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konlyfans · 4 years ago

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Get You Alone

pairing: au!Yuto x female reader ft. au!Ten and au!Felix

genre: smut & fluff

summary: you and your besties go out for drinks and the cute new bartender catches your eye. contains drinking, m/f sex, some swearing. this is the first installment in an au series I’m starting called Eden.

Eden Towers. Where you live and work, twin buildings that unlock a heaven (or hell, if that’s how you like it) on earth. The towers, named Yin and Yang, are set up sort of like a hotel or resort, and are connected by a skywalk. Inside you’ll find anything and everything your heart desires. Be it clubs, bars, spas or rooms for more intimate experiences... Eden has it all. You and your two roommates are dates for hire, offering whatever you feel comfortable with ranging from dinner and drinks to entire weekends of play. It’s the cherry on top that you three are best friends too.

“None of us have commitments tonight, right?” Felix steps into the living room wearing nothing but pajama pants after having slept for most of the day. You and your third roomie, Ten, look up from the movie you’re watching and shake your heads.

“I’m free all weekend,” Ten adds.

“Let’s get a drink tonight. It’s been forever since we went out,” Felix suggests. Ten nods and you excitedly agree, thrilled by the thought of a night out with your two favorite people.

“We can get all cute and head over to that club in Yin! I heard they have a hot new bartender,” you add with a little clap of your hands.

“Are you talking about Yuto,” Ten guesses, and you nod accordingly. “He’s, very very cute. The quiet and tall type.”

“So it’s set then,” Felix jumps in before you two can get caught up gossiping about the newbie, “drinks tonight? Let’s say... 10?”

And it’s as easy as that. Before you know it night rolls around and you’re all dolled up to go out. Your dress is flirty, a little revealing, and shows off all the right curves. When you meet Felix in the doorway a little after 10, you have him do a look over your outfit, and pride swells in your chest as he bites his lip and spins you.

You’ve all been intimate together before, you and ten, you and Felix, he and ten... And on one special occasion all three of you together. You had a unique, unbreakable bond that not many others could rival. The three of you cherish each other.

“If he doesn’t hurry up, I’m just gonna to take you out by myself,” Felix grins, pulling you in by the waist. “You look too good to have to wait.”

“I’m ready,” Ten snaps, rounding the corner in tight leather pants and a loose button up. He almost matches Felix, accept Felix’s pants are denim and his shirt is tucked in. “It takes time to look this good.”

“You both look amazing, now let’s go,” you giggle. With a hand in each of theirs, you drag them out the door.

It’s a quick journey to the other building, and the club is buzzing with life and energy. You make a beeline for the bar with your two dates in tow, and the new bartender you’d heard so much about instantly comes into view. He’s just as tall and handsome as he’d been described.

“You must be the new hire,” you grin as you reach the bar, resting your elbows on the hardwood and plopping your chin in your hands. Even in a black button up and slacks to match, all tied together with an apron, he’s stunning.

“My name’s Yuto, and you must be Y/n,” he lowly replies. If he wasn’t sexy enough already, the bass in his voice was a definite panty dropper.

“So you’ve heard about me. Only good things I hope?” Felix rests a hand at the small of your back as you flirt shamelessly, and Ten watches you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“The best things,” your bartender assures. “So how may I serve you this evening?”

“Serve me?” You bat your lashes, pressing your tongue to the inside of you cheek until Ten intervenes.

“Damn, woman! Can we get our drinks first!?” He causes the four of you to erupt in laughter for a moment, breaking the growing sexual tension. “We’ll do three shots of anything strong and sweet.”

“Coming right up.” Yuto doesn’t miss the chance to smirk at you before he gets to work on your drinks, and a warm tingle flutters through you.

As the night blazes on, the three of you get more and more tipsy. Liquor is burning in your veins as you take shot after shot, laughing and dancing with the people you meet. Yuto keeps a playful eye on you, so much so that you’re pretty sure you’ll be seeing him after his shift, and it puts butterflies in your belly.

“He’s been watching you this whole night,” Felix confirms like he’s reading your thoughts. You’re sandwiched between him and Ten on the dance floor, and Yuto’s directly in your line of sight. He winks at you, absentmindedly wiping a glass in his hands. That warm feeling grows hot.

“Just go get him,” Ten encourages, though he rolls his eyes. He all but shoves you out from between them, immediately pulling Felix in and dancing with him instead. “We can enjoy the rest of our night, and you can enjoy the rest of yours. If he was interested in me, I’d go for it in a heartbeat.”

So you do. You strut your way back to bar, all liquid courage and lust, and make your way right to him.

“My shift just ended,” he smiles as you reach him. “I was wondering if maybe we could go someplace else. I wanted to ask for a few tips with clients.”

“Oh, you’re a date too? I thought you only worked the bar...”

“I’m a new date. I haven’t had my first client yet.” His cheeks tint with a cute shade of shy, but you’re practically beaming at him. “I know you’re with your friends, but maybe you can drop by my place later?”

“We can go now,” you shrug, trying not to seem too eager despite the heavy flirting that’s been going on. “They, uh, they told me I should take the chance if I got it.”

“But do you want to? Do you want to leave with me?” There was a heavy seriousness in his eyes, one that said your consent is essential and he doesn’t take it lightly.

“I would love to leave with you, Yuto.”

The night isn’t exactly what you expect, but for all the right reasons. Yuto is funny, kind, and surprisingly enough he really did want to ask you questions about being a date. Time passes in leaps and bounds as you talk away over a few more drinks and snacks. He’s a generous host, offering anything and everything within his means to make you comfortable.

Before you know it, the sky starts to grow lighter as sunrise creeps in. You’re on the couch, sitting close enough that your knees are touching as you face each other and a blanket covers your laps. The conversation has dwindled a bit, and now you’re wearing a dopey sleepy smile as you watch his eyes grow heavy.

“This was not what I expected,” you sigh, brushing rebel stands of his dark hair back from his face. He turns his head just enough to brush his lips to the heel of your hand.

“I had every intention to seduce you, I had a whole plan, but you’re so fun to talk to...”

“What was your plan?”

“Well, I was going to ask you for tips with clients, but I was going to ask for a more hands-on example... You know... Something cheesy like that,” he laughs.

“It would have worked,” you smile, “but maybe another time.” He sits up, suddenly more awake from your words, and leans in closer than he already is. A strong hand wraps the back of your neck, pulling you in ever so gently until his lips meet yours. It’s pleasantly sweet, gentle and soft in the glow of dawn, and exactly what you thought kissing him would feel like. He talked like he wanted to be a big bad dominate in bed, but in every word you could see he was naturally the opposite. So you decide to show him a bit of your charm, the reason why you come with such a reputation in Eden; because you can be anyone’s dream. You have a knack for reading people, seeing past what they want to exactly what they need, and you deliver accordingly.

You climb into his lap, letting the blanket fall to the floor as your dress rides up your thighs when you straddle him. You taste the whimper on his tongue when you take control, rolling your hips as you kiss him till he’s breathless. An impressive erection stiffens against your panties.

“Look at you, baby boy,” you praise, noting the shiver that seems to tickle its way down his neck as you speak, “you talk a big game but you just want to be taken care of, don’t you?”

“H-How did you-”

“I’m good at what I do, sweetie.” You pop each button on his shirt until his torso is bare and you can drag your fingertips from the base of his neck to his belt. “You took such good care of me tonight, don’t you want me to take care of you now?”

“Please.” His voice is barely more that a frustrated whisper against your skin as he pulls you close again, gracing your neck with little kisses. There’s a quick fumble of buckles and zippers before he pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees.

“Easy, baby,” you smile, “I’m not going anywhere.” You distract him with another kiss as you reach between your bodies and take his cock in your hand. Given his height, you’re not surprised that he’s big, and his size send a wave of arousal to pool between your legs. “You just want to be good for me, don’t you?” He nods, his words seem to be lost somewhere in his throat as you pump your hand up and down. “Then touch me. Get me ready for you.”

He submits willingly, pushing the thin fabric of your panties aside and plunging right into the wetness he finds. He stokes an untamable fire in you as he plays and lets you ride his fingers to your satisfaction. You continue touching him the whole while, until you feel a bit of precum under your thumb as you swipe it across his tip. He shudders by your hand.

“Condom?” You stand, leaving him dazed for a moment as you move without warning to take your panties off completely. He fishes through his pocket after kicking off his pants, and by the time you seat yourself on him again, he’s rolled the condom on. You sink down onto him and feel your body flood with pleasure. He lets a low moan slip past his pretty lips.

“Fuck....” You rock your hips expertly as he swears and tugs down the straps of your dress to kiss as much of your skin as he can. A certain power surges through you as you watch him come undone, his cute moans and desperate pleas are steadily fanning your flame.

“You feel so good baby,” you coo, feeding into the praise kink you suspect he has, “so good.” You can feel him buck his hips to meet yours, wanting to prove that he’s just as good as you need him to be.

“Wait. Wait, I’m too close.” You ignore him. Though it’s touching that he wants to prolong your pleasure, there’s no need.

“It’s okay, cum for me,” you encourage, driving your hips faster and clenching your walls around him. Yuto swears again as you push him towards his orgasm, and soon he’s unable to hold it off any longer. He cums hard in the condom while he’s still inside you, moaning from deep down in his chest and letting his head fall back.

“Use me,” he groans through the hight of his pleasure. You feel him drop his hand to your clit, rubbing tight circles to get you there before the overstimulation becomes too much for him. His hard work pays off, and in no time your orgasm blooms sweetly through your veins. You cry his name into the morning air, praising him to the very end.

You do your best to sneak in unnoticed, not wanting to wake your roomies at this ungodly hour once you arrive home. All is well until you open your room to find them both sprawled out on your bed. Felix is still in the shirt he wore out last night, only now it’s unbuttoned and half hanging off of him. He’s not wearing pants, and neither is Ten, they’re both just sleeping in their underwear.

“Where am I supposed to sleep,” you mumble to yourself as you wiggle out of your dress and pull on a comfy tee, carefully trying not to wake them as you move around your room.

“Just climb in,” Felix answers. You turn to see his eyes aren’t even open, but one hand is lazily waving you over. “We got a little too drunk. We were waiting for you to come back so you could tell us all about your night,” he explains as you tuck yourself away against him. Ten shifts as you nestle your body between them, but he still out cold.

“He wants to be a dom really bad, but he’s so submissive,” you giggle.

“That’s cute,” Felix yawns and you can tell he’s already drifting off again. You follow his lead, and the three of you sleep the morning away.

#lee felix #nct ten #adachi yuto #nct #pentagon #stray kids #smut #kpop smut #pentagon smut

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seokjinsdisciple · 4 years ago

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Riddikulus - fifteen

jungkook x reader, hogwarts!au, enemies to lovers!au

Warnings: language, memory loss, talks of break ups, bullying lowkey, kinda fluffy at the end

Word Count: 1.7k

this update is trash and i hate it

THIS IS UNEDITED

series masterlist

taglist: @nellaphine @elixirguks @softfluffgirl @sensiblebutch, @deolly, @zeharilisharaban, @jungshookmeup, @elliegrace1999tvd, @mybiasforsure, @minsugapie, @betysotelo18, @purpleheartsfortae, @annoyingpessimist

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ON THE TAGLIST SEND ME A DM OR AN ASK

“So here’s the deal,” Tae started, sitting on the couch in the Room of Requirement, “As far as I can tell, we can’t undo the spell without seriously fucking up her brain.”

“Like how badly?” Namjoon groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“Like mush,” Tae said, shrugging as Hobi elbowed him.

“So we can’t do anything?” Yoongi said, letting his head hit the back of the couch.

“Not that I could find,” Tae said quietly, a sigh leaving his mouth as Jungkook walked in.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, walking over to a nearby arm chair, “When I told Madame Pomfrey what happened she made me talk to the headmaster.”

“And what’d he say?” Hobi perked up.

“Well good news is that Seonghwa is being expelled,” he started, watching as some of the tension in the room was lessened, “Jin lost Gryffindor 150 house points though!”

“Seriously Kook? That’s what you’re worried about?” Jimin asked.

“Sorry, it’s just,” He started, running a nervous hand through his hair, “Gryffindor hasn’t lost the house cup since I’ve been in school.”

“Can we focus please?” Namjoon asked, shooting an irritated glare to Jungkook., “What did he say about the memory charm?”

“He said if any one of us tries to remove it he’ll take our wands and make sure we never practice magic again,” Jungkook grimaced, “He said its impossible to undo, and if she really wanted that memory gone, it was none of our business.”

“So we just sit here and pretend everything’s fine?” Yoongi asked, an incredulous look on his face.

“At least he’s getting expelled,” Hobi said, leaning against Yoongi’s side.

“I think I’d kill him myself if he wasn’t,” Namjoon muttered, giving Tae an appreciative smile as he leaned over and started rubbing his shoulders.

“Jin’s a mess, Joon,” Hobi added, “You should really talk to him.”

“I just can’t right now,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand, “I can’t believe he would do something like this without even telling me she was thinking about it. I just need some space from him for a while.”

“We can respect that,” Yoongi spoke up, “But don’t forget that you’re madly in love with each other and literally soulmates. One mistake doesn’t change that.”

The boys huddled around Namjoon as his shoulders shook, the feelings of the day finally catching up with him as he let his tears fall freely. The boys stayed like that for a while, comforting each other as worries and concerns kept coming up. When they finally called it a night, they all went their separate ways, no one noticing Jungkook heading in the direction of the hospital wing.

You woke up in time for your first class, thanks to Jungkook tossing one of your shirts at your head.

“Get up,” he said, running his hands through his extremely unkempt hair.

“Did you sleep here?” you asked with a yawn, stretching your arms before sliding out of the bed.

“Yeah, I didn’t want Seonghwa messing with you while you slept,” he said, throwing off his dirty shirt and pulling a clean one out of his bag. You couldn’t help but gulp as you set eyes on his abs, eyes roaming the expanse of his bare skin, “Stop staring at me and get dressed.”

You shot him a glare as you spun around, heat filling your body at his laugh. You threw your shirt off, your bare back on display as you shimmied your pants off. You smiled a little to yourself as his breath hitched from behind you, a strained cough leaving his lips as you pulled on your shirt. Two could play at that game.

You turned to face him, an innocent look replacing your smile, “Jungkookie can you hand me a skirt?”

“Um, I-, what?”

“Do you mind handing me my skirt?” you repeated, smiling widely now at his flushed face. His eyes looking at everything else in the room but you.

“I-uh yeah. I can definitely do that. Skirt,” he blushed harder, quickly reaching into the bag beside him and handing you the skirt that was in there, his head turned the other way.

“Thanks, Kook,” you laughed, pulling on your skirt. You slipped your shoes on, throwing your hair into a bun before turning back to where he stood.

“Ready?” he asked, hand scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you said, “Let’s do this.”

Jungkook escorted you to your classes, along with Jimin, for the rest of the day. Whispers following you wherever you went. You half expected your classmates to be understanding about this whole thing, but based on the whispers you had been hearing, it seemed like whatever happened was getting blamed on you. You shouldn’t have been that shocked.

“How did they even find out about this?” Jimin hissed, shooting a glare at a third year Gryffindor who had said some pretty shitty things.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook said, “No one else knew about this besides the 7 of us and Seonghwa. And since he got kicked out this morning I doubt he told anyone.”

The three of you kept walking towards the library, silently pondering how the hell the whole school found out about your erased memory.

“This is giving me a headache,” you groaned, pushing the doors open.

“Don’t hurt your brain, please,” Jungkook said, “I need it for when we study potions.”

“I’ll try to figure this all out while you guys study,” Jimin said, waving you two into the library and hurrying down the hallway.

“Well, there’s no point in wasting time then,” you said, “we’ve been slacking off, Kook.”

“I know,” he sighed, sitting down at your usual table, “and exams are only two weeks away.”

“You’ll do ok,” You said, smiling reassuringly at him, “You have me as a tutor, how could you fail?”

His nose scrunched, fake disgusted face as he snorted at you, “That doesn’t reassure me at all, princess.”

You kicked him under the table, a smile growing on your face as he laughed. You started pulling your books out, quill and ink soon following. Glancing at Jungkook as he bent down to do the same.

He looked as handsome as he normally did, hair messy in all of the perfect ways. Your heartbeat sped up the more you looked at him, and how far the two of you had come. A few months ago you would have never been caught dead sitting across from him in the library three days of the week. But now you were starting to enjoy his company, and honestly, you considered him a friend.

“Are you gonna teach me potions or just stare at me today?” his voice drew you from your thoughts, cocky grin back on his face as he shot you a wink.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, directing him to turn his book to a certain page, and the two of you got to work.

It was a comfortable silence, only talking when Jungkook asked you a question about the work or when the two of you took breaks. With tired, ink covered hands scrawling the last words of your homework you sagged in your seat. You let out a big yawn, glancing at where Jungkook still sat, hard at work. Looking through his potions notes.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, “I think that’s enough for the night.”

“Mh,” he hummed noncommittally, eyes never leaving his notes.

“You’re not listening to me!” you exclaimed, mouth pulling into a smirk, “You’re the worst quidditch player I’ve ever seen.”

You paused, waiting for him to have some sort of reaction, but he sat still reading, scratching his forehead.

“You have a tiny dick,” you said, pouting as he sat with a blank face, “You’re not half bad,” you said, last ditch effort to get him to respond in any way.

Jungkook just smiled, putting his notes down before looking at you, “I’m the best quidditch player at Hogwarts, you wouldn’t know anything about my dick, and you’re not half bad yourself, snake princess. Now if you’re done trying to get my attention, we really should get going.”

You scowled at him, putting your materials away as he teased you.

“How was I supposed to know you could hear me?” you whined, pouting as Jungkook tugged your bag into his arms.

“I responded to you the first time!” Jungkook laughed, holding the library door open for you.

“You hummed! That’s totally not an answer!”

“Maybe not to you,” he grinned, ignoring the pout the was firmly set on your face, “Ah, c’mon, Princess. Who would I be if I didn’t mess with you at least a little bit?”

“A decent human being,” you grumbled, ignoring his laugh as you turned the corner to the dungeons, not even realizing Jungkook had walked you back, “You didn’t have to walk me back.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said, handing you your bag and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I know I don’t remember everything that happened,” you started, his doe eyes softening, “but I really feel safe around you, Kookie. I was thinking we could try to be friends?”

“Just friends?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, “But what if I want to be more than just friends, princess?”

You swear your heart stopped in the moment, his cocky grin enough to stop it beat in its tracks. Your eyes fluttering shut as he started leaning in.

“Goodnight, princess,” He whispered, voice ghosting on the shell of your ear. You jumped at his voice, eyes opening quickly at the realization that he was not about to kiss you.

When he leaned back, you could’ve slapped the smug grin he had on his face right off, hand coming out to give you a wave as he spun on his heels.

You trudged into the common room, ignoring the taunts of your classmates and walking right past Jimin and Yoongi. Giddy smile never leaving your lips even as your head hit your pillow.

It was the best you had slept in weeks.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook hogwarts au #gryffindor!jungkook #jungkook #bts hogwarts au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts

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you-a-southpaw-doll · 4 years ago

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Buzzed - A Negan One-Shot

Summary: After an incident in the Sanctuary, Leigh takes matters into her own hands. What will Negan’s response be?

Warning(s): Language. Angst. Attempted rape. Violence. Death. Slight Panic Attack. Anxiety. Leigh being a badass. Negan caught off guard (no pun intended). Mentions of what could be considered self-harm. Daddy kink, but not really. You’ll see. Protective Negan. Fluff. Sexual Innuendoes. Puns (Sorry Not Sorry!). Happy ending. Not Beta’d. I just finished writing this and had to post it! Sorry for any errors.

Author’s Note(s):

I cut my hair myself, usually every 2 weeks, but no more than 3 weeks. I just can’t have my hair touch my ears; it makes my anxiety 10 times worse, and in a way, I kinda explain the reason behind that in this story. I was cutting my hair tonight, (it’s now 2:30 am, 5/24/2020) and I thought of this story idea and Negan’s reaction to the main character having short hair.

Also, if any of the warnings are triggering for you, please don’t force yourself to read. The last thing I’d want to do is trigger someone into having a panic attack. Feel free to give me any feedback, thoughts, questions, comments and/or concerns you have with the story. I love hearing from y’all!

As always, if you’d like to be added to my taglist, just let me know and I’ll happily add you!!

Word Count: 5,301. (A lot, I know, but I think it’s worth it, and I just couldn’t get everything I wanted across in less words, so enjoy!)

Relationship(s): Negan x Leigh Sullivan (OFC)

Characters: Negan. Leigh Sullivan (OFC). Simon. Dr. Carson. 3 unnamed Original Male Characters. Sanctuary People.

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho@ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl

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Story Time:

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~ Then

They’d caught me off guard, for once.

Normally, I never let anything or anyone catch me off guard. Or at least...I tried not to. Due to having anxiety, I was usually hyper-aware of shit going on. But, today, my anxiety had eased off after the relaxing morning I’d had with my husband. We’d spent the morning, snuggled up in his big king-sized bed, just shooting the shit and goofing off.

He didn’t have to go out on a run today, so there was no need to rush the morning like we normally had to 95% of the time. Eventually, though, the day had to get started. Dwight came knocking on the door, interrupting our relaxation time, saying he needed my husband for something. Being the man my husband is, he grumbled, cussed Dwight out, and then got outta bed while apologizing to me for the interruption and assuring me we’d finish relaxing when he got back later.

After a kiss, and a soft “I love you,” he was gone. Off to do what he did. It was my day off, so I laid in bed for a little longer before I too got up, dressed, and made my rounds. As the top female Savior, something I’d worked my ass off, fought for, and took seriously, I said hi to who I needed to, did what I needed to, and finally, sat down under my favorite tree out by the greenhouses.

I laid my leather jacket on the ground next to me, leaving me in my usually black t-shirt, holey but patched up and well worn blue jeans, and faded brown leather boots. Strapped to each thigh was a holster. In the right one was my signature gun, a .357 Magnum, 6-shot revolver. In the left holster, I kept my handcrafted 6 inch blade that I made back when I was 15, well over half a decade, shit closer to a decade ago, considering I was almost 25.

Bending my knees, and pulling them close in a comfortable position, I propped up the notebook I usually kept in my leather satchel with two backup knives, an extra gun, ammo, and a spare notebook for work along with several pens and pencils. The writing equipment was a rare commodity these days, so I always kept them close to me.

As I was writing a story I’d started a few days prior, I zoned out just a bit, focusing on it. I’d started writing when I was just 12 years old, and kept the habit up, even now, 3 years after the world ended and the dead started walking back in 2020 after the Coronavirus outback after the new year, new decade had started.

I was writing, losing myself in the words I printed on the paper in my chicken scratch. I say chicken scratch ‘cause, well...that’s basically what it was. As a lefty, my handwriting wasn’t necessarily the best, and a doctor’s prescription note was probably more legible. It was a mixture between slanted and curved print and semi-elegant at times cursive.

But, it was my handwriting, and I could read it. My husband sometimes had difficulty reading it, but he’d always put his black-rimmed glasses on, and fuck if they didn’t make him look sexier than he already was. Because of that, I sneakily wrote a little sloppier when I knew he’d have to read something from my notes about the runs I went on.

It was all an excuse to see him with those glasses perched on his nose, giving him that sexy professor look. He thought they made him look ridiculous, but I loved it. Since I was writing and zoned out, I wasn’t nearly as focused on my surroundings. I didn’t think I had to be. The tree was my safe spot when I wasn’t with my husband.

The Sanctuary was a relatively safe place, and that was thanks to the rules that were in place. So, it’d make sense that I wouldn’t focus on my surroundings as much and relax a bit as I wrote. But, boy was I wrong. I just didn’t realize it till it was far too late. Before I realized what was happening, I was being punched in the right side of my face, slinging my head to the side, as my notebook and bag were jerked away from me and my hair was roughly pulled, jerking my head backwards.

I went to grab my gun and my knife, but they’d already been taken from me. My eyes flirted back and forth in front of me, trying to process what was going on. But, everything was blurry and I was dizzy from the hit. I could barely make out three men close to me, far too close to me. They were basically on top of me.

Fuck. One of them actually was. I could feel the weight of him straddling my thighs, keeping me from standing. I couldn’t hear anything as the beating of my heart flooded my ears. I tried to fight back as best as I could, but the other two men grabbed my hands and jerked them away from my body and pinning them to the ground as they shoved my upper body down.

