

And then his alarm goes off.

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock. He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex. Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college? But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off. He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed. He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage. They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things. And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly. The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age. Maybe he should call a doctor. He laughs to himself. Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom. In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes. Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket. Two seconds, it takes. Is that really so hard?

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again. It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more. Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed. His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower. It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in. Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky. He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it. Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him. Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart. He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life. Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down. But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough. He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own. Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand. The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him. He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed. He’s been too pent up lately. Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers). Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time. But those have faded away over the past year or so. Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs. “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite. A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor. Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy. “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says. Maybe it’s not. It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable. His husband is home -- he should be happy. Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch. They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people. “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight. But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent. He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says. “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks. Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table. Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag. “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face. He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though. “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips. “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer. Shouldn’t be more than a week.”

“Ah.”

Sean taps his fingers on the table. Blaine sips from his water bottle. There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.

“Great,” Blaine says. “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him. He feels like they should talk about something. What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out? Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went. Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it. Nothing really feels like a good conversation.

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers. “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk. “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”

Blaine laughs into his water. “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement. “Shame I missed that show. If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug. “I’ve got some errands to run. Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”

“We’ll see,” Sean says. “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight. There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine. It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him. He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo. He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve. He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class. But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.

He finishes off the sandwich without a word. It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat. He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope. “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”

Blaine takes it with interest. He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni. But something from McKinley? That just seems weird. It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion. He has no idea what it could possibly be.

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it. “My old glee club teacher is retiring. He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate. Cute.”

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table. “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying. “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing. That is, unless you’d like me to go.”

Blaine stares hard at the paper. It’s not like he couldn’t go. He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend. In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem. “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says. “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers. Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air. There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while. Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up. The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race. The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes. “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again. Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park. Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip. Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives. She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly. Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much. Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs. Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries. She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news. “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back. The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.

Santana nods. “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct. Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down. With no bra. She had on no bra. I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases. They begin to walk down their usual path. They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues. Blaine arches an eyebrow at her. “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted. Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me. I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her. And play with her tits. I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman. “Or, you know, find out her name.”

Santana looks at him sharply. He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions. “Her name is Liz. I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly. “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you. You’re trailing me by nearly a foot. Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it. He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day. “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.” He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.

She gives him a concerned look. “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits. They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park. “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking. “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning. I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks. They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them. “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated. “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that. She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park. But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing. She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns. “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp. “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy. And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy. He loves his job. He loves his little apartment. He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world. He and Sean are… “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?” He begins to walk again. He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana. But she rolls with it.

“He’s retiring? Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh. “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says. “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail. Who sends invitations through the mail these days? Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks. He’s been back and forth on the idea all day. Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again? Possibly? Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely. Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over. “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations. Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there. Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college. He does remember Funny Girl. “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air. “You keep in touch with everyone, right? Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk. “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .” Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school. At least on a regular basis. For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says. She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce. It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head. “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly. Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says. “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own. He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues. “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds. “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life. She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio. Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina. “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons. What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to. Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut. You know she’s already taken a new lover ? She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies. I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers. Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor. Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again. Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend. He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods. They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children. Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world. “Goddess among women. We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.” Santana laughs at her own comments. “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively. He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away. “No,” she says simply. “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.” A fond smile climbs on her lips. “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back. I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent. And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.” She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects. For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart. Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students. And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation. Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs. “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened. But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt. (God, he remembers all of Kurt.) He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt. There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel. A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction. And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.

And yet he did.

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like. Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now. But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name. Funny how things can change. Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it. The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that. Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise. “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something. But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile. He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there. He hasn’t thought about him so long. But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way. “I think we should do it. Go back. I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head. “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other. Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom. They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping. She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties. They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs. The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night. He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow. But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport. Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him. Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday. He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there. He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same. The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points. Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school. It’s a bit surreal.

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar. Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake. He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket. He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm. He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance. God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you. Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice. Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

#s.o. writes things #head over feet #klaine #klaine fic #it's the older klaine reunion fic!#i'm loving writing this one

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reniscribbles · 3 years ago

Text

Unlikely Friends

Rick x Diane

Rick and Morty

Summary:

SLAM went the screendoor, Rick gagged on his smoke looking immediately to see what caused this disruption. There was a girl.

Why is this pretty blonde girl crying? At a high school party, no less.

So begins this story of how Rick Sanchez and his future wife became unlikely friends. Diane is a gorgeous popular girl, while Rick is lost on his own world. He's not interested in a typical high school lifestyle, but he might after meeting Diane. Diane feels betrayed by her friends especially when a particular picture of her is being passed around, but she is ever grateful for that night with Rick. Senior year definitely will be different for both Rick and Diane.

SIDENOTE: this is chapter 1, chapter 2 is currently in progress. Follow my insta @ReniScribbles for scenes of this fanfic. Photos will also be posted here on my tumblr. Unlikely Friends is also posted on Ao3. Please comment and let me know what you think!

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CHAPTER 1: The Box

The Screendoor slammed behind Rick as he lit his cigarette, muffling the commotion of the party.

The weather was brisk with the new fall air. This was the last weekend before school started. The party was ringing with past summer adventures and memories. Rick took another drag of his cigarette.

The cold air exaggerated his exhale. He began to question why he even came to this party. There was so much more he should be doing. He gazed at the sky, thinking of his latest project. Every equation came up wrong, and he couldn't quite understand what was incorrect. Honestly, being wrong was not something he was use to.

Still trapped in his head staring at the twinkling stars, he took a long drag.

SLAM went the screendoor, Rick gagged on his smoke looking immediately to see what caused this disruption.

There was a girl, her back was turned leaning on the railing on the opposite side of the deck. He could slightly see her face. She began wiping her face, like she had been excessively crying. He couldn't tell if she knew if he was there. He took another inhale, before letting out a breathy, "Are you ok?"

The girl jumped, he watched as her hair blonde curls bounce as she turned quickly to face him. He gave a little chuckle at her reaction, "sorry, I wasnt sure if you knew I was out here." He said stepping out of the shadow he was in.

She had definitely been crying, her eyes were pink and slightly puffy. Rick recognized her from a few of his classes throughout high school.

Maddi? Sally? Nah, Sally was one of the girls she hangs out with. Diane.

Its Diane.

"Diane, right?" He said, offering over his pack of cigarettes. "Smoke?" He asked, everyone in his friends circle smoked, he was use to people bumming cigarettes from each other all day.

She looked at the pack, then back at him.

"Cigarettes are extremely bad for you," she sniffed, wiping a tear from under her eye.

"Geez, you're a real buzzkill, aren't you?" He said retracting his arm, taking another puff. Then he remembered something special in his pocket. "How about a joint?" He pulled out his baggy of weed. "Huh? Might cheer you up?" Rick teased. Rick wouldn't typically share his stuff with anyone, but his heart oddly went out to her. He honestly thought she was way too pretty to be sad at a party. Diane looked at the bag.

"Ok," she mustered out, stepping closer to him.

"I'm Rick," he introduced.

"I recognize you, you're Mike's friend. My friend Sally just started dating him and you been in a few of my classes," Diane stated. Rick recognized Diane as being one of the prettiest girls in school. She was very much a natural beauty. One of Diane's signature pieces was a light green mini skirt, white v-neck shirt and matching white knee high socks and that's exactly what she was wearing on this chilly night. Rick always had a thing for mini skirts and socks, call it a school uniform fantasy or what have you, but she really pulled it off. Diane was always done up, her hair perfectly curled and in place, same with her make up that accented her features, green eyes and large pink lips popped off her porcelain white skin, with tiny freckles and naturally rosie cheeks. She was just crying and she still looked beautiful, with nothing out of place. Rick was slightly taken back by her now that he had her full attention. He wasn't sure she ever looked his way. He honestly never seen anyone as pretty as her.

Rick could feel his stare become creepy as Diane began to visibly become uncomfortable. He snapped out of it, and began to pat his pockets.

"Shit, we may need to go inside. I don't have rolling papers, follow me," he said beginning to walk ahead. "Here," he said passing her the bag, he wanted her to feel included on this little side adventure. Her eyes widened grabbing the bag, she whispered "oh my God," as she fumbled getting the bag into her purse, before anyone saw.

"You good?" Rick asked glancing back at her, as she closed her purse.

"Mhm," she nodded.

Diane forgot she was about to go back into the party. The party seemingly paused as the unlikely friends entered into the kitchen together.

"Whoa, this is weird," Rick murmured to Diane. She couldnt help but crack a smile as she glanced up at him. His disheveled hair and black sweater added to his appeal.

"What are you doing?" He joked, giving her a smirk. "You're going to make this worse, smiling at me like that. Everyone's brains are about to explode," Diane let out a giggle, as Rick smiled back.

Diane looked around and enjoyed the new attention, especially since it was distracting everyone from the lastest spectacle that she unwillingly became a part of. She grabbed Rick's hand. He glanced back at her, grinning.

"Let's denote it, screw them." Rick squeezed her hand, leading her to the basement.

The basement was dark, she can smell the mixture of weed and cigarettes. They arrived to the first door on the left.

"Stay here," he said before entering.

"Why?" She questioned looking at her surroundings.

"Because this is Mike's room, and he might be...."

"What? Getting high? Having sex? This is high school party, it's what you do. I'm coming with you," Rick couldn't argue with that and opened the door. The door swung open, revealing Sally with Mike, snorting a white powdery substance off a old science textbook.

"Diane! How fun!" Sally laughed reaching for her friend for an embrace. "Come join us!" Sally cheered motioning to them both.

"Any day I'd be up for that offer Sal but not tonight, we are just here for rolling papers," Rick said quickly. Mike threw him the pack next to him. He glanced at Diane then Rick, "need condoms too?" Diane's eyes widened.

Sally let out a conniving laugh, "you know Diane's a Virgin."

"Well," Mike shrugged "with Rick here, tonight might be the night, especially since her photos are currently being passed around."

Rick watched as all the color left Diane's cheeks. She was humiliated. Rick grabbed her hand and dragged her out, without saying a word. They stormed up the stairs and through the front door to where all the cars were parked. Rick led her to an old brown van. He slid the back door open, guiding her in as he followed. He leaned over his console to turn it on. It started with a tremor then followed with a rumble. He lowered the radio, so it quietly played in the back, he locked the van doors, to prevent any surprise guests, and made sure the heat was running low. He sat beside Diane who still hadn't said or even looked at him. He grabbed a box and turned on a flashlight.

"Can I have the stuff?" Rick asked. Diane still slightly dazed reached until her purse, handing it over. Rick immediately started grinding the weed. He glanced up at her wondering if she truly was a virgin, then curiously wondered what pictures Mike was talking about. Rick didn't usually get mad at his friends, but this time he was. He didn't appreciate how Mike just threw Diane under the bus, him, and even how they were hanging out together. Diane could see him preparing the joint fast and meticulously, he seemed annoyed at what happened. She began thinking about what Sally said and the box. She was getting madder by the minute, and Rick could feel it. Rick began to light the joint, and immediately passed it over to her. Diane took a big hit, before exhaling with a cough.

"I can't believe Sally," she said thinking about watching her friend snort coke and mention a secret so nonchalantly. She took another deep hit before passing it to Rick.

"Its a high school party, it's what you do," Rick quoted Diane, as he took a hit. She couldnt help but smile at her new friend. They fell silent as they passed the joint among themselves. Rick head filled with questions. He knew better than to dig into something that wasn't necessarily his business, and he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. He knew the weed would open her up eventually so he'd wait for his moment. Diane could feel her brain get fuzzy as she got higher with every hit, she thought about how betrayed she felt, by everyone. She could feel her eyes begin to swell, almost close to tears again.

"That damn box," she sniffed. There was the opening Rick was waiting for.

"What box?" Diane looked at Rick shocked he had no idea what she was talking about.

"The box of nudes? Of girls from our school?"

"Shit, that sounds awesome," Rick said taking a hit.

"No, it's not. It's photos of girls in our school being intimate with their partners. Pictures taken without their consent and the boys store them in a box and pass it among themselves, it started over the summer" Rick was kind of surprised he never heard about it and wondered who was in it. Then he realized.

"Wait, are you in this box?" He passed the joint to her. She took a hit as he watched her eyes begin to water.

"Yes," she exhaled. Rick immediately lost his filter.

"I thought Sally said you were a virgin?"

"Virgin yes, but doesn't mean I haven't sucked a dick before," Rick immediately started choking on the smoke that was in his lungs, that started the fast chain of thoughts of her on her knees.

"HOLY SHIT," he exclaimed, still coughing.

"Yea I bet you like that thought," she said slightly agitated. "Anyway, I'm the latest image in the box and since I'm a virgin I've become the most fantasied girl in our dumb school. It's humiliating, I don't want to lose it to just anyone. I want to do it with someone special," she gazed down. Rick started to put the joint out. He watched her through the haze of the smoke.

"I think that's the right way," Rick began. Diane slightly turned to look at him. "Having sex the first time should be with someone special," he gave her a comforting smile. They both fell silent thinking about what each one said. Diane didn't mind the long silence with Rick. It was comforting, she was hoping Rick felt it too. She glanced over at him and couldn't help but smile ever so gently. What a night to get an unlikely friend. She thought about all the times they passed each other in the halls, barely even a glance. How many times they had classes together, realizing they had a lot of college credit classes together. She had faint memories of seeing him in the back of the classroom, basically in his own world. She wondered how different life would be if he had been in her life sooner. They both hung out with very different crowds, honestly she felt kind if misplaced atbthis party. She never seen so many people wearing black in one party. The only reason her and a few of her friends got invited is because Sally and Mike are dating. She got upset at how shallow her friend group could be, including her. She inhaled making a personal vow to branch out and meet new people this year, she looked up and met Ricks eyes. She was already doing a good job.

"Do you want to go back to the party?" Rick asked. He was enjoying his time with her, and truthfully wouldn't blame her if she said no. Diane thought about his question. She was still upset at what Sally did and how quickly the topic of the box started the night. She was emotionally exhausted, and over the idea of socializing with people who were ready to embarrass her.

"No, I'd honestly like to go home," she said motioning to the door. Rick understandably leaned up front and turned off the van. He slid open the doors, and got out first. He extended his arm to help Diane out. She grabbed his hand as the night sky caught her attention. Living in the middle of nowhere has its perks, the stars were twinkling and absolutely illuminating the night sky. Rick followed her eyes and looked up too.

"Space is so pretty," she let out.

"Yeah, it is," he said giving her a side smile. "How about I take you up there one day?"

