#everyone had stick and pokes though lol so those don’t count

[one-time-i-jumped-off-a-cliff]

tattoos= professional, legal pieces

[ptergwen]

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

-

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. ��is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[kiirokero]

Tryst (JHS)

Tryst: A private romantic rendezvous between lovers.

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot series.

Masterlist

Pairing: GroceryManager!Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, humour, dating in secret, swearing, established relationship (kinda)

Note: I’m so tired please lol I’m hibernating all of April. I know I’ll wake up in the morning and find this absolute shit and cringe at the fact that people saw it.

Summary: Having a best friend with his own grocery store is the perfect equation for late nights looking up at the stars, snacking on cheap junk food, and “Are we about to kiss right now?” Jokes.

Word Count: 4.2k

“Stay away from Hoseok, I don’t like him.”

      Those were the words your brother, Kim Namjoon, said to you when you first saw Hoseok in the village. It was a cool afternoon. It had just rained the night before, so the streets were damp from yesterday's showers. This was your favorite kind of day. Right after rainfall, the weather in Bangtan Village always seemed to be perfect. 

     There was always a smooth breeze as the clouds in the sky slightly dissipated, revealing just a sliver of sun to give the petrichor day a warm feeling. However, the worst part of it was the puddles. Jumping in puddles on purpose may be a fun pastime for you, much to the dismay of your stick-in-the-mud brother, but it was only fun if you did it on purpose. Not accidentally slipping and being caught by a handsome stranger.

      When you slipped in that puddle outside the grocery store your brother always told you to avoid, you weren’t expecting such a handsome man to catch you. You were sure that you were going to get a face full of asphalt, but strong arms suddenly wrapped their way around you and you fell into the chest of none other than Jung Hoseok. But you didn’t know it was him at the time.

      “I’m so sorry!” You said, standing back up with the help of the man in front of you. “It’s okay! I’m just glad you didn’t fall,” He smiled, and you felt your heart rate pick up. “Thank you for sparing me the experience,” You chuckled, nervously scratching the back of your neck. “Not a problem! Be careful, yeah?” He said, waving you goodbye as he went back into the grocery store.

“Why? What has he done that’s so bad?”

      That is what you asked your fuming brother when you told him about the incident in front of the grocery store. “Stay away from him,” Is what he spat out at you, angrily working on the car that was in front of him, hood popped and engine exposed. “You didn’t answer my question,” You retorted, getting annoyed at his pissed reaction. 

      “What part of “Stay away from Hoseok, I don’t like him.” do you not understand?” He groaned, wiping away the oil that spilled onto his hands. Finally looking at you. “The part where you give me a valid reason,” You hit back, standing tall, back straight and arms cross. 

      Namjoon sighed, “I just don’t like him is all,” He said, grabbing another one of his tools to get back to working. “Wow, you totally passed persuasive writing in school, didn’t you?” You rolled your eyes, heading towards the exit of Namjoon’s workshop. “Don’t get smart with me,” He hissed through gritted teeth. “Too late, you’re the one who sent me to school,” You shrugged, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind you. 

      You loved Namjoon with all of your heart. He was there to raise you when your parents disappeared and he was there to catch you whenever you fell. But sometimes you didn’t understand him. You understood that he felt the need to protect you. You weren’t exactly the strongest person health wise, but sometimes he crossed the thin, blurred line of protecting you and sheltering you from being your own person.

      You were a bedridden child. Always catching colds and flus whenever they spread around the town, and you caught them bad. You had gotten better now; you were 21, so your immune system had somewhat gotten its shit together. That didn’t mean you weren’t still an immunocompromised person, but it was better than before. 

      Namjoon was the one who always took care of you. He got you your medicine, he cooked your food (Or got his boyfriend Jin to do it) and he sat with you until you fell asleep on restless nights. He was your rock, and you could never express just how grateful you were for him. But that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to get mad at him, and you always made sure he knew it. He was the one who made you so headstrong after all, him himself being stubborn as a mule. 

You loved him, and he knew it, but you also hated some of his helicopter tendencies. 

“I hope I see you there,”

      Those were the words that ended your first conversation with Jung Hoseok. No matter how adamant Namjoon was about you steering clear of the man, you didn’t listen. Something about his smile, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his skin made you want to go back and see him again. So you did.,

     One afternoon when Namjoon was busy with cars and you had the time away from your language studies, you went to go see the allusive man. Walking through the streets, you made your way to the forbidden store, not hesitating to step in. “Welcome!” That same cheery voice greeted you. Turning to your left, you saw Hoseok standing behind the counter. 

      When your eyes locked, you saw his face light up in recognition. “Hey! It’s you! How are you?” He said, giving you his full attention. “I’m good,” You responded, walking up to the counter and leaning your hip on it. “I never got your name,” Hoseok said, a smile never leaving his face. “Kim Y/n,” You answered. Hoseok’s looked surprised for a second, but quickly schooled his facial expression. 

     “K-Kim? Oh, cool, cool... You don’t happen to know a um, Taehyung, do you?” He coughed awkwardly, fiddling with his fingers. “No, I’m not related to that Kim. Namjoon is my brother,” You shrugged, curious of his reaction, “N-Namjoon? Oh, he’s... He’s nice...” He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes. “He is. He can be a jerk sometimes though. Anyway, changing the subject, I have a proposal for you,” You smiled, hoping to calm Hoseok down.

      Hoseok lifted his head up from the tiles he was intently staring at. “What is it?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You know that hill on the edge of town? The one that overlooks the forest that everyone is afraid of?” You inquire. Hoseok slowly nodded his head. “Great! Meet me at 10pm. I hope I see you there,” You said, giving him a wave as you jogged out of the store.

      Dressed in one of Namjoon’s thick sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants, you sat down in the grass, moonlight illuminating the space around you as you prayed that Hoseok would show up. It was about 9:50, 10 minutes until the designated meeting time you had set. 

      You didn’t even know if Hoseok was free at this time, for all you know this could be his shelf stocking time. But you hoped. You hoped that in your nervous haste you were able to come off confident and persuasive enough for Hoseok to show up and humour you and your weird request. 

      Checking your phone again, the time read 10:06pm. Sighing, you shoved it back into your pocket and wrapped your arms around your knees, resting your head on top of them. You had begun to contemplate getting up and sneaking back home when the sound of footsteps on the grass behind you caught your attention. Whipping around, you saw Hoseok make his way to the top of the hill.

      He was dressed similarly to you; He had a black sweatshirt on and blue jeans. He looked elegant in the moonlight; the shine bounced off his brown hair and illuminated his pale skin nicely. When he spotted you, his eyebrows raised and his chest bounced up and down in a light laugh. He walked over to you, not saying anything yet as he sat down next to you, gazing out into the forest. 

     “You came,” You whispered, unable to take your eyes off of him. “I did,” Was his answer, still gazing out into the forested patch of land. “I was starting to lose hope,” You admitted. “Well, I’m here now,” He shrugged, finally turning to look back at you. “You’re not going to murder me out here, right? Because I can scream pretty loud,” He chuckled, and you playfully rolled your eyes. 

     “Nah, not the homicide kind of person. Arson? Maybe, but homicide? No, too messy,” You joked, earning a real boisterous laugh from the man beside you. “I like your honestly,” He snorted, a sparkle in his eye. “I get that from my brother,” You shrugged. Hoseok deflated a bit at the mention of Namjoon. Curious, you decided to ask him why. 

      Turning your entire body to face him, you squinted your eyes at him, gaining a look of confusion from him. “Whats up between you and my brother?” You asked, getting straight to the point. “Wow you really are like Namjoon, no beating around the bush huh?” He chuckled. After a second, Hoseok sighed and looked down somberly. “We went to highschool together, we even used to be friends, but that changed our senior year,”

“How so?” You asked,

“We got into an argument...”

“About what?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” Hoseok asked with a smile. 

“Yeah,” You smiled back. 

      Hoseok playfully shook his head, “It was me really, I betrayed his trust in the dumbest of ways,” He cringed. “Do you know that Namjoon’s...” Hoseok trailed off, childishly poking both of his finger together. “What? Gay?” You guessed, “Yes, he’s always been open about it to me.” Hoseok let out a sigh of relief, laying back on the grass. “Well, he told me and asked me to keep it a secret. Not everybody in our school was the most accepting. But my big mouth accidentally let it slip one day...”

“Wow, really?” You said,

“Yeah, I know. Asshole move.” He sighed.

“You got that right,” You poked him in the ribs, earning a hiss from him.

“I deserved that. I honestly didn’t mean to let it slip, but I’ve never been good with secrets. I apologized profusely to him, but he never forgave me. I don’t blame him, the amount of scrutiny he got was disgusting, I wouldn’t forgive me either.” Hoseok stopped to take a deep breath, “He never talked to me again after that. It hurt, but I got over it eventually, accepted that it was all my fault, and moved on.” 

      You nodded, letting out a small hum. “Is this the part where you smite me and walk away?” Hoseok asked, turning his head to look at you. “No. You made a mistake, and you apologized. It’s ultimately up to Namjoon to forgive you, but it’s up to me who I hang out with, and you’re pretty cool Seok,” You said, laying down in the grass next to him. “Seok? ...I like that,” He chuckled. 

“Well Seok, do you know any constellations?” 

      That was the first of many late night rendezvous. The more you got to know Hoseok and talk to him, the more you came to realize that he was a cool person. He wasn’t the bad person Namjoon made him out to be, just a cool guy who made a dumb mistake. 

      Most nights, Hoseok would bring snack from his store for the two of you to eat while you looked up at the sky and tried to spot constellations. Chips, candy, the occasional piece of fruit if you made him mad the previous night and he wanted to get back at you. It was a lot of junk food and philosophical talks. 

By philosophical talks, you mean debating questions like, “What name would you give the ninja turtles besides the names they have now?”

And apparently Donatello is totally a Henry to Hoseok. 

      “Come on Seok, I’m telling you, fighting a bunch of penguin-sized horses is the better alternative!” You argued, stuffing a chip into your mouth. “Uh no I’d be more terrified that way. One horse-sized penguin is enough for me. Plus, it’d be cute!” He gushed, biting into a matcha Pockey. “We’re fighting these animals Seok, and I’m 99.8% sure that you’d get your ass kicked,” You snickered. 

      Hoseok dramatically gasped. “Do YOU wanna fight Y/n?” He asked, leaning forward in an attempt to intimidate you. You leaned forward in response, only stopping when your forehead touched his. You squinted your eyes, unable to keep the smiles or laughs away. “Are we about to kiss right now, bro?” You whispered, bursting out in laughter, falling back onto the grass. 

     “Oh my god, you’re impossible!” Hoseok said between laughs. “But you love me~” You teased after you calmed down. “Yeah I guess,” Hoseok snorted, coming to lay closer to you. You and Hoseok sat there in silence for a bit, enjoying the sounds of the crickets while the two of you looked up at the stars. “Do you remember the constellation we made up together?” You asked, still looking up at the sky. 