When they jerked my arms away, I felt, more than heard, my left shoulder dislocate. I clenched my jaw. The pain wasn’t anything new. I’d been dealing with a shoulder that dislocates when I fuckin’ sneeze since I was 13 years old. The pain, when it happened, was now at a tolerable level since I was so used to it happening.

I didn’t cry out. I knew not to. Plus, the wasn’t the type of person I was. I knew what was ‘bout to happen. It, like my shoulder, was something I’d had to put with for years growing. It wasn’t anything new either. But, that didn’t mean it was enjoyable. It was anything but. I barely processed my jeans being jerked down my hips and past my knees.

I could just barely hear the men laughing and joking around with each other, talking ‘bout what they were going to do to me and wondering why the fuck I was wearing two pairs of boxers under my jeans. I watched them, as best as I could with my vision being what it was. When the blurriness faded just enough, I could make out their features and recognized them as members of the new group that was brought in last week.

Members I’d brought into the Sanctuary. Into my house. I dropped my head back down to the ground and groaned to myself. I let my body go slack, waiting for the perfect time. When the men realized I wasn’t struggling anymore, they laughed and the two dumbfucks holding my arms down eased up on their grip.

The man on my legs lifted himself up just enough push his own pants down. Their easing up on their grip was their mistake and ultimately what led to their demise. Since they weren’t paying attention to me, thinking I’d just given up, and instead focusing on getting their baby carrot sized dicks outta their pants, I was able to strike back.

I immediately brought both my hands up, fingers curled in to form perfect fists without worry of possibly breaking my thumbs, ignoring the protest of my left shoulder, and cocked both the men on my sides straight in the noses. I internally smiled at the sounds of their noses breaking and their screams of pain.

They stumbled back just a little bit, hands covering their faces as they clutched their noses in an attempt to stop the extensive amount of blood falling. Clearly, I caught the man on top me off guard with my actions and he was shocked for a moment. It was perfect. I bucked him up off me, managed to jerk my pants up as I stood.

All one fluid motion.

Since he was still obviously in shock at me suddenly fighting back, he stumbled, tripping, and falling backwards on the ground. He tried to scurry backwards as fast as as he could. Despite being 5’3”, I was able to stay with him. I slammed my boot down on his stomach, making him howl in pain and wheeze as he struggled to get the air back that i’d just forced outta his lungs.

I kept my foot on his gut, putting most of my weight on it, digging the worn sole into his abdomen. He let out a sad excuse for a grunt as I did. I just smirked. This fucked had no idea who he’d fucked, or tried to fuck with. I leaned down and started pummeling the shit outta his face, keeping him in place with my foot.

Since he couldn’t get fresh air back into his lungs because of the position of my foot, he was too weak to try and fight back. To say I was a little disappointed at not having a challenge, would be like saying the dead weren’t walking around. It was a lie. I was disappointed, and I fueled that disappointment in with the anger as I literally beat him to death.

He kept trying to apologize, tried to plead with me, to not kill him, but I didn’t give a fuck. He was ‘bout to rape me, and I’d had ‘nough of that in my life. I wasn’t putting up with it. I eased up just before I knew he was about to die. Gave him false hope into letting him think his words had affected me. I let him get one last breath in as I completely lifted my foot off his torso.

“Than-” He started to say, but I cut him off as I slammed my boot into his face, effectively crushing his skull.

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, prick.” I muttered to him as I wiped my boot off on his once clean but now bloody clothes. “You fuckin’ ruined my goddamn favorite fuckin’ pair of boots, asshole.”

Before I turned away from him, I spit on his crushed skull. Since it was destroyed, I didn’t have to worry ‘bout him coming back as a dean’un. I was a little sad that I wouldn’t get to kill him a second time, but he’d gotten what he deserved. Turning to the other two dumbfucks, I repeated my actions, and did to them exactly what I’d just done to their friend.

I knew my husband was going to be pissed that I killed these men, instead of letting him do it, but I’d deal with that. I wasn’t going to let these fuckers back inside the relatively safe concrete walls of the factory that was the Sanctuary. By the time I was down stomping in the skull of the third man, I looked up, as I finished, and noticed that I’d gathered quite an audience.

Including Simon. The right-hand man, third person in charge of the Sanctuary. His, and everyone else’s, eyes were wide, and everyone was silent. I knew I was gonna be in trouble since they’d just seen me stomp the life outta three men, but I didn’t give a fuck. I had shit to do. I gathered up my weapons, my jacket, and bag after shoving my shit into it and stormed inside the Sanctuary, flipping everyone off, not wanting to deal with their gawking.

Not caring ‘bout my bloody appearance, I made my way to the commissary, needing to grab a few things before I went back to my room. I found what I needed: a new pair of jeans identical to the ones i was wearing, a new t-shirt, undergarments, a pair of boots and a special item, an unopened, brand new boxed set of hair clippers.

Once I had what I needed, I stormed up to the room I share with my husband, stripping down to my bra and one pair of boxers when i get there.

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~ Now

“What the fuck was that fuckin’ shit out there, Leigh?!?”

I sigh as I hear my husband storm into our room, the door slamming shut behind him. I look at myself in the mirror as I lay the scissors down on the bathroom counter by the sink and pick up the clippers. Turning them on, I don’t reply to my husband. Not wanting to explain to him what happened at the moment.

I stare at myself in the mirror as I bring the clippers up to my shortened hair. I press the #2 guard to my head and move it backwards from my forehead to the back of my head, sticking to the once familiar hairline I used to see and live by religiously. I watch as the hair falls, joining the rest of my once long, curly locks, on the floor by my feet. I use my fingers to guide my movements, making sure I don’t go too high and completely fuck up my hair.

Once I have the hairline visible, separating what I want to keep and what I want to shave off, I move the guard down below my ear and with practiced ease, I shave the sides and back of head, getting rid of the hair. Keeping an eye on myself, making sure I don’t fuck up my haircut, not that I would since I used to do this every 2-3 weeks, I watch as my husband steps into the bathroom.

I watch as his eyes nearly bulge outta their sockets when he sees me. I watch as the anger vanishes from his face and body, being replaced with worry, sadness, and a hint of curiosity. I watch as his eyes traveling over the reflection of my face in the mirror, taking in my black eye, bruised and split open cheek, covered in blood and even the nasty black eye I’m now sporting.

I watch as he slowly moves his eyes up to meet mine in the mirror.

“What...what are you doing?” He asks softly.

My left eyebrow shoots sky high as I look at him. My husband rarely says a sentence without cussing every other word. And yet...he just asked a simple question without one sentence enhancer thrown in.

“What the fuck’s it look like I’m doing? I’m cutting my hair.” I say. “Decided I needed a new fuckin’ look. Don’t you fuckin’ love it?”

I know I’m being Captain fuckin’ Obvious at the moment, and a bit harsh, but I’m not ready to tell him what happened. That’s for after I get done. Cutting my hair is the only thing keeping me from completely shutting down and giving in to the panic attack that’s trying to take over. I watch as he lets out a deep breath as he slowly steps into the bathroom, padding across the tiled floor to me.

He places his hands on my shoulders and I do my best not to flinch. But he still sees it and quickly lifts his hands off me, holding them up in a surrendering pose. I know he’d never hurt me, and he was the one to save my life after this shit hole of a world started three years ago. But, I can’t help it. The feeling of those fuckers’ hands on me, plus the fact that my shoulder is still dislocated, keeps me from wanting to be touched.

“Can...let me help. Please, sweetheart.” My husband’s soft drawl meets my ears.

“No. I need to do this myself.” I reply, tightening my grip on the clippers.

I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat as he swallows deeply and nods. I keep my eyes on his in the mirror and finish cutting my hair. It’s been three years since I’ve cut my hair, but the muscle memory is still there. It’s like riding a bike. My husband watches as I finish shaving the sides of my head down to where there’s just a bit of peach fuzz.

Switching the clippers off, I replace the guard with a #1 and go back over the bottom hairline on the base of my neck. Once I have that done, I take the guard off completely and just put the metal of the clippers to the back of my neck doing my best not to flinch at the burning heat coming off it as it meets my skin.

I take that little strip down so there’s no hair there, running along along the hairline on my neck. I use the blending guard and even out the area, making the hair have a fade. Replacing the blending guard with the #7, I bring it up to the patch of hair on my head, and trim it down. When I finish, my feet are covered with a mountain of what used to be the long, thick, curly hair on my head.

My neck and shoulders are also covered with the little strands of hair that I buzzed off. Setting the clippers on the counter, I run my hands over the buzz cut I now sport and take in a deep, shaky breath. I let my head drop down, pressing my chin to chest and take another shaky breath in after letting out one.

“Baby?” My husband asks softly.

I lift my head and look up at him. My eyes roam over the unzipped black leather jacket he’s wearing over his standard white t-shirt and down to the grey jeans he’s wearing, held up by two leather belts. I let my eyes rest on his feet, no longer hidden by his own pair of black combat boots, but rather a pair of white socks.

Taking in another deep breath, I bring my eyes up to meet his. I can see the worry swimming in his muddy water brown eyes. I shake my head as i start to take my bra off and push my boxers down, stepping outta them as the pool ‘round my ankles.

“I need a shower.” I mumble and step ‘round him to walk to the stunning shower we share.

I grip the knobs tightly as I turn the water on, as hot as it’ll go. I need to feel the pain of the burning water over my skin. If I don’t, I know I’ll give in to that panic attack that’s already on the verge of consuming me. Stepping into the shower, I glance back at my husband over my shoulder.

“You can…” I mumble.

He nods as he understands what I’m trying to say. I look away, for the first time since we met, and eventually became intimate, not wanting to watch him undress. I know that if I were to watch, I’d see those assholes tugging their pants down, and I don’t want that. I don’t want my husband to be mixed in with them.

Standing under the burning hot water, feeling it flow over and pelt my skin, I bring my hands up and tightly grip what’s left of my hair, tugging on it. I feel Negan step into the shower, behind me. I don’t have to look. I know he’s there. I can feel the heat rolling off his skin, along with the worry and helplessness.

He hasn’t seen me like this in three years, and even then, it wasn’t this bad. I blindly reach for the bottle of men’s body wash he and I share and I vigorously scrub my body with it. Trying to get the touch and the blood of those men off me. It takes four harsh washes and rinses before I even begin to feel clean.

Negan just stands behind me, leaning against the back wall of the shower. He’s giving me my space while still letting me know he’s right there if I need him. The bottle slips outta my hands when I go to pour more of the soapy liquid into my palm. I’d leave it there, but Negan gently reaches around me, picking it up.

I hear the bottle open and can tell he’s pouring some into his own hands. I figure he’s just gonna wash his body until I feel his soft and gentle touch on my skin. I flinch and tremble at first, but eventually give into the feeling of him touching me. He takes his time, gently washing me, letting me get clean for the final time.

Letting me know that it’s ok. That it’s over. That’s he’s got me. That he’ll take care of me. Neither of us say a word as he takes the removable showerhead from it’s dock and gently rinses me off after he turns the cold water on, letting the temperature of the water mix until it’s no longer burning, but rather warm and gentle.

He lets the showerhead drop and dangle as he turns the water off and steps out. I keep my eyes closed and feel him wrap a soft towel around me. I open my eyes and bring them to meet his, only to find him staring at my dislocated shoulder. He blinks and his tongue darts out just a little from between his lips.

“Want me to put it back in place, sweetheart?”

I nod slowly.

“Put your right arm ‘round my waist, baby, and I will.”

I follow his soft command and a moment later, I feel his palms against my left shoulder. He’s helped me pop my shoulder back into place enough over the last few years that he knows what he’s doing. I suck in a deep, shaky breath right as he pops it back into place. I bit my lip to hold back the whimper from the pain.

As soon as he’s done, he wraps both his arms ‘round me and just holds me close as I bury my face against his wet chest. We don’t say another word for a solid 10 minutes. He just holds me as we stand in the bathroom, water pooling ‘round our feet. Eventually, he gently scoops me up in his arms and carries me to bed.

Sitting down on it, he just holds me in his lap, not saying anything. I know it’s his way of helping me get outta the panic attack and also letting me know that he’s listening when I’m ready to talk. It takes me a hot minute before I get the words out, and even then they’re just a whisper.

“They...they were trying to rape me.”

I hear him let out a growl and his arms tighten ‘round me, protectively. That’s his number one rule. Rape is not allowed. Followed by the prohibition of abusing women and children. He doesn’t say a word, letting me continue. I tell him everything that happened, as I tremble in his arms. He just holds me close, softly rubbing my back and taking even breaths to help me subconsciously focus on keeping my own breathing even.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, baby.” He finally murmurs after I finish recounting the events. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. They got what they deserved. I just wish I could’ve introduced them to Lucille.”

My eyes flirt over to the barbed-wire baseball bat propped up against the wall by our bedroom door. She’s surprisingly clean. I guess Negan didn’t have to dish out any punishments today. Only I did.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, though, baby.” He whispers in my ear.

I look up at him, confused. “Proud?”

He nods. “Mmhhmm. You shut that shit down, and kept your cool until you were up here. I don’t know how you fuckin’ managed that, but I’m not surprised. I heard what you did, heard how you described it, and fuck, baby. I wish I’d seen you go Rambo on their asses. You’re my badass girl. I’m proud of you.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. Despite the events of the day, and me doing what I did, my husband still manages to make me smile. He slowly brings one hand up, keeping it in my line of sight, and cups my good cheek.

“Will you let me send Carson up here to stitch your cheek up and get you checked out?”

His eyes search mine, waiting for my reply, and hoping I’ll let him. I nod against his palm, and he lets out a deep breath. He reaches over to the nightstand and plucks his radio off it. His thumb pressed against the side button.

“Carson. Get your fuckin’ ass up to my room now, and bring your bag. Fuckin’ now.” He growls into the receiver.

“Yes, sir.” Comes the doctor’s reply not even a moment later.

Negan then pushes the button down again and talks.

“Simon. Bring two plates of food up to my room. Now. And make sure it’s some good shit too.”

Simon replies in the affirmative and Negan sets his radio down. He looks back at me and places his palm back against my good cheek. A gesture that always makes me relax.

“Can I ask why you cut your hair?” He asks softly.

“I refuse to let another man tug me around by hair, guiding me to do his bidding, especially during a situation like earlier. It was a flashback to my dad doing what he did. It’s why I’ve also cut my own hair. It’s the one thing I about my body that I can control. So, I keep it short and no man will ever be able to use my hair against me again.” I say, the truth just spilling out. “Plus, having it touch my ears, always made my anxiety ten times worse.”

He knows what my dad did, and he’s known that tugging on my hair was a hard limit for me. So, he never did it, which is why I let my hair grow out. I felt safe around him. I still do. But, having long hair is just a liability, and I refuse to be put in that situation again. He nods in understanding.

“I’m gonna miss your curls, though.” He says. “And waking up with a mouthful of your hair in my mouth.”

I can’t help but giggle at that. It’s true. Most mornings, he’d wake up, sputtering to spit out the strands of my hair that ended up in his mouth as we slept next to each other.

“I left enough on top so you can still play with my hair, babe. And, there’s still enough to run your fingers through it.” I assure him.

“Can I?”

I nod and a moment later, I feel his fingers on his other hand stroke through my wet hair, lightly massaging my scalp as he does. I let out a soft moan at the feeling and lean into his touch on my cheek, closing my eyes. He chuckles as he plays with my hair.

“If that’s your reaction to me doing that every single fuckin’ time, I could get used to it. And I’ll just have to get used to having an even stiffer hard on from the soft moans.” He smirks as he looks at me.

I blush and open my eyes looking up at him. “You're my husband. I think I can manage helping you out with the baseball bat you have in your pants.”

He laughs softly. “Yea?”

I grin. “Mmhhmm. You’re fond of Lucille. I’m quite fond of your own bat.”

He grins, showing off his dimples. “I’m fuckin’ fond of you, baby. Have been since we first met in the woods. Why else do you think I got rid of the wives years ago?”

I try not to grin as I shrug. “It was the only way you were getting in my pants and scoring a homerun.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Not the only reason, baby. It was because I love you, Leigh.”

I grin from ear to ear and turn my head to place a soft kiss to his palm. “I love you too, Negan.”

Before he can say anything else, there’s a timid knock on the door.

“Come the fuck in!” Negan calls out, holding me close.

Dr. Carson comes in. He’s no longer as nervous as he used to be when I first showed up. But he’s still a little nervous around the man. I’ve gotten Negan to ease up on the fear of himself he’s instilled in people, and gotten him to be nicer in the way he treats folks. He’s not the bat-wielding lunatic he was when we first met.

He’s the man I always knew he was.

A soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather.

My soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather.

After Carson checks me out, determines nothing’s broken, assures me that everything is good, and stitches my cheek up, he leaves. Negan helps me get dressed in a pair of his boxers under my new jeans and one of his shirts before he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. Simon comes in shortly after I finish getting dressed, holding a tray of food for Negan and I.

His eyes widen as he looks at me, taking in my new appearance.

“What, Si? Never seen a girl with short hair before?” I ask, teasing.

He shakes his head. “I have. I just wasn’t expecting you to have cut your own. It looks good on you, fitting.”

I smile. “Thanks, Si.”

Leaning up, I kiss his cheek and then kick him out before Negan can Lucille him for staring at me. My husband knows Simon’s like a dad to me, the dad I never had, and that there’s nothing there. He just gets jealous and protective over me, not liking other men to stare. And, for once, I’m thankful, given the events of today.

As we eat, Negan and I stay on the bed, me snuggled up to his side. When we’re finished though, I look up at him.

“I have to tell you something else.” I say.

His eyebrow raises and he looks at me, grining. “What’s that? You planning on buzzing anything else?”

I laugh and playfully slap his bare chest. “No, asshole.”

He pretends to be hurt and rubs his chest, grinning. “Damn, girl. That hurt.”

I laugh and kiss his chest where I smacked him. “Feel better, Daddy?”

He grins that dimpled grin again and nods. “Mmhhmm. Now, what else you gotta tell me, babygirl?”

I smirk. “Well, Daddy…you see...”

He growls low in his throat. “Don’t tease me, little girl.”

I giggle. “I’m not, Daddy.”

I bring my hand down to rub my tummy.

“You full from eating?” He asks, covering my hand on my tummy, rubbing what he thinks is a food baby.

“Nope. But, it’s nice to see you already rubbing my tummy. I can happily get used to this over the next 7 months.”

“7 months?” His brow creases in confusion for a moment before his eyes widen. “You...you’re...we’re…?”

I giggle and nod as I lean up to kiss him softly.

“Yes, honey. I’m pregnant.” I say. “I’m 2 months along, and found out a few days ago. I was working on a story earlier, and that was gonna be how I told you, but shit happened, so I figured I’d just tell you.”

He lets out a high pitched squeal that I never would’ve expected from him, and pulls me right back into his arms and his lap. His beard tickles my neck as he grins against it, placing a soft kiss there. I giggle and wrap my arms ‘round him. Like I said, he’s a soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather.

My soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather and I’m his buzzed haired girl.

37 notes · View notes

wren-bishop · 4 years ago

Text

Bishop Gameroom // The boys

Wren, Stevie, Jesse, and Chase get together to go over some text messages.

@stevie-summers @jessekxller @chase-stephens

Wren: Wren was sitting with his phone plugged into the TV to cast, "Seriously, look at these" he said, happy they were having a moment away from Jonah. He felt bad about it all.

Jesse: Jesse watched as the text messages played came up on the tv. "Oh my god." He said speachless

Wren: "Also! I posted this instagram story at [insert time] and she tweeted, hear me out at [insert time]. Am I crazy??? She's tweeting about me, right?" said Wren feeling like a maniac.

Stevie: Stevie couldn't help but laugh, "This girl is really a piece of work."

Jesse: Jesse's eyes went wide. "Oh yeah thats def about you, but you could chill with the grey. My poor eyes can't unsee that."

Wren: "I wasn't thinking about that" said Wren, "I was just tryna be confident, gimme a break. Also trying to catch a new honey" he added.

Chase: Chase rolled up, "hey guys, she has strep so I'm here and why is Wren's gray sweatpants thirst trap just chillin on the tv?" said Chase as he sat down on the couch, Wren caught him up to speed and showed the texts. "So is anyone gonna tell Jonah?" he asked.

Stevie: "You look dude. Nothing wrong with showing off a bit." Stevie told Wren with a smile before turning her attention to Chase. "Not it! I got nothing to do with this. This one's on you guys."

Chase: "Can't someone just tell Juliette? I feel like she gives him bad news all the time" said Chase, hoping to god it wouldn't be him. But lets be honest, it was totally going to be him.

Jesse: Jesse shook his head "I would... but Me + Jonah + devyn = a bad discussio"

Jesse: "I just..... I can't believe she called you daddy right up in there.."

Wren: "Right? At first I was kinda into getting even with Jonah, but she kept mentioning him and then hitting on me? Like I'm usually not good with this stuff ... but even I noticed" said Wren

Jesse: "And people look at me sideways when I say she plays them mind games. The 'I only think of you' meanwhile she trynna slide down my pants and yours"

Wren: "In my defense, I am horny and weak ... and she's so hot" said Wren with a wince, "but I think she might legit be nuts, also did you see that thing about how she said I'm friends with nerds?? The audacity when she's wanted like half of us"

Stevie: "You think she would've learned after screwing you over." Stevie motioned her head towards Jesse. "I guess Chase is next." she patted the boy's back.

Chase: "I mean, she called me a perv ... so I think that I'm safe for now" said Chase, "also two out of three of these conspiracies are traaaaaaaaaaaash. Riley not being blind? That's a low blow" he added, kinda annoyed.

Jesse: "Yeah, shes hot be let me be real. Her head game is weak and the sex is kinda boring." Jesse said with a shrug. "Bro. I heard that the car accident she was in was like.. really bad. She told me she was in the hospital for months."

Stevie: "Couldn't be me." Stevie shook her head. "But yeah, I'm not really sure why she would think Riley would lie about something like that."

Jesse: "She said its because shes good at cheer." Jesse said pulling out his phone and pulluing up her instagram and scrolling. "Whats a worlds champion?" He said before watching some videos from before her accident. "Oh my god how does someone do flips like that????" He said a bit shook. "I don't think shes lying. I've witnessed her walk into a door once"

Chase: "Riley was the best on the team before the accident, and she definitely still kicks ass" said Chase.

Wren: "The sex was boring? Not doing that again" said Wren with an eyeroll.

Jesse: "And shes hot." Jesse pointed out. "Go griffin, hot and flexiable" He said with a laugh. "Was Val boring in bed too? God I got lucky with Olivia."

Wren: "We only fucked once" said Wren, "didn't even get my dick sucked" admitted Wren.

Stevie: "So hot." Stevie smiled to herself. "Cut these girls some slack, at least you all get off by the end of it." she teased them. "But seriously dude, get your dick sucked. Have fun."

Wren: "People keep playing me, do I just look like I enjoy used by girls with no perks?" asked Wren, half joking.

Jesse: "stop!" Jesse said shaking his head. "You deserve it all, wrenny." Jesse added on. "Okay but like, If imma go down on her, she should at least return the favor." Jesse pointed out. "What if you gave all the head and didn't get any back?" he asked Stevie

Stevie: "That's gotta be someone's kink." Stevie said as a joke. "I'm sure you'll get your dick sucked soon." she gave Wren a thumbs up. "Well that's just being inconsiderate. I like to hookup with nice people that care about making me feel good as well." she said, placing her hand over her heart.

Wren: "I swear to god, cone of silence ... looking at you Chase. But I've never gotten head, only given it" said Wren, kind of embarrassed.

Jesse: "Wren, baby. You have to be more assertive." Jesse pointed out. "But Devyn would prob do it if you asked her, but like I said. It was weak." He added in. "But we can't deny shes a simp for simp nation"

Wren: "Girls just aren't into me. Maybe I should just take Asher up on his offer" joked Wren, well about the second half. "She is! That's what makes no sense" he replied.

Stevie: "Dude, how many times do I have to tell you? Girls are into you. I wouldn't lie to you." Stevie shook her head. "I mean I heard Asher already made himself quite comfortable in your room at the party so..."

Jesse: "Careful. Make sure that boy gets tested before you even look at him." He said with a laugh. "There are plenty of single hot girls in this school that would love you blow you." Jesse took out his phone again. "You guys should see the texts between me and devyn"

Chase: Chase kept his damn mouth shut about the fact that it did not happen.