Diane smiled at the sweet thought. Diane wanted to go home but she didn't want to leave Rick so early. Rick felt the same but had no clue what to say to make her stay. She followed the road that led to her house. A cold breeze came giving them both a chill.

"My jacket," she stated. "I left it inside, I think it's in the dining room."

"Do you want me to go get it for you?" Rick asked.

"No, I'll come with you, probably should tell a few of my friends I'm leaving anyway."

"Sally?"

"No. Screw her," Rick smiled at her slight savagery. They began walking to the front door. Rick reached for the doorknob, letting Diane go in first. She maneuvered through the party, with Rick close behind. They entered the dining room, with a few people passing a film camera around, one of them being her friend Abby.

"Diane!" She said excited, embracing her friend. "I thought you left, I was going to bring your jacket to your house tomorrow." Abby passed her the jacket, as she looked at Rick.

"Im heading home now, just wanted to grab my jacket before my walk home," Rick looked at Diane slightly confused.

"Oh ok," her friend said sadly. "Well let's at least get a photo together," she said holding the camera. Diane looked at Rick, who reached out for the camera. Abby and Diane posed together with big smiles. SNAP went the camera, as it began to print the photo out. Abby had known Diane since 5th grade and thought it was odd Diane was hanging out with Rick Sanchez. After the last couple of weeks with Dianes photo being passed around though, Abby wasn't about to question Diane's decisions, especially since she seemed happy. Rick on the other hand, she wanted to know his intentions.

"Do you two want a photo?" Abby asked kind of testing the response. Before Diane could say anything, Rick chimed in with a "Hell yea." Abby liked his enthusiastic response. He positioned his face next to hers. Surrounding her with his arms, popping up both middle fingers, Diane pouted her lips, blushing at how close his face was. SNAP the camera went, followed by the sound of it printing. Abby handed the photo to Diane, "it's a cute one," she smiled.

"I bet, Abby, thank you," Diane hugged her friend, putting the photo in her pocket as it developed. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'll be waiting," Abby smiled. Diane put on her jacket as her and Rick walked back outside.

"I'll walk you to your car."

"I didn't drive, I walked," Rick thought thats what she told her friend.

"What? How far do you live?"

"Right down the road, Mike and I are neighbors," she pointed to her house that gleamed in the distance. This whole time, she was so close to a place Rick was at often.

"Well, can I walk you home?"

"I'd love that."

They began their trek, the road was dark but Diane could see her house lights in the distance. She was very happy Rick wanted to walk her home even if they weren't saying anything. She imagined the thought of him asking her on a date, her heart began to beat a little quicker. She wasn't sure if she was his type though. He hung out with more alternative looking girls that she remembered, at least 5 names popped in her head, specifically Tara Daniels. Tara had all types of piercings and tattoos, Diane remembered she was allowed to get her first tattoo at 14 and every year since then got more. Tara's tattoo was all that was talked about the rest of freshman year. Diane had a slight memory of seeing Rick and Tara make out at the lockers last year. Diane felt a surge of jealousy radiate through her, then immediately felt defeated. Rick wouldn't see Diane as anything other than a friend, she definitely wasn't his type. Diane remembered seeing Tara at the party briefly and may even remember seeing her and Rick talking. There was no point of hoping for a date with Rick, if he had a thing with Tara. But Rick had been with Diane majority of the night, not with Tara. Diane let out a long sigh.

"You ok?" Rick asked. Diane had briefly forgot he was with her, and he startled her.

"Uh, yea," she said still building the courage to ask. She figured she'd just let it out. "Are you and Tara Daniels dating?" Rick was kind of taken back by this question. They weren't dating, but they were fucking. They'd call each other up when they were bored and lonely but there was no way he wanted Diane to know.

"No, we aren't dating," he began. "Why do you ask?"

"I remember seeing you two make out a lot in the hallways."

Shit, thought Rick. "No, we are just really good friends."

"Good friends that kiss?"

"Yeah, you can say that." Another pause of silence came over them. Diane could see her house getting closer.

"What about Cindy Jackson?"

"No."

"Kate Michaels?"

"Jesus, Diane," Rick sounded annoyed, resting his hands on the back of his head.

"I'm just asking."

"No I'm not seeing anyone, ok?" Diane was partially satisfied with that answer and ran out of courage to continue. She didn't want to ruin this friendship, before it really started. They began turning down Diane's driveway, her house was dark besides the porch light and her bedroom. Rick noticed a ladder coming down from what he assumed was her room.

"What is that?" He jokingly teased, pointing at the ladder.

"That's my evacuation ladder."

"More like a sneak out ladder."

"Well yea, but since I'm on the second floor, my parents thought it would be a good idea, in case there was a fire."

Rick couldn't help but laugh.

"You're an only child right?"

"Yea," she said.

"Your parents must've not considered you'd use it for sneaking out."

"No, they didn't," she said connecting all the dots. "Im a good girl, I never need to sneak out."

"Just tonight?" He teased. Diane gave him a slight nudge with her shoulder. They stopped at the ladder, she stared at it, following it up to her room. She wasn't ready to say goodbye. Rick stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to think of something to say. He looked around her home. She had a white picket fence, with a garden bordering her property. He could see a slightly decrepit swingset at the edge of the woods. Her house was a pale yellow with white shutters, a very pretty home and exactly how he imagined where she lived. Diane was grateful her parents room was on the other side of the house with how long they were lingering outside.

"The picture!" She said pulling it out of her coat pocket. She unleashed a huge smile seeing it developed. It was perfect. They both looked so happy, and Rick with his unhinged pose. She giggled passing it over to him, Rick smiled just as wide as she did.

"That's great!" He said.

"Are you ok walking back?" Diane asked before another silence came along. Rick could see Mike's house light up the trees that bordered Diane's property.

"Yea, I'll be fine, besides what are you going to do? Walk me back to the party?" Diane scrunched her nose at him. She knew this was the end of the night but she hoped this was just the beginning of whatever this was.

"Thank you for cheering me up, back there. I'm really happy I got to hang out with you tonight," she said giving him a soft smile.

"Yeah, it was fun," he said rubbing his neck, a little awkwardly. "And to think I was getting ready to leave." He gave a little chuckle.

"Well, don't be a stranger," she said giving him a sad smile, beginning motion towards the ladder.

"Wait," he said before she turned completely around. She turned back to look at him. "Can I have your number?"

Diane's eyes widened and her heart began to flutter. She nodded digging in her purse for a scrap piece of paper and pen. She began to write her number, feeling her cheeks heat up. She passed it over to Rick.

"Is it OK if I call you tomorrow?"

"Yes," she smiled excitedly. Diane began climbing the ladder as Rick backed away to give her space trying not to look up her skirt even though he did catch a glimpse of her panties. He made sure she made it up and gave him a little wave before he turned back down the road. He stuffed her number in his pocket, and started lighting a cigarette. He immediately started thinking about the box. He needed to get it.

#rick and diane #fanart #rick and morty #fanfic #rickxdiane #artists on tumblr #writing #unlikely Friends #rick and morty fanfic #rick and diane fanfic #read on ao3

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blue-fidelity · 4 years ago

Text

~ “Smile in the face of Tragedy”

Chapter 2: New King

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

A wild night reveals secrets and broken hearts. At least Billy & (Y/N) have each other.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drunk!Billy, sad!Steve (that is a warning 🥺)

“(Y/N)! It’s Halloween!”- Halloween? (Y/N) woke up to the sound of her brother yelling excitingly. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could hear the Ghostbusters theme playing loudly from Dustin’s room. She groaned, burying her head in her pillows while running her hands through her hair.

This is not how she planned to wake up this morning.

Before closing her eyes to regain a little more sleep, her alarm clock looked her right in the face. 7:15. Another groan came from her. Perk up (Y/N), it’s your favourite holiday! She pushed herself up, swinging her legs on the side of the bed. (Y/N) definitely knew the high school students weren’t going to be wearing costumes to school. So before Billy picked her up, she’d head home to get changed.

Billy- (Y/N) didn’t think she’d be able to forget yesterday. The way he held her, the way he kissed her forehead. His embrace was so comforting- she nearly melted into him. The smell of dry cigarette smoke and cheap cologne haven’t been able to leave her senses. It was like everything that came with him, it was intoxicating, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

As she stepped out of bed, she moved her hips slightly to the music coming from her brother’s stereo. When she made it to her drawers, she contemplated what she should wear today. Just because she wasn’t going to wear a costume, didn’t mean she couldn’t look spooky, right? She grabbed her “Chistine” t-shirt, it was one of her favorite horror movies. Pairing it with a black acid wash skirt, some fishnets, and her usual chuck taylors, she strutted confidently out her bedroom door.

She walked into the bathroom to find Dustin clad in his Stantz costume, brushing his teeth. He looked so cute! “Hey Doctor Stantz, ‘lookin pretty badass”, she grinned, patting him on the back. “Thanks (Y/N)! I can’t wait to see the guys in their costumes, Halloween’s gonna be so great!”, he cheered, spitting out his tooth paste. He quickly ran out of the room to fetch breakfast, leaving (Y/N) time for her hair & makeup.

Bright red lipstick and heavy black eyeliner, hair slightly curled.

When she stepped into the living room, she saw her mom enthusiastically taking polaroids of Dustin. She couldn’t help but smile, hoping her mom would save her some for her picture board. (Y/N) sat on the couch beside her cat Mews, scratching the back of his ears as he purred in contentment. She giggled at the various poses her brother made in front of the camera.

Her mom had finally stopped taking photos, noticing her on the couch. “(Y/N) darling! I didn’t see you come in, can I get a photo of my two children?”, she questioned, looking at her with pleading eyes. (Y/N) couldn’t say no! “Of course!”, she said, standing up from the couch.

She placed an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, teasingly taking him in a headlock, rubbing her nuckles on his hair. To this he laughed, playfully pointing his fake proton blaster at her. It was the perfect picture. Perfectly trapped in the moment of two great siblings, simply having a good time.

(Y/N) gathered her things, making sure to take one of her mom’s homemade muffins for breakfast. She had made them a couple days before, but they still were delicious. Even though (Y/N) desperately needed coffee, she decided against it. She was already running a bit late, and as much as she hated the stale stuff from the cafeteria, it’d have to do. Dustin had already slipped out the door to head off on his bike, he really must’ve been eager to see his friends.

Before making her way to her motorcycle, she slipped her jean jacket on and hugged her mom goodbye. Claudia looked at her intently, ruffling her curled hair. (Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully, “Alright mom, I gotta go! ‘I’m gonna stop here after school though, k?”, she opened the front door. “Okay have a good day sweetie! ‘I’ll see you before your party!”. (Y/N)’s mom knew about the party, whether she knew there was going to be alcohol involved, it was better off not knowing.

Sliding the keys into the ignition, she sped off to the school. She could never get enough of the mysterious backroads of Hawkins. It scared her, obviously. With all the things that happened the previous year, she couldn't help but wonder if things still lurked in the depths of the forest, hiding till they could strike. Waiting and waiting till they can catch someone else and drag them to that horrible place. Her body trembled at the thought of it. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the memories. Eyes turning back to the road, she removed one of her hands from the handles, trying to reach for the button of her stereo. It had turned onto some random radio station that was playing Halloween tunes.

“Happy Halloween ‘Morning Ghouls and Goblins of Hawkins! Here’s a spooky throwback from ‘1982 for y’all on this fine dreary morning, ‘Blood Bitch’, by Cocteau Twins!” - the radio host introduced, was he really supposed to swear on radio? Well, no one really had a filter these days.

The song added to the eerie atmosphere of the cold morning, making her uneasy. She pushed through her thoughts, trying to just focus on getting to school. It was Halloween! No need for being pent up on past trauma. The station had eventually turned to a happier song, putting her in a better mood. What better to put a smile on your face then the ‘Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show? She bobbed her head happily to the familiar tune, singing along to the lyrics.

School today had been an absolute drag! Last period (math) was nearly done and (Y/N) was desperate to get out. She could see some of her mutuals were anxious as well, probably too excited to wait for the party tonight. She was excited as well, maybe a little bit of the fact that she’d be spending more time with Billy?

(Y/N) would hate for him to think she’d be using him as a rebound. Even though it seemed that way, she really should’ve forgotten about her feelings for Steve awhile ago. (Y/N) really loved Steve, but he’d always been so oblivious, but- that was just Steve. He would’ve never known of her feelings if she didn’t tell him. Which she never did, in fear of obvious rejection. Then here was Billy Hargrove, whether it be his flirtatious nature, she could see herself really falling for him. The one thing she knew she wouldn’t do was dive in too quickly. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes, for her and for Billy’s sake.

She was finally released from the rechedouness that was her math class-running straight out the door right as the bell rang, nearly having winded Mr. Henry. After taking a quick stop at her locker, she walked outside to find her motorcycle. (Y/N) was nearly there till a skateboard hit her feet, stopping her in her tracks.

“I’m so sorry! It slipped right out from under me-” a voice of a young girl called, her breath shaky. (Y/N) looked down at the girl shuffling to grab her skateboard, she had never seen her before. The mysterious teen with the red hair looked around her brother’s age, so why was she so unrecognizable? Wait- could it be?

Billy’s step sister.

“Hey, hey it’s all good!”, (Y/N) gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey- not to sound weird or anything-”, she chuckled nervously, “But, are you new here? ‘You see I got a younger brother ‘about your age, and you got an unfamiliar face”. The girl stared at her skeptically, but still replied. “Yeah, just moved here from ‘California, what are you ‘looking to set him up or something?” she questioned sarcastically. ‘Damn she was quite the firecracker. “Nah frankly I think you're a little out of his league”, (Y/N) winked. To this she got a laugh out of her. “Well, it was nice weirdly meeting you, ‘I’m Max!”, she introduced herself. “Well Max, ‘I’m (Y/N), if you're interested in someone helping you out with that kickflip, ‘I used to do some skateboarding myself”, she offered. Max beamed at her offer, “Really? That’d be so great!”, “Alrighty then, if you see me around, don’t be shy to ask!”.

Little did (Y/N) and Max know, Billy was watching them. Billy knew (Y/N) was genuinely kind, but not that kind. It wasn’t necessarily cool to be seen with a middle schooler. He figured he wouldn’t look too much into it, but something about seeing (Y/N) with her, didn’t sit well with him. Billy gave Max a dirty look as she skated up to the camaro. “You're late again”, Billy started. “I had to get catchup homework”, Max stated. “Jesus! I don’t care- who was that girl you were talking to?”, Billy asked, even though he already knew who she was. “Just some high schooler- she offered to help me learn some skateboarding tricks' '. So she skateboarded too, huh? “That’s rich. Just, get in the car, will yah?”.