      Hoseok hummed, “How could I forget? The night we made it was the night you convinced me to step into that forest. I stand by my point that the squirrel looked a lot bigger from where I was and totally warranted that scream,” He chuckled. “Why is that the memory you always bring up? I confessed my feelings for you that day, you know!” 

      It was a warm night, not a cloud in sight as the moon shown brightly on the terrified expression Hoseok gave you. “You want me to go into the forest? Are you crazy?” He whisper-yelled, like the trees were suddenly snooping in on our conversation. “You lost the bet,” You shrugged, pushing his tall, stiff body towards the tree line. 

      “You cheated in that go fish round!” He accused, still not acknowledging the fact that go-fish is luck based. You rolled your eyes, not stopping your attempts to get the man into the forest. “It’s just, like, 10 seconds standing in the treeline, I’ll watch you to make sure your safe the whole time!” You grinned. Hoseok sighed, defeated, taking a walk of shame towards the looming forest. 

      “Jung Hoseok! Loser of go-fish! What do you have to say for yourself!” You called to him, staying away from the tress because fuck that. You’ve heard the stories. “I’m scared! Tell my mother I love her! Leave the 5$ you owe me on my grave!” He called back, laughing at his own joke. 

       You were laughing along too before an ear-piercing screech rang through the air. Looking up, you saw Hoseok running away from the forest and grabbing your shoulders to hide behind you. “The fuck?” You asked, squinting your eyes to see if there was a bear or something. “That squirrel is possessed!” Hoseok shivered, and there was, in fact, a squirrel in the treeline. Problem was, it looked like a perfectly normal squirrel. 

     “Uhh, that’s just a normal squirrel Seok,” You said, turning to look at the man behind you. “No! It was huge!” He sounded like a conspiracy theorist and it was making you laugh. “Aish, I’m in love with an idiot,” You mumbled to yourself, not quite realizing what you were saying. “W-What did you say?” Hoseok asked, standing back up straight.

      Your eyes widened as you stumbled over your words. “I uh- what? Nothing. I said nothing. Speaking? Me? Impossible. I don’t even know Kore-” You were cut off when Hoseok leaned down and connected his lips with yours in a soft, sweet kiss. 

       His lips were soft and warm, and you felt your heart stutter at the sensation of having him so close. Hoseok was like a saccharine elixir that you couldn’t get enough of. His warmth, his breath fanning against your face, the slight smile he had when he kissed you. It was all knee wobbling sensations that left you stunned once he pulled away. 

“And I’m in love with you,” Hoseok said with a smile, going back in for another kiss.

“The trauma I got from that squirrel will forever be stuck in the front of my mind,” Hoseok dramatically sighed. “Yeah, sure, anyway, you can see it more clearly now, the J and the K,” You said, pointing up into the night sky. 

      On that same nightly tryst, when the two of you were snuggling under the stars for the first time, the two of you ran out of constellations to identify, so you decided to make your own. A J and a K stuck together for “Jung” and “Kim” It wasn’t super visible, but on nights like these you could see it clearly if you knew what to look for. “Oh your right, there it is,” Hoseok said, and you could hear the happiness in his voice.

“Jung and Kim,” You said aloud.

“Kim and Jung,” Hoseok answered back.

      The two of you went back to silence, laying down in the grass, just enjoying each other's presence. Hoseok felt so warm next to you, like a dull fire. You could hear his rhythmic breathing through the noise of the crickets and you closed your eyes. Focusing solely on him. You snuggled up next to him, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You felt his soft lips kiss the top of your head as he let out a content sigh. 

      “I wish these nights would never end,” Hoseok said, bringing you in closer. “Me too,” You whispered, breathing in his floral cologne. “I wake up and look forward to nightfall,” You chuckled, intertwining your hand with the one Hoseok had resting on his stomach. “I love you, sunshine,” Hoseok whispered to you after a beat of silence. “I love you too, Seok,”

      Sneaking back into your house was never really hard. Namjoon was a heavy sleeper and the window to your room was a silent doorway in and out. You were glad for living in a one-story house because it made this task so much easier. After you said goodbye to Hoseok with a long, drawn out hug full of unspoken words, you walked back to your house, ready for a good nights sleep.

      Climbing back through your window, you let out a scream as you turned on the light to see your brother sitting there, wide awake, in your desk chair. “J-Joonie?” You asked, feeling your heart drop. “Where have you been?” He growled out, a pissed expression on his face. You didn’t answer, you were too scared to answer. 

      “So you’ve been sneaking out? Do you know how dangerous that is Y/n? Who are you meeting up with?” He asked, voice riddled with anger and frustration. “Nobody...” You mumbled, looking down at the wood flooring. “Nobody, huh? Then what’s this? It’s not yours. Certainly not mine,” Namjoon said, holding up one of Hoseok’s sweatshirts that he gave you. You gulped, heart pounding in your ears. 

      “How do you know that I didn’t just buy a sweatshirt without you knowing?” You defended, not willing to crack under your brother’s intense pressure. “Because JHS is written on the tag, and it’s not in your handwriting,” He retorted, showing that, in fact, JHS is written on the tag inside the sweatshirt. You stayed quiet. 

      “You’ve been sneaking out to see him, haven’t you?” Namjoon asked, his tone getting increasingly colder. Again, you stayed quiet. “Haven’t you?!” Namjoon raised his voice, standing up from the chair. “And what if I have?!” You yelled back, brimming with anger and embarrassment. “I told you to stay away from him!” Namjoon growled, his deep voice reverberating off the thin wall of the house. 

      You blinked back the tears that stung in the corner of your eyes. “Without a valid reason! He hasn’t done anything wrong!” You argued, reaching to grab the sweatshirt away from your brother, but he was faster and held it above his head, out of your reach. “Hasn’t done anything wrong? He’s a backstabbing prick!” 

“Who apologized!” You pointed out, continuing to reach for the sweatshirt you’d grown so very attached to. 

“Sorry doesn’t fix it!”

      “You’re twenty-fucking-five Namjoon, grow up and leave me out of your personal issues!” You yelled, successfully grabbing the sweatshirt from him and holding it to your chest protectively. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to protect you?” Namjoon asked. “This isn’t protecting, this is sheltering. I’m an adult Namjoon! I can make my own decisions.” You stressed, taking a seat on your bed. The two of you finally calming down. 

      Namjoon didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign to continue. “Hoseok told me everything, I think the two of you should talk,” You suggested, but Namjoon shook his head, “No, there’s nothing to talk about,” You sighed, “He said sorry Namjoon, multiple times,” You said, and you saw Namjoon’s face soften a bit, “Maybe you’ve forgiven him, but your afraid he won’t forgive you for how coldly you’ve treated him.”

      There was nothing but silence and a somber-looking Namjoon. “Admit it Joon,” You said. “Okay, fine. I have forgiven him, a long time ago, and you’re right... I am scared that he won’t forgive my actions. I was horrible to him after the incident Y/n...” Namjoon admitted, taking a seat on the bed next to you. “And when I found out you were sneaking out to see him, I was scared that he’d tell you and you’d see me differently... I’m sorry...” He said, a genuine look in his eyes. 

“He doesn’t say a bad thing about you, Namjoon,” You sighed.

“He doesn’t?”

“No, it honestly just sounds like he misses you as a friend,” 

“...I should talk to him...”

“Come with me tomorrow night, so the two of you can talk, okay?”

       Namjoon and you sat on the top of the hill, waiting for Hoseok to arrive. It was one of the colder nights, so you were wrapped up in Hoseok’s sweatshirt and a scaff. Namjoon, being the weirdo he was, decided that the cold never bothered him and wore a simple t-shirt, jean combo. 

      “Are you sure about this Y/n? Isn’t this your alone time with him?” Namjoon asked, eyebrows wrinkled in worry. “It was, but once the two of you talk, we won’t have to sneak around at night anymore, we can sneak during the day too” You chuckled, lightly shaking Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” You reassured him. 

      A couple minute later, you heard the footsteps of another person approaching. “Sunshine!” You heard the cheery voice of Hoseok call out for you. Quickly you got up and ran to him, jumping onto him in a (very aggressive but very loving) hug. “Seok!” You cheered, earning a chuckled from the man. 

     Hoseok gently placed you down, looking at you with his brown eyes full of love and admiration. He cupped your face with both of his hands and leant his forehead against yours. “Are we about to kiss right now?” You giggled, giving him an eskimo kiss. “Yeah,” He chuckled, leaning in to give you a quick, chaste kiss, wrapping his arms around you to hug you once more. 

     You suddenly remembered that you brought a certain car mechanic with you and you awkwardly cleared your throat. “What’s up?” Hoseok asked you, pulling away to look down at your nervous form. Pointing your thumb over your shoulder you murmured out “I brought someone who wants to talk to you.” 

      Hoseok finally looked behind you, and even in the moonlight you could see his face slightly pale. “Hey...” Namjoon waved awkwardly, standing up a couple feet away from us. “Hey,” Hoseok replied, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me towards him in an unconscious act of love. Namjoon looked down at the gesture and softened. 

     “I, um- I think we have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon said as Hoseok nodded. “I think we do,” The air between them was so uncomfortable that even the crickets stopped making noise. It was just deadly silent before Namjoon spoke up first. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” He cringed.

“It’s okay. I’m still sorry for what happened in highschool,”

“That was 7 years ago Hoseok... I forgave you a long time ago,”

“You did? Then were even,”

     Namjoon’s head shot up from where he was looking at the grass, kicking a rock around with his foot. “What?” He asked, sounding surprised. “I forgive you. You forgive me, were even,” Hoseok stated firmly, patting my back as he let me go to walk up to Namjoon. “Truce?” Hoseok chuckled, holding out his hand. “Truce,” Namjoon laughed along, flashing Hoseok a dimpled smile. 

This was the better ending to Romeo and Juliet. You thought, smiling to yourself. 

     “Oh my god, Y/n, you look fine,” Namjoon chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know Joonie, what if Seok doesn’t like it?” You whined, turning around in the mirror to get another look at the sundress you were wearing. “Seok thinks you look pretty in everything,” Namjoon said, “Seriously, he’s whipped for you,” 

      You smirked, “Yeah his is,” You giggled. “Alright, no more stalling, date time!” You stated, a determined look on your face. But when the doorbell rang, your confidence vanished, and you froze. Namjoon sighed, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you towards the door, opening it and placing you in front of a very smiley Hoseok. 

     “Hey gorgeous,” Hoseok winked, and you had to hold the door for support so your knees didn’t give out. “hEy,” You squeaked out. This was your first official date with Hoseok, out in daylight, with Namjoon knowing. Needless to say, it was a big deal for the both of you. Hoseok was handling it better than you, no doubt. 

      Hoseok chuckled, holding out his hand for you. “Are you ready to go? Not trusting your words, you just nodded, putting your hands in his. “I’ll see you guys later,” Namjoon smiled, waving to you goodbye as you and Hoseok giggled like lovesick idiots. 

Probably because you were. 