Wren: Wren passed the connector to Jesse, "Feel free to demonstrate to the class" he said.

Stevie: "God there's more?" Stevie asked after laughing

Jesse: Jssse plugged in his phone. “This is the text message saying she thinks about me and my dick when she is in bed alone” he said before scrolling a big more up. “This is her telling me how much she likes my dick and then throws in a hope it runs in the family comment. Like gross.” He said before scrolling to the bottom “and this is her apologizing for it because I actually stood up for myself and let’s not forget how she tweeted the world that I was small.”

Wren: "Yeah calling a man small, not cool" said Chase, war flashbacks to the gossip blog anons.

Jesse: “I’m not even small and hate to share I’m not even average.” He said with a shrug. “She just trying to make all the girls think I am so they stay away but jokes on her because Olivia loves me and not just for my dick size”

Wren: "Not to shit on her sexuality and stuff, but what's with the dick obsession? And voicing it that much? Like if I tweeted about boobs like that, I would be absolutely cancelled" said Wren.

Jesse: “I heard she made out with that blond girl, Kelly’s sister. Maybe she’s gay.AND and. During spin the bottle she made out with Riley.”

Stevie: Stevie tried holding in her laugh when she read his response saying he was hard. Men. So weak. "So uh, did you ever tell Olivia about these?" she asked with raised brows.

Jesse: “I told her” he said simply. He didn’t want to say that he kissed her but they probably knew since devyn also tweeted that he was a cheater. “Told her how she was all over me and begging. Also told Jonah that but I’d love to hear how she is twisting that around even when she asked me to go back to her house with her.”

Wren: "So someone needs to tell Jonah" said Wren, kinda worried about him, "He shoulda just stayed with my sister"

Stevie: Stevie let out a sigh, "This shit is such a mess." she said as if she wasn't dealing with her own mess with girls. "Yeah like soon." she agreed. "How is she by the way?" she asked Wren.

Jesse: “Well it won’t be me. I don’t want him to think I’m doing it out of jealousy or some shit. But I also don’t want to see him hurt but like... I don’t want to give him another reason to hate me and is not talk again,”

Wren: "She's vulnerable and will hurt anyone" said Wren, "so don't try anything. Just talk to your little internet girlfriend"

Jesse: Jesse gave wren a look before pulling up rorys Instagram which presented into the tv.

Stevie: Stevie looked over at Wren with wide eyes before hitting his arm, "I wasn't going to try anything, and she's not my girlfriend."

Wren: "Guys, we're twins. Can we not do this?" said Wren with an exaggerated sigh.

Jesse: “Oh don’t worry. We are going to your page next.” He said before switching to wrens. “Devyn was right. You are hot.” He said playfully

Stevie: "Sooo hot." Stevie nodded her head and winked at Wren.

Wren: "I haven't managed to post enough to get the pictures of Chanel down on my page" said Wren, "or Valerie" he said realizing he should have probably said that first.

Jesse: “That’s what the delete button is for” he said pointing out. “Or the acrhive feature so it doesn’t delete them but they are hidden”

Stevie: "His heart couldn't handle deleting them." Stevie said, nudging Wren.

Wren: "I like the pictures, it's just ... they don't need to be at the top of my feed" said the boy, "haha very funny Steve"

Stevie: "They do look good in these pictures." Stevie looked through the pictures he had with the girls. "We can do like a whole photoshoot and get some sweet pics. It'll be fun. My parents have one nice ass camera we can use."

Jesse: "We can take some thirst traps and put them all up. Some snazzy captions abou how we are not all losers." Jesse pointed out as well

Wren: "Turtlenecks?" said Wren half joking, his sister had put him in one and he rather liked it. He'd never lived anywhere cold before, and he knew Stevie always commented on them.

Jesse: "I should invest in some turtle necks, i think people are tired of seeing me in plain long sleeves." He said playfully, thats really all he wore. "Are they really comfortable?"

Stevie: "Ah you know I just love the turtlenecks." Stevie teased her friend. "I think they are. We can all wear one and have one festive ass photoshoot. I'll make some corny family Christmas cards with the pictures. It'll be great." she said jokingly.

Wren: “Sounds like a plan to me” said Wren putting in a game. “But enough of that, let’s blow off some steam, boys and Steve” he said tossing each of them a controller.

#wrenxchase #c:stevie #wrenxstevie #stevie:1 #wrenxjesse #jesse:2 #c:jesse #simp nation onlyy

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willddheartt · 5 years ago

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Babylon: Neon Lights | C.H. Chapter Two: Talk Fast

DISCLAIMER: SOME PARTS MIGHT BE R RATED !! Series warnings: Substances (alcohol & cigarettes), Anger (snappy comments), that’s it??

Series Masterlist

June 26th “Hey Ash, what movie should I put on?” I called from his couch “I don’t know, do you wanna cry or laugh?” He asked, walking in from the kitchen with bowls of snacks. “Should we ask the others when they get here?” Ashton shook his head, “They’re late, no choice. Them’s the rules.” “Okay, you pick,” I shrugged, handing two DVD cases to him “Definitely 21,” He pointed

I nodded, putting the disk in the player and waiting for it to read before taking a seat in the white chair to the left of the tv. Ashton pulled the table between, where he sat on the couch and myself so we could both reach the snacks. Just as the previews on the disk started playing the front door opened and we heard Michael yell through the house. “Honey, we’re home” “What are we watching?” Violet asked, walking in and jumping over the back of the couch to sit in the middle “You’re late, 21 jump street,” Ashton answered “Aw, I love that one,” Michael said, grabbing a bag of gummies and sitting on the last seat on the couch, leaving Calum and Luke to the floor cushions.

“Didn’t we watch this one last time?” Luke asked as he took a seat on the floor, leaning against the couch “Wasn’t my choice, blame Ash,” I held up my hands Calum sat next to the chair I sat in and scoffed at my words, “‘Course it's not your fault, never is, hm?”

I looked down at him from the corner of my eye, shooting him a confused look, but shaking it off and turning my attention back to the television, doing my best to ignore Calum for the rest of the night. The new knowledge that Ashton gets upset when Calum and I bicker, making me more mindful of the situation and the people who are around. Halfway through the movie, I found my eyelids drooping shut as I sank further down in the chair, trying to cover up with my hoodie, but only being left colder. A tap on the side of my leg turned my attention to the floor, Calum handed me the blanket Luke discarded to the side when he first sat down. I muttered a quiet ‘thanks’, barely above a whisper, I wasn’t sure he even heard.

Friday movie nights at Ashton’s everyone normally stayed over, most of us falling asleep during a movie, and it being too late to drive home by the time we woke up. Ashton's house was covered in mostly white, making even the latest hours of the night look like mid-evening. It was two, almost three in the morning, I was so thankful I didn’t have work in the morning. I don’t think I could do customer service with two hours of sleep. I shuffled around Ashton’s kitchen, trying to get a glass of water as quiet as possible as to not wake anyone up, and failing. Another pair of feet shuffled over Ashton’s hardwood floors, coming up behind me. I turned around, being faced with a half-asleep Calum. In the low light of the dark kitchen and his messy hair, it almost looked like I could fall for him. Almost.

“What are you doing up?” He said coldly, voice raspy and laced with sleep. I shrugged, sipping on my water to avoid answering him. I didn’t have an answer to why I was up, what? I couldn't sleep? Well no shit. “Ignore me, it's not like I asked you a question or anything,” Calum mumbled to himself as he waited for the glass to fill up “My bad Mr.Hood, do I owe you a reply?” I said innocently, raising my eyebrows trying to look shocked before letting my face fall and eyes roll.

Calum and I stood in the kitchen in silence, finishing the glasses of water. Sometimes I wished things were different between us. Especially the times when he looked exceptionally attractive, there were times when the thought of hugging or even kissing him wasn’t totally repulsive.

July 1st A new shipment of men's clothing and a bunch of slacking coworkers left me folding and hanging up the new men's dress pants and shirts. Though it wasn't all that bad, the speakers of the tired soundtrack that played day after day were quieter in the men's section, giving me a bit of peace. I stood back in the dressing rooms, hiding away as I continued to fold the pants, along with any clothing that was left to be put away.

I just finished the pile of pants and went to start on the mountain of clothing that was left from other customers but noticed a man walking towards me with an arm full of different coloured button-downs.

“Do you need a dressing room, sir?” I asked, customer service voice showing my fake enthusiasm. “Yeah, please-” The man's nice tone faltered when his face lifted and his eyes met with mine as I stood in front of him. “Calum, hey,” I said through gritted teeth, and went straight to unlocking the dressing room door. “Rossa, I didn't know you worked here,” He sounded surprised, I nodded, “Violet and I have worked here for a while now,” Calum hummed in response, “Just don't make a mess, and think I’ll have to clean it up,” I added before he entered the dressing room.

There were many questions floating around in my head that I wanted to ask him, but at the same time, I knew we were not the type to talk outside of our mutual friends. I went back to folding clothes in the corner behind a table until Calum stepped out the door of the dressing room in a baby blue short sleeve button down. “I normally ask the attendants how I look when I’m not sure but I don't know if you can give me an honest opinion,” Calum said nervously. “Do you mean, can I look past our differences?” I asked, he nodded. “I guess, where I have to be professional,” I said, to anyone else who worked here it sounded like Calum and I were joking around like friends would from the tone of voice I used because I wasn't trying to lose my job over Calum Hood.

I looked him up and down and motioned for him to do a spin, waiting for him to obey and do a quick twirl so I could see how the shirt fit in the back. I walked up to him, tugging on the sleeves, noticing the shirt was too big and baggy. “It's too big,” I commented, “For it to fit right you need the size down. Try on something else and I’ll run outback and get you the proper size,” I said “Don’t bother, it was just a maybe.” He shook his head, waving me off. “Okay, but it doesn't look bad. The colour is nice.” Calum nodded and went back into the dressing room, I returned to the table with the pile of clothes. This time I was able to get a few shirts folded before Calum came out. Just as I picked up a shirt to fold he came out in a yellow short sleeve button down, the same style as the blue one.

“What do you think?” He asked, I had gripped the shirt I picked up tightly, so much so that it would need to be ironed before getting folded, I was sure he noticed the white of my knuckles and the way I swallowed the ball in my throat before speaking. “It's nice,” I nodded, “The yellow looks good with your skin tone.” He spun around to look at himself in the mirror, “Does this one fit right?” I asked “Yeah, it should be my size,” “It's nice,” I repeated “Are those your actual thoughts or just something you tell the customers to get them to buy the item?” Calum asked “It's me putting our past behind us to honestly help you with shirt shopping, it's also me not wanting to lose my job from treating you normally but we’ll look past that,” He rolled his eyes and scoffed at my words, “Alright,” He nodded

Moments later Calum came out dressed in the same hoodie he arrived in and handed me the shirts he didn't want, keeping a wine red, forest green and the sunshine yellow one. “Thanks for the help,” He mumbled “My pleasure Mr.Hood.” I tipped a pretend hat to him, rolling my eyes at my own actions, “Anyway, if you don't mind me being nosey, Why the nice clothes all the sudden?”

“Ashtons Birthday needed something nicer.” He shrugged “What was decided on that? Nobody has told me,” “Probably because they’re realizing how annoying you are,” For once I was left almost speechless at something he said, “Ouch, that's low even for you, Calum,”

The realization at what he said finally rang through his head, and I could have sworn I caught a sliver of guilt on his features. “The club, Ask Vi, she’ll fill you in.” He mumbled before walking off.

I caught Violet coming to take my place at shift change as I was on my way to punch out.

“Violet,” I said, catching her attention, stopping her. “Hey,” She smiled “Has Calum been different? Like did something happen or anything?” I asked the comment he made earlier still stuck in the back of my head. Violet shook her head, “Not that I know of, why the sudden interest?” “He was in today for something, but something he said was just really out there, like worse than our normal bickering, that's all.” I shrugged “Why? What did he say?” Violet asked I shook my head, “Doesn’t matter. Probably just Calum being Calum. I'll see ya after work,”

Calum being Calum, something that never changed. Especially in a few hours.

Violet and I were having dinner with the boys, as a celebration for Ashton’s birthday without the huge amounts of alcohol. It was just time to spend with close friends at a nice restaurant and talk. Even though we all spent a lot of time together, at one another's houses, it was nice to go out for a change. Ashton picked the restaurant we were eating at, thankfully it was nothing fancy, and we ended up at a bar-restaurant. With the poot tables and bar on one side and restaurant on the other. The entire night Calum continued to make really low remarks, much like the one he made earlier today, his actions turning me away from wanting to spend time with the rest of the group.

Excusing myself to get some air, was actually my way of saying I was going to chain smoke two cigarettes quickly to ease the stress.

The only thing swirling around in my mind, as the second cigarette took the edge off, ‘What did I ever do to Calum that made him so hostile?”

#Calum hood #Ashton irwin #luke hemmings #Michael clifford #calum hood imagine #Ashton irwin imagine #Luke hemmings imagine #Michael clifford imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #5seconds of summer imagine

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pooktales · 5 years ago

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Dannox Does Dalaran

~45min read

In an alternate universe where Kael'thas is king...

*doom music* The quaint Legerdermain Lounge in Dalaran has an amateur comedy night. Dannox, a raunchy Night Elf druid, decides to do his standup routine. You may recognize Dannox from such things as my ‘My Life for My Prince’ fanfiction series. This post is LGBTQ+ friendly. It is also 18+ and NSFW because of dirty jokes. Enjoy!

...

Center stage at the Legerdermain Lounge in Dalaran. A dark-pearl skinned Night Elf man with deep green hair down to his waist strides up to take the Gnomish microphone device. He smiles well, as if he’s been laughing really hard back stage with the staff already. Charcoal gray t-shirt that looks soft. Light blue, linen slacks. Unless your eyes are playing tricks, there seems to be a shadow, or an outline through the thin fabric, of his bare hip underneath and the start of a muscular thigh. He moves again, and it’s gone. Dannox has spread hands and feet apart, bracing as if he’ll have to fight the strange mic device at first, but then cuts that out quickly since the mic is not a toy. Maybe no one noticed.

His joy is genuine and infectious. It’s hard not to smile along with him.

“Hey, so before I begin—Shit, you’d think I’d be used to a moon-white spotlight in the dark, being a Night Elf, but I’m just not. Can you offensive fuckers turn that off? Okay?” Dannox cackles and squints. He looks at his dark hands, while adjusting the mic up to his height. Dannox is magnetizing in a way. Fun to watch his sly mannerisms, his voice is rich.

A burst of embarrassed laughter in the back, while the Gnome techs actually accede to Dannox’s demand. It’s not a joke, they really are trying to fix the lights for him.

“So. Dalaran. The big D. Well, the other big D. They say if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. Which… is exactly what life is like with a big dick anyway...

“Sorry if you thought I couldn’t say that word—DICK. But back to my joke. You do one guy, or lady—I’m bi—and word gets around, right? So I make it everywhere.

“Oh, Dalaran. Come on, baby. I just got here and you’re turning me on. I’m lit for a magical city right now, and that is so wrong. Wow, what a weird fetish that would be…

“Seriously, though. This place cracks me up. A fancy, beautiful city. Perfectly designed. A beacon of hope. Holy, in a way. Floating majestically through the air. And plenty of massive, purple, phallic objects poking the sky.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me, I know it’s not really like that—that’s not why those spires are there. They have a real functionality. What got my mind dirty in the first place were all the snooty, Kirin’ Tor, tight arseholes walking up and down the streets… Yum.

Shocked, sort of uncomfortable laughter, but Dannox presses on, “Hey, don’t judge me. You guys been to the Underbelly, yet?” He shakes his head sorrowfully, “Don’t go down there. I mean, did you hear what it’s called? The Underbelly. That’s another low-key sex thing about Dalaran. This place is secretly very dirty, believe me. Underbelly. Do you know what’s under my belly? Well, on most nights. He’s not here right now.” Dannox uses a hand to shade his eyes, pretends to look around the room for someone. Loose laughter escapes from the back. “Sorry, that one was too easy. But yeah, so please don’t go down there. Just a lot of nasty fuckers like myself, flagging themselves to get jumped from behind by some rogue, and trying to wrestle each other—” Dannox starts laughing and cuts himself off, “All… oiled up. Well I was, anyway. Okay, I lied. I’ve been here before. Plenty of times.”

To a woman looking very serious and refusing to laugh in the front row, “Ma’am. Ma’am? I’m going to need you to loosen up tonight, okay? You’re in the hands of a professional tonight. I’m serious. I’m more serious than you are right now about that statement, do you know why? I’m fully trained at this, I was once a very successful stripper, I promise you.” Excited whistles and shouts, “I know smut and I’m proud of that, so tonight you have my express permission to laugh at my nasty jokes.

“But I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, ma’am, really I am. Please forgive me. Do you want a lap dance to make up for it? I’m being serious. Would that help? You don’t?

“Damn, I’m getting old then. Anyone here heard of Commando Dan, from Fel Candy? West side of Kezan? There must be a few Goblins in the house.”

A couple of gravelly cheers.

“Hoo, yeah! That’s me. Look how far I’ve fallen. I still got all my clothes on and people are even laughing.”

The blazing spotlight finally goes out, leaving Dannox in a darker room, offset by easy peach candlelight. Some polite applause for the lights being fixed. Then glasses click gently as people drink, begin to enjoy their food once more.

“Hey, great! I can see again, though you all really can’t see me, cause it’s dark. And your eyes have to adjust. Sucks to be you. Shout out to the other Night Elves in the house. The revolution begins now, by the way. Hail to the night, motherfuckers…”

Throaty laughter, especially from some kal’dorei men in the back.

Dannox looks down and snakes the microphone wire around the stand, to give himself space to move with it, “Anyway, I am definitely grateful for my chance at amateur night here in Dalaran.” He winks, “I intend to take the prize. I’m already a prize, I figured we’d go together.”

He turns a little to his left, sticks a hand in his pants pocket. Also, semi-sheer fabric confirmed. Nice.

“So. A little about me to start, other than my being an exceptional stripper once upon a time. Today? I’m a bum. A handsome bum, but my husband reminds me that still means I’m lazy and bum. I do nothing. This is my first thing that I’m doing, after a hiatus. Stripper in retirement. Never thought you’d see the day, right?” Dannox shrugs, grinning anew, “Actually, I do work hard, just not in the way you’d expect. I’m a trophy husband that got picked up years ago in a seedy strip club, I kid you not… stripping my clothes off in Kezan, which is a beautiful, nearly lawless Goblin Island, at least on the redlight district side. Anything goes on that side. A Blood Elf and a Night Elf can meet up, get it on, and have all kinds of adventures together in broad daylight. Faltheriel and I once had a dirty weekend that turned into… ten years now? And so I got picked up by the man who eventually became—who eventually would become—the Chief Advisor to King Kael’thas Sunstrider.

“The king? Yeah, we live in an alternate universe back home. It’s totally normal though, don’t worry. It’s like living in the suburbs—hardly anyone goes there, it’s nice cause it’s less expensive. We get crime, but it’s weirder suburbs, alt-universe crime. Like… whenever we read about Kael’thas’ new fun addictions and various shortcomings in the news. It was Murlocos Tacos last week. His daughter caught footage of him on the floor eating them while drunk or high, probably both cause it’s Kael’thas, and slurring every single thing he said. It came on all the scrying orbs. That was a rough week for him.”

Some snickers. “Yeah, you guys out here have dead, looted body Kael’thas at the end of a Quel’danas Isle dungeon. But back home, we pretty much have the Hearthstone Kael’thas which is way nicer. And funnier. I thought I’d get up here and do a Hearthstone Kael’thas impression but… yeah, he’d send some people over to kill me. He’s still an evil genius with bloodthirsty Sunfury agents. Also, ‘I’m coming doooown!’

“Haha… So worth it. Best part, when I get assassinated by Sunfury agents soon and I die, I’m totally going to ask my wife and husband to put that exact quote on my tombstone. That’ll really piss Kael off.

“And then, what is he even gonna do? Dig up my body and beat me some more?” Dannox looks down, casually kicks the wire for the mic out of his way, “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past that fel-addicted, demon-fucking motherfucker. He’s into everything.

“Anyway, we’re actually cool, me and Kael’thas. Don’t worry. And I truly like him. Since my husband works for Kael, and I am a druid after all—I heal. I heal a body good… I get to talk to Kael’thas himself sometimes if you can believe it. But it’s all so horrible. He’s a good-looking man and he knows that I’m bi. And I’m an awful person, generally. I guess that’s why Kael and I get along.”

Dannox walks to the other side of the stage, “And then Filthy—that’s my husband, don’t ask… Well, you will ask about my husband’s nickname, but I’m warning you not to, not yet, I’ll tell you later—Filthy is practically like Kael’s family at this point, so I always take my chance to rip on our lovely king. Also, Kael’s Blood Knights. Blood Knights are such easy targets. And mind you, in this alt universe, Azeroth is united, the factions are at peace, sorta. Kind of like how Dalaran lets everybody in, we’re sort of like that. Anyway, so we’re out in Netherstorm again with King Kael’thas, waiting on the Sunfury army to show up. Kael’thas looks right at me and he says, ‘I think I really like having a Night Elf man salute me, for a change.’

“And then I wink, ‘…It’s only natural, Kael’thas.’

“Hoo, boy. Poor Kael’thas. I think he was trying to be community-spirited. But, you know, he just tangled with the wrong Night Elf. Or, exactly the right one. Remember, I do like to get oiled-up first.”

More laughter.

“And then these soldiers of his, they’re taking a really long time to arrive. So one of the Blood Knights that’s already there, she turns to me. Everyone’s curious about the Night Elves, I suppose. Daphne goes… and I guess she didn’t let on yet that I’m unbelievably nasty, by some miracle. That’s what happens when hubby refuses to talk about home at work, I guess.

“Daphne asks me, ‘I heard you were the bane of Malfurion’s existence at one point.’

“I say, ‘Well, only for fifteen to twenty minutes at a time.’

Gasps, shocked laughter.

“See? I can keep it professional if I want to. And it’s fine, that’s another world leader I’m cool with. Malfurion and I go… way back. Right. In the back.

“Hey, no judgment. We all have our reasons for leaving the Emerald Dream. Am I right, fellow druids? Or, getting banned from it by a jealous wife. Hey, I’m calling her out, that wasn’t cool. She should know by now, everyone secretly loves Malfurion.

“Then I decided to have some fun with my husband Filthy—Faltheriel—who was standing right there next to me, turning beet-red, ‘What’s this, Faltheriel? You don’t look well, and your forehead is so warm. Maybe you’re coming down with something. Let’s go get you into bed, make you perfectly comfortable… then see what happens.’

“He didn’t like that. And in front of his employer, too. You see why he calls me a bum. I’m so good at being a trophy husband and jobless, it’s like I think everyone else needs to lose their job. Anyway, Faltheriel left to go do something else. Divorce me or something, I don’t remember what he said that afternoon. It’s not important.

“There was also a nice girl with them, a tall redhead named Tempest. I think she’s a retribution Paladin—Blood Knight, whatever. They all get to talking about old times, and she recalls how my husband used to be a zealot for Kael’thas, because he was. Or is. I’ll put it this way, ‘Kael’thas’ is the opposite of our safe word at home. It’s more Filthy’s trigger. Filthy gets one. One ‘Kael’thas’ every evening, and after that he has to stop. Don’t ask me how he works for the guy. I’m a sleaze, Faltheriel’s a fanboy, I guess. We struggle through this life together in our exciting marriage, putting up with all you muggles.

“I’m not joking with you. In person, Kael’thas is a very handsome man ontop of everything else and Faltheriel’s only mortal. Like I said, we have amazing, alt-universe Hearthstone Kael’thas. It’s a different outfit every hour with that guy. My favorite is nineties Kael’thas. He shows up with slicked-back blonde hair, neon shapes on his t-shirt and a giant cell phone, obsessing about how Arthas stole Jaina Proudmoore from him, and he needs revenge in time for the Dalaran Academy dance.

“Hey, I just remembered, you guys would have been there for all that Arthas in ripped stonewash jeans, shoving Kael’thas into a locker stuff. Beat, ba-beat, ba-ba-ba-beat, gooooo Dalaran!