(Y/N) entered the door with a ‘skip in her step. She really needed a reason to lose herself, forget about the world around her. Tonight was going to be perfect for that. Expecting to be greeted by her mom, she noticed no one was there. She knew Dustin was heading to Mike’s right after school, ‘but her mom was nowhere to be seen. She probably had to work later hours again. ‘This meant she had the place to herself! (Y/N) still had a few hours before Billy picked her up. So she figured she’d get into her costume, and then fix herself something to eat.

The Sarah Connor costume was simple. Gray tank top, black jeans, sunglasses, a chunky belt and combat boots. (Y/N) already had all of this in her regular wardrobe, so it’d be a pretty easy costume. Of course she didn’t have a rifle to complete it, even though she could’ve asked Nance. She wasn’t about to show up to a house party with a gun. It would have been pretty cool though.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, clad in costume. Now it was time to remove her makeup and untame her curled hair. “Mr. Crowley” by Ozzy Osbourne was currently spinning on her “Blizzard of Ozz” vinyl. She mouthed her lips to the lyrics as she straightened her hair, her (Y/H/C) locks falling in straight whisps on her head. Replacing her once extravagant makeup with a more nude look, she looked at herself pleased.

A total badass look, you might say.

It was only 4:30, and Billy was coming over at 6 o’clock. She had way too much time to kill. Making her way to the kitchen, she scoped the fridge. Enough ground beef for two burgers, and she knew they had leftover buns. Maybe Billy would be hungry when he got there, and if she was making dinner for two- she didn’t want to start too early. So she’d head back to it in about a half an hour. Meanwhile a coca-cola would hold her down, she was pretty firsty.

(Y/N) now laid in her bed, bored. ‘Blizzard of Ozz was still playing, it just switched onto “Steal Away (The Night)”, her ears perked up to the upbeat tune. She couldn’t help but dance around, hopping happily on her bed as she belted the lyrics along with Ozzy. Pointing at the poster of him that was plastered on her wall, she shouted the chorus. It’d be pretty funny if Billy were to walk in on her singing her heart out, what would he think of that? She rolled her eyes at the thought, he’d probably think she was crazy. The song ended, turning to the next one. (Y/N) took this as her cue to start on dinner.

Flipping the patties in the pan, she sighed at the smell. She did cook a pretty ‘mean burger. Dustin loved when she made them, he always said the added rosemary was the perfect touch. (Y/N) grew up with her mother teaching her how to cook. Claudia Henderson had worked in a number of restaurants, usually in the kitchen or as a waitress. She now helped run a popular Inn a little outside of town, and it was her favourite place she’s ever worked in. (Y/N) probably figured it was a busy night, considering she didn’t come home at her usual hour.

5:45 and the burgers were ready and plated, the aroma running through the room. Billy was ‘going to be here soon, and she was giddy with excitement. Before she knew it, the bell rang. Fuck he was early. “Coming!” she called, slowly making her way to the door. ‘There he stood; a cocky grin on his face with his arm propped up on the door ledge. She took time to take in his minimal outfit, tight jeans & a leather jacket, no shirt. His abbs were on full display- (Y/N)’s mouth watered just at the sight of him. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he smirked. “Maybe-”, (Y/N) stammered. “It’s aight, I see something I like to,'' he whispered the last part into her ear, letting himself in.

“She cooks too? ‘I guess looks can be deceiving”, he motioned to the burgers. (Y/N) blushed, “I figured we could eat before we fill ourselves with alcohol”. They delved into the burgers, she couldn’t help but laugh when Billy moaned at the taste. “Darlin- I haven’t had a burger like this in awhile, ‘the ones down at Benny’s don’t hold anything on these”, he praised. “That must be a high compliment, because ‘Benny’s are pretty good”, she smiled at him. (Y/N) put the dishes into the dishwasher, quickly running to her room to grab her polaroid camera. “Where are you ‘heading princess?”, she’d never get tired of his little pet names. “I’m just grabbing my camera- I want to get some good shots tonight!”.

(Y/N) came back with her camera bag, a big grin on her face. “You ready to head out?”, he questioned. “Yeah, just let me get my jacket”, she took her jacket from the hook. “Ready”. He guided her to the camaro, opening the passenger door. Billy never opened the passenger door for girls! ‘(Y/N) really did something to him, huh? “Such the gentlemen”, she smirked. “Anything for you dollface”. He slid into the drivers side, placing his keys into the ignition. “Music?” she questioned, “Sure thing, feel free to look through the cassettes in the glove box”. She searched through the assortment of tapes, varying from Metallica, Def Leppard, RATT, Mötley Crüe, Hanoi Rocks, AC/DC and more. She settled on Hanoi Rocks’s, “Two Steps From The Move” album. It had just come out that summer, and it was one of her favourites. Not to mention she had a HUGE crush on Michael Monroe.

“Hanoi Rocks huh? I like your style”, he nodded in approval, till turning his eyes back on the road. “Got any specific fave tracks?”, (Y/N) questioned. “Track 8”. She was surprised he chose this one, considering it was one of the more “cheesy” songs. ‘It did have a pretty ‘rockin guitar riff in it though, she’ll give him that. Billy contentedly thumped his hands on the steering wheel, speeding up a bit. Rolling both of their windows down, (Y/N) was surprised to see him singing along to the lyrics. It was a bad attempt at a Finnish accent, sure, but it was still really cute. (Y/N) joined him, jumping in at the chorus. They banged their heads to the tune, continuously singing the lines. (Y/N) really felt alive in that moment. ‘She couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun, and they haven’t even gotten to the party yet.

They pulled up to Tina’s, teens were already rallying in. ‘It was going to be a wild night. Before Billy could open up his trunk to get the kegs, (Y/N) stopped him. She pulled out her camera, “Hargrove! Smile!”, she grinned, pointing the camera at him. ‘He rolled his eyes, posing for the picture. The photo was of Billy playfully doing the devil’s horns symbol, with his tongue stuck out. She giggled, “This is one for the board!”. “Well Hey Sarrah Conner- let me take a pic of you!”, he said, trying to grab the camera from her. She handed the camera to him, smiling that he remembered her costume name. Letting her sunglasses shade her eyes, ‘she smirked brightly at the camera, ‘Billy quickly snapping the shot. He handed the polaroid to her, she shaked it and placed it in her bag with the one she took.

Billy held one of the kegs while (Y/N) grabbed the other, walking into the crowded house. It was overwhelmingly loud. They could feel the heat coming off the numerous teenagers that littered the home, their bodies moving to the heavy beats of the stereo. Tina was in the kitchen, and had noticed the pair walk in. “Billy & (Y/N) are here with more kegs!”, she shouted, ‘causing the crowd to go wild. Someone had taken the one from her hands and motioned Billy to follow them into the backyard, leaving her alone. She grazed over the sea of teens, trying to spot anyone she knew. She noticed Steve and Nancy dancing freely in the living room, Nancy nursing a drink while Steve had a big smile on his face. She figured she’d grab some punch and then see what Billy was doing in the backyard, most likely a keg stand. He was the new ‘king after all, Tommy was probably expecting him to beat Steve’s record.

‘As luck would have it, she was right. She stood on the back porch with a cup of “pure fuel” in her hands, watching the teens crowd around him as he bent over the keg. They shouted various numbers, counting the seconds as he chugged down the beer. (Y/N) cheered with them, looking at him with bright eyes. His torso was glistening, beads of sweat running down his toned chest. Her cheeks flushed red just at the sight of him. The enthusiasm got louder as he finished the stand, spitting spews of beer out of his mouth. “That’s how you do it Hawkins! That’s how you do it!”, more cheers. Tommy passed him a cigarette and escorted him into the house, the gang shouting his name as Mötley Crüe’s, “Shout At The Devil” played on the speakers. Billy spotted her on the porch, grinning wildly at her. He shoved her into his side with his arm, hugging her tight. Tommy glared at the interaction. Never in her time with being friends with Steve has ‘Tommy liked her that much, and it seems things haven’t changed.

Typical Tommy.

(Y/N) was enjoying the feel of Billy's embrace a little too much. She knew he was already partially drunk, and she was feeling a nice buzz that she wasn’t planning on getting rid of anytime soon. Someone had to drive them home. ‘Tommy paraded them up to Nancy and Steve, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if it was to torchure her or show off Billy, probably both. ‘Billy and Steve stared each other down as if they were going to kill each other, it was really intense. Too intense for her liking. Still hooded under Billy’s arm, she shot Steve a sympathetic look. ‘As if to say ‘I’m sorry’ with her eyes. “We got ourselves a new keg king Harrington!”, Tommy declared. “Yeah eat it Harrington!”, another guy shouted. Somehow in ‘Billy and Steve’s stare down, Nancy had slipped away.

“You see Harrington- not only that, but I stole your girl away too”, Billy retorted. Oh shit- this wasn’t good. Steve glanced over at her, a nervous look in his eyes. “I don’t know what you're talking about man-”. How did Billy know about (Y/N)’s past feelings for Steve? “Well you see, this lovely lady under my arms thought the world of you, and frankly I- I just don’t see why! Point being, she has me now, you can go fetch that slut you settled for.” This interaction was making neither Steve nor (Y/N) happy, it left them feeling both angry and confused. Steve scoffed, chasing after Nancy. He was going to want to talk to (Y/N) about this later.

Steve really didn’t know what to make of what Billy had said to him. Mainly, it sounded like a warning; but he didn’t think Billy intended for it to be that. (Y/N) and him had been best friends forever, and even if he didn’t necessarily like Billy, there was no harm in her being friends with him, right? Though, something about what Billy said hinted that he meant more than just friends. Had (Y/N) liked him, loved him even? Was Steve really oblivious all these years- no, it couldn’t be. If he was being honest, he harboured a small crush on her in the beginning of middle school, but then Nancy came into his life. Nancy Wheeler hit him like a freight train right in the heart, and he then became a lovesick puppy. He couldn’t get enough of her. That’s when Steve began to realize, the jealous glances over the years, the slight distaste of Nancy that came off her.

But, why did it matter if (Y/N) loved him? He still had Nancy, or so he thought.

Tommy had left, leaving Billy and (Y/N) in the corner of the living room, an uncomfortable silence stirring between them. “Billy-how did you-“, she wondered in a whisper, but Billy cut her off. “You really don’t think Tommy would’ve told me? Besides, everybody knows”. She didn’t need to hear the last part. Besides, why did it matter if everyone knew- it didn’t matter to her anymore. “Does that bother you?”, she asked worriedly. Billy chuckled darkly.

“Darlin- you got nothing to worry about, I’m your new king now”.

Next thing she knew, they were on the dance floor. Billy had pulled her into the crowd of sweaty bodies, grinding on each other. Some people were making out, others chugging alcohol till they fell limp to the floor. She stared nervously at the rowdy teens, her body shaking. He noticed her agitation, placing a hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. He smelt of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke, and a hint of cologne. She was caught with that intoxicating sensation again, making her hazy. His icy blue eyes peered into her (Y/E/C) ones, “Just feel the music princess- everything will be just fine”.

‘Their bodies moved comfortably against each other to ‘Billy Idol’s, “Flesh For Fantasy”. A perfect song choice in the moment. ‘(Y/N) was very much sober and very much aware of what was happening. Aware of Billy’s strong grip on her waist, aware of his hips moving against hers. Normally this would’ve been cutting close corners for her, but she was looking for an opportunity to lose herself. What better way than this? She ran her fingers through his thick blonde curls, her hips swaying a bit more. He sighed in contentment, making her shiver. His face was currently buried into her neck, placing soft kisses on her collarbone.

They continued their heavy sway for a while, Billy had started to form a hickey below her ear. She was definitely not going to be able to cover it up tomorrow, but she really didn’t care if people saw it- she wanted people to know that she wasn’t desperate. That she didn’t need Steve anymore. She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant to ‘Hargrove, but she knew that she wasn’t planning on leaving him anytime soon. (Y/N) felt him remove his lips from her neck, his hot breath waving over her. “Mhmm- left a pretty big mark sweetheart-“ he mumbled. She hummed in return, removing her hands from his hair.

The rest of the night consisted of more dancing, and Billy getting more intoxicated than he was before. Really drunk Billy- let’s just say it was quite the sight to see. He was a giggling mess, slurring his words and stumbling on his feet. “(Y/N)- has anyone ever told you-“ he hiccuped, “That you were gorgeous?”, another hiccup. She giggled at his comment, “Tons of people- but I bet no one sees me like you do huh?”, she supported him up against the kitchen counter. “Absolutely no one!” He cheered in a high pitch voice, damn he really was a mess. She tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders snatching his keys.”Hey- what are you doing?”, he gestured to the keys, “Getting you home-“, “Wait! Can we go to your house please?? I can’t wake up my dad letting him see me like this- he’ll kill me”, he pleaded. “Fine- just, try to be as quiet as possible, I got a sleeping family too”.

(Y/N) took him out of the house, nearly carrying him. She waved goodbye to a few mutual friends who were still conscious, muttering a soft “See y’all tomorrow, hope we aren’t all hungover”. This earned a few laughs from her classmates, bidding her and Billy a goodnight. Unlocking the passenger side to the camaro, she set Billy down lightly on the seat. “Being so ginger with me sweetheart- I’m not made of glass ‘you know”, he joked. “Whatever tough guy- let’s just get you to a bed, mhm?”. Placing her hands on the steering wheel, she realized she hasn’t driven a car since the summer, and a camaro is definitely nothing close to a station wagon. She took a deep breath- she could do this, no sweat. Besides, there was no way she could bring herself to ruin a car as beautiful as this one.

Billy must’ve passed out while they were driving, because when she pulled into her driveway, his eyes were sewn shut. She had to admit- he did look pretty adorable when he was sleeping. She tried to resist the urge to take a photo of him, but she couldn’t help herself. Pulling out her camera bag that was littered with pictures from tonight, she snapped a quick photo of him. The flash startled him, waking him up. “Sweetheart- were you taking photos of me in my sleep? That’s just creepy”, his voice was groggy. “How could I not when you were laying there looking like an angel?”, “Pfft- ‘darlin, I am a demon, Satan himself! ‘Ain’t no way I’m an angel!”, he scoffed.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but Lucifer was once an angel”.