[radiantroope]

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Four - Tainted Love

chapter summary: Janelle comes over to talk and starts to show her true colors. You and John B. go surfing where he gets you to open up to him about your mom. An unlikely friend saves you from falling into what seems like a trap.

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of familial death, a beer is mentioned

word count: 4.3k+

author’s note: yeah uhhh don’t hate me for this lol. i wanna fight her too. as always, please leave me some feedback and let me know if you’re enjoying this series <3

read chapter three here!

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You didn’t leave the house much. You didn’t want to risk running into Rafe or Janelle anywhere. Topper had dropped by a couple of times just to check on you and see how your mother was doing. Sarah was over the most, refusing to let you waste away in your room by yourself. She was going back to school at Chapel Hill, splitting her time between the mainland and the island. You’d tried to insist she didn’t have to come over every other day, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘You’re my best friend. You can try and shut everyone else out, but not me.’ she’d said.

Your mother had an appointment that day to have a brain MRI. They wanted to check the tumor and make sure the chemotherapy was helping slow the growth or at least keep the tumor at bay for the time being. Her form of cancer was aggressive and there was a chance the chemo would only work for so long. Eventually the tumor would stop reacting to it and continue growing rapidly. Your parents told you the visit was boring and you’d be in the waiting room the whole time so they made you stay home.

You stared at the fresh cup of tea in front of you, robotically dipping the tea bag in and out of the scalding water. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Rafe, as much as you tried not to think about him. You couldn’t comprehend why he’d ghosted you and started dating your best friend. Was he ashamed of loving her and feared you’d think you were replaced? Truthfully, it is how you felt. He pushed you out and made more room for Janelle in his life, letting her fill a place you thought would always be yours.

Your whole perspective on your life was forced to change. The dreams and goals you’d had when you were younger, picturing Rafe by your side, you’d instead achieved and chased by yourself. You went to college parties and drowned yourself in booze to ignore how wrong it felt being there. You had mindlessly hooked up with fraternity douchebags, hoping it would fill the void in your chest. It never did. You had tried to go on dates with guys who were so sweet and nothing short of gentlemen, but none of them managed to wow you. They weren’t rough around the edges with just enough attitude to keep you in check. They were soft, men you could walk all over and they’d let you. They weren’t Rafe. You hated yourself for comparing them all to him, but he was all you’d ever known. He was all you ever wanted.

Guilt started eating away at you for focusing so much on the boy who unknowingly broke your heart. Your mother was dying for God’s sake. You should be putting all of your attention on her and making sure she was happy in what was going to be the last year of her life. You were upset with yourself for being so angry with her for not telling you about the engagement. It wasn’t their fault your closest friends were a couple of backstabbers.

The shrill ring of the doorbell ripped you from your thoughts. You abandoned the now cold cup of tea at the coffee table, sock clad feet sliding across the hardwood as you moved through the house. You glanced down at the oversized shirt you were wearing, biker shorts poking out underneath. You had a feeling your unruly hair was sticking out in all directions from the bun it was in but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

The moment you ripped the front door open, you tried to slam it right back closed. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed against their body, growling, “Get the fuck off my porch.”

“I’m here to talk, Y/N, please!” Janelle protested, trying to look at you through the crack in the white painted door without having it crushed. “Just give me ten minutes.”

You hesitated, pausing against the door. Words couldn’t describe how hurt you were that she’d kept this from you for years. She had been one of your best friends. She knew things about you that your own parents didn’t know — that Rafe himself didn’t know. Could it hurt to at least try and hear her out?

You finally pulled the door open, avoiding her striking green eyes and waving your arm out to let her in. You shut the door loudly behind her and moved to the couch. “Ten minutes,” you stated, sitting at one end while she took a spot on the other.

“How’s your mom?” she started, giving you a sad smile.

You shrugged once, responding monotonously with, “Fine.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Janelle said softly, seemingly sincere as she stared at her lap. You kept quiet and didn’t show any change in emotion on your face, so she continued, “I should have told you. The second things changed with Rafe and I, I should have come to you about it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply as to collect your thoughts. There were a million things you could say to her right now, most more unpleasant than others. You sighed, “You knew how much I loved him, Janelle. You were the only person I told. Do you understand how much of a slap to the face this is?”

“I know. I broke, like, the first rule in girl code. I suck,” she replied, shaking her head a bit. She had been avoiding your eyes but looked back over, “We didn’t expect it, you know. It just kind of… happened. Things were really rough for both of us for a while and I guess it made us closer. We were able to connect on a deeper level.”

You stared at her, unable to read the expression on her face. You couldn’t pinpoint one sort of emotion swimming in her eyes. A weight settled on your shoulders, something within you feeling unnerved.

“Do you love him?”

There it was, a smile. The first real emotion the dark haired girl had shown you since she stepped foot in the house. Did she even care about you at all? Did she care that this was ripping you apart inside? “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said yes to marrying him if I didn’t,” her response lit a fire within your chest, spreading through every nerve ending in your body.

“Then why did you never seem interested in him before?” you questioned, watching the creases form between her eyebrows. “You chased after Kelce for two years without giving up. You never once gave any indication that you were remotely interested in Rafe until I left, apparently.”

You were simmering in pent up anger and betrayal, jealousy sitting just below the surface. Though, you kept yourself calm, refusing to let those emotions through. You knew Janelle like the back of your hand and you knew there was more to this. You wanted to push her until she said exactly what she was thinking. The slow contort of her face into an angry scowl proved to you that it was working.

“You don’t just wake up one day and decide, hm, I’m in love with this person now, Janelle. How do you even know if what you have is real?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so conceited and wrapped up in yourself you would have noticed,” Janelle spit, the olive toned tan to her face turning a light shade of pink. “Everyday I had to listen to you bitch and moan about how he’d never love you back. All you did was cry because you were too scared to tell him how you felt. I always loved him but you always made everything about you.”

You blood boiled under your skin. Your face became hot and you clenched your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Your bottom lip was sure to start bleeding soon with how tightly you bit it between your teeth.

“You weren’t there for the fights with Ward, when he called him names and made him feel less than. You weren’t there for the nights he got black out drunk because he wanted to forget. You weren’t there for the fucking cocain addiction that almost ruined his whole life,” Janelle seethed, leaning closer to you with every word she spoke.

Your jaw clenched painfully as you grit out, “How was I supposed to be there when he’s the one who cut me out of his life?”

“He cut you out of his life to send you a message, Y/N!” Janelle shouted through a laugh, a condescending smile settling on her lips. “He was so happy when you moved to California because he was finally free! He wasn’t being suffocated by you anymore!”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, shaking your head quickly. Your mind flashed back to your going away party. The soft voices and gentle touches. The way he looked at you like you were the only person he had eyes for — at least that’s what you thought.

“It is, and the sooner you accept that, the better. Rafe doesn’t love you,” the raven haired girl stated. Your glossy eyes flickered to hers. The bright green in them was gone and replaced with a cold, mossy color. “He never loved you. He never will love you the way you’re so desperate for him to. You moving was the best thing that ever happened to him — to us.”

You stayed seated on the couch as she got up and slung her entirely too large of a purse over her shoulder. Your eyes were full to brim with tears that you refused to let fall in front of her. You wouldn’t let her see how much this was ruining you. This wasn’t the girl you’d met back when you were ten years old, it was a completely different person. Or maybe she had been this person the whole time, and you had just been a pawn in some sick game. Only did you look at her when she opened the front door.

“And Y/N,” the sweet tone replaced the venomous one she used only moments ago. “Stay away from him. I don’t need you messing with his head before the wedding.”

The door slammed and you sat there, allowing the tears to flow down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t sob, you didn’t scream and throw things around like most would have thought. It was just a silent flow of saltiness that felt never ending. A numbing feeling came over you as you let Janelle’s words absorb into your head. Had you really been so blind by your own love for Rafe you never saw hers? Had you been so stupid to think the Kook Prince would fall for someone as ordinary as you?

You don’t know if it was only minutes or maybe hours that you sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall. Eventually, you finally pulled yourself up and located your phone. There was one thing you knew would help you escape the depression spiral you were heading down. And there was one person you could call who would be willing to do it with you — despite hardly knowing you at all.

“Hello?” John B. sounded utterly confused as to why you were calling him.

“H-Hey, I uh, I know this is weird,” your voice was dry and you cleared your throat, “Do you, i dunno, maybe wanna go surfing with me?”

—

You sat on top of your board out where the water was calmer, watching John B. pull off an intricate trick with his own surfboard. You hummed in thought, wishing you could pull off some of the moves he did. You tended to just catch the biggest wave you could and ride it out for as long as possible. You’d picked up some things over the years, but just riding out a long wave was your favorite feeling. You loved the rush, like you were flying.

“You’re really good,” you complimented the brunette as he made his way back out to you.

“Thanks,” John B. chuckled, moving to straddle his board just as you were, “You’re pretty good at riding out the big ones. I bet I could get JJ to teach you some things. He’s better than I am.”

You laughed softly and shook your head, brushing your wet hair behind your back, “JJ would rather scrub Heyward’s boat to the bone than hang out with me.”

“He’s not that bad,” the Routledge boy tried to defend his friend. “Well, not anymore. He’s more… tolerant.”

You hummed in response, staring out into the open water where the edges curved at the horizon. The sun was beginning to go down, casting an orange glow over everything around you. John B. watched you, seeing the gears turning in your head. He’d barely seen you smile all day and from what Sarah had told him, surfing always made you happiest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You turned to look at him, his soft hazel eyes saying It’s okay, you can trust me. You sighed heavily and averted your gaze to the purple and white board below you. You could feel that you wanted to cry again but your eyes remained dry, like you had nothing left in you. The hollow feeling in your chest felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

“You sure you want my demons weighing on your conscience?” you asked playfully, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.

John B. smiled softly, shrugging a bit, “We all have our demons, Y/N. Some worse than others.”

You nodded and eyed him for a moment longer before asking, “What was it like.. to lose your dad?”

The curly haired boy sucked in a breath. It had been four years but it never got easier. His dad was all he had and then he was alone, still a child having to grow up entirely too fast. He let out a soft breath, “It was hard. I didn’t know what happened to him for nine months, and then to find out he was dead? It was like a part of me died with him.”

You nodded, silently listening along as he opened up to you.

“It was painful and ugly. I lashed out at my friends… It’s still painful sometimes. I try to think about the good things though. The fishing trips on his boat, going to work with him.. His horrendous endeavour to find The Royal Merchant,” he paused to laugh at the memory, and you did too. You’d heard enough stories about him and his friends searching for the lost gold as well. “I know he’s still with me. He watches over me. Your mom will too.”

You nodded again, bottom lip quivering slightly. Your voice was strained as you spoke, “It fucking sucks seeing her like this. Everyday I feel like I can tell she’s getting worse.”

“I regret not being around more the last couple of years. If I had known this was going to happen I would have done so many things differently.”