“Anyway. Wow, I keep going off what I memorized. I need a minute.” Dannox winces laughter and pinches at the bridge of his nose, before calming down. “So. Faltheriel and his crew were all zealots back then, doing bad things for Kael’thas, but Faltheriel can get right in the danger zone till this day, remembering weird Kael’thas facts and lore, though I do love him. Tempest goes, ‘Look, I’m a Blood Knight and Faltheriel’s intense obsession over Kael’thas even makes me uncomfortable. Dannox, are you sure everything is alright?’

“I go, ‘Eh. It’s all about energy, where you direct it. Faltheriel can revv up his cute little engine all day if he wants to, as long as, at the end of that day, I’m the one who directly benefits.’

Daphne, as Tempest is laughing, ‘Uh… what?’

“I say, ‘It’s called husband physics.’

“And it is, it really is! That’s how you manage a marriage with a fanboy. I’ll only worry if Faltheriel comes home cosplaying and threatens that we need to take an emergency family vacay to Blizzcon. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But when your husband likes to dress up as a succubus… you keep an eye on it. He’s going as Drag Queen Azshara next year, by the way. And there’s rumor of an ‘It’s Raining Men’ act to go with it, but Rachel and I are mostly letting Filthy have his alone time with the costume and his music for now. We’re all really excited. Albeit—each in his own way.

“Later that day, with the Blood Knights you know--the Sunfury finally arrive and it’s time for us to get moving, mount up to go someplace. I’m on my nightsaber. They’re staring at my beast. You would… I say to Daphne, ‘Let’s have somebody ride up front, and then the other person can climb on the back. Don’t worry, Faltheriel and I do it all the time where we’re from.’

“This guy Sunthraze goes, ‘In Darnassus? Or do you mean Silvermoon where Faltheriel’s from?’

“I say, ‘Wait, my wife wouldn’t want me to finish that joke.’

“Sometimes, Faltheriel does really get annoyed with me when I make those kinds of jokes with his colleagues. I mean, they are his coworkers after all. I guess that’s unkind in a way. But that’s also okay because my husband and I like to fight. Or, that other thing that begins with the letter ‘F’.

“That one too obvious? I can be subtle as well. I’m a centaur if you don’t think about that too much.”

“Now, please ask yourselves... Why was that not put in as one of the male Night Elf pickup lines? It’s excellent.”

Dannox then kindly leans down to the first row again, “While we’re on the topic, ma’am, I see that you’re smiling now. I knew you would. But I wanted to say, I am very sorry that you didn’t want that lap dance before. These are my emergency tear-away pants, as well. They’re not just awesome fitted slacks. But I need you to know, it’s too late now. Like the Goblins say, ‘If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it!’ he snaps, pretending to have real attitude.

He straightens up again, as the laughter dies down, “…Well, in my case, a giant cock ring.”

A raucous reaction spreads from the cheap seats. The laughter makes it hard to hear the next part, as the woman begins talking and gesturing up at him, “… Huh? Haha!” Dannox leans halfway to listen to her, then attempts to stop his own laughter, “After the show? Really?! Wow, you’ve come a long way. Alright, I give in. Ladies and gentlemen, please clap for Offended Lady, I’ve got a convert! Welcome to the dark side. But you’ll have to run fast after the lap dance, my wife’s here somewhere. Thanks, Offended Lady, I’m so glad we’re cool now. Come find me on Tumblr later, too. I can’t follow you back, but I promise you won’t regret it.

“Well, back to me and my husband. Sometimes, I have to be reminded that I’ve got one... Oh! So Faltheriel and me arguing and fighting--it’s alright, really…

“I try not to pull on Faltheriel’s hair unless I mean it.

“Actually, when we first met, it was better. When we first met, I told Faltheriel I was a baker. Go on, you can ask me, ‘Why is that?’

“Well, you don’t let strange men glaze your buns, obviously.

“I really love that joke. I tell that one a lot. You know, usually, there’s an upstanding person nearby—not you, ma’am. We already addressed that, like I said, and you kindly booked me tonight from 12-12:07am,” Dannox gives a sly wink and checks his watch, “But usually it’s someone with these excellent manners who warns that I’m a horrible person. Like I didn’t know that already, but it’s their duty to glare up here, gasp all shocked and say that. Do you know what I tell people who act like that? After I tell the joke, ‘You don’t let strange men glaze your buns, obviously.’ Then they say, ‘Dannox, you are a horrible person.’

“I clarify, ‘No… I’m a baker.’

“Very innocent, just like that. Even funnier when, truth is, I do know how to bake. But I only let Faltheriel find that out years later. I waited until after we got engaged before I baked him anything. I was far more serious about the success of that baker joke than our relationship.

“But it’s true, Faltheriel and I like to fight. We always have. Though, mostly, it’s wrestling. Before bedtime. Aaaaand in this corner…” Dannox raises his voice, as if about to call a wrestling match, “they lived happily ever after.

“Also, now that we’ve been married for about a decade, Faltheriel doesn’t always listen to me. Then again, I don’t always face him while we talk… It’s win-win.

“Though, being totally serious now—You know, when I first met Faltheriel, he wasn’t facing me. Do you know how goddam gorgeous you have to be to look like someone’s soul mate from behind?!

“And I’m a good husband to him. I truly am. I make sure that Filthy never falls in the shower, whether he appreciates it or not.

“You know, I once lied to Faltheriel and told him it was still dark outside. He couldn’t get out from under me anyways.

“Another thing, Faltheriel and I don’t always communicate well. Sometimes, we just grunt and slap each other’s thighs a lot.” Dannox, now raising his voice over the laughter, “Is that weird? Maybe other couples don’t do that as much, I don’t know.

“Being married to such a beautiful man is hard. God, it gets so hard. Sorry—was that a low blow? I’ll put it away now. Though it’s been going on for so long, I’ll have to roll it up, first.

“Anyway, sometimes I say this thing to my husband when it’s bedtime and he’s not in the mood. I totally respect him for that, I do… But I say to him, ‘Filthy--’ I guess that’s his pet name when he’s being adorable, or really irritating. Both a fun challenge for me. I realize I keep switching in and out of that, I tell him, ‘Filthy, I don’t mind if you’re too tired. You can sleep, honey. Just lie on your stomach, and loosen up first.’”

Dannox hangs in there, through a mixture of booing and hard laughter, “See? It’s so simple! It is so simple to make a good marriage, you guys. A dirty, dirty marriage with a lovely woman who puts up with us and a man who used to work for the Burning Legion, and who can END you if your jokes ever fail to land.

“I can tell you, if you don’t like these jokes, that’s fine. You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve already suffered enough. It was bombs over Shadowmoon Valley while I honed this joke routine in my house, I promise.

“By the way, don’t try that at home. Don’t try my sense of humor at your beloved home, not unless you enjoy having done to you what my husband used to do to his prisoners-slash-victims. Well, he still does it. But I-I get out sometimes.” Dannox rolls his big shoulder, pretends to twitch, “Like tonight.

“But I do find Faltheriel irresistible, so I admit that I keep trying to get into trouble with him. This one time, Faltheriel was really fussing at me, he really wanted me to leave him alone so he could read. Now I don’t know if I’m extra horny because I’m a big Night Elf compared to him—he’s a Blood Elf, I hope the Kael’thas thing gave that away—or because I’m just, well, totally nasty all the time, so much so, I like to give my husband a nickname that stops him from forgetting that I’m a dirty alpha male in this thing and I own his glorious ass… Told you I’d explain later in the show and that you didn’t want to know… But anyway, one evening while Filthy was downstairs reading and ignoring me like that, I just decided to compromise.

“I say to him, ‘Fine, let’s play a game to pass the time. I’ll be good if you’re good.’ He’s sensible, so he says, ‘Deal. What would you like to play, darling?’ He goes for the checkerboard. Then I said, ‘Faltheriel, this game I have is so fun. This is so easy. I’ll love it. It goes like this. Can you bend over the couch and not move for a half hour?’ He’s a sweetie and too trusting at times, so he actually does it. Then I say, ‘Also, this is one of those games where you can’t say ‘No.’

“I got slapped for that. It’s really bad when another man slaps you to defend his honor. And of course, truth be told… I liked it. Poor Faltheriel.

“Elune above, my Blood Elf husband is cute! He is so yummy. Fun fact, Faltheriel only wanted a sweet little hug last night, but in for a penny, in for a pounding.

“Though, the Cenarion Circle is probably going to come back into our lives, I think, to take Filthy away and try to find him a forever home.

“I mean, a new home with a good mummy and daddy. And walks in the park that don’t involve shagging behind the trees. And no bear-bottom spankings. Horny druid husbands are the worst, I should know.

“On another night, I told Faltheriel my balls were lonely. He brought his over to play.

“Awww, so sweet of him. Also, Faltheriel is really good at sex, but I would never tell him that. I just ask him to keep trying.

“Another thing about us, I almost forgot. When I first met Faltheriel, I got naked fast. He didn’t like it at the beginning, but he loved it in the end.

“And once, I told Faltheriel I was a piñata so that he wouldn’t stop beating me with it.

“And the most sex Faltheriel and I ever had was on the same night our wife had our first child, our twins. She was… SO mad at us.

“You know, when our wife had the twins—they’re fraternal, one Night Elf, one Blood Elf—Faltheriel forgot for a moment and went wild, accused Rachel of cheating. It was then that I reminded my husband that, um… I have sex with our wife too.

“Uh-huh. That’s right. That’s what you get when you jump to conclusions about your good spouse, Faltheriel.

“He’s not here tonight, actually. Faltheriel couldn’t make it. That’s why I’m really ripping on him, I guess. But my wife’s here, I think I said that earlier. Hi Rach, say hi. She’s a knockout, isn’t she? She’s so sweet and so kind, and hopefully, this wonderful Human woman won’t lock me in my cage later…

“And you know another thing, three-way marriages are interesting. They are so interesting. Women change, their appetites grow or something and you adapt in weird ways. Our wife gets so horny at times, it really does take the two of us. Wow, she looks mad at me now. Guess I shouldn’t have said that. But, then again, when she holds out, it’s like the world is coming to an end for us men.

“Just kidding, Faltheriel and I are perfectly fine.

“Sorry hun, it’s true. You shouldn’tve got us that set of matching spoons for the holidays. It’s just too bad. That cheap gift you got was like homo-erotic Kaja-Cola, it gave us ideas.

“I’m an idiot, I apologize. Anyway, this one time… the best stories start that way, have you noticed? So this one time when Rachel wasn’t there, Faltheriel came straight upstairs after work and found me in bed with another woman. God, he’s so adorable… After I put the mirror back and slipped the pink scrunchie from his soft, soft, ponytail, he calmed down and it was an amazing night.

“Seriously, though. My husband Faltheriel is so man-pretty, we only realized our wife had none of her own lingerie like… a week ago? And we’d been together for ten years? Yeah, it’s like that.

“So Faltheriel buys me my own lingerie, for once. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of the fuzzy, silky, or bright colored stuff he brought home. Eh, the see-through stuff was okay. The really super-short, see through stuff I was already poking out of, that we could do each other in immediately—that, I liked. Nice guy, but he really wasted his money on me, I tell ya.

“Alright, last joke. It’s June and I know everyone’s hot in here. You’re all ready to finish up and call it a night. So I’ll try and end on a respectable note.

“It isn’t June? Well, I know that, I don’t care. Listen to the joke, goddammit.

“Ahhh, my wonderful husband, Filthy,” to rising, expectant laughter, “Faltheriel ‘Filthy’ Darkweaver has the best ass in the world. It feels like I’m fucking a magical rainbow in there. Was that one too obvious, because it’s Pride Month? Did you know that big, horny, sweaty, well-hung unicorns fuck rainbows? Nice image. Yeah, enjoy your Pride Month.”

Dannox nervously puts the microphone back and waves once, while people scream laughter. “If you liked my set, please tell the very nice Legerdemain Lounge staff. I’d love to come back. Oh, I never said my whole name. I’m Dannox Silvermoon Darkweaver. That’s right. That was my real last name, I was a dream come true when my Blood Elf husband finally found me and saved me. For me, every day is Pride Month because I’m so proud of my family and so happy to be here these days. It wasn’t always like that.

“And Rachel honey, I’m so grateful to you for loving me and letting me be me. I’m coming straight home to you baby… after this one lap dance,” an anxious laugh, as Dannox checks his watch, “Uh. I want to thank you all for a lovely show. Night, everybody.”

More whistles and another round of cheers. Then, the Night Elf man confidently jogs off-stage.

…

Aww, thanks for reading this far if you made it!

Were you in the audience? What do you have to shout out, or ask Dannox after his set? He might respond.

@elendeare

3 notes · View notes

jungcupid-archive · 5 years ago

Text

i dare you (to never let me go)

pairing: jungkook x jimin

summary: and after all that had passed, jungkook would always be pulled back to jimin. he didn’t know why, maybe it was fate (or maybe it was his 9-year-old daughter).

chapter: 6/?

a/n: lots of things going on rn, sorry for the late update

The large, iron gates had a banner strung across the bars that read ‘HOPE WORLD JUNIOR SUMMER CAMP!’ in large, sparkly letters. Beyond the gates, Hyejung could see lush, green fields. There seemed to be a few large cabins scattered throughout the property and 50-60 kids were already walking over the small lake via the bridge. Mina was practically bouncing, her backpack making noises because of everything getting jostled around. Hyejung put a hand on Mina’s shoulder to calm her down.

They’d caught a train in the early morning and in the matter of 2 hours, had arrived in front of the camp.

Hyejung couldn’t believe that all this time, Jimin had been this close to her without her even knowing it. This was real. She was about to come face-to-face with Jimin again, the boy she’d treated like her son, the boy who had probably turned into a man. It almost brought tears to her eyes, but she tried to reign them in. She hadn’t even met him yet, it was absurd of Hyejung to get so emotional now. With a newfound resolve, Hyejung pushed open the gates and led Mina to the bridge.

Hoseok was standing there, greeting all the kids as they passed by, radiating excitement and happiness. When they approached him, Hoseok smile faltered for just a moment before it flickered back to life. He took the bags out of Hyejung’s hand and bowed.

“Welcome to camp!” Hoseok turned to Mina and shook her hand professionally, “Pleasure to meet you, little Jimin.”

“Only uncool people call me Jimin. I’m Mina now. I chose the name myself!” Mina nearly yelled. She was still bouncing and peering past Hoseok, probably trying to spot Jimin.

“Oh, then pardon me! I am many things, but uncool is not one of them. Pleasure to meet you little Mina,” Hoseok greeted again with a smile on his face. Mina murmured something about “street names” and before Hoseok could widen his eyes in shock, Hyejung spoke to him. God, she really needed to talk to Jungkook about filtering what he taught Mina, no matter how funny he thought it was.

“Thank you for this, Hoseok,” Hyejung placed a hand on his shoulder sincerely, “It means a lot to our little family… even if one third of the family doesn’t know it yet.”

Hoseok let out a laugh of disbelief, “Jungkook doesn’t know? Does he even know you’re here?”

Mina replied to that with, “When he reads my letter he will.” Hoseok burst into laughter and shook his head fondly, he glanced behind him and Hyejung noticed the large bundle of balloons that had been brought out. Someone was giving them out to the children and before Hyejung could even see the person’s face, she knew it was Jimin.

“Let’s go,” she said softly, not taking her eyes off the figure. Hoseok nodded and rolled the bags down the bridge, Mina walking faster when she recognized the person giving out the balloons.

When they reached Jimin, he was giving out his last balloon to a little boy about 5 years old. He wore a beautiful smile and was dressed in a maroon dress shirt and slacks, miles away from his usual tank top and basketball shorts. He looked clean, well put-together, Hyejung thought to herself. For some reason, this made her want to cry. She’d missed out on watching him grow up.

Mina reached Jimin first and Hyejung watched them from beside Hoseok.

Jimin looked at Mina with a sheepish grin, “I’m sorry, I think I’m out of balloons. Do you want me to go in and blow another one up for you?”

Mina couldn’t stop staring at Jimin. She didn’t respond, just kept a small smile on her face and tilted her head to the side, her eyes crinkling. Jimin didn’t seem to mind, smiling back at her just as genuinely.

“Your name is Jimin?” Mina asked him softly. Jimin looked down at his name-tag and nodded, “Yup, that’s still me.”

Mina grinned, “My name is Jimin too!”

Jimin gasped, his eyes big and twinkling with delight, “Really? That’s so cool! My parents named me Jimin because they really liked the name, isn’t that a boring old story? What about you? Why were you named Jimin?”

“My parents named me Jimin because they really liked you,” Mina giggled at Jimin’s confused expression and shook her head. “I’m just kidding, really. I don’t know why they named me Jimin. It doesn’t matter, anyways. Everyone calls me Mina now.”

Mina held out her hand and Jimin shook it, a laugh spilling from his lips. She adjusted her backpack and said a quick “see you around” before walking towards the other kids. Mid-step, she turned on her heel and waved to Hyejung, “He’s all yours!”

Hoseok couldn’t help but laugh, and he politely bowed to Hyejung before following Mina with the bags. Jimin turned to look at who Mina had spoken to and found a pair of eyes already on him.

Hyejung had been apart from Jimin for a long time, but happiness flooded through her knowing that she hadn’t forgotten how to read him. Jimin’s expressions contorted quickly and frequently. His smile dropped off his face and recognition pulled his eyebrows up. Jimin’s eyes had always been his most expressive feature, so Hyejung wasn’t surprised to see how quickly they flashed from guilt to happiness to relief. He got up from where he was sitting slowly, deliberately, and took steps towards Hyejung that kept quickening in pace until he was almost running into her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered in her ear, choking back tears, “I’m so, so sorry.”

Hyejung, having trouble keeping back her own tears, kissed the side of his head and pulled him in closer. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

And it was true. Hyejung might’ve been upset with him before but now that she was face to face with Jimin, she was just happy to be reunited with her boy again. She couldn’t stay upset at Park Jimin. She couldn’t then, and she couldn’t now. They kept a tight hold on each other for a few more minutes, as many minutes as years that had passed.

With each passing second, Hyejung felt the small hole in her heart being filled back up again.

Jimin sat with his legs crossed on the chair, one half of his body warming up considerably because of the fireplace. He poured Hyejung a cup of tea and handed it to her, feeling the other half of his body warming up when she smiled at him. It had been too long since he’d felt that kind of motherly affection, almost to the point where it felt foreign to him.

“I still can’t believe you just bumped into me coincidentally. This has to be fate, don’t you think?” Jimin commented with a smile on his face. Throughout the day’s various “get to know each other” activities, Jimin had refused to let Hyejung out of his sight and they’d exchanged bits and pieces of information. He’d come to know that Mina was someone Hyejung was babysitting in Seoul. She was raised by a single parent that required them to be away quite a lot. Mina had wanted to come to this camp and since her parent didn’t have time, Hyejung had offered to take her.

“You know how much I love taking care of any kid that isn’t my own,” Hyejung had teased.

“Firsthand experience,” Jimin had stated solemnly, raising a hand in the air.

They’d laughed about it, intentionally skirting around whatever memories surfaced with the mention of Hyejung’s son.

“If that’s what you want to call it Although, I think it was just a stroke of luck. Good thing I got so lucky, I missed you, Jimin,” Hyejung told him.

“I missed you too, Hyejung.” Jimin replied quietly, not wanting to think about what had caused her to miss him.

“Jimin,” Hyejung started reasonably, “I’m not going to ask you why you did it or tell you to bare you soul to me and explain exactly what happened when you left. I know you had your reasons, but why not contact me? If there was anything I could’ve done for you-”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Jimin stated, looking into the fire. “She died, and that’s that. I feel close enough to you that I can call you my mother in some respects but… losing her wasn’t something you could’ve helped with. No one could’ve helped with that.”

Especially because it was his mother, Jimin thought to himself. Anyone else, and he would’ve been okay. He would’ve welcomed it, even. But losing his mom meant losing the only person in his family who had ever dared to love him for who he was. Jimin looked to Hyejung, who was gazing at him with knitted eyebrows and hazy eyes.

“I love you, but I think that was something I needed to go through myself.”

Hyejung nodded. “I understand. Although, I expect calls from you every few weeks now that we’ve met up again. I’m not letting you off easy anymore.”

“Yes, mother,” Jimin said, feigning exasperation when his face clearly emitted joy. He clinked his cup with Hyejung’s and took a sip of the tea.

“You know,” Jimin looked up, noticing the amusement present in Hyejung’s features, “I never thought I’d see the day when Park Jimin willingly dressed himself in a proper shirt and dress pants. I really thought you’d stick to your basketball shorts and tank tops until you were in a retirement home.”

“Oh, come on! I wasn’t that bad of a dresser!”

Hyejung raised an eyebrow, “No? I bet Jungkook wouldn’t even recognize you because of the drastic change in wardrobe.”

And Jimin’s smile freezes on his mouth, like he isn’t quite sure if he wants to let it slide off his face or keep it there for show. He can tell that Hyejung made the remark on purpose, that she’s gauging his reaction, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Then, he let’s his smile soften. “Back then, he’d dare me to wear something like this, knowing it was the only way to ensure I’d stay uncomfortable for the entire day.” It’s natural, talking about Jungkook. Even if he has to bite his tongue from opening the floodgates of questions he has about his former best friend. Even if his smile doesn’t sit right on his cheeks. It’s muscle memory that keeps him going, forming the other’s name without a second thought.

Jimin wants to hear one thing. He knows it’s not his place, especially not now. But he still wants to know.

“Is he… he’s good, yeah? Jungkook?” And Hyejung, still as perceptive to Jimin’s feelings as she’d always been, just smiles. Jimin feels guilty, like he was caught in the act of something unspeakable. He knows Hyejung doesn’t know about him, but he averts his eyes nonetheless.

“I think I should head to bed,” she tells him softly. Jimin snaps back into a state of alertness and nods, placing his tea on the table.

“Of course, it’s getting late. Last chance to sleep in the main cabin, are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Staying with Mina is probably the better option. You better head to bed as well, don’t bother walking me to the tent, I’ll find it,” Jimin wants to protest, but he knows it’ll be in vain. He hugs Hyejung at the door of the cabin and watches her walk into the night, her phone’s flashlight guiding her.

He’s not going to be able to sleep for a while.

Hyejung walked into the tent and whispered, “You awake?”

Mina flipped around in her bed and turned on her flashlight. “Of course!”

“Okay, here’s the deal…” Hyejung spent a few minutes reviewing all her new information with Mina and once they’d gotten their cover story down pat, Hyejung asked her one last question.

“So, when are we getting your father to come down here?”

“Oh don’t worry about that, Grandma,” Mina said with a devilish grin, “He still has to come home and freak out before we call him.”

With that, they both went to bed. Mina, clearly with some large plot swirling in her head and Hyejung, with a happier heart.

Even before Jungkook opened the door to his house, he knew something was wrong. Mina would usually be waiting in the window to wave to him when he came home after a few days away. This time, when he stepped inside, no one was there to make a sound, much less greet him. Usually, he’d be freaking out right about now, but then his eyes landed on the piece of paper on the kitchen counter.

Naturally, Jungkook’s first thought was, Oh my god, someone’s kidnapped my family and they’re asking for ransom.

Upon seeing Mina’s handwriting, he relaxed a little. The note looked like it was written very carefully with glue and glitter (or, glitter glue). It read: Hello my wonderful father, so, I decided to go to that camp! Remember, the one you told me not to go to? Anyways, I’m here with grandma and we’re having a great time! Of course, I’m not there yet but by the time you’re reading this, I’ll be there with grandma and having a great time. If you ever need to call, the number is at the bottom and so is the address. It’s only 2 ½ weeks so I’ll see you soon! Don’t miss me too much, Daddy! Love you, Mina. P.S. Sorry for skipping the last day of school!

Jungkook nearly threw a fit right then and there. He thought back to before he left and realized there had been a reason Mina hadn’t put up a fight, because she’d been planning to go anyways. He was supposed to be upset, he knew that. As a parent, it was his responsibility to call her and yell at her over the phone. But he’d known he was being unfair even when he said no to her a few days ago, and if she was really having a good time there, it was fine. There was no point in telling her to come back now. He’d just have to spend 2 ½ weeks missing her and coming to terms with the fact that he had nothing to do outside of his life with his daughter.

He could paint, he thought to himself while taking off his socks and throwing them in the laundry hamper on the way up the stairs. Or watch a movie. Or buy a Cheesy Cheesecake and indulge in the wonders of food so unhealthy, the oil would leak from his pores. He undid his tie and sat heavily down on his bed, staring at himself in the mirror, eyelids heavy and hair greasy from not being washed.