Fumbling with the keys to her front door while trying to help Billy regain his footing was hard. He was just about to lose consciousness again when she finally got the door open, it shouldn't have been as much of a challenge as it was- but Billy had a lot of weight to him. She didn’t notice the lights were still on till she saw her mom sitting in her reading chair, Mews on her lap and clad in a cat costume. Shit- what was she gonna say about this? “Oh! Mrs. Henderson- I see where (Y/N) gets all her good looks from!”, Billy squealed, “Ugh can it Billy! Mom I can explain-“ she shushed Billy, staring wide eyed at her mother. “Sweetie- you clearly had a wild night, just take this pound of muscle to your room, and we can talk about it while he crashes, okay?”- (Y/N) nodded quickly, dragging Billy to her room.

Billy flopped down on the bed, giggling wildly. “Honey! We’ve known each other for two days, don’t you think we ‘oughta know one another better before I sleep in your bed?”, (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the blubbering idiot. “This was your idea dumby! Just get under the covers and keep it shut, will you?”, she glared at him, closing the door and heading back to the living room.

“So no Steve, huh? He’s the one who usually spends the night”, her mom said softly. “Different reasons mom- I’m just trying to figure out who’s a bigger piece of work”, she huffed. “Well he’s quite the looker, ‘makes me wonder how you keep up with him”, Claudia smirked. “Mom! He’s new here- he just happened to notice me first”, (Y/N) blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Besides- what are you doing up so late?”, (Y/N) stared at the clock, “It’s nearly 1 o’clock”. “Busy night down at the Inn, just needed a little time to myself after Dusty went to bed”, she sighed, but (Y/N) knew she wasn’t finished. “Also wanted to see what mess you brung home, it’s always a new thing with you”, her mom laughed. “Billy’s- interesting, but I’m not sure, doesn’t seem like the most faithful type”, she sighed. “He may surprise you, and besides- if he hurts you he’ll have to suffer the wrath of your brother!”, Claudia giggled, smiling at her daughter. “Anyways- I’m gonna head to bed, early day at work tomorrow, you gonna go join the guy?”, she pointed down the hall. “Yeah yeah I’ll join the idiot in a second- just gonna get some water”, (Y/N) said tiredly.

Snuggling up on the couch, she sipped her water. The quietness was calming, the fact that everyone was at rest and she was the only one around southend her in a way. The fact that Billy was sleeping soundly in her bed, gave her a different feeling. Things with him- had gone by so quickly, and it was only just beginning. It was nice being with someone where the relationship had lasted longer than more than a few hours. Her past flames- had simply been one night stands, meaningless things to shy her away from Steve, but Billy was different. She actually liked him, and even though he came off as a jerk- he seemed really sweet on the inside. Though, she couldn’t help but wonder how Steve was feeling right now, the bomb had been dropped on him nearly two hours ago- it must be overwhelming to know your best friend was holding back feelings for so many years.

(Y/N) was just about to head to bed, till she heard a knock on the door. Who was here at this time of night? She opened the door slightly, and who she saw she didn’t expect. There Steve stood, his face red and puffy with tears in his eyes. His body was shaking, his shoulders were slumped over. He looked awful. “She- doesn’t love me- it’s bullshit! It was all bullshit!” He stuttered as his body continued to quiver. (Y/N)’s heart ached at his words, what had Nancy done this time? She didn’t know what to say, it’s not like she could’ve let him in. So, she just pulled him into a hug, “Steve-you can’t keep coming here like this- it’s not my job to fix you”, she tried to explain. “I know! I just don’t have anywhere else to go”, he cried. “I can’t tonight- it just isn’t the right time.” (Y/N) was attempting to tell him in the best way possible that Billy wasn’t there, but Steve caught on. “He’s here, isn’t he, Billy?”, Steve muttered angrily. “Out of all the guys in Hawkins- you chose him to get over me, that’s just flattering!” . Steve was making her feel sick, “Steve- I know you're hurting but you can’t take it out on me like that- it isn’t fair”, she pushed away from him. “I’ll talk about this with you tomorrow- when you're in the right state of mind, okay? Just please leave”, she pleaded. “Fine- I’ll see you tomorrow”, he breathed out harshly, walking back to his car.

She was on the edge of a breakdown, heart racing and choked up tears running down her face. This is not how she expected her evening to end- seeing Steve like that, broken and beaten again. (Y/N) thought she’d never live to see Steve crumble in her arms one more time- and with that she could’ve rested easy. At least she wouldn’t have to be alone tonight, she had someone waiting for her. Trying to stay quiet, she tiptoed down the hall. Opening the door, she walked in to see Billy sleeping soundly, the pink hue of her bedside lamp illuminating his features. She took notice of his leather jacket, jeans and boots scattered on the ground. That meant he was only in his boxers. Before joining him she slipped into an oversized AC/DC t-shirt and looked in the mirror, her hands grazing over the purple mark that had formed on her neck- the little bastard.

When (Y/N) laid in bed, even in his sleepy state Billy could notice the slight dip in the mattress. He groaned, “What took you so long…?”. (Y/N) chuckled softly at his tiredness. “Just an unexpected visitor, nothing to worry about”, she smiled reassuringly. “Well as long as you're okay, that’s all that matters”, he kissed her temple, pulling her into his chest. She snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly. She needed this. “Thank you”, she mumbled mindlessly. “For what sweetheart?”.

“For helping me start fresh”.

The couple held each other comfortably, sleep taking over them. (Y/N) rested her head on Billy’s torso, as he lazily made circles on the small of her back. Everything was blissful in that moment. Perfect. She’d deal with Steve tomorrow, for now, she had Billy Hargrove. Billy Hargrove with his strong hold and warm comforting body, Billy Hargrove who made her feel safe.

Author’s note:

Hope you all love the second chapter! Feedback is always appreciated & as always if you want to be added to the taglist comment down below ❤️!

Tag-list: @theblueslytherin @oopsiedoopsie23 @lulu-yuming @merc12-us @soullesstaco @unded-bride @holychocopie @nikkixostan @ellesimagines

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deppsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Good luck charm #2

Part one here

Pairing: Johnny Depp x reader

It’s taken me a few weeks to write and be happy with this part to post. I hope that you all enjoy it and that it was worth the wait.

A few days later, I swear I can still smell the musky scent of Sauvage, and the taste of cigarettes on my lips. It’s hard to comprehend any of the last seventy-two hours being real, and going by Alex’s (who I’m sitting opposite having coffee with) reaction and raised eyebrows at me retelling the whole story, she’s having a hard time with it too. And in all honesty, I don’t blame her, it’s a lot to process.

“So, he invited you to the concert after party?”

I nod my head and take a sip of my coffee.

“Yep.”

“And he took you back to his hotel room? Where you-”

My lips curve into a smirk.

“He sure did.”

“And you’re aware of the fact this all sounds like a badly written fanfiction?”

I have to burst out laughing. There’s no denying it because it really, really does. I couldn’t have made it up if I tried.

“Did I tell you about the part where he had to get his security to smuggle me out of the building unnoticed the next morning?”

For me, that had been the most amusing part of the story. Having breakfast with him as if it was the most normal thing in the world. After a few more spent kisses and I’d decided that it was time for us to part ways, he’d sent in his security in to make sure I got out of the building safely.

“But the real question is… Has he called or texted you?”

He hadn’t yet. The band had played a show last night, and would be travelling again for their next tomorrow. I wasn’t hanging on and waiting for him to reach out to me either. It would be pretty easy for me to pick up the phone and call him too, but I refused to be that desperate.

I shake my head in reply to Alex’s question.

“No, but he gave me his number.”

“So, he’s waiting for you to call him then?”

Realistically, the chances were that it was a one night thing. I wouldn’t hear from him again and we’d go our separate ways. I’d rather be hit with the reality of the situation than holding out on hope for a phone call and being disappointed when it didn’t happen.

“I’m not going to. I don’t want him to think that I’m pining over him and completely desperate!”

“You’re insane… You know, if he wasn’t in the slightest bit interested then he wouldn’t have given you his number to begin with.”

That was a true enough point to make, but I’m still not deluded enough to give into the fantasy. I’m ready to give her a reply when my phone, that’s been sitting on the table in front of me, starts to frantically vibrate.

“Oh my god!”

Alex spots the name on the screen before I’m able to take a glance.

“He’s calling you! This really is a badly written fanfiction!”

I shrug my shoulders and continue to let the phone ring out. If it’s important, he’ll leave a voicemail.

“If you don’t answer that, I will!”

I scowl at her and shake my head, it’s hard to believe that I’m the one that’s being responsible about handling all of this. Before she’s able to reach for the phone, I’m swiping it off the table and standing up. “I’m at least taking it outside.” I grumble under my breath.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi-” The voice on the other end is raspy and familiar. I can just about see him fidgeting around like he does in interviews when he’s nervous. “It’s Johnny.”

Silence.

I’m confused. Does he want me to make the next move?

“Right… Your name rings a bell. There was this Johnny, that the other night I went to go and see his band and ended up spending the night in his hotel room-”

I don’t even mean for the words to sound as aggressive as they do .

“I feel like I owe you a little of an explanation -- I don’t usually do this. I, uh, I don’t usually invite girls - especially fans - back to my hotel room, and not call for three days.”

So it’s one of those phone calls, where he’s expecting to let me down gently and feels the need to explain everything that I already know to be the case.

“There’s no need to make a fool of yourself… I get it.”

“I don’t think that you do.”

What isn’t there to get?

“I get it. I mean this is probably the part where you offer me an obscene amount of money to not go to the press about it. You don’t need to worry--”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I freeze dead in my tracks, the thoughts of my overactive imagination and the words that I’m about to hit him with come to a close. Am I hearing things? Did he really just say…

“What?”

“It’s probably a really bad line. I don’t know if you heard me, I said….”

God, he’s insufferable.

“No, I heard you… I just don’t get it.”

He has his choice of any girl in the world. Models, actresses, and here he is calling me.

“The other night was special for me-”

It’s a cliché, and just about the worst thing that he could come out with, but I’ll let him continue.

“Listen, this probably sounds insane… but I want you here for the show tomorrow-”

He can’t be serious or that disconnected with reality. But then I remember the industry that he’s been working with the past thirty years, where he doesn’t have a nine to five job to cling onto, with a snap of his fingers he can pack his bags and travel somewhere else.

“I can fly you out, get you into the concert.”

That’s it. I can’t hold in my laughter, and I can just about see him pondering on the other end what’s so funny about his offer.

“I have a job-”

“So, call in sick?”

“It doesn’t work like that or that I don’t want to. It’s just, if I let you pay for the tickets and fly me out then that’s cheap, and I don’t want to be that person.”

There’s a long, drawn out sigh on the other end of the phone.

“Let me call you back.” I tell him, “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

---

A family emergency had been the most inventive thing that I’d been able to come up with, but it at least stopped any questions and pestering from work and friends about skipping town all of a sudden. The process of getting there had been planned to perfection, he was going to have one of the band’s security head on out to the airport and take me back to the concert venue - even if I had told him ten times how ridiculous it was and that I could get a cab, he had been insistent.

The journey from the airport to the venue has me pondering the insanity of it all. Both in him actually wanting me here, and me going as far as to make it happen.

The car pulls into the loading bay of the venue, where the tour buses and trucks with the band’s gear are on it. It’s when I get out of the car, that I notice him, like he’s just stepped off a photoshoot, puffing on a cigarette. I make the conscious decision to take him by surprise and sneak up on him.

“You know, those things are going to kill you one day-”

He startles, just about jumping out of his skin and choking on his cigarette in the process.

“Too bad we’re all going to die anyway, so we might as well indulge in the bad things while we’re alive and kicking.”

“That’s a little of a morbid stance to have.”

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders, unphased, “Calling me out on my smoking and then calling me morbid might be the best ‘hello’ I’ve ever gotten.”

He flicks the cigarette to the floor before stubbing it out with his shoe. He stands there with outstretched arms, ready to welcome me, but in blind panic I go for a handshake rather than a hug.

“Hi.”

His eyes widen, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I can almost see his thought process of just how he’s going to redeem himself and move on from the award pause.

“Hi,” There’s a long pause. “Was your flight okay? You got here safe?”

Thankfully, the flight had only been a couple of hours long - but that was more than enough time for me to spend on a plane. There was something about being in a constricted space, thousands of feet up in the air that made me nervous. Plus, without fail, I always felt disgusting afterwards.

“Guy beside me was snoring and drooling the whole time, I felt incriminated.”

“Should’ve taken my offer to fly you out first class.” I snort and roll my eyes at him. We’d already been over this, I’d made myself clear, I wasn’t going to be his groupie.

“Actually, without being rude, is there a place I can go and shower first? Being frisked at security and sitting on a plane kind of makes me feel gross.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement, I can almost see the cheeky comment that he’s threatening to make on the tip of his tongue, but something stops him. “Tour bus is free at the moment. I can give you the exclusive tour, too.”

Showering on a tour bus. Great. Exactly what I had in mind.

“Ladies first,” He gestures with his hand for me to move in front of him. It doesn’t take a scientist to work out that the giant black RV with the band logo across it is where we’re headed..

Much to my surprise, going inside, it’s more like a luxury hotel room on wheels. It feels a better standard than my apartment back home.

“This part is the kitchen…. We don’t use it much, aside from the mini bar.”

It doesn’t even qualify to be called a kitchen. It’s a tiny little counter space with a microwave, a coffee machine, and a mini fridge.

“And this is where we sit and relax, talk, play guitar...” He points towards the plush leather sofas adjacent to each other. “The cool part here is that the wall slides back if you need more space.”

“Impressive.”

“These are the bunks where we bring back the groupies.”

I’m unsure whether they look claustrophobic, like I’ve heard many complaints about, or if they look quite cozy.

“There’s a proper bedroom through there too, but Alice and Joe usually fight it out for it. I don’t mind sleeping it rougher.” He explains with a shrug of his shoulders. “Bathroom is through the back. Take as much time as you need. I’ll stand guard for you.”

“Thank you.” I look up at him with a smile before brushing past to open the door on the back wall that extends out into the bathroom. Much to my surprise, the room isn’t all that smaller than the bathroom in my apartment back home. The shower, that I assumed was going to be a small, cramped space, is quite spacious. The only strange thing is stripping down and knowing who is standing guard by the door.

He’s in every way true to his word, too. As I turn the water off and grab a towel to wrap myself in, I can hear a disagreement going on outside between Johnny and Tommy about the bathroom being otherwise engaged.

“I’m telling you, dude, you’re just going to need to find somewhere else to go and pee… Bathroom is off limits!”