John B. waded his board closer to you, resting his hand on yours that was gripping your knee. His eyes were remorseful, lips turned down in a frown. His father’s death was sudden and unexpected. He understood your pain but he also had no idea how to handle knowing the inevitable was coming. He couldn’t imagine watching someone you love slowly slip away.

“Don’t think about that. Don’t beat yourself up for what you didn’t do or wish you did. Spend this time reminding your mom how much you love her and helping make these last moments she has some of the best. Make more memories with her that you’ll look back on and smile at,” he told you, squeezing your fingers softly.

You met John B.’s eyes again and nodded, giving him a soft smile. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t exactly know you on that personal level but could also relate to you. He had experienced a loss like you were about to and it was refreshing to hear how he coped with it and get some advice. You wondered exactly how much Sarah had told him but it was nice that he was judging you. Maybe years ago, he would have thrown it back in your face, called you a snob and any other insult he could think of. Maybe it was dating Kook that changed his outlook, or he’d grown up and matured and realized the stupid rivalry wasn’t worth being a complete dick all the time.

John B. drifted away from you again when he saw you seemed more relaxed, he looked out where the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. He offered, “Why don’t you come back to the Chateau with me? Sarah’s coming over and I know she’s dying to get you to hang with us.”

You contemplated for a moment, unsure how inviting the other Pogues would be to another Kook in their company. But for once, getting out and being around other people sounded a lot better than going home and burying yourself in Ben and Jerry’s while binge watching a show you’d already seen. So you nodded and smiled, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

—

Rafe didn’t listen to Topper’s advice of leaving you alone. He couldn’t pretend like seeing after all of these years wasn’t a sucker punch to the gut. He kept replaying everything over the course of five years in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could’ve done differently. The different outcomes of his actions replayed in his head like a broken record. What could have happened if he hadn’t cut you out of his life? Would you have ended up together in the end, despite the distance? Should he have told you how he felt that day, when it felt like your gentle touch was the only thing holding him together?

He traveled out onto the South side and watched from his truck as you and John B. left the beach. He thought about getting out and speaking to you there but instead he watched from the shadows as you strapped your surfboard to the top of your mother’s car and drove away behind the Volkswagen.

Against his better judgement, Rafe followed you. He stayed far enough behind that you wouldn’t recognize his truck. He knew his way to the Routledge boy’s house anyway. Many a night’s he had gone there when he was younger and looking for trouble, or when he got older, to pick up his sister when she didn’t have a ride. He knew that’s where you were heading. He would pretend it didn’t bother him slightly that you were hanging out with the Pogues. He’d grown more accustomed to seeing them around but the roots of the rivalry were still deeply embedded within him. He still thought they were at the bottom of the food chain.

You didn’t think much of the headlights that pulled up behind your car, thinking Sarah had just arrived. You dug around in the backseat, trying to gather the things that had spilled from your bag. The headlights shut off and it was quiet for a moment. You heard John B. curse softly and your heart nearly stopped when you heard the voice.

“Sup, John B.?” Rafe’s gruff voice filled the air, nodding his head at his sister’s boyfriend.

“Rafe,” the Routledge boy greeted back, an edge to his tone.

You slowly removed yourself from the car, turning to face the last person you wanted to see, next to Janelle. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat when his azure irises met yours. He swallowed thickly, waiting for you to make the first move, which you did.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- I uh,” Rafe’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground. “I don’t know. I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed and shook your head, reaching back into the car to get your bag. He hesitantly moved closer and continued, “I’m worried about you, Y/N. I know things are weird right now and I’m sorry about your mom but I-”

“Don’t,” you snapped, standing upright and slamming the car door, “Don’t pretend like you fucking care.”

“I do care. I just want to talk.”

“You had five years to talk, Rafe!” you shouted, voice shaking as you did so. You bit the inside of your lip and begged your body not to betray you. You didn’t need him seeing you cry. “I waited and waited for you to talk to me. I asked myself ‘why’ for years! You’ve moved on with your life, that’s fine, I can accept that. But don’t expect me to be a part of it anymore. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

Even from a distance Rafe could see the glaze to your eyes. He could see your body shaking as you tried to keep yourself composed. It looked like you were about to fall apart in front of him and it made his chest ache. You always were the one to pretend to be strong for as long as you could until it crushed you. He shook his head and tried again, “Y/N, please, you don’t understa-”

“Yo, Rafe! Didn’t know you were stopping by!” you turned to see JJ Maybank bouncing down the porch steps, an arrogant smirk painted on his chapped lips. His unruly hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards baseball cap. He was shirtless, flaunting his physique in only a pair of grey cargo shorts. He’d heard you yelling and figured he may as well come investigate.

“Maybank,” Rafe greeted the Pogue stiffly, a lot more tense than he’d been around John B.

The younger blonde boy threw his arm around your shoulders as he came to your side, catching you by surprise. You glanced up at him, but his eyes never left Rafe, his smirk widening. You didn’t see the look of anger that flashed across your former best friend’s face, a fire igniting in his eyes — JJ caught it though, and he was going to run with it.

“I heard about the engagement, man, congrats!” JJ spoke enthusiastically and you had to resist rolling your eyes. You suddenly had the urge to throw up like on the Druthers, but you swallowed the feeling down. Your eyes met Rafe’s again as JJ kept going, “Don’t you have, like, a cake tasting to get to or something?”

Rafe’s hands curled into fists, knuckles cracking as he squeezed. If anyone knew how to get under his skin in just the right way, it was the Maybank boy. He breathed out slowly through his nose, choosing to ignore the comments from the Pogue. He pleaded with you, “Can we just talk, real quick? Please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, bro. Y/N’s really busy right now,” JJ answered for you, tilting his head to look down at you, “Aren’t you, bubs?”

You stared up into the tan blonde’s indigo eyes that were screaming at you not to go to him. You knew he was trying to help you, but you weren’t friends. You didn’t understand why he came to your defense so quick. He could have just let you stand out there and allow Rafe to rope you back in like you knew he could.

“She can speak for herself,” Rafe snapped at JJ who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t moved out from under his arm so clearly you had no interest in going to the Kook.

“Go home, Rafe,” you said, turning with JJ to walk up to the Chateau. “Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore,” you took a dig, repeating what Janelle had said to you earlier in the day.

Rafe stood there, watching as you walked to the porch, wrapped in someone else’s arms — someone he despised. His heart pounded harder in his chest the further you got away from him, like you were taking it with you. He silently got back in his truck and backed out, tires squealing as he peeled off down the road. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing raggedly. Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore. Those words bothered him, knowing he’d heard something like that before but he couldn’t recall when, where or more importantly, who.

“Well that couldn’t have been anymore awkward,” John B. stated as he led you into the house.

You’d expected JJ to drop his arm the second Rafe was gone, but he didn’t, guiding you into the kitchen for you to put down your bag. You sighed heavily and rubbed your face with the hand not pinned to your side, “I’m sorry about that. And thank you, JJ, you didn’t have to do all that.”

The boy hummed and waved his hand, finally stepping away from you and moving to the fridge, “The guy’s an asshole and needs to learn he can’t always get what he wants. Especially after what happened on daddy dearest’s boat.”

You felt your face flush, looking over at John B. who held his hands up as if he was surrendering, “I didn’t say anything, swear.”

“Word travels fast ‘round these parts,” JJ clarified, walking back over and handing you a beer. He sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, patting the one beside him for you. “C’mon, tell your good pal JJ what the Prince fucked up this time.”

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[kaetastic]

PRINCE CHARMING

pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

summary: Luca brings the Reader to a fancy family gathering, except, he can’t take his hands off of her when she’s in a fiery red dress, displaying her tattoos  [requested: @supermegapauselouca​]

word count: 3.4k (oop)

warning: slightly ??? nsfw lol couldn’t help it (’m horny for the man), a lot of interruptions

note: i’m so sorry this took long! i had to finish up history unfolds and was writing trouble on the side. bless you and your freaking amazing ideas 🥰 i hope this is alright :) also, i wanted to post this for my 2,000 post but nvm lol

Chattering and stifling of expensive giggles swirled in with clanking of metal on ceramic. Shufflings of polished shoes paced on the marble floors which had been drowning in shimmers of iridescent glimmer from the dancing flames huffing from the candles. The ball of hovering fire resided on the stick of wax. Beads of sweat poured to puddle on the silver tray.

With a smile, Y/N incessantly nodded her head at the woman who had been persistent on firing up a conversation. The mirror dangling from her neck blared sparkles of cerulean blue and innocent white under the howling moonlight. Although her mind directed to flickers of other thoughts, the hostess couldn’t help but stand and entertain her guest.

The woman had been rambling on and on about the origin of the diamond necklace that was up for display on her neck as if a museum. The gem was colossal, almost inhumanely possible to be sold as a worn necklace. The hostess wasn't uncomfortable with the elderly woman's declaration of the necklace's background which sounded it had a more complex, entertaining past than Y/N. It was slightly embarrassing. Every time her head had pulled her out to the abyss, the woman inquired questions like: What do you think about it? or What gem looked good on me? It felt like Y/N was tugged back to school. The elderly woman would raise her arm into the air, sparkles from the gold rings wrapped around her arm sung a choir of clanking with every jab of muscles. The amount of gold she had worn was enough to halt worldwide human hunger for at least a month.

“Zia Gianna,” The familiar English interjected the conversation. Luca’s voice was mellow honey poured over a freshly plucked out plump peach. The viscous sweetener glistened over the fruit, seeping into the minuscule pores to branch valleys of the sticky liquid. However, the Italian in his voice embedded a piercing gem on the peak of the fruit. Well, that was the popular comments quirked up towards the Italian, all sourced from his Italian family members.

Although most of the males did not bat an eye at the slightly toned-down accent, it did not pass the females without them darting a glance. His aunts were the one quirk up the English poking from his Italian. Even though he hoped the two aunties from his father’s side were the last ones to comment on his accent, hope was not enough as it went on with the night, “I see you’ve met my wife. Are you pestering Y/N about the necklace?”

The woman let out a laugh, causing her head to be thrown back, her neck nearly snapping in half. With her white silk-gloved hands on her chest, the elder woman grinned of glee after she recovered from his words. A charmer even towards his family members. Luca’s arms snaked around his wife's waist to brush his thumb gingerly over her hip as if she was a fragile plucked out flower. With the signature quirk of his lips, his pearly white teeth shot a sparkle towards his aunt, “Oh, Luca, of course. I will never stop talking about it until I die.”

The Italian shook his head, “Zia Gianna, you live under the same roof with Zio Giovanni, you’ll surely live longer than I will.”

Grinning from the mention of her hard-working (maybe over-working) husband who sacrificed his sleeping hours for the late-nights for the organization, the elderly lady clasped her hands to gawk at her nephew as if he was a hero who had saved her life, “Thank you for giving that man a day off. You don’t know how many times I've annoyed him to eat dinner at home.”