He felt like he could walk into the middle of an ocean right about now and his bones would be enough to drag him all the way down.

Or, he thought, he could just go to sleep.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Jungkook didn’t wake up until 1 PM the next day. The trip had exhausted him and apparently, he’d lost more sleep than he’d thought. Once he’d gotten ready and eaten breakfast, he sat at the kitchen island and wondered what to do for the rest of the day. He had complete freedom and an abundance of time. Any parent would kill for the opportunity he was being given. He didn’t have to worry about anyone or anything.

He wanted to call Mina.

No Jungkook, he thought to himself pathetically, you WILL try to rediscover that life you once had.

Yeah, that didn’t pan out.

Jungkook found himself in his room, sifting through his paints and trying to locate a blank canvas. He didn’t feel particularly motivated to paint, but he thought it’d be better than nothing. While sweeping his hand under the pile of junk (read: art supplies) at the bottom of his closet, Jungkook’s hand struck against something too thick to be a canvas and too hard to be a tube of paint. He fumbled around for the edge and pulled it out from underneath the large pile, examining it to realize it was a photo album.

Taehyung loved making little collections of their memories like this, Jungkook recalled. It seemed to be old, judging by the weathered corners of the album and fading colour. He opened it up and searched for a date inside, finding that it was made a year or so after they’d gotten married.

Jungkook adjusted his position so that he was sitting cross-legged, the album sitting comfortably in his lap. He flipped through the pages and smiled at the pictures. There was one from their wedding day of Taehyung going in to feed Jungkook cake, the one right below that was of Jungkook’s face, covered with cake while Taehyung threw his head back laughing. He flipped through more pages and found a section full of Mina. There was a picture in there of Jungkook holding Mina as a newborn, nose-to-nose with a smile on his face. He had one hand wrapped around her to hold her against his chest and the other was resting firmly behind her neck. Jungkook pulled that one out of the album and smiled, placing it beside him.

Call him sentimental, but he wanted to have that picture in a frame somewhere. Or better yet, he could paint it. A few more pages of their small family passed by and then Jungkook saw a younger version of Taehyung, when they were in University. There was a picture of the two of them looking dead tired but they still had sleepy smiles on their faces as they held up their exams. Jungkook’s mother had taken that picture, when she came to visit them at the end of their first year. Moving towards the back he found older pictures and finally, spotted one of Jimin. Spotted multiple ones of Jimin.

In every single picture, Jimin and Jungkook were either looking at each other, laughing or doing something silly. Even with Taehyung in between them, there was a picture of the two of them looking down, clearly laughing because of the heart they’d made with their hands right above Taehyung’s head.

Jungkook slid his hands over the pictures and smiled, allowing himself to think about his best friend for the first time in years. One picture in particular stuck out to Jungkook. It could’ve been the last picture they’d taken together before Jimin left. It was of the two of them in Jungkook’s dorm room, probably taken by Taehyung. Jungkook had fallen asleep on Jimin’s shoulder with a textbook still open in his hands and Jimin was looking at him with a fond smile on his face. The picture right under that one was of the same scene, but instead Jimin was looking straight into the camera with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Jungkook examined the pictures, wondering if Jimin had always looked at him that way. He swiped that picture out of the book as well and threw it on top of the other one he’d taken out. He also found one of just Jimin, throwing up a peace sign at the camera with a big smile on his face. That one came out as well.

After looking through a few more pages, Jungkook closed the book and placed it back in his closet. He found a blank canvas and carried all his supplies downstairs with two of the pictures in his hand. He’d put the one of him and Jimin in his back pocket for no specific reason.

Once set up, he taped the picture of him and Mina on the easel and, with a moment of hesitation, decided to tape the picture of Jimin on the mirror in front of him. He chuckled at how stupid he was being and sat back down before his easel. He could almost hear Jimin’s voice reprimanding him for not going any faster.

“Stay still, little Park,” Jungkook said fondly, looking at the picture. “Don’t you dare cheat.”

There was, obviously, no answer. Jungkook laughed to himself in the empty room and shook his head at how stupid he was being. Using a picture of an old friend to ease his loneliness? It was bordering on pathetic.

Nevertheless, he didn’t take the picture down the entire time he was painting.

“Today we’ll be partnering up! As a way of kicking off the first official day of camp, everyone will come up with a dance to different parts of the same song. At the end of the day when we do the campfire, you’ll be performing for all the campers! Sound good?” Jimin smiled when he heard all the kids cheer loudly. They were gathered in front of the main cabin, where he’d given out balloons yesterday.

“Alright then, let’s get started! Partner up!”

Jimin watched as everyone ran around trying to find their friends. He’d been running this camp for years now and this program always caused the most excitement. Maybe it was that it was the first day so they were all full of energy or maybe they just enjoyed being able to perform in front of everyone for the first time, whatever it was, it always made Jimin happy. The first few days were always full of introductory games and going over rules for camp, so by the time they officially started, the kids had enough pent up energy inside to propel themselves to the moon.

Hyejung stood beside Jimin, pointing out a particularly cute stunt being pulled by a camper every now and then. Jimin would chuckle along with her, sharing stories of his own childhood when applicable. Hoseok ran between everyone, making sure no one got hurt and riling them up at the same time. Jimin was just about to call for attention when Mina ran up to him.

“I choose you.” She said simply. Jimin blinked, not sure he’d heard right.

“Pardon me?”

“I want you to be my partner!”

Hyejung gave her a look. “Mina, you know you’re supposed to pair off with one of the kids.”

“I know,” Mina pouted, “but everyone is already taken.” She turned to look at Jimin and gave him a bright smile.

“Plus! We have the same name! We’re practically the same people, pleaaasseee?” Mina looked at Jimin hopefully and he pretended to think about, tapping his finger on his chin. Finally, he squatted down to her level and held his hand out for a handshake.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, miss.” Mina yelled with glee and shook his hand so hard, Jimin thought his arm would fall off. “Alright, alright, now go stand with the others. I have an announcement to make.”

Mina ran back into the crowd and Jimin blew his whistle to call everyone to attention. He scanned the crowd to ensure everyone had gotten into partners and once he was sure, he pressed play on the boombox next to him. “This is your song! Now I need everyone to line up in front of me so that I can give you all your parts. Stand with your partners please! And don’t push, or I’ll have Mr. Smiles put you in the Not A Happy Camper zone.”

Hoseok tried looking menacing. Mina looked at him and yelled, “4/10 for effort!”, causing the crowd to burst into giggles. Jimin tried stifling his own laughter and remarked to Hyejung, “Some kid.”

Hyejung gazed fondly at Mina, “A lot like her father.”

“Meeting him would be a treat, then,” Jimin joked, turning his attention back onto the crowd. While giving out slips of papers to the pairs of kids coming up to him, he didn’t notice Hyejung looking at him with a hopeful look in her eyes. He didn’t notice at all.

Once Jimin had sorted all the parts out, he went to where Mina was standing. “Okay, partner, we’ve got the finale. Let’s show them what you’re made of, yeah?”

They spent most of the afternoon coming up with a dance to showcase Mina’s talents best, although it was tougher than Jimin had expected. It wasn’t that she didn’t have talent, it was just that her talent was too diverse. She had a good grasp of a lot of different dance styles, so Jimin had difficulty picking what to include in their dance.

“By the way,” Mina voiced while taking a water break, “It’s cool that you let us sleep in until 11. I’ve never heard of a camp that does that.”

Jimin capped his bottle and placed it beside him, nodding, “Yeah, we’ve never woken up our kids at 8 or, god forbid, 7. It just doesn’t make sense to have a bunch of cranky campers to work with. You were up early, though, do you usually not sleep in?”

“No, I get ready with my dad in the morning,” Mina said offhandedly, stretching. Before she could touch her toes, though, she sat straight up. “I mean, not every morning! Because, you know, he’s a businessman and goes on trips. But, um, when he’s home and works in Seoul, I, uh, get up early to see him off. Because I don’t see him much throughout the day.”

Mina looked semi-frantic, and Jimin was a little caught off guard. He wasn’t used to hearing her speak so rushed and in-eloquently.

“Okay,” Jimin merely replied. Then, he was up on his feet and holding a hand to help Mina up. “Back to it!”

“I almost slipped up!”

“Sweetheart, he probably didn’t even know it was a slip-up.”

“Still! We have to call daddy right now. Get him here as soon as possible. I can’t handle the lies!” Mina dramatically threw an arm to her forehead and made grabby hands with her other hand. Hyejung sighed in defeat and handed her the phone.

“Okay, but he’s coming here a little early, don’t you think?” Hyejung watched Mina punch in the number and hold the phone up to her ear. They were in the tents as it was already closing in on 7 PM. Dinner would be ready in half-an-hour. Hyejung motioned for her to put it on speakerphone.

Mina was about to reply but instantly morphed her face into one of despair and illness when Jungkook picked up.

“Mom! Thank god, I’ve been wanting to talk to you and Mina all day, is she there?”

Mina held the phone directly to her mouth and faked a long, throaty cough. “Daddy?” She practically whimpered in a nasally voice. Hyejung looked at her impassively.

“Mina?! Baby, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Are you running a fever? Put grandma on the phone right now! I’m coming, okay? I’m coming as soon as I can.”

Mina smiled, looking at Hyejung. Hyejung flicked her eyebrows up in approval. It really was that simple.

Jungkook, Hyejung thought while Mina continued to make despair-filled groans into the speaker, would always come running if Mina was hurt or sick or whatever else. Always.

#jikook fics #jikook fanfiction #kookmin fics #kookmin fanfiction #jikook #kookmin #jungkook x jimin #jimin x jungkook #bts fanfiction #bts fanfics #bts ships

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aggresivelyfriendly · 7 years ago

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~Meet Me In The Hallway~

Hi All!!! Would appreciate your thoughts!

Chapter 10-My Suite

"Shit!" I cried. "I am never playing this with you again!"

I restrained myself from clearing the stupid little letters off of the board laid out before me. We were stuck in the hotel today. The crowd outside was loud and huge and the weather was so hot. Harry's brilliant suggestion had been Scrabble. His current self-satisfied smile explained a thing or 12 to me.

"Haha! Look at you pout! Go on, cross your arms, that's a treat for me anytime." He teased me as his face turned red from his over the top laughter.

"Fuck off, I think half of your shit gos aren't even words."

"Keep having your strop if you want, I'll go grab my Scrabble dictionary, I promise I'm not cheating.” He opened his arms and extended them at me.

I'd watched him the day before when we'd "accidentally" been at the gym at the same time. Mark had held his hands in the same manner while Harry punched away at them. I was tempted to turn his calming gesture on its head and start using his palms as targets for my fury.

And furious I was. Though I knew I was overreacting, it's not that I thought that Harry was stupid. I knew that he was really intelligent, that he loved reading and art. We had had discussion until the wee hours about them. 3am Harry waxing pretty about poetry was my favorite. Swollen, tired eyes, see-thru t-shirt if he was dressed at all, his words slow, but true. A weird mix of cuss words and praise. Awe for the way people could string words together.

Yet I was sat there sulking while he fetched his stupid dictionary, it wasn't because I thought he was dim. He had a love affair with language, that much was clear. And something we had in common. I knew he was smart, my ego was smarting because I did not expect him to be smarter than me. I was strangely insulted that the boy who hadn't gone to college in favor of superstardom was able to easily best me at a word game.

When he had suggested Scrabble, I must have been so busy hiding my own secret smile I missed his Cheshire grin. I was thinking of my youthful habit of reading the dictionary on days so muggy that the outdoors were out of the question. It made me smug. All those words In my back pocket made me sit a little taller, like I was sat in a booster seat of knowledge. My head, apparently was the only thing that was fat.

By the time that he made it back to me, looking less self satisfied and more timid, my arms were at my side and I was thinking about whether I would have to stomach my own bed to cope from embarrassment tonight.

"See Melly." Ah, the big guns. "They do count ‘re’ as a word." His finger ran down the spine of the little book and I usually would be distracted by the length of the digit but instead I was feeling humbled by the contrition in his mien.

I let my eyes wander to his exhibit A. "Yeah, Yeah, I see that."

There were times when my place as the baby and only girl in my family hampered me and I was aware of it. This was one of them. I was so used to getting my way. I was also used to winning. This was the first time Harry had beaten me at anything.

"Nice job, Harry!" I was gonna put on my big girl panties. "You’re really good at Scrabble. How'd you get so good?"

He at down by the board on the couch we had occupied before my fit. I followed him down. "Um, yeah, my family is a really big fan. We play all the time, have, like, tournaments." I watched his lips form that word and didn't care as much about winning.

"Is that why you have a dictionary and a board with you?"

"Yeah, it was my going away present when I left for the first time. For tour. My, um, my mum." His mouth turned down. "My mum, she wanted me to have a little bit of home with me. When she comes out—"

"Yeah, I'm surprised I haven't seen her."

"Well, she was at the local shows, like Manchester, and I was just home. She's coming out for the big ones like MSG." His eyes bulged out at that. "God, Madison Square Garden!" He looked so cute, awed and homesick and so excited that I was fine if he won every Scrabble game we ever played together. I told myself this, but knew I'd be Googling a list of two-letter words.

"That is so exciting! I can't wait for that. Do you guys play when she sees you on the road?"

"We don't really have habits yet, like, for tour?" He adjusted a letter that was askew on the board. Askew, I mentally filled away. That had some points in it.

"It looks like you have some Scrabble habits though?" I reached for my tea and wrapped my hand around the boring white mug, frowning a little at it while I brought it to my chest.

"Yeah, we have, um, like traditions. You get a nice board for your first place on your own. New dictionary is usually in my stocking and Gem's every year so we keep current. Winner of the tournament gets to pick dinner. My mum is a great cook." He trailed off.

I really loved when he talked about home, so I prompted him to do it more. I hoped that it would make him feel better. He was more homesick that he let on. It had been a month gone since he'd been near his mum, and he had left so young. Before he was supposed to, really. Now he was back so little, and the sincere affection on his face and voice when he talked about his mum moved me. I loved my own, but not like he adored his.

So I asked, "Do you ever win?" The snide tone I used might shake off enough of his gloom to get a better answer, I hoped.

He scoffed and narrowed his brow, mouth slacking. "Course I win. Bested you, and your smarty pants didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I'm not an avid….” I paused. “Scrabble player. Scrabbler?" I pondered.

"Scrabble player." He assured "No, but you like words." He gestured to my best go on the board, ‘ethereally’, which he had inspired with his ridiculous coloring.

"So you are naturally good. And you're gonna get better quick. You might have already Googled the two letter words while I was getting the book." He pointed knowingly to my caught out face. "See! You'll beat me soon. But I'll still get you sometimes. I win, not as often as Gem, but..."

"What do you pick to eat?"

"I always pick pudding." He sat back on the couch, right next to me, and I sighed when his body warmed mine, goosebumps had broken out. The air conditioner was strong in here. "My mom makes this cinnamon cake, and I just love when the house smells of it."

His neck stretched over the back of the couch, and I watched the large bump in his throat move when he swallowed thickly. "So, I ask for that. Gem asks for roasted potatoes, um." He tilted his head to me while he thought. "My step-dad likes pub food, and my mum nags him ‘bout it, but she fries him something when he wins."

"What does your mum pick?" I really wanted to meet her. How does a woman inspire such devotion in her grown son?

He grinned big at me and picked up his head so he didn't have to crick his neck. “She picks a takeaway, usually a Chinese!"

We laughed together over it.

"So the best meal for a cook is one they don’t have to cook?" I giggled.

"Reckon so, think that is how I learned to cook—"

"You cook?" My eyebrows climbed my forehead.

He stuck his finger in my open mouth. "Don't look so surprised. I'd have cooked for you by now, I'm sure, but there are no proper kitchens."

"You'd cook for me?" I sang.

"Course, goose, you're like my best friend. Deserve at least a meal."

My heart sped up and stopped. His best friend. God, that made so much sense. We spent lots of time together. If he was awake and not working, he was with me. If he was sleeping, he was definitely with me. We were inseparable, secretly at this point. Harry was definitely my best friend too. I should have been be elated.

For a moment I was.

I didn't consider relationships a spectrum. There was not some progression between friend and lover that I imagined. There was no hierarchy in my being that said being a friend ranked rungs below girlfriend. The friends that I did have, many of them were boys. I'd consider my brother a friend really. When they called me buddy, or little sister, or even shithead, I smiled. I liked being a friend. Friends were a loved one, a support, a bedrock of one's life.

After my elation, the sting came. It was so unfamiliar, I had to take a second to parse it out.

When I looked up, he was grinning at me, like he'd said something he knew I would love. "Yeah?" I was breathless, like I'd been kicked in the gut.

"Yeah!" He triumphed and rubbed some salt into the gash he'd just opened up. "The other day, when we found out, about that award?"

I nodded in response.

"I wanted to tell you first. I can’t wait to tell Melly popped in to my head, before I even thought about, like, calling my mum. And I realized that I like talking to you so much. That, um, I'm really thankful that Michael kicked you out that night." He laughed goofily.

I wanted to keep the smile on his face. "I'm really happy you opened your door that night, too.” I pushed my lips up and bore my teeth and hoped it resembled a smile.

It must have. His spidery arms wrapped me up and the lemon juice that squeezed in my new wound wasn't enough for me. Because instead of protecting myself and pulling away, I leaned in and inhaled. The crook of his neck always smelled the most Harry of any of his body parts I’d encountered. It was a distillation of him. He loved to squish his face against me and I loved that I could nuzzle my face into the space between his ears and collarbones.

He held me against the long hard planes of his body and rocked me back and forth. I'm not sure how long we would have stayed in each other's arms, but his phone rang.

"Be right back," he murmured against my skin and I hoped that he didn't feel me tremble with the hurried motion as he pulled away.

I watched him walk away and stared at the door until he re-crossed the threshold.

"You want the good news or the bad news first?" He looked up from his phone, his eyebrows up.

"Bad news first." I sat down. He didn't look distraught, so...

He rolled his eyes affectionately and I felt better about whatever he was about to tell me. "Why and I not surprised?"

“Hey, I’m not a pessimist!”

He moved towards me and shook his head in unbelief while he dropped onto the couch I was leaning on the arm of. His arm brushed mine on his way down. He continued texting but stopped chewing his lip to share. "They've cleared the lobby and streets."

"That sounds like the good news, " I frowned in confusion.

"Well, as usual, the bad news and good news are bedfellows—"

I interrupted him to laugh at his word choice, "Bedfellows, huh? Have you been watching Sherlock or something?"

"Listen, my dear Melly, I am full of words, as I've just shown you," he gestured at his winning board, "You do not know the expansive reaches of my vocabulary."

"Oh god, stop, you haven't even won yet!"

"I was about to, there is no way you were gonna make up 60 points." He tweaked my nose. "Keep the offense from your face. That's actually your good news, I don’t have time to best you, because I have to go to some press thing now that they've got security under control. You get to leave. The bad news is that you don't get to hang out with me anymore."

"Ah, see, that's where you are wrong. My day just greatly improved."

"Heeeey!" He looked so offended I laughed and pushed his face away. "I was trying to be nice, even found you some company, not as thrilling as mine, but..." he trailed off and swept his long arm away from his chest grandly.

"Well, big head, who have you decided to plan my day with?"

"Didn't actually, you are going to 'accidentally' run into Lou after you put some clean clothes on—

"Hey," I echoed.

"And go shopping with her and Lottie. That way when you work for her you know her better." He crossed his arms in self-satisfaction.

"That actually sounds really good."

"Don't act so surprised!" He motioned to his head, "Full of ideas, this." He quirked the side of his mouth up.

"I thought it was full of words only used on wooden boards?" I thought I'd slipped out of his grasp until I got an arm length away from him and was yanked back. He had ahold of my belt loop. I yelped and he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me.

"I'm the smartest." He tickled my sides and I squirmed and squeaked.

"Harry! No! I hate it!" I got my feet under me but he continued dancing his fingers on my ribs.

"I know!" He sped up and I screamed. "Tell me I'm smarter, no the smartest! and I'll stop!"

I buttoned my lips up. But after another minute I was ready to give in. I was just about to shout he was smart when I got away. I had just reached the bedroom when he tackled me down. He tickled me more, and I would have conceded, had I had breath to.

"Say it!"

"Ca—can't!"

So he stopped, and his face was above me and I didn't want to be his friend.

"You’re the smartest," I breathed.

His eyes drifted down to my lips and I wasn't sure I was just his best friend either. He leaned in and I felt a buzz.

A literal buzz, against my thigh where his phone was in his front jean pocket.

He stood and answered the phone.

"Yeah," he said and offered his hand to help me up without looking at me. "I'll be right there."

I was still thinking about his lips and the way he looked at mine when I wandered down to the lobby. I clumsily made myself available and wound up in the Uber to the shops. Lou and Lottie talked a lot and filled the silence happily. I was with it enough to answer questions, though my mind stayed on vacation most of the trip.

I’m still thinking about his lips.

I didn't even remember buying the cinnamon candle for him, but I'll always remember the look on his face when I gave it to him.

If it was all I got, I'd be the best friend he'd ever had.

Big Ups to @nocontrolforlouis and @emulateharry

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #MMITH #meet me in the hallway #chapter 10

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transientwordsmith · 4 years ago

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Patch You Up - fanfic (tw: blood)

I promised myself I would never do this but here I am. I have written my very first piece of fanfiction (that I have decided to be serious about and let other people read) and it happens to be self-insert, which a few months ago I would have deemed the spawn of satan. Anyway, it’s for Supernatural, no set time period really, it’s fluffy with mentions of blood and injuries. Might be a bit ooc, this is my first time writing fanworks so cut me some slack, please. Characters: You, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

You were on a hunt with the boys. It was a standard vamp’s nest, except they had to go and pick out a place with a dozen chances that you could gouge your skin out. Spikes. Everywhere. Plus, of course, knives, guns, and fangs everywhere.

You and the boys were tied up in a triangular formation. Each hostage sporting some sort of injury to the face. You all had pocket knives, so if you had to guess, all of you were just pretending to be tied up. At this moment, you wish you had telepathy or something so you could formulate a plan with the boys.

Of course, right after you see the brothers Winchester make eye contact with each other, the action begins. They spring up from their spaces on the ground and take out two vamps with minimal effort. Though, it’s not that simple. They’re both blindsided by vampires behind them.

You just sit there, watching for the time being, until you feel a sharp pain in your calf. You had shifted to sit on your knees after the fighting began (to be ready for action, of course) but had neglected to notice an unfriendly visitor sneaking behind you and trying to render you helpless.

You let out a sort of strangled cry and tried to stand in order to defend yourself. You grabbed a length of wire that was dangling off the pole you were tied to and used it as a garrote to kill your attacker. Once they were dead, you checked yourself. There was a large tear in your pants running from the back of your knee almost all the way to the top of your ankle. The longer you stared, the more bloody it got, and the more it began to hurt.

When you looked away, you realized that the fighting was over. You turned to see Sam and Dean coming over towards you.

“Y/N, are you okay? I heard you scream.” Sam said. You scoffed.

“I did not scream.” You said. Dean saw the tear in your pants.

“That nasty tear begs to say otherwise,” he said. You gave him a look and the three of you began to walk towards safety.

Dean gave you a heavy pat on the shoulder and your knees buckled. He caught you, but it was evident he was not prepared to watch you fall.

“Okay, buckaroo, d’ya wanna tell us what happened?” Dean all but demanded. You kept walking while Dean supported you. After a moment of internal deliberation, you decided to reveal what had happened.

“After you guys started attack round #2, a vamp got behind me and slashed my leg. But for the record, I didn’t scream. I don’t scream.” You said. “Plus, you two are also sporting injuries, if I may notice, so I don’t see why mine are so much more of a big deal than yours.”

“Yeah, well neither of ours deem us unable to walk, so you’re a top priority.” Sam jumped in.

After a bit of walking, complaining, joking, and more, the three of you made it back to the Impala, and then the motel room you were staying at. You were planning on skipping town that night, but given the circumstances that didn’t look like an option anymore.

You sat on one of the beds in the room and watched the Dean busy himself with a medical kit while Sam volunteered to go out for food.

“Y’all, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” You said, trying to get them to calm down.

“If you want to walk around with gangrene and lord knows what else, be my guest. I won’t save you if you die.” Dean said snarkily. He finally prepared the medical equipment and brought it over to you.