“But I can’t hold it in, man! I’m dying! You think I can use the kitchen sink?”

Johnny starts to laugh at him, “You can’t be serious!”

There’s a little more toilet talk back and forth and laughing still going on by the time I’m dressed and nudging the door open carefully.

“Um, hi, Tommy.” I greet nervously and fold my arms over my chest.

“Oh! Now I get it… You have a girl here!”

I can feel a blush rise to my cheeks just thinking about what is no doubt going through his mind. Thankfully, Johnny comes to the rescue.

“It’s not -- it isn’t that, Tommy.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He gives a wink at the two of us. “I’ll leave you to it, J-man!” And just like that, Tommy is off the bus.

“I’m sorry about him.” Johnny sighs, “He says what he thinks, there’s no stopping him.”

“It’s fine,” I brush off, acting as if I’m unbothered. But in reality, that one comment has gotten to me. I can’t help but have the niggling thought in the back of my mind, if that’s the way that Tommy is going to react, then what is the rest of the band going to be like?

---

The concert was amazing, even better than what it had been a few nights ago. I’d watched the show from the side of the stage, and could safely say that this time, Johnny had been looking and smiling at me.

I hadn’t wanted to face the confrontations of the band after the show, so after the encore, I had decided to hide away in Johnny’s dressing room to look at my phone for a moment of peace and quiet. If I was to exclude the fact that it was Johnny Depp’s dressing room that I was sitting in, it would have felt like the first normal moment of an otherwise bizarre day.

The door flying open makes me look up from the screen, to see Johnny standing there, still hot and sweaty from being under the lights.

“Everything okay?” He asks with a concerned expression, “You weren’t there when I came off stage. I was a little worried that I’d scared you off.”

I’m hardly going to tell him that I’m scared of running into the band when he’s the one that’s brought me out here to be with him. “I just didn’t want to get in the way, I thought you guys would be in a race to hit the showers.” I lie coolly. It seems to be good enough, since he goes to change the subject.

“What did you think?” He asks, a grin firmly in place on his lips. “Could you see and hear alright? The speakers weren’t too loud?”

I grin and nod my head eagerly. “You sounded amazing! Heroes was phenomenal...” I probably sound like I’m trying to impress him, but it’s my favourite song that the band do.

“Ah, you see,” He pauses to take a drink from his water bottle. “I think I had a little bit of extra good luck, with being cheered on the side front.”

I can feel that warm feeling of heat going up to my cheeks, and certainly not for the first time today. It makes me feel so powerless and awkward to just stand and say nothing.

“Um,” He scratches the back of his head, “You must be hungry?”

Starving, actually. I hadn’t had anything to eat since getting here and been too shy to pluck up the courage to ask about food since getting here. I’d accepted my fate and growling stomach a good few hours ago. But regardless, I downplay it, “A little, I guess…”

“Do you want to go and grab something to eat? I need to get showered and changed first…

I’m not certain what prospect makes me more nervous. Dinner with him. Or dinner uncomfortably sitting around all of the Hollywood Vampires eating. Both make my stomach flip. Especially since he isn’t going to specify.

#johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x reader #johnny depp fanfic

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

Text

something more. (home for the summer)

🍁📸 fushimi omi

summary: the mad wolf was nothing you expected, but everything you needed for the summer warnings: alcohol/drugs (mentions, no mc usage), angst, bruises, change, crying, death (mentions), graduations, kissing, motorcycles, omi's past, open ending, reunions, scars, separation, sneaking around author's note: bunnie is slowly realizing how old she's getting ;; but in all honesty, the summer of senior year is always a bittersweet feeling, knowing that everything is changing within two months or so. although it's a possibility bunnie may not write as much, or even anymore, once she enters college, she still has this time to do what she loves. i hope you may accept me for as long as you want before we eventually split. if you resonate with this feeling, please enjoy this one-shot! word count: 3,574 music: home for the summer - sara kays

WE STARTED GETTING CLOSE FRESHMEN YEAR, WHEN ALL OF OUR FRIENDS WERE SMOKING CIGARETTES AND WE COULDN’T STAND THAT SECONDHAND SMOKE SO WE’D LEAVE AND DRIVE AROUND UNTIL YOU HAD TO DROP ME OFF AT HOME They said that the big bad wolf of Sekichiku was nothing but bad news, but then why was he so warm in your arms? You couldn’t believe even when you opened your eyes. Fushimi Omi driving his motorcycle just a little slower this time, his leather jacket pressed against your cheek as the night waned. Everyone called him “Mad Wolf”, a title only fitting for the most ruthless of predators amongst the underground of your high school. Yet… how could be a wolf be so gentle? So kind? So lovely in every way?

It started with a party meant for anyone but you. You didn’t know why you decided this was the night to rebel, but it was a mistake. Instead of putting your head in the books and staying quiet in the front of the class, for once you decided to attend a gathering full of things you’ve only read about. Drinks and drugs were mixed in an unhealthy solution for failing tests, missing homework, and any other teenage problem associated with the academic system. When you found yourself outside for the chance of anything except breaking the law, the epitome of what you were avoiding showed up. Omi, in his scarred and bruised glory, quietly closed the door behind him after noticing your rigid state. When his loud boots thumped against the patio floorboards, you wondered what this looked like. A tall, strong wolf with a smile of sharp teeth and narrowed eyes staring down upon his next prey. But, when you turned to meet his amber eyes, you didn’t find a villain belonging to the fairytale of “Little Red Riding Hood”. Instead, Omi softly smiled with dull teeth and eyes that glowed underneath the golden street lamps. When he spoke, his voice healed you like a spoonful of honey, the words void of claws like you expected. “Are you okay? I noticed you’ve been outside for some time, is there anything I can do to help?” Before you shook your head, your gaze subconsciously fell upon the motorcycle chained to a fence, a helmet decorated in boyish stickers that referenced children T.V. shows made you falter. When Omi followed your line of sight, his expression gleamed with something of interest. “Ever driven on a motorcycle before?” This time, you shook your head, arms wrapped around you to keep warm before Omi offered his hand. “Let’s go then.” At your concerned expression at riding a motorcycle with one of the most infamous delinquents around, Omi exhaled through his nose, understanding your apprehension but disappointed nonetheless. It looked like he expected this sort of reaction, though it did nothing to comfort the “Mad Wolf”. “I promise, it’ll be okay. I’ll be extra careful, you have my word.” Omi had no reason to lie, not when his friends were just behind the walls doing everything that got a high schooler excited. You thought something would’ve deterred you from agreeing, like the secondhand smoke scent from Omi’s jacket or the manmade rips in his jeans. But, maybe there was something else that made you take his hand, like the worn leather bracelet you noticed Nachi also wore or the wallet of family photos peeking from his pocket. Either way, you took Omi’s hand, letting him lead you to his motorcycle. His hand was calloused and rough from the years of doing god knows what, his knuckles stained with remnants of a fight not too long ago. Yet, when he latched the spare helmet on your head, you noticed his hands smelt like flour and coffee. If you closed your eyes, it would’ve felt like a white knight leading you onto his horse despite it being the complete opposite. You sat behind Omi, unfamiliar with the position of such a vehicle. Omi checked in on you, looking over his shoulder as he searched for something in your face. Regret, embarrassment, shame, possibly. “I won’t go fast, don’t worry. But, you can still… um… hold on?” When Omi’s voice raised to a question at the end, you didn’t notice his stutter as you hid your face in his shoulder, hugging his waist. Omi’s abdomen tensed for a moment, before relaxing as he let out a deep breath. You would’ve given up anything to know what he was thinking in that moment. You didn’t have time to ask before Omi revved his engine, driving off down the pine-tree ridden road in your small town. True to his word, Omi didn’t drive like he normally did, with no regard for who saw him speeding past some rundown cop. But, Omi patiently cruised down the familiar roads, past the houses with blacked-out windows and everyone asleep. You should’ve felt scared, terrified even. But, you couldn’t. Not when the moon was bigger than ever, with a crown of stars gracing the night’s visage. Not when

this was the most daring thing you’ve ever done up until your junior year, not when the party was miles behind you, not when Omi was this caring of someone he’s never even officially met before. “Can we go a little faster?” After Omi got your confirmation you were serious, you lifted your head to watch the stars pass by in a blur. Yet, Omi’s golden gaze remained consistent, his sights drifting to your bright smile and exhilarating awe. Without realizing, your fists clenched the material of Omi’s jacket whenever a turn was made, your fingers passing over Omi’s stomach. He wondered if you could feel his heart leap whenever your breath ghosted over his already red ears. It was a hour of incoherent conversation and mumbles of nothings before you were outside of your home, your window still open from sneaking out a little while back. When Omi silently stopped, neither of you knew what to do. You didn’t want to let go, nor did you want to accept the best night of your life was suddenly over. Omi turned, both of you much closer than before. His eyes carried the aura of the stars, his smile as consistent as the moon. Fushimi Omi was made of whatever made the night worth staying up for. You never wanted to sleep again. “Can I see you again?” And again, and again, and again. Omi nodded, at a loss of words for some reason. When you gave back his helmet, your hands brushed and you nearly dropped it from the sheer feeling alone. Omi was too considerate to act like he noticed, so he bid you goodbye—I’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay?—as you disappeared inside. He didn’t leave until he saw you wave from your room, to which he waved back with a twinkle in his eye. When Omi drove away, both of you let out a breath, hands over your hearts at what could’ve been something more. Only time would tell what happened next. SWEAR THAT WAS YESTERDAY, BUT IN TWO WEEKS, I’LL BE MOVING SOUTH AND YOU’D BE MOVING TO A TOWN THAT I HAD NEVER HEARD OF I WISH WE HAD MORE TIME, WHY DID I EVER WANT TO GROW UP? It almost felt like yesterday that everything was so much more simple. When friends didn’t die, when the burden of college didn’t weigh you down, when change didn’t come in the form of extremities. At least one thing stayed the same: Omi and his starry eyes and his moonlit smile. Though, that’s dimmed ever since Nachi. Omi didn’t wear his leather jacket anymore, instead letting you keep it when the evenings got cold for the summertime. He must’ve washed it a thousand times over; you didn’t know if it was because of you or the memories attached to it. Either way, Omi was beginning to stop staring when you showed up in his jacket, the only thing left of his past he’s been trying to erase. A year had passed since the party, but it felt like nothing. It felt like all those nights of stargazing, constellation-finding, and moon-chasing became blurred together, a collage of being alive with someone you had just met. Now, Omi was more than a friend, he was your best friend, a soulmate, maybe something more. Omi’s loud steps remained the same, though he was more quiet this time on the roof. You two laid next to each other, hands getting closer and closer before someone pulled away last second. The summer days passed in a haze, nothing particularly exciting until the sunsets onward, where you two knew exactly what to do. Everything was quiet when it came to being with Omi past midnight, except the unsteady beats of your hearts when the possibility of something more shined. Despite that, it was quiet, something both of you longed for during the day. “Do you ever think about what the stars will look like at Yosei?” When you asked, Omi slightly frowned, as if he forgot he was moving to the heart of Veludo Way in just two weeks time. After careful consideration of your curiosity, Omi stretched his arms, resting his head upon them as he seemed to search for something. He always did that, Omi never thought anything was simple.

“No… they won’t look like they do now, I suppose. It won’t be the same.” Without you there by my side, both of you ignored the unsaid words that came with the statement. You nodded, knowing you felt the same way. Veludo Way was a distant world away, Yosei University was taking your Omi away. Light years away. “How have your brothers reacted to the news?” At that, the tension that was ebbing away at the conversation eroded, and Omi’s light came back as usual. Omi ran his free hand through his hair, smiling at some distant memory he wanted to share with you. “Not any good, that’s for sure. Kai & Gaku can’t imagine Pops waking them up since I always did. It’s gonna be a big adjustment for them to actually take responsibility of their own lives.” Although Omi rolled his eyes, he did so fondly whenever he thought about his two younger brothers. You knew he was immensely proud of the young men they’ve been growing into, it was a sense of pride that he had instilled inside him ever since you’ve met him. Ever since you saw those faded stickers still on his helmet, you knew who placed those. “Of course, a life without you isn’t worth imagining.” Shit. You meant to say it lightheartedly, but it came out heavier than expected. With that, a quietness settled between you two, both of you trying to find the right words for the occasion of leaving each other. “You’ll be fine without me, I know it.” But, I don’t like it like that, selfishly enough. I know you’ll be better than ever, but I wish… When a shooting star passed out of the corner of your eye, you pointed it out with the same junior-year awe as if this was your first life. Omi was glad to know the news was right; the meteor shower of the season was tonight, as if it was a last hurrah before both of you left this small town for good. “Make a wish!” I wish we had more time. Despite the wish pulling on his heart strings, Omi turned his head, your side profile greeting him with a smile. The stars were reflected in your eyes, and Omi wondered what a sunrise would look like. It was too late now. “Let’s see a sunrise together when summer comes around, okay?” You nodded, turning and seeing the moon. You didn’t make a wish, not when you had everything you wanted right in your sight. Omi took your hand again, and it was softer than last time he offered it. Omi brought your conjoined hands to his lips, murmuring something about a promise before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You missed the final shooting star of the night, instead you saw it pass in Omi’s gentle eyes as he leaned in. “Thank you for the summer, my lucky shooting star.” You thought of a wish as Omi kissed you. I wish we were something more. YOU SAID YOU’LL SEE ME WHEN WE’RE HOME FOR THE SUMMER WE WON’T HAVE TO WORK SO WE’RE GONNA DO WHATEVER THE HELL WE WANNA ‘CAUSE WE KNOW THAT ONE DAY, WE’LL BE GONE FROM EACH OTHER Despite only being a year away, your hometown almost felt unfamiliar. New employees manned the typical shops you used to frequent, a new graduating class was celebrating, and overall, people were now older. But, Omi didn’t change. Not with his singular scar on his cheek, his eyes lighting up when he sees you, his warm touch when he hugs you. You heard his bag drop at his front door first before feeling his arms hug you, his words comforting as you two embrace after so, so long. “Welcome home.” You greeted him back, the words sticking to your skin like a sheen layer of sweat that always came with the incoming summer heat. Home… was it your traditional suburb with kids playing in the street and a generation of the same mailmen home? Or, was it something else? You felt Omi wrap his arm around your shoulders, his muscle as present as ever as he guided you to visit his family, the brothers happily welcoming you both into the Fushimi household. Home was Omi, that was all. You exhaled, bending down to ruffle Kai’s hair and praise Gaku for how big he’s gotten. After you politely greeted Omi’s father, to which he harrumphed and insisted you had to call him by his name at this point, you knew this

was home as well. Home for Omi, and due to the open hearts of the Fushimi boys, home for you, too.