“Now I just need to give Gabriele vacation,” Gianna bopped her head, nodding in agreement with her nephew’s words. Although the woman had familiarized herself enough with the infamous mafia, she never had her sweat coated over the organization. However, the woman with prominent wrinkles can approve of the recent bustling days which was a fluctuated period of time since it was just a calm breeze before. Overhearing her working sons and husband during their rare days of consuming breakfast at home, she had picked up enough information from their ranting. Some problems that were rising in some ports had caused a rattle in the foundation of the business. “Well then, I’ll steal my wife back.”

“Of course, congratulations on the wedding once again and remember Luca,” Dragging her silk glove-covered index fingers down her cheeks, she flicked it in his direction, “Don’t lose her.”

A flicker in the aunt’s eyes was shot at the man before she left the room, strutting out of the main room to converse with her other cousins. 

“I like that,” Y/N mumbled, fingers furled around her husband’s arm, clumping up his suit while he guided them out of the crowds. The scent of lingering wood and expensive whiskey swirled into her lungs, the odour that smeared over their bedsheets. She continued. “You calling me your wife.”

“Yeah?” With a clench of his fingers, she jumped back at the abrupt feeling. A satisfied smirk sported on his lips, happy with her reaction. “Get used to it.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N couldn’t believe this was the man she ended up marrying. Although the pair had been together as couples for a long while, nearly three years, it wasn’t until he had brought up the ring. Which then led to the necklace wrapped around her finger, its diamond sparkling under the chandelier light. The wise man who was in his late thirties believed they should see how well the boats rock over the raging waves. 

After caressing his eyes over the party, he craned his neck down, hot lips puffing warm air into her ears as his eyes darted onto her inked skin that always managed to quiver his knees. A powerful woman with painting over her skin (even though he believed he could make better art on her), “Remember what you told me before?” Slightly confused, the quirked up eyebrows loosened once she understood what he had meant. Y/N couldn’t help the appearance of the satisfied smirk plastered across her face. A coquettish hum echoed into his ears. “It’s true?”

While his close cousins paced past, Luca gave a silent bop of his head as an acknowledgement of their presence. The woman peaked on her toes, whispering over the cross on his neck, “Why don’t you find out?” 

Tongue grazing his bottom lip, Luca's eyes beamed at his wife. The strings of wanton mumbling stood on the tip of his tongue, ready to flick into her ears. All that clogged in his head was pictures of her bare. His fingers trailed down, further from the appropriate position that was on her hip; down, closer towards her bare legs. 

“Luca!” The Italian yanked his hand back in a snap, fingers scratching the nape of his neck while he cleared his throat. Approaching the pair of the night was his uncle whose hair twinkled of stardust, neck drooping with the hefty golden chains that were the size for docking boats. An amused giggle brushed her lips. It was always amusing to see Luca get riled up even though she had to face the consequences which were then followed by days of resting. 

“Zio Federico.” The curled up corner of Luca’s lips etched a barely noticeable twitch, one only his wife could see. The dancing wine lapped against the glass flute as the middle-aged man hopped towards the married couple. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was because of the incessant amount of chains he dragged upon, but the head of Luca’s uncle shot forward, shoulders too slow to meet a middle-ground.

There was one thing Y/N had learnt during the ride with Luca’s life, well, more like inspect. It would be the first thing for eyes to graze upon but their lips would be sealed shut. And now that she was officially Luca’s; it will always be the elephant in the room unless there was no article of clothing on him. Every man in the party wore suits. A fortune for those outside of the blood pool to purchase. A walking advertisement for those who wore it. The grey-blue of his waistcoat contrasted with the dying black jacket, his tie of a peculiar dotted pattern that nearly resembled that of a canvas painted by birds shit.

Trekking with a slimy gait, Federico’s arms were wide open for the boy, well, man. Even though they work in the same organization, the elderly man was positioned on a different station, somewhere lower of New York. Not so secretly, Federico had a soft spot in his heart for the youth, his nephews and nieces. It felt like days ago when Luca was no more than a 12-year-old boy. Visioning it wasn’t hard as Luca had been one of his favourites (also not a secret because it had been pointed out by nearly everyone) since the boy never matched up with the rest of his troublesome cousins. The man still remembered when the meddling boys sneaked out of their classes while Luca had remained, completing the whole school day. He was much easier to control. Well, Y/N wouldn't be able to agree.

“Ciao, Luca,” He let out a boisterous cackle, yanking the taller man by his neck to smack his lips, cheek to cheek. “Look at you, married.”

With a quivering smile, Luca became the temporary slapping victim for his uncle. The once grimacing clapping of skin died down when the man had enough of his teasing, “Said it yourself, wasn’t rowdy as Alessandro.”

“That boy will never settle down,” Inhaling in the liquid, Federico shook his head at the issues riled up by his nephew. “At least Alessandro didn’t get her first.”

Y/N wore a tight lip as Luca’s frigid hands rubbed her bare skin. Although slightly debatable, she was sure the creeping smirk on his lips was not because of the amusing rumours spiralled by his cousin but because he noticed the bulging bumps and her shuddering, “At least Alessandro didn’t get her first.”

“We’ll catch up later, I’m sure you two are busy. If you want to see Luca baby photos in his diapers, I can pass ‘em around.” With a wink, the elderly man stomped away from the pair to boisterously yank his cousins in a hug.

A sigh fell of Luca’s lips, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose at his uncle’s antics. Although he was annoyed at the man, Y/N couldn’t stifle her amusement at the thought. Luca Changretta in diapers? She will need to see that.

“Were you in baby nappies?” Y/N whispered as giggles weaved through her words. While pacing down the long side of the table, she shot a sparkly smile towards one of Luca’s many aunts who returned the same gesture. Arms locked tightly, the pair sauntered around the room, gazing over the party with hidden pride flared in them.

Humming at her words, Luca halted once they were in a dim corner before his fingers found its way up her neck. All he needed was to get the idea of his uncle introducing his wife to the embarrassing childhood pictures of him out of her head and out of her creative thinking. A shudder zipped down his body at the thought of her seeing him in the train-patterned pinned diapers. Oh, he could only imagine the days of her taunting. The area of skin his calloused fingers trailed over bulged with bumping hills at the cooling sensation. To be a mafioso, Luca’s hands were often smeared with a frigid kiss of a gun’s metal. Something she had grown to adapt to.

“Luca,” Y/N hissed at her pesky husband. With a hum, his fingers laid on her cheeks, his lips were nudged to the crook of her neck, nose swirling in her intoxicating scent. “Your family’s here.”

Another hum rumbled from him, albeit, it was just to give an indication of acknowledgement. Even though her fingers were clutching onto the lapels of his jacket to nudge him away, her staggering exhale said otherwise, “How ‘bout I check now?”

With no reply but faint moans, Luca’s fingers descended at a languid pace. Caressing his skin with frigid kisses was the silk fabric of her dress, “Fuck. How can I keep my hands off of you when you look ravishing, especially with this?”

Gently nipping his teeth on the smeared trail of a slithering snake tattoo, all he could imagine was ending the party so they could get out. A dark smear hazed over his already dark iris when he couldn’t feel the usual presence of the garter. Before he had the chance to inquire her, she exhaled an explanation, “Took it off before we arrived.”

Luca’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding over one another at the thought of her bare, ready for him, “All I can think about is just having you on the desk,” Luca mumbled. While the words puffed over her neck, the flesh of his warm lips caressed her with ever so feather touch. “Can you imagine? If we were at home right now? I would just tear this dress apart.”

A gulp plunged down her throat, warmed by her deadly acid. Luca was a tease; unfortunately, she had to learn it the hard way, “Are you wet?” 

He was so close. So close to dragging her out of the party to validate it himself, but, of course, what better night than a family gathering. After his name was once again called out, he reluctantly sauntered away.

As the night aged, Luca had been yanked into countless conversations, hurling him from one side of the room to the other as if he was a throw pillow. He could feel the gurgling acid ascending his throat at the dizzying motion. However, there was one thing his mind couldn’t wipe off and that was his wife. People were rambling on about work or meeting again at a café, but his focus was not set on them. Y/N was in the same room as him. He couldn’t help his mind but divert to the silk red dress she wore. Occasionally, his eyes would steal discreet glances across the room where she would be accompanied by an aunt or his. 

He wouldn’t snap his neck towards her direction if he didn’t know what laid under the sheer fabric. The dress she wore was the exact colour of the brassiere and lace garter she wore. Well, had worn. The Italian knew this because she walked in his studies while he was finishing up some papers, in only the two undergarments. If only they hadn’t have to be rushed. And fuck was it difficult for him to maintain his twitching. Despite them being the couple of the night as they were the one to host the party, the two barely spent time together while she was dragged into gossiping about God knows what.

Cutting off the water supply with a squeak, Y/N paced out of the powder room after she was satisfied with her fixed appearance. Even though her locks of hair had been poking out of its usual, organized manner, the absence of her comb gave her only one option and that was to tolerate the mess throughout the night. As she sauntered into the empty hallway, the sharp clicking of her heels resounded off the brick walls. A buzzing sang from the flickering lights who was starving for electricity. The location of the party might’ve been in an exquisite ball but the powder room had to be underground.

Y/N knew everyone was busy munching on the meals that were being served; however, she felt eyes brushing over her figure. Having ties with the mafia was one thing, married to a mafioso was another. There had been instances where she had let her guard down at situations like this. Thankfully, Matteo or Frederico had been present. It never ended without a smear of blood on her dress. No one could get in, right? The whole mafia was present in the building. As she sauntered down the dim hallway, her shoulders were tensed, eyes set only onto the open arch that led to the ascending stairs.

Steps after steps, she could hear her breathing overlapped by her thrumming heart. A few more and she could glide over the shimmering stairs. Just a few more.

As a chilled hand slammed over her hands, the scream she stressed clogged in her throat. Thrashing in their grip, faint slamming of her unsuccessful attempts to produce at least frantic clicks of her heels whispered. Her clenched arm was ready to plunge her prodding elbow into the figure. That was until a familiar musk trickled into her head; the familiar fabric of a suit made way into her peripheral. With a toothy grin, Luca craned his neck down. Y/N didn’t feel the same way. 

After a smack to his chest and an amused chuckle, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body onto his, “What're you doing?” Y/N hissed, annoyed at the stunt he just pulled.

“You were gone for too long.” He mumbled as his fingers gripped on her waist. His lips pressed chaste kisses on her neck. 

“I was gone for five minutes..” The woman stammered as the frigid bricks kissed her back. Luca’s mouth rested on the spot he knew too much of. The area of her sensitive skin he loved to mark. All she could see was a white haze smeared over her vision at his teasing pecks. Neck angled for better access, the Italian grazed his teeth over the tattoos trailing on her skin. Fuck. If there was one thing that can ruin Luca Changretta, it would be his woman and her tattoos. Too indulged in the ticklish feeling of his kisses, Y/N didn’t notice his hand lowering until it slipped to squeeze her inner thigh.