“Here, bite on this,” Dean said. He handed you a rolled-up towel. You doubted you’d need it, but after he began stitching you up, you were glad you had it. He did this in relative silence, but after a while, he began to have a one-sided conversation with you.

“You did good tonight, y’know. I saw you garrote that vamp. I personally prefer machetes, but that’s a matter of preference.” He paused to concentrate. “It’s a shame that these pants look beyond saving, you looked so good in them. Picking up all the attractive folks.” Dean joked. You knew that he wasn’t talking about himself. He was more like your older brother.

“There you go, Y/N. All patched up.” Dean said after examining the bruises on your face. You stood and tried out your leg. It hurt, a lot, but it wasn’t something that was gonna stop you. You turned on Dean and tried to press on his shoulders as best you could for someone who was barely taller than the average bookshelf.

“C’mon, sit down.” You mumbled. He chuckled and sat. “Stay.” You instructed while you went to get a wet cloth and the medical kit. Dean began to catch on to what you were doing.

“Y/N, I don’t need you to patch me up, I’m fine,” he said. You scoffed.

“Tell that to the two-inch gash in your forehead,” You said, imitating what Dean had said earlier.

Truth be told, there wasn’t much to “patch up”, but you liked these platonically intimate moments with the boys. You wiped the dirt and blood and sweat off of Dean’s face, revealing…not much. There was still a shallow gash on his forehead, a bruise forming on his cheek, and a scratch on his jawline that had spilled a bit of blood, but not enough to warrant a band-aid. You put a bit of medical tape over the gash (after cleaning it with alcohol which warranted a sharp intake of breath from Dean) and called it done. At that moment Sam walked in the door.

“Sammy!” Dean praised. “Bringer of food!”

“Oh, come on, man, that’s not all he’s good for.” You shot at Dean. You saw Sam’s face and realized that A) he still had blood and gashes all over his face and B) he went and got food looking like that. Instantly, you took action, while Dean dug into the food.

“Sit.” You pushed Sam over to where Dean previously sat.

“I don’t un-”

“Sit.”

You got a new washcloth, (sorry cleaning crew, I’m sure this isn’t your first time dealing with blood?) and checked the medical kit. After cleaning all of the sweat, dirt, and blood, Sam’s face had a few more injuries than Dean’s. Two smaller gashes, a few cuts, and a bruise. One cut was still actively bleeding, so you covered it with a band-aid. You smiled when you saw that the band-aids had fun designs on them. You cleaned the gashes with alcohol, which elicited a sharp gasp from Sam.

“It’s like you’re related or something…” You said sarcastically.

“What?” Sam asked.

“You and Dean had the same response to rubbing alcohol,” You said with a laugh. He laughed too, and you went back to your task. You patched Sam’s other wounds with a bit of medical tape, and then You and Sam joined Dean in eating the food.

A bit later, after you were supposed to be asleep, you overheard a conversation between the Winchester brothers.

“I wish they would care a bit more about themself…” Dean mused.

“I do too, but it’s not like we wouldn’t do the same. Plus, that was really nice of them to patch us up tonight. I can’t even remember the last time someone did that for me. It was nice and endearing.” Sam recalled.

“What are you talking about, Sammy? I patch you up all the time!” Dean shot. Sam scoffed.

“Yeah, but with you, it’s always snide comments and worrying.” A pause. “Okay, not always but you get my point-”

“Whatever. Let’s get some sleep so we can leave as soon as possible tomorrow.”

#drabble #winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester #oneshot #fanfiction #self-insert #x reader #its not x reader but im tagging it for people who dont like x reader #patch you up #tw: blood #writing #fanfic #supernatural

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jujubieberbae · 7 years ago

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100 Dollars

Justin's texts in bold. Yours are normal. You've been texting this guy for a while now and little do you know that your actually texting THE Justin Bieber.

Are we ever ever going to meet?

Not yet

Why not?

My mom doesn't let me

What? Justin your a grown ass man that's a lie.

Alright fine. You got me I'm actually 12

I knew it since the beginning, you know

Lmao

No but seriously why not?

Can we not do this right now, I'm eating out with my friends for my birthday. I'm just not ready.

But we've been texting for 7 months, what do you mean your not ready?

I just don't wanna meet you yet It'll change everything

Hell yeah it will! It'll be so freaking fun!

No Y/N not like that I mean in a bad way You'll treat me differently

100 dollars says I won't

Don't make that bet unless you have a hundred to spare

...If you didn't wanna meet me you could have just said so

No Y/N it's not like that Y/N? Cmon don't be like this

Read at 5:36 pm

***

With a loud and agitated sigh, I shut my phone off and threw it down on my white bed sheets besides me. I'm beginning to get sick of Justin's excuses - they’re beginning to make me a little claustrophobic. I need a break.

With yet another loud sigh and the rub of my face, I decided It was time I actually left the house and began my decent down the stairs, into the kitchen where my mother stood wiping the marble bench top.

Not having the energy to converse with her at this moment, I grabbed the keys right off the exact bench she was currently rubbing at and made a dash for the door. "I'm leaving." I informed her on my way out.

"Alright sweetie!" Mom replied with no fuss and at the approving comment, I was out the door.

I need something to get my mind off things. Just me. No phone, no parents and no Justin. Quickly darted out the house and towards my new white Range Rover which my father bought for my birthday that just passed recently.

As I settled inside and switched on the ignition, I sat for a second debating on where I should go and escape the rest of the day and at the thought, my stomach made a loud gurgling noise. Guess I'm going out to eat.

With no hesitation, I finally mustered up the perfect place to go and began backing up out of the driveway, beginning my decent down towards a close friend of mine’s shop. Cassy owns a big fancy restaurant down the road from me and always gives me discounts on my food.

The people there despise me considering I always rock up in sweat pants and an Adidas shirt while they all practically parade around in designer dresses and expensive pearls.

Once I arrived, I jumped out of my car and threw the keys to the valet employee. I don't know why but every time I come here I seem to act like queen shit. It's honestly kind of hilarious.

I stepped through the large, grand restaurant doors and not even a few seconds later was immediately greeted by Cassy herself, running forward towards me. "Oh my god Y/N, it's been so long. C'mon lets get you seated."

With a smile, I obliged to following the girl over towards a table for two draped elegantly in a creme cloth that was decorated with a few flowers and fine cutlery. I placed myself on one side, Cassy seating herself on the other.

She always accompanied me when I come to eat here, it was our little thing. With the flick of her fingers, a waiter came over and took our orders, then left once we were done.

Suddenly she sat right up, a face full of excitement. "You came on the right day my girl.” She smiled and I furrowed my eyebrows at her enthusiasm.

“Why, what happened?” I chuckled.

“Alright,” Cassy began “ Don’t freak out but, guess who made a reservation and is sitting in this restaurant right now?" She squealed

My head quickly jolted up as I glanced around the restaurant. Then my eyes landed on a boy sitting a little further away with a group of people and a rush of adrenaline ran through my body. Justin Bieber! He was my idle though for some reason, I didn’t find myself jumping for joy as I expected too.

"No way." I whisper shouted. Cassy giggled "Yes way. Apparently today's his birthday or something."

Hm, that's funny. It's also my friend Justin's birthday.

"Cool." I mumbled, turning my head away.

"You should go and talk to him." Casst smiled but overall I just shrugged "Nah, I wouldn't wanna disturb him on his birthday. He's probably just trying to enjoy a nice lunch."

"Suit yourself." She shrugged.

It was silent between us for a moment until I decided to stand up and said "I'm going to the restroom."

An approving hum was sung from Cassy and I found myself strutting my way over to the restroom afterwards. It was a unisex toilet meaning there was a mixture of men and woman in here, but nothing really other than a few old posh white folks who were eyeing me wearily for my fashion choice.

I ignored the stares and found my way into a stall, did my business and walked over to the sinks. By then, everyone else had left the bathrooms and I was found pumping some soap from the dispenser in my hands alone. Just then the door opened.

I looked up into the mirror and spotted Justin Bieber himself walking into the room. He wore nothing but a pair of baggy jeans and loose white fitted T. His hair messily flipped over his forehead and tattoos on full display.

That’s a bold move to pull in a restaurant like this, the oldies hated any inked skin and tended to gossip. But I liked his confidence, kind of like myself.

I smiled small at him before applying my concentration back on my own hands.

He walked forward over to the sink beside me and began running a hand through his long blonde hair and I watched in awe as his fingers played around with his locks, not realising that I had been staring for a little to long.

He cleared his throat loudly, causing my eyes to dart down to his. "Oh um, sorry." I muttered to which he chuckled.

"Nah it's alright. People tend to stare a lot." He shrugged

I turned off the faucet of the gold sink and moved over to grab some paper towels to dry my hands. "Must suck."

"Yeah." He replied straightening himself out. Silence overcame the surrounding air for a second as we continued on with our own things, until he suddenly spoke again. “I like you’re style. You do it on purpose?” He smirked.

I knew what he was getting at. The fact that I had actually had the guts to appear in a place of displayed wealth, dressed like this. You wouldn’t do it unless you were trying to piss off the rich people who dined here. He knew too well, because it was obvious he was doing the same.

“You know it.” I nodded. “Its hilarious to see the snobby faces when you walk in. The scowls are priceless.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I know right?” he agreed.

“I mean, you would know.” I pointed out, glaring back at his outfit.

Justin laughed, glancing down at his choice of clothes and shook his head in humour. “I’ll have you know these jeans are designer.” He teased.

“I’m wearing designer too.” I nodded. “I’m actually wearing Calvin Klein underwear.” I giggled. “That’s as designer as your gonna get with me.”

Justin actually laughed at this, a full blown loud laugh, unlike the chuckles he displayed previously. I giggled along with him snapping the waist band of my underwear to prove my point.

Justin shook his head, finally letting down, and I stepped forward smiling at the handsome man.

"Well, I better go, my friends waiting for me." I began my way over towards the door but was suddenly held back by a loud . . .

"Wait!" He yelled. I stopped. "I didn't catch you name." He continued.

I smirked, glancing at him one more time, with one hand on the door. " I think we both know you already know that."

And with that, I left him in the bathroom, standing there in shock.

That’s right Justin. I caught on.

***

"I better get back to work." Cassy sighed.

"Yeah, well, I'm done anyways. So I'm gonna leave. Thanks Cass."

Cassy nodded. "No problems. I’ll see ya later." She waved. I watched as she made her way into the kitchen, yelling at a few of her employees who were slacking off on the way.

I sighed in exhaustion and waved a hand over to my waiter, who slowly and carelessly made his way over to my table "Yes madam, what may I get you?"

"My tab please." I smiled.

The man began shuffling through some papers in his hands before turning back to me, eyebrows raised in slight surprise. "You’re clear." he announced.

But I furrowed my eyebrows. "What? But I haven't payed yet."

"Curtesy of the man that goes by the name of Justin Bieber. He asked to put your tab on his."

My eyes winded in slight shock and confusion but couldn't help the smile that set across my face.

That sneaky bastard.

Justin's POV

It's her. It's really Y/N. She's so much prettier in person. We've been talking for so long and I just couldn't believe she was actually here in front of me. She knew who I was and didn't freak out.

I carefully watched as she conversed with the waiter for a little before getting up and walking out of the restaurant, sparing me a glance along the way. She sent me a small wink before exiting the restaurant.

"Jay?" I snapped my head up to look back at Hailey who had been apparently yelling my name.

"Hmm?" I asked.

"Why are you staring at that girl. Stop being a creep and eat." She demanded.

I chuckled slightly, turning back around to dig into my meal once again. I'll text Y/N later and figure out what the hell just happened. I want to ask her when she figured it out.

That's when suddenly, the same waiter who was serving Y/N began making his way over to me. "Mr Bieber, you have a note from the women sitting opposing. I believe her name was Y/N Y/L/N."

He handed me the note which I cautiously took from his hand and watched as he walked off further into the restaurant.

With curious eyes and cautious hands, I slowly pulled at the folded note and took a peek at the 5 words sprawled across. And subconsciously, a large smile found it way onto my face at the words.

'You owe me 100 dollars. - Y/N.'

#justin bieber imagines #justin bieber imagine #justin bieber #justin bieber smut #justin bieber fake text #justin bieber fake texts #justin bieber one shots #justin bieber one shot #justin bieber drabbles #justin bieber au #jason mccann imagines #jason mccann #mccann imagines #mccann smut #shawn mendes imagines #harry styles imagines #jb imagines

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quentinsquill · 7 years ago

Text

Fic: It’s the Great Pumpkin, Quentin Coldwater (The Magicians)

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Quentin Coldwater

Author: Lexalicious70

Fandom: The Magicians

Pairing: Quentin/Eliot

Genre: Holiday themed, Halloween

Word Count: 2,445

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: On Halloween, the Brakebills maze is transformed into a spooky wonderland, and there’s tricks and treats in store for Eliot and Quentin as they try to find their way out.

Author’s notes: This is for the Neitherlands Halloween Challenge Fic Swap! I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for fun. This fic is for @wavesaerp, and I hope they enjoy it! Comments and kudos are magic: thanks for reading!

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Quentin Coldwater

By Lexalicious70

“Come along, Quentin, it’s time to go!”

Quentin started as his copy of The World in the Walls was tugged from his hands. He looked up to see the book float into Eliot’s hand like a tame bird, and then all thoughts of magic and Fillory fled as Quentin took in what Eliot was wearing. It was a resplendent blue suit, the slacks lined with thin pinstripes, the jacket trimmed white, his ascot a deep cranberry. He carried a wooden walking stick tipped with a silver handle and—most incredible of all—a fur-trimmed cape pinned over one shoulder. The material was heavy and matched the color of his ascot exactly. A red pocket square, dotted with small white diamonds, completed the outfit. Quentin finally found his voice.

“Go? Where?”

Eliot sent the Fillory book floating up the cottage stairs and into the safety of Quentin’s room before he adjusted his ascot.

“It’s All Hallows Eve, Q.”

“Yeah . . . I’ve never really been into it? Even when I was a little kid and my dad used to take me out for trick or treat, I never liked being scared. It’s just not my thing.” He tried not to stare at the way Eliot’s tailored trousers showed off his trim hips and long legs, or how they made Quentin wonder what he wore underneath them.

“Well, it’s going to be your thing tonight. Come on! Up, up!” Eliot’s long, thin fingers curled around Quentin’s right wrist and tugged him to his feet.

“Aren’t we a little old to go trick or treating? And what are you wearing?”

Eliot lifted his walking stick and spun in a slow, graceful circle. It flared the cape out, reminding Quentin of his mild superhero fetish, and he shoved those thoughts aside as Eliot smiled at him.

“I’m Oscar Wilde!” He lifted both hands and spread his long arms out. “Because much like the man himself, I can resist everything except temptation. Also, we’re not going trick or treating, we’re going to the Haunted Halloween Maze of Magic!”

“The Haunted . . . what? Where’s that?”

Eliot sighed and gave Quentin a look that suggested the conversation was exhausting him.

“All right, it’s just the Brakebills maze, but once a year, Quentin, it turns into a haunted wonderland where almost anything can happen! And it’s tradition that a second year, such as myself, takes a first year, i.e. you, through the maze with the challenge that we find our way out before midnight.”

“Oh. Well . . . I don’t have a costume or anything.”

Eliot looked him up and down and then tugged on his wrist.

“Come with me.”

“El, wait—”

“It’s nearly nine already, there’s no time for waiting!” He took Quentin up to his room and opened the closet door while Quentin tucked his Fillory book back into his bookcase. Eliot tossed a pair of slacks, a button-down shirt, sweater vest, and tie onto the bed. “Dress in those, I’ll be right back.” Eliot vanished into the hallway. Quentin started to protest and then rolled his eyes, knowing it would probably be a waste of breath. He changed out of his jeans and sweater and into the clothes Eliot picked out. Eliot returned a moment later with a pair of glasses, which he handed to Quentin. “Put these on.”

Quentin opened them, frowning. They were oversized and a terribly outdated tortoiseshell brown, but he slipped them on. The lenses were thin and did nothing to change his vision—they were clearly a prop. Eliot grabbed a comb from the dresser and parted Quentin’s hair before adding a touch of spray.

“Voila!” He smiled. “You’re Martin Chatwin!”

Quentin looked at himself in the mirror and felt a smile tug at his lips—it wasn’t a horrible likeness. He touched the glasses.

“Thanks, El. Where did you get these?” He asked, and Eliot lifted a shoulder.

“I did my share of acting back in high school, and it taught me that it never hurts to have props handy. Now come on, we’re going to be late!”

___________________________________________________

Once Quentin and Eliot crossed the expanse of lawn Brakebills students called The Sea, points of orange light became visible as the approached the maze. As they got closer, Quentin saw the air around the top of the trimmed shrubbery was filled with magical motes of light that cruised around like fireflies. He smiled—even after a month or so of being a student at Brakebills, seeing real magic still filled his heart with awe. The entrance to the maze was heaped with fat pumpkins and a glowing jack-o-lantern face, its visage built directly into the greenery, boomed eerie laughter as they passed. Quentin jumped like he’d been goosed.

“Eliot, I don’t know about this . . .”

“I told you, Q, it’s tradition!” The older boy snagged his wrist and tugged him into the maze. Quentin looked over his shoulder for a last-minute reprieve, but the entrance seemed to vanish and leave nothing behind but a dead end. The orange lights cast shifting shadows across Eliot’s profile as Quentin looked up at him.

“What now?”

“We choose a direction.” Eliot paused. “Left.”

“Why left?”

“Because in my experience nothing good ever comes from the right. Follow me.” Eliot turned, his cape flaring, and Quentin tagged after him. As they walked, the hedges on both sides seemed to close in. The path grew narrow, and soon Quentin was bumping into Eliot with nearly every step. Their hands brushed together and Quentin pulled his back.

“Sorry.” He murmured, hoping the near-darkness hid his blush. “It’s like the maze is changing.”

“It is.” Eliot nodded. “That’s part of the fun, Q.”

They turned a corner, then another, and Quentin gave a yawp of surprise and fear as hands made of leaves and twigs reached out from the hedges to grasp at them.

“Shit, shit!” He spun and slapped at them as Eliot whacked them with his walking stick. Quentin kicked at one of the hands before stumbling backwards and doing an awkward ballerina-style leap toward Eliot, who caught him.

“Easy, Q!” He steadied the younger magician, his hands lingering on Quentin’s shoulders a moment before letting them drop.

“I told you this wasn’t my thing!” Quentin eyed the hands as they retreated into the hedges.

“You’re doing fine.” Eliot checked his pocket watch. “We’ve got a little under an hour to find the exit. Onward!” Eliot pointed with his walking cane before moving forward. Quentin walked alongside him, his hands shoved up under his arms to avoid any more contact with Eliot. He wondered if the tiny sparks of electric chemistry he felt when he and Eliot touched was magic, Eliot’s natural telekinetic abilities, or his imagination.

No matter what it is, Quentin thought, there’s no way he feels like I do.

Not that his feelings were anything new—he’d been attracted to men before, including a brief, intense crush on his best friend James when they were about fifteen. But that had been James, and it had burned hot and fast before his feelings for Julia had bloomed and consumed the remains. Now his feelings for Julia were nowhere to be found, and Eliot’s closeness and scent—sandalwood, wet cedar, and good tobacco—were filling his senses.

A branch snapped behind them, jolting Quentin out of his own head. He glanced over his shoulder, but the path behind them was empty. Crisp leaves crunched under Eliot’s fine black boots. The hair on Quentin’s arms and the nape of his neck stood up all at once, making him feel like an anxious porcupine.

“El? I think something is—”

A rapid-fire snapping of branches broke behind them, along with a snarl that sounded like thousands of dried leaves being shaken from brittle fall branches. A topiary tiger, its coat a striped mosaic of orange and moisture-darkened leaves, leapt onto the path behind them. It roared, its teeth made from rows of curved thorns, and Eliot grabbed Quentin’s wrist.

“Run!”

Quentin stumbled as Eliot pulled him along. He sensed they weren’t in any immediate danger and that the tiger was part of the game, but he didn’t especially want it to touch him either. Leaves rustled and hissed under the tiger’s powerful gait, and Eliot yanked on Quentin’s wrist as he turned sharply to the left.

“In here!” He pulled Quentin into another corridor and they crouched there, panting, as the tiger bounded past. As his panic faded, Quentin realized his back was pressed to Eliot’s chest. He stepped away, fumbling with his glasses as he felt heat rush to his cheeks. After a moment, he realized he couldn’t see his own hands, or Eliot. The tops of the hedges loomed over their heads and were growing together, plunging the path into darkness. Quentin tried to cast a miniature sun spell, but the magic in the maze prevented such cheats. A sharp yo-yo of anxiety bobbed in his chest.

“Eliot? Are you still th—”

A rising, warbling wail began to rise all around them, and Quentin raised his hands in self-defense as hooded figures, their eyes flaring red, began to fill the air. They cackled and shrieked, tugging at his sweater, his hair, and snatching at his hands until Quentin’s resolve broke and he bolted, pelting through the darkness with the hooded figures in pursuit.

“Shit! Shit, shit! Eliot!” He shouted in between gulping breaths, and then he slammed into something warm and solid. Big, elegant hands touched his shoulders and Quentin realized he’d run nearly full tilt into Eliot. His fingers clutched at Eliot’s jacket, his system flooded with adrenaline. Eliot’s long arms looped around him and pulled him close.

“It’s me! Q . . . easy! Hey! It’s me.”

Quentin laid his cheek against the soft fabric of Eliot’s shirt as his panic ebbed and he allowed himself the comfort of Eliot’s embrace. He realized they fit together easily, the top of Quentin’s head tucked under Eliot’s dimpled chin. The shrieks faded away but Eliot’s arms remained around him. Quentin forgot how to breathe as Eliot held him.

“Eliot?” He managed at last, and one of Eliot’s arms pulled back and a hand cupped his chin, tilting it upward. The flickering orange lights returned, filling the pathway with an umber glow. Tiny points of light danced in Eliot’s eyes as they circled the two magicians, and Quentin swallowed hard. Eliot’s long fingers brushed his cheek and Quentin leaned into the touch. Eliot’s eyes widened for the pace of a heartbeat, and then his lips brushed against Quentin’s in a gesture that was half a kiss, half a question. Quentin paused, his heart slamming all over again, before touching Eliot’s face and pressing his lips against the taller boy’s in an inexperienced but warm kiss as heat and hope flooded him in equal measure. Eliot broke the kiss and his tongue flicked out briefly to taste his own lips, as if to savor what he’d tasted there.

“Why did you do that?” Quentin asked after a moment, and Eliot looked down him.

“Because I wanted to. I’ve been wanting to. Why did you?”

“For the same reason, I guess?” Quentin hedged.

“Then why didn’t you do it sooner?” Eliot smiled as he traced his fingers up and down Quentin’s spine.

“I . . . I guess I figured there was no way someone like you would ever be interested in someone like me.”

“Someone like me. Mmmmh.” Eliot nodded, looking thoughtful. “And I suppose it didn’t occur to you, Quentin Coldwater, that someone like you is exactly what someone like me needs?”

Quentin blinked.

“But El, I’m . . .”

“Ah ah!” Eliot hushed him. “Yes. I am fully aware that you’re high strung and anxious and filled with self-doubt. That you think you’re broken. But what you don’t know is that I am, too. And do you know what happens when you put two broken pieces together?” Eliot tugged him close again and Quentin lifted his arms to slide them around Eliot’s waist.

“Oh.” Quentin said softly, and Eliot nuzzled his nose into Quentin’s soft, tawny hair.

“Precisely.” Eliot pulled back and touched Quentin’s face before reaching down to take his hand. “Come on. Let’s find the end of this thing before the clock strikes midnight and we turn into pumpkins.”

Quentin snorted wryly, folding his fingers around Eliot’s as they stepped back into the other corridor. The orange motes danced around them, and then as they turned another corner, they heard laughter and saw the glow of a bonfire at the end of the path. Quentin grinned and tugged at Eliot’s hand.

“That’s it! Come on!”

They jogged toward the sights and sounds of the other students celebrating, and Quentin breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped out. Cheers rose up around them, and Eliot grinned as he took Quentin’s hands.

“You were very brave, Martin.”

“As were you, Oscar.” Quentin rose up on the front arches of his feet to kiss him. Eliot smiled.