You found yourself in Omi’s bedroom, something you weren’t familiar with. It was still clean, organized, and full of warm tones upon black walls, surely something attempting to cover his past delinquent days. As the door clicked close, Omi gently tugged you onto his bed beside him, bringing out his gaze reserved only for you. You didn’t hesitate to lean your head on his shoulder, feeling at ease. Omi took your hand, his grip careful but verging onto desperation. As if being away from you for so long had taken everything in him. You knew that wasn’t true by any means, but Omi’s shuddering breath and hand squeeze tried to say otherwise. When you cupped Omi’s face, he relaxed in your touch, leaning into your hands as he looked down on you; you could tell Omi was a bit embarrassed to let you see how emotional he was getting at the reunion. You didn’t expect a man who’s life was rough around the edges to have the most sincere of hearts, but Omi was always like this. Always gentle, always kind, always gentle in every way. “I missed you, too.” When you said those words, Omi moved forward as if making up for lost time, both of you falling upon the bed in a heap of giggles and whispers. It was everything but I love you because that would change everything, something neither of you needed during this time. Instead, a combination of I hope summer lasts forever and I could only think of you when it was a full moon that filled the room of someone you wish you had knew sooner. WE’LL HAVE LIVES IN TWO DIFFERENT SUBURBS WE’LL HAVE FAMILIES WITH DIFFERENT LOVERS BUT FOR NOW, I KNOW I’LL SEE YOU WHEN WE’RE HOME FOR THE SUMMER It was the first night you had spent in your own bedroom before a knock sounded on your window. When you sleepily opened your eyes, Omi’s figure was illuminated by the moon, his eyes still warm of starlight despite being shadowed. You hurried to unlatch the window to let him in, not bothering to question how he managed to sneak to your room so silently. Although busting into each other’s room wasn’t an impossibility, it was only on rare occasions that you two ever encroached on such intimate territory. Though, neither of you were in high school anymore. Perhaps, it was different now. “What time is it?” You mumbled, your helping hand lingering longer than one would expect of a friend. Omi didn’t mind, he never did, as he looked around for something. When Omi located his jacket still hung around your desk chair, he wrapped it around your shoulders as the chilly breeze entered through the open window. “Time to fulfill our senior year promise. Ready?” You didn’t think twice and followed Omi outside of the window, knowing at this point you’d trust him with your life. Omi knew your backyard like the back of his hand as he avoided setting any sprinklers or devices off, not needing your guidance. You watched his broad back attempt to fit through small spaces, it took everything in you not to laugh at how ridiculous all of this was. Sneaking around like there was still curfew in place, as if both of you weren’t legally adults. By now, Omi had reserved his spare helmet only for you, meaning it was second nature for him to close the clasp snugly. Although this time, his eyes melted at the sight of you, as if in disbelief you were standing in front of him after all of this time. Tiredly, you rested your head against Omi’s shoulder as he made sure you were situated in the back of his motorcycle, something he had left at home. Omi drove off, the speed just right so that it’d blow your hair back the way you liked it. Despite being on the vehicle a countless number of times, it still took your breath every time of how fortunate you were. You tightly hugged his waist, wondering if he could feel the butterflies against your ribcage. Before you could ask why both of you were up so early, Omi parked in the same spot as always when things became a bit much.

It was off closer towards the woods, where a picnic area besides the lake still had the same paint from a decade ago. The grass tickled your ankles as you hopped off, admiring the calm waters before a bird chirped. At that, Omi walked up beside you, his footsteps always loud in your presence. A softer hand gently held onto your chin, forcing you to look up. You noticed the water reflecting the sky first as hues of orange and blue dominated your vision. It was the first sunrise you’ve been awake for, and you were sharing it with the man of the night himself. But, when you glanced at Omi, you realized he wasn’t just made of stars and moonlight. The sunrise emphasized the warmth of his eyes even more as a golden glow surrounded his happy smile. Omi was everything worth staying up for, everything from the sunrises to the sunsets and more. I love you, you wanted to say but didn’t. It would change everything, it would mean that the possibility of “something more” could become “nothing”. You couldn’t, neither could Omi. Perhaps… this was all it ever could be. YOU’VE BEEN BUSY, THAT’S OKAY I STILL CAN’T WAIT TO BE HOME FOR THE SUMMER When you had driven off back to your college, the first text from Omi was reminiscent of a simpler time, where kissing on rooftops was the most thrilling thing you’ve ever done. “I’ll see you next summer, okay?” It made you pull over and rest your forehead against the wheel, keeping your eyes closed as you felt like the sun was too bright. It was still too hot, the clouds were too big, the sky too blue. It was too much, too far away from Omi who was heading the other direction. You wished your head was resting against Omi’s shoulder as he drove a little more over the speed limit underneath the moon and stars. You wished the sun was beaming onto both of you after witnessing its earliest hours. You wished you were with Omi for every moment in between the best memories of your life. Summer was such a cruel concept, a promise that could be taken away at any time. I wish we had more time, you thought, knowing there was nothing else you could do. Omi put his phone in his pocket, knowing it was time to leave after seeing you off. Life was so uncertain, it’s as if both of you knew this was the last summer you two would share before even more things changed. But, despite only having three or so years, it didn’t feel like enough. If only he told you he loved you at that sunrise, if only he didn’t just kiss you without explaining what it meant, if only he could drive you around for just a day longer. If only… I wish we were something more, Omi thought, but it was for nothing. I love you, you typed but put your phone in your pocket. The possibility of something more became nothing.

#fushimi omi #omi fushimi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #omi x reader #a3! omi #a3 omi

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citydreamgrls · 4 years ago

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how much have you had to drink?

george weasley x fem!reader

words: 2,387

a/n: maybe I did use too many differing pov’s but it is what it is,, enjoy!! :)

warnings: none ( i think )

I had been the first, and only person to prank the twins back at Hogwarts. Everyone else in the school was too afraid of their tricks that it was easier to stay out of a never-ending war with them. But I'd always been up for a good challenge, even if it was a 5 year long one.

As usual the twins joined me at breakfast, ignoring Angelina who had been telling me about the upcoming halloween party, and sat either side of me.

“Morning boys,”

“y/n,” they acknowledged in unison, both reaching for toast.

“Sleep well?” I asked George.

“Oh yes, perfectly.” He said sarcastically, taking a large bite of food.

“Almost as if someone slipped us a sleeping potion.” Fred joined in on the other side of me.

“Well I had to test my homework on someone,” I admitted, unashamed of my great potion-making skills. “Anything else strange happen last night?” I asked innocently.

“Nope.” they said.

“You sure? Because I managed to get some very lovely pictures of you too sporting some very sweet hairstyles.” I waved the photos of their sleeping forms in their faces, the little red pigtails flashing before their eyes.

Oliver Wood, having caught onto the end of our conversation leant across the table to see what I had.

“So that’s why you too looked like that this morning, I was beginning to worry I’d started sleepwalking.. Or styling.” He laughed, earning a glare from the boys beside me.

“You know we will get you back y/n,” Fred warned, but his threat was empty.

“Oh come on, you boys always go easy on me.” I laughed, taking a sip of my juice and immediately spitting it back out. “Gross!”

“Oh do we?” George asked, barely looking up from his book to hex my plate into slugs.

As much as the twins and I battled, they were still my best friends and I had spent pretty much my entire time at Hogwarts at their side. Unless Angelina pulled me away to gossip about whatever ‘exciting’ thing was coming up next.

This time it was the halloween party.

“I just don’t get why I have to dress up Lina, I'm already a witch. Can’t I go as myself?” I huffed, resting my legs on her lap as we sat in front of the fire.

“The Weasley’s won’t let anyone in who isn’t dressed up, it’s the rules.”

“Oh that’s easy, they’ll let me come regardless.” I laughed.

It was as if they appeared at the sound of their name, popping their heads over the back of the sofa. Both Angelina and I jumped out of our skin, immediately reaching up to hit them in retaliation.

“Hey, you guys will still let me come to the party saturday if I don’t dress up right?” I asked with an expectant smile.

“No costume,” Fred started

“No entry,” George finished. And then walked off to the dorms.

“Oi, but it’s me-”

“No exceptions,” They called back.

I fell back into the sofa, ignoring Angelina’s smug face as she started discussing costumes once again. Tossing up whether to go as a cat, or some sort of muggle character. Not that she really knew any, but she just wanted to impress one of the boys in the year above.

“Will you help me y/n?” she pleaded, to which I finally gave in. Knowing I didn’t have anything better to do.

Saturday morning rolled around and I still hadn’t sorted my own costume, but at least Angelina was happy with her Daphne costume that I’d helped organise.

Fred and George had slipped away early from dinner last night, claiming that they had to ‘finish up party plans’. But I felt uneasy, having swapped their ties for two slytherin ones and then locking them in the dorms until 2 minutes before classes started that morning.

Yes it made me late for Mcgonigall’s lesson too, but seeing them rush in wearing the wrong uniform and having to explain that it had just been mixed up somehow to their head of house was well worth it.

Still, they could be planning payback.

The party was starting in an hour, and everyone was in their dorms getting ready. Including about three more girls than were usually in mine and Angelina’s dorm, racing around with masks and lip liner and other parts of costumes.

I walked in to see a hat with bunny ears laying on my bed.

“It’s all I could find,” Angelina told me, as she passed by to grab her purple jacket. “Dunno if it’ll be enough though.”

“I’ll sort something out, thanks Lina!” I shouted after her as she raced to use the bathroom before anyone else slipped in.

My only thought at the time was clown makeup, but I didn’t have any white face paint, and never really enjoyed its feel as it was. So I took a red lipstick and some dark eyeshadow to draw diamonds round my eyes. With the bunny hat on I looked far from scary, but paired with the clown makeup and a dark lip, I at least looked creepy.

Angelina leant me some fishnet tights to wear with my black skirt and I threw on a zip hoodie I had stolen from one of them twins years ago. I couldn’t remember which one if I was being honest.

Oliver and I had been sharing a bottle of vodka I'd brought with me from home, knowing it got everyone drunk quicker than wizard booze. Without realising it, an hour had passed, and I was yet to see either of the twins.

“You seen Fred or George tonight?” I asked the boy beside me, who was enjoying his stress-free evening.

“Yeah, Fred is dressed as a fighter pilot and I think I saw George in some kind of lab coat… or maybe it was a doctor?” He laughed to himself.

I headed up to their dorm room to see if they were there, and sure enough I just avoided a head on collision as they walked out.

“Whoa, nearly lost me there!” I screamed, stumbling back with a laugh. “What are you guys doing up here,”

“Nothing,” George spoke quickly.

“How much did you drink, y/n” Fred asked, helping me down the stone steps until we made it safely to the common room.

“Not loads, hey that’s not right.” I frowned at the boy holding me steady. “Oliver said you were dressed as a Pilot Fred, not George.”

“I am George!” The boy, with the aviator sunglasses on, teased. “You’re as bad as mum honestly.”

“Yeah, at least our costumes are legit!” the other teased, flopping the bunny ear that had fallen over one eye away.

“Do you like it?” I spun round, the skirt bouncing around I did.

“It’s an interesting combination,”

“Well you haven’t kicked me out… yet.”

Unbeknownst to y/n’s knowledge, the twins continued to confuse her. Constantly running off to swap costumes, and mess with their friend further. Although it kind of backfired, as the more she drank, the less she trusted herself to tell them apart and gave up altogether. In the end they went back to their original costumes, Fred as the Pilot and George the bloody doctor. They both decided to tell y/n the next morning, when she could at least have a chance of understanding.

Everyone else was in bed, except for the twins and I who sat up singing by the fire and sharing the last bottle of gin that I could find in my stash.

“I’m gonna have to stock up my stash at christmas,” I laughed as the last swig was taken and we fell into each other's shoulders. I slumped between them, laughing at the memory of Ron and Hermione’s perfect dance routine to livin’ la vida loca earlier that night.

I felt a lump in my jacket pocket and remembered that’s where I’d left my cigarettes since being at home. I stood up, startling the boys and declared what I was leaving to do.

“I’m off for a smoke, see you in a bit.” They shook awake.

“Wait y/n, you can’t smoke here rememb- oh god she’s gone.”

“Well go on then George, stop her!” Fred grumbled to his brother, having already drifted back off to sleep.

George ran down the staircase, being careful not to make too much noise as his doctor’s coat flew behind him. He had only been a few seconds behind y/n, how could she have disappeared already? Still, he headed for the black lake, knowing that was her favourite spot to go when she wanted to be alone. He had watched her there many times, far away enough that she had never spotted him though.

“Y/n!” He whisper-shouted, running down the bank towards her. She was already sat down, the lighter in one hand and a cigarette balanced between her lips.

“What are you doing Fred?” she asked, mistaking him for the other twin.

“Oh about th-”

“At least it’s you and not George,”

The boy felt hurt by her words, always having looked after her without her knowing. Most of the time the lack of retaliation from the twins in their prank war was because George would sabotage it. He always felt guilty playing tricks on y/n.

“Why’s that?” He asked, playing along with what she believed to find out the truth.

The girl lit her cigarette regardless of his warning, and puffed out a breath of smoke offering it to the boy beside her who reluctantly agreed. Knowing that if his mother could see him now, she would have a heart attack.

“I always embarrass myself in front of George,” y/n admitted. “Whether it’s being drunk, or making stupid jokes. I just look like an idiot when I’m around him.”

“I don’t think you do,”

“I can’t help it though, it’s different with you. You’re like a brother to me Fred.”

“Actually y/n-” George started, wanting to come clean, but she kept going.

“But George, he’s just more than that you know. He always cares for me and makes sure I’m safe, hell he thinks I don’t notice when he watches me sulk down here.” She laughed lightly to herself, leaning to rest on the boy beside her. “I was so sure I knew him better than anyone else, but obviously not.” Her shoulders dropped in despair.

“Why’s that?”

“He probably just sees me as a friend right? I mean, I couldn’t even tell you two apart tonight, I thought you were him.” She scoffed.

George swallowed, knowing that him admitting to their prank would most likely cause some backlash from the girl. But he bit the bullet.

“I am George.”

Her body froze.

“Don’t joke.” She said flatly.

“I’m not, honestly. It was just supposed to confuse you earlier but I am George.”