“Luca...” Y/N moaned, lips pressing one another as she tried her best to suppress the wanton sounds. There was one thing she didn't want. And that was to not be caught by a family member of his in such a public place. Chuckling at her bucking of hips, Luca retracted his fingers. An exasperated sigh brushed her lips, head slamming into the wall at his antics. Eyes blurred with the smeared scribble of his cross tattoo, her breathing puffed over the sole patch ink. At an agonizing pace, he pushed his fingers up. Heat radiated over his skin. Oh, he was close to the mess she had created.

A clearing of a throat trickled into their ears, snapping through the warmth that was shared between the two. Pulling away with flushed faces as if teenagers who had been caught, Luca feverishly sleeked his hair back. Still in shock, Y/N’s cheeks were smeared pink at the sight of her mother-in-law. 

“I know I said I want grandchildren, but I didn’t mean to conceive the poor soul at a family gathering.” Even though her words weaved with disappointment, there was a glint of amusement flickering behind her eyes. After her soft voice seeped through the cracks of the walls and she was no longer in sight, Y/N finally realized what had just happened.

Luca chuckled, head shaking before he burst into strings of laughter. He didn’t know what was funnier, the fact that his mother had nearly caught him fucking his wife or his frozen wife who had still yet to regain from her rigid stance.

Yanking down the hem of her dress, a frustrated groan brushed over her lips. Y/N shot irritated glares at her husband who was in a spell of laughter. Audrey Changretta just saw the hands of her son in her daughter-in-law’s dress, “What?” 

After a faint smack against his chest, Luca noticed her furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes, “What?” The woman hissed, mocking him as she clawed through her hair with her fingers in a makeshift comb. “Your mother just saw your fingers in me.”

“Well, technically, it wasn’t in yet,” Another chuckle fell off his lips when she slapped the same, sore spot. Y/N rolled her eyes. “What was I meant to do?”

Having enough of Luca, she let out a huff bnefore stomping away from the scene, “Luca!” The Italian grinned at her squeak once a boisterous smack of his hand against her back echoed through the tranquil hallway. Y/N didn’t even bother to shoot a glance at his words. 

With a matchstick dangling on the corner of his lips, he yelled out as she faded away, “Don’t get too tired, Amore! We’re not done!”

[knicks-knacks]

That character ask I just reblogged for Anduin, Vol'jin, Saurfang and Sylvanas? any or all

I'll do 'em all simply because I'm bored as all hell and nothing better to do to kill time, though I'm skipping the NOTP part for them because I don't believe in that kind of negativity and also I just plain don't have any lol

will put under cut just bc a lil long (shrugs)

Anduin What I love about them: I'm just a huge fan of sweet, pacifist characters who stick to their guns even in a harsh world that disagrees with them - Anduins a very good example of that. What I hate about them: The way they went with his story instead of going with the Shadow/Void set up they had going on like wtf was that blizz 🙃 Favorite Moment/Quote: Probably his conversation with Saurfang and how that boy Did Not Flinch whatsoever when Saurfang threatened him but it's tied with him absolutely decimating a dreadlord. What I would like to see more focus on: His priestly powers for sure, and his relations between the other races - both Horde and Alliance. If anyone can bring everyone together, it's him. What I would like to see less focus on: look giving him Varians sword was very symbolic and cool and tugged at my heartstrings but please stop making him a beefy warrior with a side of Light he's not a stupid Paladin lol Favorite pairing with: Anduin is one of those characters I love so much that I ship him with everyone but I think Saurfang/Anduin is an incredibly interesting one that I love, and was one of the first fics I read when I joined the fandom Favorite friendship: Does pseudo-aunt count as a friendship? Because I love his and Jaina's relationship 🥺 Favorite headcanon: Fuck what Blizz says, he's still got lasting damage from the bell and plenty of scars from it.

Vol'jin

What I love about them: What don't I love? He's the favorite <3 What I hate about them: That Blizz killed him off when he had so much potential, and also Vol'jin sir please stop talking so much about how alive you feel while murdering and get some therapy Favorite Moment/Quote: When he rose up ever so slowly from a crouch in order to be eye level with Varian but was still noticeably slouching low because 🥴👀😳😍😩😏 What I would like to see more focus on: Just... him in general! It's really sad that a character that was Warchief of the damn Horde and has so much background in the game gets constantly shoved aside What I would like to see less focus on: get that egg boy out of his damn EGG I wanna see my little boy Favorite pairing with: Tyrathan, but GOD is Varian a close second because I have had so many Vari'jin brainworms for ages lately. Favorite friendship: Okay, look, not canon, but I think him and Anduin would have hit it off well, and no one can change my damn MIND okay (but for canon, Baine and Go'el :)) Favorite headcanon: He's mischievous, and also a pretty big hopeless romantic under it all :)

Saurfang

What I love about them: I just really think Saurfang is such a compelling character? There's so much depth and history to him that his story is just so. interesting and amazing idk he's just very well written What I hate about them: Until he wasn't well written and Blizz fucked up 🙃 Favorite Moment/Quote: His talk with Garrosh about his trauma has always stuck with me What I would like to see more focus on: It'd be nice to at least see him in Shadowlands, and happy. What I would like to see less focus on: bring him back dude why'd they have to get rid of him 🥺 Favorite pairing with: Already said who! I don't really ship Saurfang with anyone else other than maybe Garrosh tbh :o Favorite friendship: Zekhan my beloved Favorite headcanon: he needs reading glasses sdkjfghjkds

Sylvanas

What I love about them: Like Saurfang, I just think Sylvanas' story is really interesting and compelling! What I hate about them: Blizzards weird flip floppy writing - just make her irredeemable or not pls Favorite Moment/Quote: Def gotta be, and don't hate me for this fandom, but when she pauses and says "... Can't I?" is the BEST SHIT DUDE THAT'S SO GOOD THAT'S SUCH A GOOD VILLAIN QUOTE BIIITTTCHH LET'S GOOOOOO What I would like to see more focus on: I figure they're going for some "well sylvanas' soul was split in two and now she has the second part is back she's good again" is a huge trainwreck that I honestly kinda can't wait to watch lmfao What I would like to see less focus on: Look just... whatever they're gonna do with her, just get it over with already XD I want her story to end already, whatever ending that may be Favorite pairing with: Jaina for sure, but Nathanos a very close second! Favorite friendship: Ngl, that weird sort of friendship and sort of not friendship she has with Thrall/Baine/Vol'jin. The way they interact with each other is so entertaining man. I love when Vol'jin poked a finger at her and told her to stop bullying Baine, they act almost like disgruntled siblings more than a group of leaders lol Favorite headcanon: Her hands are skeleton-y and black and that's why she's always got the gloves :3c

[pricetagofficial]

The Archer -Part Three

Warnings: language, violence, some cringe (because I was still trying to figure out what I wanted for this story two months ago when I wrote) lil bits of fluff?

Part Two Part Four

Word Count: 2233

Tag List: @idkmanicantenglish​ @kishony-the-geek​ @catxsnow​ (you’d probably kick me if I didn’t tag you lol)

A/N: I cringe at little bits of this, and I am sorry for some of it. This was written over two months ago when I was still trying to get a feel for the story and how I wanted to write the characters, maybe I’ll throw up chapter four later???

Chapter Three

Rory looked around her new room, it was about the same size as her room back in Queen Manor. There was a bed with a neutral color bedspread and several pillows, with a night stand on both sides of the bed. Each nightstand had a lamp on it and a vase of flowers, probably put there by Alfred. Rory smiled at the Daisies in the vase, Oliver must have told him they were her favorite. Leaning down, she took in the sweet floral smell that reminded her of home. Across the room was a desk with a TV mounted on the wall above it with the remotes resting below it. To the left of it was a dresser set with a vanity, and to the right were two doors.

Walking over she opened one door and saw that it was a massive walk in closet full of racks and drawers and shelves all for her clothes. Did Rory even have enough clothes to fill this thing, she had no idea. All she brought were three suitcases of clothes and other necessities that she needed. Oliver told her that if she needed more, just to let him know and he would have it shipped immediately. Closing the closet door, she opened the second door and saw an attached bathroom with two sinks, a toilet and a shower with a tub.

Looking through the cabinets, they were stocked with the basic essentials. Of course, she had brought her own bathroom stuff, Rory preferred to use her stuff; it was best suited for her hair and it was her favorite scent.

Leaving the bathroom, Rory walked over to the large window and pulled back the curtains. She opened the balcony door and her jaw dropped, the view out her balcony was breathtaking. Of course, Wayne Manor was a ways away from Gotham City, but she could still see the skyline in the distance among the beautiful scenery. There was a forest, a waterfall with a small lake under it. Her view at Queen Manor was beautiful, but it was nothing like this.

Tim stood outside her bedroom door, debating if he wanted to knock or not. He was sure that Rory was settling herself in, but Bruce had wanted them all down in the Batcave for a meeting and that included Rory. After a few moments, he raised his hand and knocked.

There was no answer.

He knocked twice more, and still no answer.

At this point Tim decided to open the door ever so slightly and poke his head in and across the room stood Rory on her balcony, her brown hair blowing in the breeze. Deciding to invite himself in, he opened the door fully and walked across the room and stopped behind her. If Rory knew he was there, she didn’t show any sign.

He put a hand on her shoulder, and felt Rory tense at his touch.

Quickly, Rory grabbed his hand putting her elbow above his hand and turned, putting him into a wrist lock. Tim let out a yelp in surprise and craned his neck to look at her with wide eyes. “Rory, it’s just me.” He said quickly.

Immediately, Rory let him go. “Sorry Tim, just surprised.” She said with a shrug.

Tim let out a laugh. “Yeah, I can tell.” He stood up and circulated his shoulder. “Good hold though, but I could have totally kicked your ass if I wanted to.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “Sure, you could computer boy, what’d you need?” A smile graced her face, watching Tim stretch out his shoulder.

“Bruce wants us all down in the cave, so I came to get you.” He explained. “I think it has to do with patrol tonight.”

Rory gave him a nod “Lead the way youngling.” She grinned.

Tim huffed a laugh. “I am only 10 months younger than you; you know?” He led the way out of the room with Rory shutting the door behind them. The two of the walked down to the cave, Rory trying to memorize the way in the massive manor.

“Don’t worry, I got lost my first few weeks here. If you yell loud enough, someone will come find you.” He chuckled, watching Rory who responded by sticking her tongue out at him making him laugh harder.

“I’ll make sure that I yell loud enough so you can come rescue me.” She smiled, keeping step with him as they descended the stairs into the cave.

When they came into the opening, what Rory saw was much different than the Arrow Cave. First off, it was an actual cave and where those bats at the top? Oli always said that Bruce was one for the flair and aesthetic and boy he wasn’t kidding. The entire cave was dark, but still teched out.

There were several computers set ups, but the biggest was in the middle. Beyond that was where all the vehicles were with an exit to the cave.

Tim looked at Rory and saw the shocked look on her face and laughed again. “It’s a bit much on first glance, right?”

Rory gave him a nod. “Much different than the Arrow Cave, considering this is an actual cave. Arrow Cave is basically the basement.”