“So . . . is Halloween still not your thing?” He asked, and Quentin smiled and leaned into Eliot as they headed back toward the cottage together.

“Maybe I could get used to it.”

As the celebration by the bonfire continued, a section of hedges parted and three hooded figures stepped out.

“Well!” Margo grinned and pushed her hood back. “That was a hell of a lot easier than I thought.”

“Told you that nerdboy has been in love with that lush since the day he fucking stepped on campus.” Penny pushed his hood back, rolling his eyes. Margo nodded.

“That tiger spell was pretty impressive, I have to admit. Although it was my dementors that finally got him into Eliot’s arms.”

“Like those topiary hands didn’t freak him out?” Kady scoffed, pushing back her hood and shaking out her curls. Margo materialized a bottle of merlot into one hand, used a spell to uncork it, and then took a long pull on it before passing it to Penny. He gave her a shrewd look but his dark eyes sparked briefly with humor before he took a drink and passed it to Kady. The bonfire’s flames painted orange streaks on her cheeks as she drank.

“In any case, I’d call it mission accomplished.” Margo removed her cloak with a flourish. “Come on, you losers . . . let’s go find a party to crash.”

The flames of the bonfire leapt high as a harvest moon rose high over Brakebills, illuminating the maze and the retreating students with a magic all its own.

FIN

#the neitherlands library #Queliot #Halloween fic #The Magicians #fic challenge

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mythomagically-delicious · 7 years ago

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Back in Time

Dipper ‘accidentally’ turns Stan into his 30 year old self. He was aiming to fully turn his Grunkle back into a kid, just for a few days, so his Grunkle would remember what it was like and maybe cut Dipper some slack one in a while. But instead the thing he’d given Stan turned back the clock on him, making Stan wake up in his 30 year old body, with only memories up until that point in his life, and nothing past it.

Thirty year old Stan still feels the fresh wound of losing Ford.

When Stan wakes up the first thing he feels is hunger. Followed by pain from his shoulder he can’t place. And then emptiness and a deeper sorrow—remembering what he’d done to Ford.

Stan yells, fighting his way out of the covers, crashing to the floor. He looked around, confused. It looked like he was still in the Hut, but everything was slightly…off. Before he could figure out why, he heard a series of thumps from the stairs and reached under the bed for his baseball bat and rushed to listen at the door.

He heard indistinct shouting and prepared himself for a fight. He opened the door and yelled, raising the bat up, preparing to strike. On the other side of the door were two small faces, kids, yelling back in surprise. Stan dropped his bat immediately, but glanced behind them, still checking for threats.

(He’d only had to deal with a couple of old ‘pals’ sniffing around since he faked his death. It’d been a while, sure, but that’s no reason to get cocky).

“Grunkle Stan?” came the girl’s voice, confused.

Stan was shocked—how do they know me?

“I’m not sure what a ‘grunkle’ is, but you got the name right, kiddo.” Stan thought quickly and asked “Are you guys here for a tour? You’re not supposed to be back here. And we don’t open yet.”

It was the only explanation he could come up with that didn’t freak him out too much. Because if he looked at the boy too long, he started seeing Ford in his features. And that was crazier than any of the weird shi—er, stuff, he’d seen around the forest so far.

Suddenly the boy turned to his sister—they had to be related, they could even be twins—(Stan shut that thought down quick as it came) and started explaining something quickly, waving his arms and clicking a pen that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

“Mabel! It was the plant—the one we put in his cola—it had to be! It turned him young, just not young enough. But I guess he doesn’t remember being old, so that’s a problem too…” he trailed off and looked thoughtfully at Stan.

Stan, who’d only caught every third word or so, was trying to work out if he’d been poisoned by these kids when the girl spoke.

“Right! Okay, here’s the deal Mr. Stan. My name’s Mabel, and this is my twin brother, Dipper.” Stan felt himself choke on his breath when she confirmed they were twins, but she plowed on, hardly noticing. “Our parents sent us to Gravity Falls, Oregon to live with our great uncle for the summer. That’s you.” She pointed finger guns at him and continued, her braces glinting in the hall light.

“Most of the time you’re a grumpy old man, like a million or sixty or something, but you’ve got a gooey marshmallow heart and you love taking care of Dip-Dop and me! We’ve had some crazy adventures this summer, and you’ve probably had fun too, running this place and ordering Soos and Wendy around. We’re all family here and it’s great! You gave us the creepy attic room and make Stancakes every morning and don’t pay for a lot and you use your smoke bombs to avoid people, and smell like old man cream, but we love you!” She finished her speech, smiling sweetly.

Stan felt like his head was gonna explode. He asked the one question that burned through the haze, though. “Whose kids are ya?”

Dipper—yeesh, that isn’t really his name, right?—answered. “We’re your great niece and great nephew.” At Stan’s lost look Dipper explained further. “You know, Grandpa Shermie.”

Stan took that info and sighed. So the kids don’t know about me, he thought with relief. That’ll make this bit easier.

“Wait a second—you’re Sam’s kids?” Stan asked, blown away at what these kids were saying. “No way, he’s twelve, almost thirteen. I just talked to him at the—er, a few weeks ago.”

The boy narrowed his eyes at Stan’s almost slip-up (I still don’t know if they know about their other uncle yet) but the girl just laughed.

“Wow! Dad at twelve, just like us, Dipper! Did he look like a nerd?”

“What does a ‘nerd’ look like?”

“Like Dipper, but with glasses.”

“Hey!”

Mabel laughed again and booped her brother on the nose. “’Beep-boop, I am a nerd!’ That’s you, Dipper.”

The two argued and laughed for a moment but Stan’s head spun. Yeah, this is the best proof we’re related, he thought. I can’t believe I’m in the future. It still feels like 1984 to me.

“What year is it?” Stan interrupted.

The twins shared a long look. They had what looked like a quick mental conversation before Dipper answered, “2012.”

Stan did the math. Nearly 30 years. Have I got him back yet?

“So, thirty years, huh? How big has the family got since I was this old?”

Mabel took the lead. “Well, there’s us and mom and dad, Grandpa Shermie and Grandma Reb, mom’s relatives, and you!”

Stan felt his heart sink. I still haven’t got him back. It’s been thirty years—I’m the worst brother in the world. Stan felt his eyes overload with tears. He tried pushing them back but it was no use. He turned away from the kids and towards his room, trying to hide. But then he heard both kids gasp and he turned back, confused.

“Grunkle Stan,” Mabel whispered, horror lining her face, tears already falling. “What’s on your shoulder?”

At the reminder Stan felt the wound flair with pain. Stan sighed. “Nothing, kid. Look, I need a few moments to take this all in. Why dontcha go downstairs and pour some cereal or something—get breakfast started?”

Dipper and Mabel were both stuck, just staring.

“Now, ya little gremlins!” Stan yelled, voice a bit hoarse, and that got the kids moving.

Stan closed his door and looked around, trying to take stock of what was different between 58 year old Stan Pines and 28 year old Stan Pines.

The room was dark and messy. He saw some of the old man cream Mabel was talking about. He read the label—it was for joint pain. Makes sense, especially if that business from ’78 is what’s causing it, Stan thought. He picked his way around the room, trying to figure out what his next move should be. He spotted some advanced physics and math books sitting beneath a dirty pair of pants on the dresser. He saw an old “Employee of the Month” placard and an unfamiliar picture of a young man in the frame.

Why is that in here, not in the store? I put myself in the frame for a boost. Why’d old me keep it if it’s someone new?

Stan found the picture right where he hoped he would, glad it was still safe. Ford and him when they were kids. The photo he’d found when he’d actually been able to go through the entire house a couple months in. Stan checked the time—he should find some clothes and head downstairs—no telling what those kids would do—and figure out how close he is to bringing Ford back.

Nothing in his closet currently fit in the slightest. He sighed, resigning himself to underwear and a dirty tank top when he saw the box beside his bed. It looked ancient and dusty, except for the top, which looked like it had been brushed off recently. On top in wobbly marker it read “FOR HIS RETURN” and nothing else.

Carefully Stan opened the box and there he found the clothes he’d carefully packed away for Ford not six months ago. He remembered placing all the boxes in the attic space, unable to bear letting Ford’s things be eaten by the passage of time. Stan looked through the box and realized these are the only clothes that would work.

Stan attended to the burn first. It was still glowing orange, despite having been burned into him two years ago. Apparently that grate was just as sci-fi weird as the portal itself, and left the injury much longer than a normal burn would.

Then he picked out a button up and a pair of pants from his brother’s box. It was tripping Stan out that these clothes were over thirty years old and yet perfectly for him. He tried not to think about it. Stan checked himself in the mirror. He felt more like a fraud than ever.

He went downstairs to face the kids again. When he heard them whispering in the kitchen, however, he paused at the stairway to listen.

“No, Dipper! I don’t think telling him stuff will change the past. He just looks super young now. We didn’t bring him through time with us.”

“Mabel, still! He probably thinks like he’s thirty. He’s gonna get overloaded if we just keep telling him about the future! I mean present, ugh. Time travel mechanics are ridiculous!”

“Cheer up, Dip-Dop! At least this time no Time Cops are gonna be after us or challenge us to Globnar to the death or anything! It was just something he ate.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Stan came into the kitchen, shutting down the conversation between Mabel and Dipper as he did so. They ate a quiet breakfast of sneaky sideways glances and cereal. Stan tried organizing his thoughts, but it all came back to the same thing.

Stan needed to get into the basement ASAP. Above all else. He needed to know how close he was to bringing Ford back. To know if he ever just…gave up. He decided to believe the kids based off the weird conversation about paradoxes and time travel in the kitchen. Only two years here, and even Stan could see that anything was possible in Gravity Falls. These kids had apparently been here for almost two months and they already knew that. These kids were quick. And, from the little bit Stan had seen of them, just like he and Ford used to be. Close as can be, best friends, a great team.

“Alright, kids, give me the grand tour,” Stan said once the dishes were stacked haphazardly by the sink, wanting to know exactly what had changed in 28-some years. The first answer came as Mabel yelled the new apparent name of his tourist trap.

“Right! Everyone line up! Mystery Shack Tours are starting now!” Mabel yelled, getting Dipper to stand behind him to point out anything she missed. Together they pointed out areas of interest with a few truly disturbing stories to go along with it. Like the living room where their Grunkle Stan saved them from a zombie attack a few weeks ago. Or the spot in the roof that they had to fix because Lil’ Gideon bulldozed it when he stole the deed to the Shack.

“Some twerpy kid stole the house from me?” Stan practically screamed at Dipper and Mabel. He began to panic, imagining what would’ve happened to Ford if no one knew he was there. It took a long time to calm him down—Mabel ran to the kitchen to make him hot chocolate. Dipper led him to his yellow chair (still there, nice) and helped him sit and breathe. Turns out Stan does get panic attacks, but only since living in Ford’s old house.

When he calmed down, the kids assured him that everything was right where they’d left it. Stan was too embarrassed to comment.

“Look kids, can I have a few minutes to look around, get my bearings? A lot’s changed in the Hut since I remember it. Maybe you kids can go out and play for a little while. I promise I’ll be fine.”

Dipper and Mabel agreed. They went out, arguing about ways to use the same plant to age him back up. Stan ran to the gift shop as soon as they were out of sight.

Spying the vending machine, he crossed his fingers and put in what he hoped the code still was.

A-1-2-B-C-3

It opened. Stan breathed a sigh of relief and rushed downstairs, heaving the vending machine closed behind him. He ran down the steps to the elevator and finally out into the secret basement.

Stan was amazed. He’d done so much in all that time. Looking around he felt his legs give out, and he sat heavily in a nearby desk chair. The other two journals. They are right there. Stan felt like crying. That’s when he realized something was different—there was a hum in the air, like, like—

The portal was turned on.

Not only that, but it was counting down to operation. If all of this was correct, Stan was about 16 hours away from finally getting Ford back.

He cried. Tears of joy and anticipation. He held each copy of the Journals with reverence and awe.

Then he saw the photo on the desk. It was of Dipper and Mabel. Obviously taken this summer—on a boat? Did Stan have a boat—was it called…?

He finally got to see what he looked like as the old man the kids had been talking about all day. He shuddered at how much he looked like his own old man. Then he noticed his expression. He could see how much love Old Stan had for the kids. Even for the short time he’d known them, this Stan already loved them too.

He couldn’t lie to them about the machine. He wouldn’t know where to start.

Stan left everything as is, but took the framed photograph with him. He called for the kids to come on inside.

So Stan told them a story. A story of two brothers growing up by the beach. Twins who always had each other…until they didn’t. One with five fingers on each hand, one with six fingers on each hand. Dipper yelled, “Like the author!” at that and pulled out Journal 3 to show him.

Stan told them about the fight, the brother getting kicked out, the hard ten years alone; briefly, that is, it was still painful to think about. Then getting a post card for Gravity Falls, Oregon one day after ten years of silence. The brother went to his twin’s side.

“He wanted to help, you see,” Stan told them. “But just like before, the younger twin, Lee, was a screw-up and disappointment. He’d threatened to burn his brother’s Journal to get rid of the dangerous information it contained. Sixer attacked Lee, and they fought viciously. Sixer pushed Lee into a burning grate of the machine he’d built in the basement, burning him. Branding him.” Stan flexed his shoulder blade and felt the ache spread across his back once more.

“Then Lee did the worst thing he’d done yet. He picked up the journal and punched his brother, who’d stopped fighting when he’d pushed him into the fiery grate, back towards the machine they’d accidentally turned on in the fight. Lee told him ‘You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family. If you love them so much, then you can have them!’ and pushed Sixer and the book over the safety line. Sixer floated up towards the machine, pulled into a new center of gravity. Lee realized they’d gone too far too late (again). Sixer called out for help, throwing the book back down screaming in terror, “Save me, Lee, help me! Do something, Lee—“and was pulled into the machine—a portal to another world. Lee did all he could to bring Sixer back, but it was no use. The machine refused to become active again. Lee worked until the pain from his branded wound made him pass out from the pain.”

“Lee had pushed his own brother into exile and almost certain death. He couldn’t let his brother stay there. So he started to search. Search for the other two Journals, learning his brother’s levels of science, math, physics, calculus, space, technology, machines, and more. Lee faked his death and took Sixer’s name as his own so no one would know what happened. This meant he could stay in his twin’s house and work every day and night to save his brother’s life.”

“The brothers’ names were Stanley and Stanford Pines. Stanford was older, and born with six functional fingers on each hand. And a genius. Stanley was younger and had five fingers on each hand. Only good for holding his brother back, a worthless, brainless screw-up.” Stan shifted uncomfortably as he made his final confession, no more story to hide behind.

“I am Stanley Pines. I pushed my brother Stanford into the portal two years ago, and I have worked every day of the last two years to get him back.”

“Your Stan has been working for thirty years. Now he is fourteen hours away. He has all three Journals, finally, and the machine is counting down to be activated as we speak. I—I’m finally going to see my brother again.”

Stan’s eyes filled with tears and he let them fall. The kids were staring open-mouthed at him. Dipper had been anxiously clicking a pen all throughout Stan’s story, but at Stan’s final confession, it had fallen from his hand. Mabel had her grip tightened around the edge of her sweater, bunching it in her fingers and letting it go, as if the motion would help her process everything her Grunkle had just said.

Dipper and Mabel had a bajillion questions and didn’t quite believe what they were told until Stan showed them the newspaper clippings and photos and fake IDs and other proof of what he’d said. Including showing them his burn again. Intentionally, this time.

Dipper said the effect of the plant they put in his coffee would run out on its own over the course of the next couple days. Stan knows he’ll have to greet Ford tonight as is. Mabel said they’ll both be right by his side, tonight, to help explain and smooth things over.

Stan could see so much of Sam in the pair of them. He’d kept calling the kid just like he’d promised since the ‘funeral’. Stan could tell he was a real smart kid, with a bright future ahead of him. Looking at Sam’s kids, his twins, Stan could practically cry with how proud of the kid he was. He remembered that Sam had been the most decent one at the service, despite only being nearly a teen. It felt good to know he’d been right about Sam.

It boggled his mind to realize that now Sam was older than him. Even worse, in his current state, Ford was 28 years older than Stan.

But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Stanford being back, Stan thought. Everything else will figure itself out afterwards. Now they wait, and Stan gets to know his family again.

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nialledfromfics · 7 years ago

Text

Saw Him First

Chapter Eighteen

The club was sticky hot, glued to my skin as the humid air swarmed around me in a clouded haze that was generously filled with cigarette smoke. The music was loud, almost too loud to hear my own thoughts as I slipped through the crowds to find myself a little spot next to the bar. I let out a heavy breath, the anxiety shooting through my veins faster than the thumping that I felt in the soles of my feet from the rhythmic beat of the blaring music.

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My brown eyes scanned the large heavily packed room, people dancing like crazy, chatting and laughing and bumping into me as they rushed passed with their friends and lovers. I felt wildly out of place, my feet stumbling backwards out of the way until my back hit against the edge of the bar. I swallowed hard and slowly peered down at the open toes of my heels. What was I even doing here? By myself? Was I fucking crazy? My eyes fell closed for a minute in a slightly defeated sigh as I reached up to run my fingertips across the dewy skin of my forehead. Feeling a body push next to me with a loud cackle, my hand swung out to steady myself as I glanced over to see a girl with long blonde hair turn her back to me, her ass practically knocking me over.

I rolled my eyes, letting out an excessive scoff and slid down the bar a bit, shaking my head at myself. This was pointless, I totally wasn’t ready for this. I had just moved to London, all alone and really I just wanted to meet people, put myself out there. But all of this was a bit overwhelming for me. And I had a feeling that anyone I would possibly meet tonight in this club, probably wouldn’t be the person I was hoping for.

“You look like you could use a drink?”

My stare shot over to my right, mouth a bit slack as I settled my eyes on a tall lanky black haired guy that had wormed his way in next to me. He had blue eyes, from what I could tell, and a dark wiry looking moustache. Oh no. I pulled in a breath, running my fingers through my hair as I quickly racked my brain to find an excuse, any excuse. I had read about the many ways to ward off unsolicited men before, and well, I guess now was my chance to prove myself.

Forcing a smile, I dropped my eyes from his for a moment as I glanced around the room, pretending to search for someone. “Um, no, that’s okay, I’m, uh, I’m just waiting for my friends,” I spit out to him, raising my voice a little so he was able to hear me. “They should be here any second.”

I sensed him lean towards me a bit, and I glared over at him through the corners of my eyes as my heart started to seize up in my chest. “C’mon, love, one drink won’t hurt ya. Let a real man take care of you.”

My brows knitted as I blew a low snort out of my mouth. Is this guy serious? “No,” I said as firm as I could, a slight crack in my voice making it evident that I was still a bit nervous as I shook my head. “No thank you, I’m fine. I just want to wait for my friends.”

I tried to scoot myself away from him, basically plastering myself up against the girl next to me. The guy rolled his eyes and slapped his hand down on the edge of the bar. “You’re never gonna get laid if you can’t even let a bloke buy you a damn drink,” he slurred out, shaking his head as he turned around to push himself through the crowd, finally walking away. “Fucking prude.”

Letting out a short sigh of relief, my eyes went big for a moment as I glanced back down at the floor. What an asshole! I thought, reaching up to tuck some hair behind my ear, but he has a point. I gotta put myself out there more and I am never going to meet anyone if I keep pushing people away.

Seeing the group of girls next to me finally get their drinks and walk off, I felt like I could breathe again as I raised my chin up and let myself scan the large room one more time. Okay, the next guy who wants to buy me a drink, I’m just going to let him. What’s the harm right?

Crossing my arm over my chest, I bit at my lip a little as my eyes glanced over the hoards of people, mostly drunk and dancing, drinks sloshing in their hands and I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as my fingers nervously twirled at the ends of my dark hair. Moving my stare over to my left, I smiled as I watched a guy start doing the robot, clearly trying to impress a group of girls standing near him but looking like a total knob instead.

A laugh slipped past my lips at his clearly intoxicated behavior – because no one in their lucid mind would ever do the robot to impress some chicks – as my eyes moved past him and quickly caught the stare of someone else. My breath hitched in the back of my throat, my fingers stalling in the slight twist of my hair as his eyes fixated right at mine. He had what looked like bleached blonde hair, a bit messy and roughly styled and really gorgeous soft looking pale skin. He wasn’t very tall, not compared to the guy standing next to him, but he carried himself well. Well enough that you knew that wouldn’t ever be an issue. He was dressed smart, nice pair of jeans and a button down, with one hand pushed into his pants pocket and a drink gripped in the other as he stood with, what seemed to be, one of his mates.

My eyes went big as he gave me a smile, the kind of smile that made the heat pulse to your cheeks and I swallowed hard at the feeling as I dropped my stare down to the floor. My eyes darted back and forth for a second, trying to make sense of the strange feeling that was quickly building in my chest before I forced myself to glance back up at him. He had turned his attention back to his mate, the colored strobing lights of the dancefloor bouncing off his profile as he brought his glass up to his mouth to take a sip. He wasn’t less than twenty feet away from me and pretty much lost in the crowds, but it was as if I had somehow zeroed in on him, the blur of people as they passed between us almost dissipating into the dark of the club. I watched as he threw his head back in a laugh, a weird little spark whirling in my tummy as his mouth went wide and the sound practically shot straight through the loudness of the music.

I was staring, full on stalker like staring at this point and I choked back a breath as he quickly flicked his eyes back over to me. I gasped under my breath as my stare slipped away from his as fast as I could before I forced myself to shyly glance back over to him. He was still looking at me, eyes literally boring into mine and I gave him a smile, a genuine smile, that was quickly reciprocated. He tipped his head at me in a soft nod, his brow quirking as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Giggling slightly at how cute he was, I was momentarily broken from my flirty daze and whipped my head to the right as I felt a body slide up against me, totally catching me off guard. The guy smiled down at me before turning his back to me, focusing on his lady friend that was with him. I licked across my lips and pressed them in a line, my attention being shook as I heard a deep voice ring out over the blare of the music.

Shooting my eyes over, I felt my breath stall in my chest as I peered up at the dark haired guy in front of me. He was absolutely gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that made you wonder how God could have created such a handsome man. Deep soulful brown eyes, beautiful full lips and just a hint of dark stubble lining over his jaw. He was well dressed and his hair nicely coiffed. I hadn’t even heard what he had said, and as I stared at him, I found it hard to form any words.

He gave me a short chuckle, slowly leaning his body into me to press his mouth by my ear. “Wondering if I could buy you a drink?” he asked me, my eyes fluttering from the warmth of his breath on my skin. Swallowing a bit, I pulled in some much needed air before easing my stare over to where the blond boy had been standing. He was still there; standing and intently watching me, watching this guy trying to chat me up. His eyes caught mine for a second as he raised his glass to his lips, steadily downing the rest of his drink. I shot him another smile as he finished his drink and brought his chin back down, but he didn’t smile back at me this time. He just kinda...stared.

Dropping my stare, I slipped my attention back to the guy that stood in front of me as he had pulled back slightly to look at me, patiently waiting for my answer. Drawing in a settling breath, I couldn’t fight off the noticeable feeling of calm that had suddenly overcome me and I let a soft smile pull across my painted lips. I didn’t know this guy, but something in me wanted to know him. “I’d love a drink,” I said, darting my brown eyes with his.

“Sweet,” he said, giving me a wink, “I’m Liam, by the way.”

My eyes popped open in a gasp, my body tensing up as I struggled to focus in the pitch dark of my living room. My breath stuck thick in my lungs and I tried to swallow, the dryness eating at the inside of my mouth. “I saw him first,” I blurted out, my eyes immediately beginning to water as they darted through the blackness of the room. I curled my fingers into the material of the blue hoodie, wrapping it tighter around my body as I pulled my knees closer to my chest. “I-...I saw him first,” I repeated into the stark quiet. “Oh my God.”

My dream, my mind shooting back to that very first night that I had met Liam, a time that I had really never gone back to and dissect, made me realize exactly what had happened that night. I had seen Niall first. The same way he had seen me, I had seen him. I saw him and smiled at him, I felt the butterflies for him, even back then.

How did I not remember that?