Y/n stood up, dropping her cigarette into the water and headed up the hill towards the courtyard. George ran after her again.

“Please y/n wait!” He called out, grabbing her hand to stop her. She spun around, tears running down her face. “Oh god i’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you thought I was him, I just came to check on you.”

“I’m such an idiot god.” she huffed, trying to drag herself away but he wouldn’t let go. “I can’t even tell it’s you when you’re right here,”

“Yes you could y/n, that’s the whole point.”

“Still I just told you how I feel about you, with no intention of actually telling you, yet here we are with you being kind and nice and perfect and I’m just embarrassing myself once again.”

George followed her into the hallway and up the stairs, not wanting to call out until they were clear of the earshot of others. He managed to stop her just before the common room, pulling her aside into a secluded corner.

“Y/n, darling..” she had never heard him call anyone that seriously until now, and she couldn’t help but feel special because of that. “I have never seen you as an idiot, and you have never embarrassed yourself in front of me. In fact, I’ve always thought you were the perfect one.”

“Then why are you only telling me this now?” The girl asked him.

“I always thought you liked Oliver,”

“Wood?” she laughed and he hadn’t heard a sound better “God, he’s way too intense. Even tonight he wanted to talk game strategies with me, it was so boring.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

“So… you’ve always liked me?” She teased him slightly, playing with the seam of his costume. George just rolled his eyes and held her face, making her look up at him. Of course she had stood next to him before, but it was only in this moment that she felt the sheer height gap between them.

He leant down and kissed her lips, still clutching her face as her hands dropped from his coat in shock. He was soft and sincere, holding her as if he’d longed to do so for quite some time. Y/n smiled against George’s lips, making the boy blush to himself and thank Merlin that she couldn’t see him do it.

They broke away after what felt like nowhere near long enough, y/n rested her head into his chest and sighed happily.

“We should get to bed, it’s late.” George whispered and she nodded. “You tired?” y/n nodded again. “Okay darling let’s go.” He took her waist and lifted her off the ground, letting her wrap her legs around him and nestle into his neck.

He passed Fred who was slipping into unconsciousness on the common room sofa.

“Night Fred,” they called to him, and he just groaned back.

“Don’t worry, we can tell him in the morning.”

“George,” the girl in his arms groaned.

“Yesss..”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Of course darling,” George said softly and took the girl up to his dorm so she could sleep comfortably in his arms, her little head tucked between him and the bed. He laughed at the bunny hat discarded on the chair, remembering how sweet she’d looked in it.

Even as a creepy clown George had wanted to kiss her.

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #weasley #weasley twins #fred and goerge weasley #fred weasley #harry potter #y/n #george weasley x reader #the weasleys #the weasley twins

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hypnomicimagines · 4 years ago

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Risk It All [Yamada Ichiro] [College AU]

Ichiro first fell in love with the back of your head.

He knew he should be listening to the professor droning on and on about some business policy that was likely going to be important in his future career but it was far too early in the morning for Ichiro to give a damn. You were leaning back in your chair which meant you were that much closer to him than normal and he was mesmerized, the notes on his paper just a mess of illegible scribbles that wouldn’t help him with any future test. But at least you smelled good and sometimes he’d get a glimpse of your face as you turned in your seat to talk to the person next to you, a small smile on your face; you’d even glimpse back at him when the lecture got too boring and roll your eyes.

The solidarity between two bored students made Ichiro feel special.

He didn’t think he was the shy type nor was he one to beat around the bush but there was something about you that made him nervous, too nervous to directly approach you as he would any other person, he was interested in. He’d been on a few dates since he’d gotten into college, focused more on his studies than having a good time, but when the need for human connection hit who was he to turn it down? He just had to give himself a pep talk, ask for your number, and he’d be on his way to… Well, he wasn’t sure where he’d be heading which was likely part of his hesitation. If you rejected him it sure would be awkward to have another month of classes together where you had to awkwardly pretend the creep behind you wasn’t constantly thirsting over you in his head.

“Just fuckin’ ask 'em,” Samatoki rolled his eyes at Ichiro’s predicament, “What are you waiting for? Some other asshole to swoop in and get them? If you want something, take it.”

“You act like it’s this simple thing…” Ichiro sighed, slamming his textbook shut at the table as no work would be getting done while you were on his brain.

“We could have a party or some shit,” Kuko offered up a helpful solution though the glint in his eye told Ichiro that there was some ulterior motive, not that his red-headed friend had ever been helpful without a catch like some sort of malicious genie. “Been overdue.”

Samatoki didn’t disagree and though their fourth roommate, Sasara, wasn’t around at the moment it was unlikely that he’d disagree. Sasara hated the silence and thrived on having an audience, the life of the party once he really got going, and generally the other guys had to watch out to assure he didn’t overdo it. Samatoki could handle that though as Ichiro had one goal in mind, get your number, and since it was such a simple task there’s no way it could get ruined, right?

Ichiro had a cup in his hand before he knew it.

He never really liked to drink but since he was technically of age he could, Kuko in the same boat as him. Samatoki and Sasara were the drinkers of the house, pointing out the best alcohols to buy and addressing the younger boys about the appropriate amounts to drink (and what alcohols not to mix). Ichiro’s nerves had been getting to him and after he was relentlessly teased by all three of his housemates, he had a red solo cup shoved in his hands.

“For your nerves,” Samatoki had stated as he took another drag of his cigarette, “Little bit won’t hurt you, don’t be a coward.”

Ichiro’s pride had been directly attacked, he couldn’t be a coward, not tonight, so he had done as he was instructed. Unfortunately, Samatoki hadn’t taken into account that Ichiro’s tolerance level wasn’t quite up to his standards, the alcohol soaking in even more as Ichiro had even been too nervous to eat before the party had started. His brain is in a fog as he searched you out, having invited you (and a few others around you in class) that day to come (you had said you’d love to go so he assumed that was a ‘yes I’ll be there!’). He’s trying not to stumble into other people as his eyes search the crowd, eventually landing on their target.

God, you looked so beautiful when you were all dressed up, wearing nice clothes that were a great contrast to the comfortable ones you preferred to wear to class. The true duality of beauty was appearing drop dead gorgeous no matter what you wore and Ichiro was positive he would’ve been enamored with you even if you wore a garbage bag and called in trash chic. He walked towards you without any hesitation, thinking for that split second that he was thankful for Samatoki having his back and giving him that little confidence booster before he had found you.

He’s quickly cursing his friends name.

Approaching you had caused the butterflies in his stomach to start up again and it must’ve clearly shown on his face as you looked concerned after he greeted you, putting a hand on his shoulder as you asked if he was okay. He wanted to reply ‘yes, of course!’ and his flirty side wanted to go ‘why, do you wanna be my nurse?’ while his desperate side wanted to say ‘please say you’ll go out with me’. But his actual self, his actual brilliant, low tolerance to alcohol self, said nothing.

Instead, he spewed his guts out.

All over your shoes.

The first thing he heard was Kuko’s hysterical laughter from the other side of the room which he promptly ignored as he tried not to topple over on you, your hand patting his back as he coughed at the burning sensation now in his throat. He had never wanted to die more in his life than he did right now, staring at your shoes covered in his puke, and he considered going up to the second floor so he could jump out the window in his room. You patted his shoulder and he looked up, finding your concerned face still plastered on as you whispered in his ear to ask where the bathroom was. He can faintly remember you leading him, leaning his head on the toilet while Samatoki stood in the doorway and talked with you, and then there was nothing.

Ichiro woke up in his bed the next morning, unceremoniously thrown on it sideways without even a blanket to cover him up. He groaned as his head throbbed, the previous nights events completely wiped from his memory for the time being until he dragged himself downstairs to get some water.

“Holy shit dude, you really barfed on ‘em? Oh my god they have to hate your guts!” Kuko is in tears instantly, his hysterical laughter triggering Ichiro’s memories of the night before; his friend might be an asshole but he was likely right. Who the hell wanted to deal with some lightweight idiot who greeted them with vomit? And he had class with you on Monday, how the hell should he deal with that? Was it too late to drop it? Could his counselor switch him to a different time? Ichiro was starting to panic.

There’s suddenly a loud clatter that pulled him from his thoughts as something is dropped in front of him on the table.

“The hell is that?”

“Your phone.” Samatoki stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was if Ichiro had bothered to look at the object before asking his question, “Took it from you after you got sick. Didn’t want you texting any dumbass exes and invitin’ them where they aren’t wanted.”

He’d rather not think about that.

He took the phone in his hand and raised an eyebrow at the number of missed messages, one of them being from Kuko who very much knew Ichiro wouldn’t be answered. He rolled his eyes at the ‘LOL’ that Kuko had sent him and continued to scroll through until he reached an unknown number, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he reads the text over and over.

‘Hey, I sit in front of you in Ethics. Just wanted to check in and see if you’re alright! Your roommate gave me your number if that’s cool. If not idk kick his ass or something. Make sure to take aspirin for that headache!!’

How could you be as cute over text as you were in person? Ichiro’s cheeks began to warm up and his stomach started to act up again, slapping a hand over his mouth as a wave of nausea came crashing down on him. He got worked up too quickly for his poor body to handle and as he’s hoisted from the table by Samatoki, ushering him to the bathroom like he’s some toddler who hasn’t learned to not piss their pants, he thinks about how lucky he is that you were such a kind person. Next time around he’d certainly be the one to make the first move and he wouldn’t need alcohol to get through it.

“Don’t fuckin’ throw up on the table dude we eat here.”

“Right in front of my salad,” Sasara sighed as he mixed his bowl of cereal.

“Shut the fuck up, that joke wasn’t funny when it was popular three years ago.”

Ichiro didn’t hear the bickering.

He was far too focused on texting you back.

#Yamada Ichiro #Ichiro Yamada #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypmic #Hypnomic #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnomic IMagines #Hypmic Imagines #Yamada Ichiro x Reader #Ichiro Yamada x Reader #College AU #Scenario

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confusednarcissistwrites · 5 years ago

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Teenage Dirtbag PT.3 (K.S.)

Sorry for the delay guys! I should really get a more regular posting schedule for this, but for now it’s just as I get parts written lol If anyone would be interested in being added to a taglist, let me know! Enjoy some building angst 😉

(suggestion of smut, mentions of alcohol, cursing)

You and Kyle were jerked awake by the sound of banging on the door.

“Wake up and get dressed!” called a voice, making rounds to clear out their house of all the overnighters.

It took you a second to gain your bearings through the hangover. You were naked in a room you didn’t recognize with your ex-boyfriend who was also naked. Fantastic.

Kyle groaned and rubbed his eyes harshly, clearly on the same page. Avoiding eye contact, you both got up and searched for your clothes that were thrown about the room. Though the tension was nearly unbearable, the thought of talking about what had happened made your already nauseous stomach so somersaults.

“Do you need a ride?” You were surprised he was the first to speak. You looked up at him, watching as he pulled his shirt over his head. You hated how attracted to him you still were.

“No, I drove with- oh shit.” Missy. You’d completely forgotten. You snatched your coat up off the floor and pulled your phone from your pocket hurriedly. Thankfully, there was a text from her last night:

‘Getting a ride home from Kelly, hope you’re okay xx’

You sighed in relief, holding your aching head for a moment. Everything was spinning.

“You don’t look too good. Maybe I should drive you home,” Kyle pressed, spinning the ring on his thumb, a tick of his you’d come to recognize.

“Okay.” You really didn’t want to, but you also knew he was right about you not being able drive safely like this.

He unblocked the door, and you followed him out. The house was trashed. People were passed out on the floor while others stepped over them trying to clean up half empty cups of liquor and the remnants of a silly string war.

He was parked in the back where the band had performed the night before. Only then did it dawn on you that that was why he was at the party. You climbed into the passenger side of his old beater, wishing like hell that you could just drive yourself home. Too much had happened in that car for you to not feel just the slightest bit disgusted with yourself for finding yourself right back there again.

He flicked on the radio, his favorite jazz cd filling the silence between you. All the little things you thought you’d made up in your mind to make him more endearing in your memories were right there in front of you. You fought so hard to hate him, to remember all the pain he’d put you through. Yet, you still ached for him to reach over and hold your hand like he used to.

‘God, Missy is going to kill me.’

Pulling up in front of your dorms, Kyle put the car in park and looked over at you. He spun his ring, looking down. Never before had you seen him look so shy.

“I uh..”

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll give you a call and we can talk later, okay?” you interrupted, sparing you both from his struggle to find words.

“O-okay. Sounds good,” he replied, looking up to meet your eyes. You sat looking back at him for half a second before climbing out of the car and heading into the building, not looking back. To say you felt shaken was an understatement. You hurried to your dorm, trying to slip in quietly in case Missy was still sleeping. Should you be so lucky.

She sat cross-legged on her bed sipping from a mug of coffee and staring judgmentally at you over the brim. “Coffee is still hot if you want some.”

You hung up your coat, not saying anything as you poured yourself a mug and reached for the aspirin, awaiting the incoming ass-chewing.

“Kyle Scheible. Again. Because it went so well the first time.”

“We just fooled around, Missy. It didn’t mean anything. We were both drunk,” you said defensively, though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince.

She sighed. “Look, I’m not your mom. I’m not going to lecture you. Just think about it.”

“Nothing to think about,” you deflected with a little shrug. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

You gathered up your things, saying a quick goodbye as you left the dorm to go wash last night’s events from your skin and hopefully ease your headache. Fortunately, the showers were almost empty this late in the morning, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Glimpses of the night before came back to you as you slipped out of your clothes. The less you wore, the more bruises and scratches you found. You felt.. wrong. It felt wrong that no matter how much you over thought the events of the night before, you didn’t feel much regret for what had happened. Stepping under the hot stream of water, you let out a contented sigh, feeling your tense muscles relax. ‘What do I have to feel bad about?’ you rationalized. He had initiated. You tried to fathom what his game was. Perhaps there was no game. Maybe it was just sex. You washed away what little remained of your makeup, feeling a bit deflated. You decided to rest that afternoon, and then decide whether or not you would call him.

However, when you got back to your room and checked your phone, there was already a text from him waiting for you:

“Let’s meet at the park instead. Hate talking on the phone. 8 work?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, that’s fine.” You should have known you were going to get out of this that easily.