Looking below, there was a training section with multiple different assets to it designed to each member of the bat family and their attributes. Currently, Dick was working with Damian on hand to hand with Steph working on her own. Jason sat off to the side, cleaning something that Rory couldn’t see. Bruce was sat with Barbara at the computer, and looked up to see Rory and Tim walking down to them.

“Good, everyone is here. Let’s get started.” He called.

Dick, Damian and Steph all stopped what they were doing; Steph wiping the sweat from her brow. Jason made no move to get up, but lifted his head to see what was up. Tim and Rory stopped in front of Bruce, awaiting his instructions.

“As you might have figured out already, Rory will be working with us during patrol but we can not just send her out into the field without some kind of assessment. I’m not sure how Oliver ran things, but we do have rules here, Rory.” He said, turning his attention to her.

“I’ll be honest, I doubt they are much different than his. Main one is no killing, right?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Bruce gave her a nod. “Yes. I’m going to be testing you over the next few days to see if you are up to par with the others. Each of them fights differently, so it will show how well you adapt to other’s fighting technique.” He explained. “Do you understand so far?”

Rory gave him a salute. “Yes sir, Batman sir.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, as everyone but Damian fought to keep their giggles in.

“I brought your suit down here already, it’s set up in its own case ready to go. First, we will be testing your fighting skills. Alfred already brought down some clothes for you to work out in. Go change and report back here.” He ordered.

Rory saluted him yet again and grabbed the clothes Alfred was holding and went to change. The outfit consisted of a straight black razor tank top with black leggings and of course black socks and shoes to match. Did this family wear anything other than black?

She walked back, and began putting her hair up in a ponytail so it would stay out of her face. Everyone was waiting for her outside the boxing ring and she could hear them talking quietly.

“How well do you think she is going to do?” Dick asked, his voice still hushed.

“I doubt she will be able to stop all of us, I mean she is Oliver’s.” Jason said, leaning against the ring.

“She seems formidable enough, she put me into a hold earlier. Her reflexes are quick.” Tim explained, crossing her arms.

Bruce stood there listening to their assessments and concerns. “You three are missing one very important point.” He said.

“What’s that? She looks like she can barely lift anything.” Damian huffed.

“I helped train her.”

The boys stood there with a shocked look on their face. They were about to open their mouths to ask questions, but Rory decided that this was the time to interrupt.

“He’s right. Bruce, Dinah and Oliver all trained me.” She said, crossing her arms with a raised brow.

The boys turned to look at her, Stephanie and Barbara trying to hide a laugh.

“You knew she was there the whole time didn’t you B?” Jason asked.

“Of course, I did. Now, who’s first?” Bruce asked, looking between them.

“I vote Jason, he needs knocked down a few pegs.” Tim piped up.

“Why you little-“ Jason started for Tim but Bruce stopped him.

“Go ahead Jason.” Bruce said, with a smile. Jason let out a huff and climbed into the ring. “You coming princess?” he called.

Rory rolled her eyes, and climbed into the ring. “What? Afraid that you’re going to get your ass beat by a girl half your size?” she taunted.

Jason laughed, “I’m not afraid of anything, sweetheart.”

Rory let a grin grow on her face. “We’ll test that theory.” She put out a hand and beckoned him forward.

The two of the charged at the other, Jason reaching for her shoulders. Rory dropped to the floor using her momentum and slid between his legs knocking them out from under him, sending Jason to the ground with a loud thud.

Dick winced, that sounded like it hurt.

Jason got up quickly and charged at her once again, making sure that she couldn’t go between his legs again. Expecting this, Rory went to punch his stomach. Jason caught her hands and turned her around so her back was pressed to his chest, holding her arms tight across her chest.

“Give up yet princess?” he taunted.

“Last chance Jason, give up and I’ll let your comment slide.” She countered, blowing a few strands out of her face.

“Not happening.”

Rory grinned once again and used her strength and Jason’s weight against him, bending forward as Jason flew over back and onto the floor. Wrapping herself around him, Rory had Jason in a head lock on the floor between her legs using all her strength to keep him pinned making him tap out after a few seconds.

Rory let him go and stood up, “Should have taken that chance, princess.” She grinned and grabbed her bottle of water taking a drink, watching Jason rub his neck.

“I’ll get you next time.” He said hopping out, making Rory laugh.

Jason was the quickest to be pinned, with Stephanie, Tim, Damian and Dick following respectively. Watching Dick do all those flips gave Rory a headache, but once she calculated where he was going to land after each flip Dick was down.

Stephanie was hard because she was just as small as Rory was, if not smaller and she could maneuver was easier than Rory had expected. Tim only took so long because he was analyzing her the way she analyzed him and the others and he was able to land a few hits on her. Damian was a struggle because he was smaller than her, but he had extensive training outside of Bruce and he was a force to be reckoned with.

Rory was taking another drink of water when Bruce climbed into the ring. “Ready to go down again, Bats?” she said, putting her bottle down.

Bruce let out a chuckle. “Think you can get lucky twice?”

“That wasn’t luck, you’re just losing your touch old man.” She taunted.

Everyone on the side let out a laugh, quickly trying to hide it. Bruce stood there, waiting for Rory to attack. Rory was quiet and watched his movements with narrowed eyes, the tension in the air rising.

Then it happened all at once, Rory went to land several punched but Bruce blocked them all and grabbed her hand. Quickly, Rory jumped up and kicked him back with both feet making Bruce release the hold on her fist as she rolled backwards away. Getting up, she charged again and kicked Bruce swinging her other leg around to land a hit on his head but he caught her foot.

Rory let out a sheepish smile. “Hey, now Bruce. I need that.”

“I know, that’s why I caught it.” He said and pulled it, making Rory lose her balance and fall to the floor with a thud. “I thought I taught you better.” He said.

Rory let out a chuckle. “You did.” When she fell, no one notice that she managed to slip one of her shoes off. Gripping it tight in her hand, she raised her arm and threw it at his head making Bruce catch it. While he was distracted catching it, Rory got up and jumped onto his shoulder and flipped him to the floor, ending the fight.

Rory stood up again and glanced at the onlookers who stood there in shock. Bruce was defeated by a shoe?

Grabbing her shoe, Rory put it on and hopped out of the ring as Bruce stood up rubbing his head. “Nice distraction.”

“Like you said, you taught me better.” She grinned and took a seat.

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Godfathers-- Crowley x Aziraphale x Reader (part two)

Request; “Could I get a plantonic X Reader where the reader is pregnant (with a ex-boyfriend’s baby) and Aziraphale and Crowley are very protective of them and the reader unexpectly goes into labor at Azzy’s shop and Crowley attempts to drive everyone to to hospital. And I say attempt as Reader ends up giving birth in Crowley’s car due to traffic.” (anon)

Warnings; none! :)

Word Count; 2.4k

Notes; the wait is finally over! sorry it’s taken me so long to post lol ALSO sorry if it’s not very accurate? i don't know anything about pregnancy, I just know what google tells me lol

"Crowley, are you sure? I really don't want to be a bother," you mumbled. He scoffed and shook his head. He tucked one of the bags he was holding under his arm, allowing himself to better talk with his hand.

"You'll only be a bother if you trash the place. Or be nice to my plants." Crowley paused. He pointed at you before giving you a stern look. "Don't be nice to them. They don't deserve it." You snorted, assuming he was joking. He opened the door to his apartment and motioned you in. You followed him inside, marveling at the place. Everything was spic and span, totally immaculate.

"Beautiful place you've got," you complimented. The tiniest smile crossed Crowley's lips.

His apartment didn't obey the normal laws of physics. It was a bit like the Tardis. The inside made the outside look unbelievable. Crowley was able to change bits of it as he pleased. In this case, he was able to add on an extra bedroom just for you. He set the bags he was carrying on the foot of the bed, glancing around the room before nodding in approval. He always considered himself good at interior design, though he'd never tell anyone that. "A friend of mine is bringing some dinner by. I just ordered some takeout, hope you don't mind." When you shook your head, he continued, "Good. Now, the entire place is soundproofed, so you can vent... or scream... or cry... or whatever it is people do after a heartbreak."

"Thank you, Crowley. I really appreciate it." He nodded and sauntered out of the room, leaving you to unpack your belongings.

You were changing into some more comfortable clothes when you heard muffled voices from the other side of the bedroom door. The rational, mature part of your mind told you that it would be rude to eavesdrop, but the curious, monkey side of your brain kept chanting about how you should listen in. It's not difficult to understand which side won. You pressed your ear against the door, straining to catch some of their conversation.

"...doing is nice, Crowley."

"Oh, shut up."

"You know, if you could whip up a whole new room, you could have miricaled a couch. Or at least another chair or two." Your brows furrowed. Miracles?

"Well, I wasn't thinking about that, Aziraphale. I've never had someone else stay here before!"

"Lucky for you, I have an idea since it'd be too obvious to add any new furniture at this point... Bean bags!"

"No. Absolutely not. I will not allow those abominations in my flat." You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing. As much as you wanted to stay in hiding and hear where the conversation would go next, your stomach's demonstration of whale noises reminded you that that was not an option. You slowly pulled the door open, poking your head out and glancing around. Crowley had his back to you, but the newcomer caught sight of you from over Crowley's shoulder. He flashed you a bright smile. At the time, you didn't know him very well, but you recognized him from his occasional visits to Crowley's. His fluffy hair and out of date clothing choices made him hard to forget.

"Hello, my dear. It's wonderful to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstances," Aziraphale hummed as he approached you. He pulled you into an embrace. Normally, you wouldn't want a person you hardly knew to touch you, but Aziraphale was like a ball of sunshine. He was incredibly comforting, something which you desperately needed at the moment. "Come along, let's get you something to eat before the food gets cold!"

The three of you divvied out the takeout. Crowley led you into what you assumed was his office slash living room, which hardly had any furniture in it at all. You and Aziraphale plopped onto two beanbags, and Crowley sprawled across a chair that looked more like a throne. He turned on the television, and Aziraphale raised a brow at him when Golden Girls came across the screen. "Again? My boy, how many times have you watched this series?" Crowley threw his arms up dramatically.

"It's not like I choose it every time! The TV has a mind of its own. And besides, it's a good show."

"You can't use that excuse for everything, Crowley. You're starting to turn into the boy who cried wolf." The red-head scoffed at the notion.

"Please, Aziraphale," he scoffed before turning to look at you, "What do you think about Golden Girls?"

"I've heard the name, but I've never actually seen it before." Crowley's eyebrows shot up as his posture went rigid.

"Never? Here I was, thinking you were a person of sensible taste. This must be fixed immediately." He pressed a button on the remote, flipping through the channels until he found one playing the very first episode. Aziraphale sighed and sank further into the bean bag chair. He shoveled the yellow rice into his mouth as Crowley animatedly explained to you the wonderful show that is Golden Girls.