‘Holy shit’ were the only words I could muster as my eyes slowly fluttered back closed, my body turning and nestling deeper into the couch. “I saw him first…”

I ran my hand over my face, pulling in a deep breath as I tried to settle the tears that had started to bubble up hot in the back of my throat and sting their way to the rims of my eyes. My heart sank in my chest as my face buried into the pillow of the sofa, my jittery fingers swiping under my eyes. Tugging the collar of the hoodie up around the side of my face, I nuzzled my nose down into the fabric, the tiniest hint of his scent still stuck in the soft material. I breathed in deep, my lungs filling with the barely there smell of him that was left as I felt the tears slip over my cheeks.

I saw him first.

I heard my alarm going off by the side of the bed, the incessant sound ringing in and out of my ears. Burying my face under the warmth and comfort of the covers, I grumbled lightly as my body slowly began to wake up, barely sticking my hand out to clumsily shut off the alarm. I took in a deep breath, eyes still pressed shut in attempt to sleep as long as possible before my mind suddenly remembered the dream that had woken me up in the middle of the night.

My brows knitted as the thoughts came crashing back to me, knowing that it wasn’t just a dream, but a revelation of reality. Niall was so clear in telling me that he had seen me first that night, that he was the one who pointed me out to Liam and all the while I didn’t even realize that I had seen him first too. We had had a moment, Niall and I, before I even met Liam and it fucking killed me that after all this time, I hadn’t even remembered it. I was so caught up in Liam, so in love with him, that I never even put two and two together from that night. I didn’t meet Niall until a week or so after the night of the club, so knowing that I was already so deeply entranced by Liam that I didn’t even remember Niall from that night, it was too much to bear. The thought that Niall had to see that, stand there and silently watch as Liam, his best mate, successfully pulled the girl that he had just had a moment with and then go on to date her for years...it tore at my insides like a rusty knife, jabbing and twisting until there was nothing left. What if it had been Niall that night? What if he had been the one to come talk to me instead of Liam? Would things be different? Would I...would I be dating Niall right now?

What if Niall was the one I was meant to be with all along?

So many what ifs and no fucking answers.

Tossing the covers aside, I begrudgingly got myself out of the bed with a huff, the unclear thoughts of my dream plaguing me and already putting a bad taste in my mouth. Not a good way to start the day. Straightening out my loose t-shirt, I brushed the mess of tangled hair off the front of my face as I stumbled out towards the kitchen, my overly tired eyes still half closed but following the sounds of Liam as he fumbled around with his breakfast.

“Morning, love,” he greeted me, the sound muffled by my insuppressible groans. I had barely gotten any sleep, and I was definitely paying the price now.

“Hey,” I managed to mumble back, tucking my wild hair behind my ear as I slid past him over to the stove top to put the kettle on. He gave me an amused snort as he stepped over to me and pressed a kiss to my check.

“You look...a bit worn out,” he commented as he pulled away. I shot my narrowed eyes over to him, darting them across his face. He quirked his brow with a shrug of his shoulders and I rolled my eyes as I tipped my face back down towards the kettle, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

“How nice of you to notice...”

He let out another chuckle before turning back to the counter where he was gathering up his things for the day. “Got work today?”

“Um, yeah,” I said with a sigh, raking my fingers through the front of my hair “Go in at 10–”

“Oh, before I forget,” he interjected as he shoved a few loose files into his bag, “my parents and some of my family are coming in this weekend, to go over some...wedding plans and stuff.” The words stopped me dead in my tracks, my chest tightening as my mind began to race.

My hand paused briefly as I had been reaching for a mug from the cabinet before I spun myself around to look at him. “It’s...it’s only been a month, Liam,” I told him, my head ticking over to the side as I stared at the back of his head. “I thought…I thought we were just...ya know, throwing ideas out there right now.”

He flicked his stare to me over his shoulder. “Yeah, but we already talked about this, Dessie,” he continued, turning his body all the way around to face me. “We’re getting married as soon as possible, so that means we have to get going on the planning. No more ‘just throwing ideas out there’, we need to get the ball rolling. Besides, I thought we could have a nice dinner on Sunday….celebrate the engagement with everyone and all.”

I felt the air pinch in my lungs and I dragged my stare away from his, slowly letting my eyes fall to where my hands were loosely crossed in front of me. A glint from the ring caught my attention and I swallowed hard as I pressed my lips in a line and flicked my head back up to look at him. “Okay, yeah, of course,” I said, giving him a smile.

He breathed out a smile in return before reaching out and cupping around the back of my neck, tugging me towards him into a kiss. My eyes squeezed shut as his lips pressed roughly to mine, my hands sliding up to wrap around the sides of his torso just as he moved his mouth away and up to my forehead, pushing another small kiss to my skin.

“Alright, love, gotta get to class,” he muttered as he dropped his hand from me and grabbed his bag and travel mug from off the counter. “Remember,” he called out as he rushed towards the front door, “parents coming in on Friday, don’t make any other plans.”

Rolling my lips in my mouth, I quietly nodded my head and watched him as he walked out the front door, shutting it behind him. Letting my eyes fluttered closed, I ran a hand over the front of my face, a deep sigh spilling from my lips as I bent over and plopped my elbows onto the countertop. I dropped my head into my hands, my palms curling around the sides of my face as my fingers tangled into my dark hair, the frustration from everything weighing heavily with each passing minute. I didn’t even know what I was doing anymore. What am I fucking doing?

The sound of the kettle boiling made me practically jump out of my skin and I popped my head up as I turned to grab a mug from the shelf. I had gotten in so much deeper than I even realized with Liam, deeper than I had intended to at this point and I had know idea how I was going to get myself out of it. Or if I truly even wanted to.

I made it to work on time and for the life of me I don’t even know how. I knew I hadn’t been my best lately, basically since Liam proposed, and I was struggling with trying to keep my emotions and all my personal problems with Liam and Niall at a minimum, but I didn’t realize that it had actually started to affect my work. Clients began to notice, commenting on how I wasn’t as focused and chipper as I usually was or that I just seemed to have a sad aura about me. I played it off as best I could, shooting off their claims as absurdities, but it wasn’t until Elise had come up to me later that very night as we were closing up, that I really felt like I just couldn’t hide it all anymore.

Something inside me just couldn’t keep it bottled up; all these intense feelings and thoughts I had constantly surging through me, the complete unsurity of what was about to happen in my life. I really had no one to talk to, no one to tell me that I was crazy and I needed to stop being silly and just move on with my life with Liam. I just needed someone to listen, to tell me what I should do.

Elise suggested that we go get a drink after work, telling me that she didn’t know what was going on with me, but I looked like I just needed to let off some steam. I agreed, hoping that maybe a drink would calm my nerves and push back all the worrisome thoughts a bit.

“Are you okay, Dessie, you really…you’re just starting to worry me a bit.”

My cheek was resting in the cup of my palm as I stared down at my drink, slowly swirling the tiny straw around in the clear liquid. Gin and Tonic. Sure to wash away the troubles. Taking a deep breath, I glanced up at her as she sat across from me at the booth, her arms slung over the edge of the wooden table as a concerned look pulled over her face. “C’mon, we both know you haven’t been yourself lately. Everybody can see it,” she paused, licking at her lips slightly. “If there is something wrong, you can tell me, ya know? I’m your friend, and I just want what’s best for you–”

“I cheated on Liam.”

I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, hell, I wasn’t even sure that I really even wanted her to know. But the words burst past my lips like an overfilled balloon; popping from the pressure with no way of stopping it. My mouth hung open as I watched her eyes go wide, her body slowly sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. She stared at me for a moment, the look on her face stoic but it was evident that she was very much searching for the right words to say.

She lightly shook her head. “What?” was all she could muster, the words almost choking out before she gathered herself a bit more to continue, her eyes flicking over my face. “When...w-what? With who?”

The questions all came flooding out at once and I gnawed at the corner of my mouth trying to think of a way to explain myself as I carefully sat myself up. “It was um...it was a few months ago,” I told her, my shaky voice shallow in my throat. I paused for a moment, reaching up to nervously comb my fingers through my dark hair and swallowing hard before forcing myself to continue. “And it lasted a little while.”

My eyes flicked off hers like I was almost ashamed of what I was saying, the reality of hearing myself actually talk about it for the first time in months, sitting heavy in my chest. I clasped my hands together in front of me on the table, my fingers intertwining tightly as I tried to figure out what to say to her next.

“So...so you had an affair?” Elise asked, making my focus jolt back to her. My brows knitted slightly at her choice of words, never really thinking of it like that before. I guess...I guess when you fall in love with someone else, it really isn’t just cheating anymore.

“Yeah, I guess...um, I guess I did.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit and she tilted her head, her eyes darting with mine. “But...why?” she asked me, the question making my breath stall in my chest. Why. Why did I cheat on Liam? “I thought...I thought you and Liam were...good?”

I dropped my stare again, fixating on the bubbles floating around in my glass. Good. That word. It could mean so many different things at any given time, but could never really capture the truth of a moment. Yes, Liam and I were good at one point, but then...it just wasn’t anymore. And I got tired of trying to pretend it was. “I-...I don’t know,” I said softly, shrugging a shoulder. I brought my hand up to rub across my damp forehead as I shakily looked back up at her. “At first I thought I was just looking for something that, I don’t know, I...I guess I thought I was missing. And then it just kinda...took on a life of its own and I couldn't....God, I couldn’t stop it,” I could feel the tears wanting to settle in my eyes and I desperately held them back, not wanting to break down in front of her. “Elise, I’m not even sure that I wanted it to stop. I was feeling things that I had never felt before...he just...he made me feel so alive and he made me realize that I was...I was missing something. I just, um...oh God, I don’t know…”

I watched as her face softened a bit, her body relaxing as she let out a breath that she seemed to have been holding the entire time. “Are you...are you two still...”

“No,” I stated, shaking my head. “Not anymore. Liam caught us.”

“Oh my God, he caught you?” she whispered, leaning a bit further in. “So...so he knows?”

Biting into my bottom lip, my eyes drifted away from hers for a moment to peer around the bar before I slowly nodded my head. “He knows.”

I watched her brow furrow a bit as she cocked her head. “And...and you guys are still getting married?”

Closing my eyes, I let out a soft sigh as I sat back in my chair, my hands dropping into my lap. I eased my stare down to my fingertips, picking gently at the chipped nail polish before I quietly shook my head. “That’s the problem,” I mumbled, “I don’t know if that’s what I really want…”

“Jesus Christ, Dessie,” she said, her voice low as she slumped back in her chair. “Who...who was this guy? Was he just some random–”

“It was Niall,” I blurted out, his name stinging on my tongue as that had to be the first time in ages that I had said his name aloud to another person. I glanced up at her, certain I would be met with a look of pure confusion and surprise. I was right.

“Ni-...Niall. Like..your mate, Niall? Like the Niall…”

Swallowing hard, my jaw clenched as I shakily nodded my head. Her eyes flicked off mine as she peered down at her lap, and I could tell she probably had a million different thoughts rolling around in her head. “I thought you said he was seeing someone?” she questioned, clearing her throat and glancing back up at me. I let out a sigh, pressing my lips in a line as I darted my stare with hers. I watched as her eyes grew big once again, her mouth parting slightly. “Oh my God, you were that someone…”

“I know how it looks, Elise and I’m...I’m so sorry,” I said to her, leaning closer into the table as I let my stare flick over her face. “I never meant to lie to you or to anyone, I just...when I’m with him my mind...my everything just falls to mush and I can’t think straight or control myself and I just...I never meant to hurt anyone, I swear…”

“I wasn’t expecting that, for it to be him,” she mumbled, looking down at her drink, “I really don’t know what to say...”

“I love him, Elise.”

Her eyes flicked back up to mine, her brows knitting. “I’m sure Liam knows you love him, Dessie, people make mistakes–”

“No. I love Niall.” My words cut her off, silencing her as she just stared at me. “I’m in love with Niall.”

I said it. I actually said the words out loud. To someone. The feelings I had been sequestering for far longer than I probably knew, were finally out there, floating around the infinite space that surrounded us and able to be heard by anyone. Except for the one person that I so desperately wanted to hear them.

“How, um, how does Niall feel about you?” Elise asked, her voice calm.

“He loves me,” I squeaked out on the verge of tears, hearing myself say it just made it harder to think about. “He wants to be with me. He’s been in love with me for so long now and...he’s not pressuring me to do anything. He...he wants me to make up my own mind, ya know, figure it all out on my own, but...I love him. I know I do. I just, um, now I’ve chosen Liam over him...again, and I can’t just keep running back and forth and fucking with his emotions like that, ya know. It’s not fair to Niall, he doesn’t deserve that.”

My eyes pressed closed as I felt the hot tears build behind my eyelids, a huff pushing past my lips as I threw my elbows onto the edge of the table and cradled the front of my face in my palms. “God, how did I get myself into this!” I continued through the oncoming tears, my voice muffled against the skin of my palms. “I’m trying...I’m trying so hard to make it work with Liam, ya know, I do love-...a part of me does love him.”

I shook my head slightly, taking a second to gather my breaths. “I just…I can’t go a second without thinking about Niall, without wanting to be with him. Missing him and being with him and that’s not fair to anybody. It's not fair to Liam or me...or Niall.” I peeked between my hands at her, her mouth parted as she listened to me and I struggled to continue through my tears. “I don’t know what to do, Elise, I don’t know...what to do! I don’t want to hurt anybody but...I’m just...in the end I’m just hurting myself!”

The tears couldn’t be tamed any longer, my shoulders slumping forward as they shook through my cries, my face burying into my clammy palms. I had no idea that I would fall apart like this, especially in front of Elise. I felt like a complete fool. Here I was crying like an idiot in the middle of a fucking bar over some stupid boys. Never in my life would I think I would ever be here.

I felt the warmness of Elise’s hands as she slid them over my shoulders, having got up and walked over to me to gently pull me into a hug. “Oh, Dessie, it will be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Her words were sweet as she tried to console me and I sniffed back my tears, trying my damnedest to pull myself together. I wiped the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hands, Elise handing me a few napkins off the table to fix my slightly smeared mascara. She stood next to me, her hand rubbing circles on my back as I swiped the napkin under my eyes and shook my head at myself. The more I thought about it all and the more I tried to hold back the tears, the more they wanted to come.

“Listen, Dessie,” she spoke up after a few moments as I curled the napkin in my fist and dropped it to my lap, slowly looking up at her, “I can’t tell you want to do, shit, I don’t know what you should do, but speaking as your friend, you have to tell Liam how you really feel. You have to.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my chin trembling as I flicked my eyes away from her. “You can’t marry a man just because you don’t want to hurt his feelings. I mean, honestly, do you really want to spend your life with him if...if you’re in love with someone else?”

Shooting my eyes back to hers, I felt a knot twist in my stomach, the air cinching from my lungs as I darted my eyes with hers. She gave me a small empathetic smile, her hand coming over to brush some fallen hair off my shoulder.

“You need to do what’s right for you, Dessie….don’t worry about anyone else.”

I spent the next few days just trying to get everything ready for Liam’s family, the words of Elise still ringing in my ear every time I even thought about him. It had gotten to be too much, the agonizing feelings and the relentless thoughts and the worries, all of it was steadily chipping away at my soul like a sharpened pik on a block of ice.

I had no idea what I was going to do or say to Liam, or even if I was. A part of me just wanted to stay with him. A part of me knew it would just be easier and more comfortable and I knew that in the end we could have a stable life together. Liam loved me.

But then the other part of me, the bigger more overpowering part, just wanted to end it all. To tell him exactly how I felt about Niall and have him understand, truly understand and let me go. Because as much as Liam loved me, I knew that Niall loved me too, maybe even more. And I loved him back just the same.

His parents came in that Friday evening, his grandmother, two aunts and one uncle and his barrage of cousins flying over the next morning. Thankful of our small living space, they were all going to be staying at a local hotel, which was a relief to me. The prospect of having to spend the next three days with the lot of them, truly not one I was really looking forward to but was easily consoled with knowing I wouldn’t have to shelter them all too.

I liked Liam’s family, though it was hard for me to really gauge as I didn’t know them all that well. I had only met them a handful of times over the years, but they seemed very nice and were always super welcoming with me. This time was no different.

We joined his parents for a nice dinner after they had landed in London, taking them to one of their favorite places in the city that they loved to go to when they would visit. It was a rather quiet dinner, a bit of ooh’ing and awe’ing over my ring and the fact that Liam had ‘finally’ popped the question very much the topic of choice, but other than that, it was okay. I felt that maybe this weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all and I knew what it was going to bring; wedding details and lots of proper planning to start, but even so, I wasn’t so sure how to handle it all. Up to this moment, I don’t think I had made one clear and distinct decision regarding this wedding, Liam basically taking full reigns and running with it.

That was okay with me though, because, if I was being completely honest with myself, there was no way I could plan this wedding. No way I actually wanted to plan this wedding. If I even took one second to think about anything that had to do with it, I knew there would be no way I could go through with marrying him in the end.

So, I let him take charge. I let him pick a date and I let him pick out the save-the-date cards. I let him look at venues and flip through magazines looking at dresses. I smiled and nodded and acted like I was interested, but truthfully all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. And I really had no reason as to why I felt that way, except for the fact that deep down I knew he wasn’t the one I should be marrying.

Saturday came and if I hadn’t felt out of place on Friday evening at dinner, then I definitely did then. I wouldn’t even know what to call how I felt with his entire family all up in my business that whole day. We looked at venues, actually going to places to see where we would stand and the guests would sit. We went to reception halls, talking about seating arrangements and DJ’s that Liam was interested in. We went to dress shops, the act of slipping on these meaningless white gowns that his mom and aunts had picked out for me, making my stomach turn. I forced myself to walk out of the dressing rooms, smile plastered on my face as I modeled it for all of them to see. We stopped by the jewelers, matching wedding bands another tick off the check list. Flowers and cake and photographers and catering, it was all…it was all way too much.

I don’t think I spoke more than one word that day, everything being easily masked by a fake smile and an agreeing nod here and there. I went home and crashed, pretty much out like a light by the time Liam had come in and crawled into bed. I heard him mumble good night to me, but I pretended to be asleep, my eyes pressed closed so tight as if I was honestly worried that I would catch a glimpse of him through the tiniest slit in my eyelids.

I awoke the next morning feeling a bit better than the day before, mostly because I knew their visit was almost over and I could finally get back to my normal routine. I just had to get through Sunday dinner.

Liam had told me that it wasn’t much of a big deal, one big gathering of everyone for a meal out at a nice restaurant just to celebrate the engagement. Okay, that I could handle. It’s easy to hold conversation over food. It’s easy to keep oneself preoccupied if need be when you are shoveling food in your face. I could do this. I could get through this meal and then it would be done. I would hopefully not have to deal with them or Liam’s crazy wedding stuff until...well, I guess the wedding day.

But I may have overestimated myself.

The moment I sat down at that table, I had question after question shooting my way. I didn’t even know who to answer first, or how to answer. I was asked about my job, my religion, moving to a new and bigger house, having children...literally everything under the sun. Liam and I hadn’t even discussed half of this stuff and here I was, being hounded by his family about things I had no idea about, things that frankly, I hadn't even thought about with Liam.

I could feel the sweat starting to bead up on my palms and I slowly ran them down over my skirt to wipe it away. I was trying my hardest to stay polite, laughing off the questions I was intent on avoiding as the conversation slowly began to focus back on the wedding again. Even the thought of it, the thought of this single day that would determine the entire rest of my life, the thought of it made a nervous heat begin to build and rise to my cheeks and itch at my skin. My heart was racing as I dodged even more questions, silently agreeing with their suggestions before my attention was shaken by Liam clinking his knife on the side of his glass and standing up from his seat next to me.

My eyes shot up to him, brows knitted as I stared bewildered at the side of his face, a huge smile pulling across his lips as he reached down and grabbed his glass of wine off the table. Clearing his throat, I flicked my eyes over to watch as everyone settled their pleased and happy stares on him and I swallowed hard as he began to speak.

“Dessie and I are so glad that everyone was able to make it here this weekend, some of you I haven’t seen in quite a while. But it was important that we have everyone here, to celebrate with us.”

I sucked in a jagged breath, feeling it rip through my lungs as I slowly shifted my eyes down to my lap, the sound of his voice loud but dispersing in and out of my ears as he spoke. “So, I guess I just wanted to take a moment and thank you all for being here, for helping us and finally getting Dessie on board with marrying me…” My eyes shot up as everyone broke out in a joined fit of laughter and I breathed out a timid smile. Tipping my face back down, I slowly let my eyes fall closed, the sickening feeling swirling in the pit of my stomach as I reached up to tuck some fallen hair behind my ear.

“And I just want to say that I’m thankful for having this gorgeous girl in my life,” Liam continued, his words buzzing through my head like I was piss drunk and couldn’t fully focus. My throat was dry, tightening up around my strained breaths as a chalky taste sat right on the back of my tongue. “She has been everything to me over these last couple years and if it wasn’t for her, I don’t think I would be the man I am today.” Struggling to breathe, my hands slid down my thighs, fingers clawed into my flesh and digging in deep as I parted my lips and forced myself to take in a tiny breath of air. Please stop talking.

“She’s my world, my rock, she knows me better than anyone else...”

My eyes pinched shut as I felt a sharp piercing in my chest, my chin starting to tremble as I tried so hard to block out his words. “Her humor, her liveliness… her honesty…”

God, please fucking stop.

“I don’t know where I would be without her. Probably lost somewhere in this city...”

More laughter. My head was spinning, the room burning like a blazing fire around me as I unknowingly clawed up and down my thighs. He really needs to stop. Right now.

“But really, I just wanted to say that, Dessie, I love you, and I knew from the moment I saw you… that you would be mine–”

Fuck! “Liam, I can’t marry you!”

My eyes shot open, not daring to look up as I stared at the bright red scratches lining up and down the skin of my legs. It was eerily quiet, all eyes fixated at me as I choked back a desperate breath. “I can’t...I can’t marry you,” I said to him again, my voice louder this time.

Shaking my head, I swallowed back the taste of bile that was bubbling up in my throat as I pressed my eyes closed. “How…” I squeaked out, finally turning my head and opening my watery eyes to look up at him. “How can you stand there and pretend like I didn’t fuck your best friend?”

Gasps flew around the table, my words slicing through the silence as I watched Liam’s big brown eyes fall, his face almost expressionless as he peered down at me. Pulling in another breath, I felt the tears already slipping down my cheeks, far too gone to fight them off anymore.

“How can you act like nothing happened...like...like I’m not in love with him and that...that we’re okay?”

My dark eyes darted wild with his, my head shaking as I sucked in a jumbled breath between my cries. “How can you not know how I feel about him, Liam? How?”

His hand dropped to his side, the red wine slowly spilling from the rim of the glass as my mind grew too fuzzy to even tell what the hell was going on around me. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before letting out a huff and hastily pushing myself up from the table. Wiping away my tears, I yanked my bag off my chair and turned to leave, fighting off Liam’s grasp as he tried to reach out for me and stop me.

I couldn’t stay there, not another minute could I stay there. I couldn’t look at him, or listen to him. I couldn’t hear him talk about me like that, as if he was the one who knew me, who really loved me. As if he loved me like…like Niall did. I couldn’t face his family. I couldn’t even face myself.

Stepping out of the restaurant, I grabbed a nearby taxi, struggling to hold myself together the entire ride back to my flat. Tossing my bag to the couch, I stumbled into my bedroom and immediately tore off my clothes. The tears were literally streaming down my face as I began to rummage through my wardrobe, cursing between my cries before I finally pulled out the dark blue hoodie. I hugged it to my face, the material soft but cool against my hot patchy red skin, before I slipped it over my naked body and wrapped it tight around me, quietly snuggling down into the bed.

I had told him. Sort of. I had broken down and made a fool out of myself really. But, I had told him. I couldn’t marry him. I wouldn’t marry him.

Sniffing back my tears, I carefully slid my left hand out from under the duvet, holding it up just enough so the sleeve of the hoodie slumped down over my wrist. Biting at my shaking lip, I stifled my tears as I reached over with my other hand and slowly pulled the diamond ring off my finger. My cloudy stare danced across the gleam of the stone as I gently laid it on the table next to my bed, a sob pouring from my mouth. I tucked my arms back down under the covers and pulled them up over my chin, determined to lose myself in the warmth of my bed and the peaceful thoughts of Niall.

I had told him. Finally.

I had finally told him and that was the first night ever that Liam didn’t come home.

#niall #niall horan #niall au #niall fic #liam #liam fic #au #love triangle #fg #chapter 18 #hooooooomy god you GUYS THIS CHAPTER 😬#SHIT GOES DOWN #enjoy!!!

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