++++++

After spending the afternoon in bed relaxing around the dorm, you got up and got dressed to go out and meet up with Kyle. Needless to say, you’d been thinking about it all day. Would you guys be able to finally talk about things, or would this just be another screaming match? Did he even want to talk? What was his endgame? You had no clue. Even worse, you weren’t sure what you wanted out of meeting up with him. You looked into the mirror, tugging your high collared shirt a bit higher to try and cover the dark marks he’d left. After slipping on your shoes, you wrote a quick note to let Missy know you were going out once she got back from her class. You spared details knowing they would just make her worry. A deep breath and then you were out the door.

When you arrived at the park, you spotted Kyle’s car tucked away behind a grove of trees. You rolled your eyes, parking next to him. You never did understand his paranoia over people knowing where he was. He watched as you hopped out of your car and into his passenger seat, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Hey,” you exhaled, your anxiety flaring. He was even harder to be next to when you didn’t have any alcohol in your system.

“Hey,” he replied, exhaling smoke out his cracked window before offering the cigarette to you. You took it, cracking your window and taking a pull. The tobacco he used always tasted so much better than the cheap Malls you bummed at parties. Kyle had been the first to introduce you to it all. You felt your nerves easy slightly, handing it back to him. He tapped it in the ashtray, looking over at you expectantly. “You wanted to talk?”

You voice caught in your throat. Shit. It had been you who had said you would call. “I-I mean I didn’t.. really have anything to say. I just.. thought we should.” You wiped your sweaty palms on your ripped jeans, avoiding his ever-intense gaze.

“About?”

You shot him a look, sensing him toying with you. He just looked right back at you. “Well, I mean the fact that we slept together last night, for starters.”

He cleared his throat, stubbing out the butt. He stayed quiet, reaching out and pulling your collar aside slightly to see the pink, purple imprint of his mouth. You watched his eyes darken. “It was good.”

You swallowed, drawing your knees together slightly. You wanted to ask him if he regretted it, but you knew that was never Kyle’s style. If it brought him pleasure in the moment, then it was always worth it no matter the consequences. “Yeah,” you breathed, distracted by his fingers brushing over the mark. You knew full well that what you had done was not “good,” but, God, it certainly had felt good. Feeling a bit panicky under his touch, you reached for the cigarette and took another pull. Your eyes met as he watched you carefully. You couldn’t miss the way his eyes drifted to your lips as you exhaled, smoke swirling gracefully between you and curling around his face.

Suddenly his hand was at your nape and his lips were on yours. Without the filter of alcohol this time, you were able to feel every ounce of his need for you. No matter why it was there, it made him absolutely magnetizing, and you just couldn’t resist. You kissed him back for no logical reason other than the fact that it felt so damn good. His free hand found your thigh, making you gasp softly and allowing him the chance to invade your mouth with his tongue. Your hands tangled into his curls. You noticed his hair was longer now. His hand tightened on your thigh, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

He pulled away, his eyes blown with lust. “Backseat?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

+++++

When it was all over, you were tucked under his arm and you were both covered by a thin blanket he’d had in his car for emergencies. The windows were fogged over, and you were both still trying to catch your breath. You couldn’t fathom how on earth you possibly had ended up back here again so easily. Sitting up, you began to pull your clothes back on.

“Y/N,” he called softly, halting your movements. You turned to look back at him, and he sat up, his hand sliding along your jaw as he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. “That was so good.”

You couldn’t help but blush, a ghost of a smile on your lips as he continued peppering kisses along your neck and face. “Kyle.. I need to go,” you giggled ticklishly, lightly pushing him away. When he sat back, you were able to see he was smiling too. A wave of emotion washed over you, and you promptly realized how fucked you were. Your smile faded, and you hurried to finish getting dressed. Once you were fully dressed and he was decently, you popped open the door and slid out. You looked back to him, hesitating only a moment before you closed the door behind you and got back in your own car.

It wasn’t until you were almost home that you felt the tears falling down your cheeks.

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tooruluv · 5 years ago

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Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 2 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,029

warnings/notes: the “party scene” so mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, weed, getting high, and some mentions of sex, mentions of throwing up, strong language (per usual), lots of angst, i based a lot of the experience on american high school simply because it’s easier for me to write

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Now, the exact day you fell in love with your best friend didn’t exist. There was no specific day, no specific realization, no “I had a dream about him”, no sudden “I see him in a different light”. It was a messy timeline of a million things, a mixture of waiting and wanting compiled together into what you determined to be love.

“How long have you been in love with him, anyway?” Iwaizumi asked you one evening.

It was after volleyball practice, and the two of you were sitting on your bedroom floor. He was leaning his back against your bed, one leg bent at the knee, his practice jersey still on, moonlight dancing off of his skin.

You would be lying if you denied his attractiveness (Like, c’mon, have you seen him? Seriously, there must be something in the volleyball water.. anyway..). You just never viewed him as anything other than a friend, a good one.

You were laying beside him, legs propped up on your bed and your head on the floor.

“I don’t know.” you told him honestly.

It was at that exact moment that you realized something else: you never openly admitted your love for Tooru Oikawa. Not once had the words slipped past your lips, to yourself or to someone else. The longest secret kept, in your opinion.

“I guess it all kind of mixes together, in the end.” you explained, deciding that the ceiling is the most interesting thing to look at. “Do you remember, when we were kids, and we were playing outside? And I brought that tub thing of peanuts?”

“Yeah, I remember that.”

“And ‘Kawa called me stupid for bringing it because it wasn’t…”

“It wasn’t peanut butter and why have peanuts when they weren’t spreadable?” Iwaizumi finished with a small laugh.

“Yeah. I think that was one moment that I was like “oh”. He even threw them at me.”

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like half an hour. It was a comfortable silence, one of processed memories and fondness.

“He does still call you nut.” Iwaizumi spoke into silence. You smiled.

“I should beat your ass! You scared the shit out of me!”

You were walking out of class when hands clasped around your sides. Your immediate reaction was one of both terror and putting your guard up, which ended up with you jumping and going to punch whoever just attacked. Luckily, it happened to be the tall, brown-haired volleyball captain.

“You’re cute.” he walked with you.

“What do you want from me, ‘Kawa?” you asked, pausing in the hallway in front of your next class.

“What could you possibly mean? I can’t just scare the shit out of my best friend?”

This fucker.

“You can scare me until I pee.” You crossed your arms, looking into his eyes. He always seemed to stand too close to you. “But you never call me cute unless you need something from me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. You are very cute. The cutest.”

You squinted up at him, trying to see through his lies. He smirked.

“Soooo… there is something I want to ask you. Completely irrelevant from me calling you cute. That would have nothing to do with this request. Have I mentioned that you look good in the uniform? It really…”

“You’re a dork. Ask.”

“Do you still talk to that one guy from across town? The guy you buy alc from?”

“You want me to buy alcohol for the party.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He pursed his lips. “Yes, I can get it. Now get to class before you’re late.”

Oikawa smiled, eyes squinting and tongue between his teeth. “You’re the best!” he exclaimed as he picked you up in a hug.

You watched as he jogged down the hall.

You knew your way around. It was a gift you had: the ability to just talk up anyone and find a way to get what you’re looking for. You knew people all over Japan, to be honest, that could help you in basically any way. It had been that way since you were younger.

The first time you ever bought alcohol is when you were thirteen. And it wasn’t even for drinking. You and your friends (when you had a million friends and not two) wanted to play spin the bottle and figured it would look cooler if you were to use an actual “drink”. You gave it to your mom as a gift after.

Since then, you had bought drinks for various things. Parties, get togethers. It was only when Oikawa’s older brother wasn’t able to get it for you guys, of course.

This was one of those times.

There was this little shop a little ways away (in Torono, to be specific) that never ever ID’d anyone. You would always go there to buy since you found it at thirteen, to the point that you and the owner were on first name bases. Sometimes you would have actual conversations, if he was in the mood. Sometimes you barely spoke, but he would still bag the bottles for you.

His eyes only lifted from what he was reading for a moment to catch yours as you entered the Sakanoshita Store. You were already by the alcohol.

“You’re still not of age, kid.” he spoke through the cigarette.

“You’re still smoking.” you joked. You placed like ten bottles on the counter. “I thought you were going to try and stop. Health and all.”

“I know you’re not talking to me about health, you little alcoholic.” he sat up, running a hand up his hair to fix his headband. “Just give me the money before someone comes in.”

The exchange was fast, per usual, and you were leaving with a black bag of fun. “Thank you, my darling Keishin!”

“Get out of my store. Don’t die.”

And he was back to reading, cigarette still hanging from his lip.

The volleyball tournament ended the exact way Oikawa thought it would: wins. So, that meant that the party was already in full swing before the sun was down. You were moving between crowds, cup in hand.

It was not a secret that you were Oikawa’s, and (by association) the rest of the volleyball team’s, best friend. You sat with them at lunch, you interacted in the hallways, you let some of the boys copy your homework. It was quite obvious. That was the main reason so many people approached you. Their main goal was popularity through the most popular and successful sports team at the school. You didn’t mind.

It was when the girls would come up to you asking you to put in a good word for them to Oikawa that you had to put on a fake smile and say “yeah!” or “of course, I’ll give him your number!”. They never made it past your memory.

“What do you think?” The man of the hour asked from his position beside you. You were watching the party from the kitchen, the already drunk laughs and conversations blurred into a single volume. “How much cleaning do you think we’ll have to endure?”

“Ah, definitely hours.” You took a sip from your cup. You offered him your cup, knowing whatever’s in his cup is nonalcoholic. “You might as well live a little. Take a guzzle, you earned it.”

“You know I don’t drink.”

��But you’ll get high.”

“That I will do.” He took a sip of his cup. Maybe he put his drink in a red solo cup to look like he’s drinking, or maybe he just did it because it was better than drinking out of an actual juice box. You didn’t bother him with it. “Speaking of getting so high I forget everything around me, I gotta find Hanamaki.”

“Have fun!”

“Without you? Unlikely.” he joked. Your stomach turned.

You didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or the love.

“Technically, you’ve kissed Oikawa.” Iwaizumi told you as you both sat in the corner. You were both definitely tipsy, but not quite drunk yet.

You scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

Tooru Oikawa has kissed you, sure, but never once had it been on the lips. He had left kisses on your forehead, cheeks, temple, top of your head. Even one time on your hand. But never lip to lip. And Iwaizumi bringing it up out of nowhere made your cheeks heat up. You blamed whatever was in your cup.

“We played spin the bottle before. I kissed both Oikawa and you. And by contact, your lips were also on his.”

“You are a shitstain in my underwear, Iwa.”

“Ah yes, that was the most ladylike sentence I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Dance with me!” you pulled Oikawa with you to the dance floor. It was freshman year, and both of your families were invited to a wedding. It was some woman your moms were friends with, you don’t remember.

But he agreed, and let you drag him along as you danced. The songs were fun and fast, and a majority of the reception guests were dancing their hearts away on the floor.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” he told you that day, in the midst of the summer sun.

That was one of those moments. Those blurred moments you wished you could record to memory as the beginning of your love for him.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You told him, but your mind screamed you’re beautiful too.

The night was something between a blur and random scenes mashed together. Several drinks later (why did the vodka taste like water?) and hits from multiple joints, you were staring in tunnel vision.

You remember a snippet here, a minute there. You danced with Iwa for a bit, before he went to do something. You hung out with some people on the couches for a bit, and there was definitely a lot of laughing. You remember laughing.

What were you doing again?

Oh yeah, you were trying to find Oikawa. You didn’t know what exactly you wanted so desperately to tell him. You figured your drunken mind would find out what you wanted when you found him.

Scanning the crowds, you couldn’t find the boy. The house wasn’t that huge, he had to be somewhere. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen him at all since he went to get high with some of the boys.

Finally catching a glimpse of him, you smiled to yourself. You were going to do it. Maybe today, maybe at some trashy party Oikawa threw, would be the day you would tell him you were in love with him. Maybe not. You didn’t really know. You just knew that you missed him and needed, desperately, to talk to him. Hear his voice.

Maybe you were pretty drunk, mind drifting away.

And he just happened to be your anchor.

Everything was moving around you. In slow motion or way too fast, you couldn’t really tell. That was, until everything froze at once.

Oikawa was standing in the far corner of the party, with someone else. He had his tongue down her throat, lips chasing hers in some passionate dance you only wished you knew what felt like.

You only stood there as he groped her, and her hands in his hair. You didn’t recognize her at all. But he was unmistakable. Even with his hair sweaty and in front of his face, he was undeniable.

You were going to throw up.

You had to find Iwaizumi.

“Takahiro Hanamaki!” You waved to the man. He immediately caught your eye and came to you.

“What’s up? Oh, shit you’re drunk.” He helped as you nearly stumbled. His arm stayed under your armpit as he stood in front of you.

“Have you seen Iwa? Need to talk to him. Best friend emergency.”

“I thought Tooru was your best friend.” Hanamaki looked behind you, eyes scanning over the people for you. You almost threw up on the spot at the sound of his name.

There was a huge difference in hearing about Oikawa’s girls and hearing about who was in his bed, and seeing it with your own eyes. It made you sick to your stomach. You lost all breath, all feeling in your body. You didn’t know to be mad or jealous or upset. You decided that you were going to be all three.

“The last time I talked to Iwa, he went that way. He might be throwing up somewhere or something.”

“Okay, thanks my little wing spiker. My little outside hitter. My stoner boy.” you pinched his cheek.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked before letting you go. “You look like you were crying.”

Were you? Did you cry? You didn’t think you did. But it was definitely a possibility as you have been trying not to do just that for the past ten minutes.

“I don’t know, I think I’m just red from being crossed. I can’t even see straight. Ha ha.”

Hanamaki didn’t press it further, but he did give you a smile and hand you a water bottle. You liked being friends with the team.

The volleyball team were always the nicest towards you. They greeted you with smiles whenever they would come across you in the hallway, always made sure you had a smile on your face.

They all knew, too. It wasn’t hard to see how out of the entire team, Oikawa had you wrapped around his finger. (Unintentionally, of course). They tried to get him to notice. “She looks good today, right, Oikawa?” or “It’s Saturday, don’t you have plans?”. Not that their efforts helped.

Maybe one day Oikawa will know too.

You found Iwaizumi in a closet near the stairs. The party was still in full effect, but it was quiet near there. The only problem was that he was not alone, and was, in fact, preoccupied with someone's tongue down his throat.

“I swear to everything that is holy, I am so sick of finding people like this.” you sighed. “The second time today and I’m going to seriously vomit all over the place. I’m not kidding.”

Iwaizumi gasped, pulling away from whoever he was with. It wasn’t until they were both apart that you realized who it was.

“Matsukawa?”

You got pulled into the closet, the door slamming behind you.

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