At first, the plan was to stay at Crowley's until you were able to get back on your feet and find a place of your own. But with only a part-time job and a child on the way, you weren't sure how you were going to afford it. Aziraphale could sense your growing anxiety and suggested you stay with one of them until you felt ready to move out. You gladly accepted the invitation, having grown close to them since you first moved in. The three of you had spent many nights drinking non-alcoholic beverages and binging Golden Girls, and you always enjoyed popping into Aziraphale's bookshop. It took a lot of convincing, but you finally managed to get him to help you organize the mess of books that were piled around. The more time you spent around them, the more you realized that they weren't so human. I mean, they weren't exactly hiding it. It's a miracle more people didn't put it together.

Aziraphale thought it would be a good idea to check up on Adam. They couldn't just leave him completely alone, him being the anti-christ and all. So the three of you piled into the Bentley and made your way to Tadfield. You and your rather large belly took up a majority of the backseat. Traffic was terrible, as usual, but you made it through with the help of one of your favorite snacks at the moment-- a sauerkraut sandwich. Just two pieces of bread with sauerkraut in between. It grossed out Aziraphale and Crowley, but they knew better than to face the wrath of a pregnant person... especially after they saw how your emotions constantly changed. One moment you were crying over not being able to open a pickle jar by yourself, and the next you were screaming at your phone for charging too slow. Needless to say, they were afraid of being the target of your mood swings.

Crowley led the way through Hogback Wood, while you and Aziraphale walked arm-in-arm behind him. "Please be careful with our lunch, dear." The angel grimaced every time the wicker basket was swung.

"Calm down, Aziraphale. Nothings going to happen to the food," Crowley groaned, "Their hideout is right down here. They'll probably be playing with prop swords or whatnot." You could hear the group of children shouting. Sure enough, they came into view and were swinging long sticks at each other. A boy with brown, curly locked pointed his stick toward you all.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Sir Crowley Hellion, accompanied by Lord Aziraphale Inamorato. We brought along our guest, the kind (Y/F/N)." The demon and angel bowed, playing along with the game. You, on the other hand, were too hot and had too big of a belly to be doing such. Instead, you just waved at them. The rest of the group of children appeared, all eyeing the three of you suspiciously.

"What's in the basket?" a boy with dirt all over his face asked. Crowley held up the basket in question, raising a brow.

"Sandwiches."

"For all of us?"

"Yup."

"Did they make 'em?" He pointed his stick towards you. Aziraphale shook his head.

"No, I did." All of the children seemed relieved by this.

"Good. I heard pregnant people like to eat weird stuff on their sandwiches." They all gathered around Crowley as he handed one to each of them.

"You're telling me," he muttered under his breath. Which, thanks so your pregnant superhuman capabilities, didn't escape your hearing.

"Sorry, Crowley, what was that?" The demon froze like a deer caught in headlights. He stuttered for a moment, trying to come up with something clever and not insulting to say. You laughed and pat him on the shoulder. "Calm down! I'm just teasing. Now, hand me one of those sandwiches so I can go sit down. My back is killing me."

Everyone gathered near their fort and ate lunch. You were beginning to have stomach pains, but you blamed it on the sauerkraut combined with all the walking you did. The Them, as you learned they were called, explained the game they were playing. Adam was playing as Henry VIII, Brian and Wensleydale were guards, and Pepper was one of his many wives to be beheaded. The twist? She fought back, not wanting to come to her untimely end just because she was unable to bear a son. "So, what're you having?" Pepper asked.

"A girl," you answered fondly. Three of the Them smiled and congratulated you, but Adam leaned back and sighed.

"Sorry, guess that means you'll have to be beheaded." The children all started giggling, and Crowley snorted. You grimaced, putting a hand on your stomach. Aziraphale watched you worriedly. He placed a gentle hand on your arm.

"Are you alright?" Adam's brows knit together.

"I was just joking. We're not really beheading you." You waved him off.

"Don't worry about it, love. Just having a spell of contractions is all." Crowley leaned forward. Worry filled his features.

"Is the baby coming? Already? Should we leave?" You laughed before grimacing again.

"No, I don't think she's coming yet. I'm not due for another three weeks. But I think it probably is a good idea to head back."

The two helped you back to the Bentley, with the Them trailing behind out of curiosity. Thankfully, you didn't have to walk terribly far. Crowley had managed to park nearby just in case of a moment like this. You all piled into the car and waved the children goodbye. Crowley peeled out of  Tadfield, causing Aziraphale to look even more concerned. As you got closer to London, the traffic worsened and so did your contractions. The three of you were sitting in a standstill, and you were groaning in pain in the backseat.

"You know, we've got car parks everywhere... McDonald's, supermarkets, stadiums... the fucking M25!" Crowley screeched, gripping the steering wheel and shaking himself back and forth.

"Crowley! Your screaming is not helping!" Aziraphale huffed.

"Could the both of you please shut up so I can focus on not imploding?" Concern settled deeper into Aziraphale's features, and a hiss escaped Crowley's lips.

"I think we're running out of time," the angel whispered. "We need a miracle." Crowley gave him a look, and Aziraphale nodded. The demon sighed, taking the angel's hand in his own. Reality seemed to warble around the Bentley, which caused you to feel even worse. You ended up hurling, and Crowley let out a string of swears at the sight. "Look! We're at the hospital. Let's get them taken care of before we worry about a perfectly cleanable mess, hm?"

"Fine, but you better be naming this kid after me for all I've been through!"

The two helped you inside to get taken care of, and they were with you for every step of the way. Several hours later, you held your daughter in your arms. She clutched onto Aziraphale's finger, causing him to smile wider than you had ever seen before. Crowley stood behind the angel, trying to look like he wasn't paying much attention and clearly failing. You offered to let him hold the baby, and he accepted without a moment of hesitation. As you watched him carefully cradle the little girl in his arms, you figured this would be the perfect moment to propose the idea you've been harboring for the past month. "I've been thinking about how much you guys have helped me. I don't know where I would be if it wasn't for you two. So, I was wondering if maybe the both of you would like to make our little family official by being the godfathers?" Aziraphale gasped, eyes widening. He excitedly looked to Crowley.

"Oh, my dear! Did you hear that? Us... godfathers!" Crowley didn't reply. He just froze for a moment. A tinge of worry went through you. You didn't even consider the possibility of him not wanting to be a godfather. You and Aziraphale shared a look before continuing to stare at Crowley.

"Ngk," he sniffled, "don't look at me. Here, angel, take the kid." Crowley passed the baby off to Aziraphale before furiously rubbing his eyes. You sat up a little more.

"Are you... crying!"

"No!" he said with a defensive hiss. "Okay, maybe I am... just a little... You seriously want me to be a godfather? I can understand him. He's a literal angel, but I'm a demon why would you want me?" You sighed, leaning back into the pillows.

"Crowley, you were the one who was there for me when I needed someone, and you were the one who took me in when I had nowhere to go. Of course, I want you to be my daughter's godfather. I couldn't think of anyone else."

The demon sniffled for a few more minutes before finally composing himself. He watched the infant be placed in the bassinette and smiled. A true, genuine smile. Crowley gently touched the baby's cheek, leaning closer. "Don't worry. I'll try to be a good godfather. If it's the last thing I do, I'll make sure you have a good life, okay?"

~*~*~

Godfathers Tag List; (might be missing some, there was a lot of you lmao)

@justcallmecinammon​

@sdavid09​ 

@lokis-sunshine​

@spookyconsultingcriminal​

@dabbingintoart​

@sirkekselord

@strangerthings14

Good Omens Tag List;

@kawaiiusagichansan

@fatbottomedboi 

@godhateskyleigh

@drhughgrection

@popbubblegumpop

@shirukitsune

@slithredn

@dabbingintoart

@groupies-do-it-better

Permanent Tag List;

@blitchen

@blitchen-fics

[theamberwriter]

Haunted House Headcanons [MHA]

A/N: This kind of goes with a request I'm working on! But I thought it'd be kinda fun to do headcanons of going to a haunted house!

SHOUTA AIZAWA

He takes some a lot of convincing

It takes inviting Hizashi and Nemuri before he agrees to go, mostly because they force him

And make him feel a little guilty for telling you 'no'

You three are super excited, but Shouta is indifferent

He thinks it's a waste of time

Plus he didn't really understand why you would want to go get scared. especially when you face literal life-threatening situations every other day

Wasn't that frightening enough?

Shouta seems super bored as you wait in line, but honestly, he's just taking in how cute you look when you're excited

Even if he isn't into it, he'll do basically anything you want to. He just wants to make you happy.

You can tell the actors are a bit frustrated when they try to scare him, but he doesn't do anything

He frightens a few of them back with his quirk, glaring them down

You latch on to his arm, while Hizashi and Nemuri clutch onto each other

Shouta can't believe they're actually scared of this stuff

Those two get super dramatic a few times

Nemuri accidentally knocking out an entire room when they really get her

He one of the actors tries to touch you, he wraps his capture scarf around them and gives them a death stare

The guy immediately apologizes

Hizashi and Nemuri end up leading you guys in circles in the corn maze

Eventually, Shouta ends up finding the way out himself. You two waited for ten minutes while you could hear the other two cursing with every wall they hit.

They didn't even realize you guys left them

Mic makes sure he lets you know how uncool that was

You're pretty sure Shouta passes out on the hayride.

But that doesn't stop you, Hizashi, and Nemuri from enjoying yourselves

Although, honestly the fact that Shouta doesn't seem to be enjoying himself kills your buzz

When he asks you why you look so mopey afterwards, he reassures you that he had a nice time. Not because of the haunted house, but because he was out spending time with you.

This perks you right up.

SHOTO TODOROKI

You wanted to surprise him, and go do something fun

Shoto doesn't even know the purpose of a haunted house

He has never been to one, or even done anything for Halloween thanks to childhood robbing Endeavor

Shoto is very confused at first about why everyone is so calm, when there's clearly shrieks coming from inside

He talks to a few people in line about the place

He gets it more now, but that doesn't stop him from icing up the first person to scare the shit outta him

You apologize to the guy, and have to explain that the people weren't going to hurt anyone. That everyone was just an actor

He apologizes himself, and defrosts the room

After that, he isn't really scared

They manage to startle him a few times, but the fact that he's never done anything for Halloween makes the entire thing lost on him.

He mostly spends the time repeating what you said every time you started to freak out. "They're just actors, they can't hurt you."

"I know they're actors, but still! How're you not scared?" you whine. "Half the fun is getting scared!"

He'd completely ignore a guy trying to scare the piss out of him. "How is getting scared fun? Fighting real villains is scary, but definitely not fun."

No matter how much you tried, you couldn't get him to understand how getting scared was fun

Shoto wasted no time getting out of the maze

He also didn't understand why he had to wait for the rest of your you group before moving on

You really hoped he didn't catch the hay on fire once you got on the hayride

He didn't

But he also wasn't scared of the hayride either

You tried a few different haunted houses after that, not even a wince out of Shoto

You decided to stop wasting your money, and just went to all the Halloween stores to play with the animatronics instead.

KATSUKI BAKUGO

You don't take him to haunted houses anymore, he blows shit up when it scares him or gets annoying

But the few times you did go

The first year, he pretended he wasn't interested and was just tagging along because you wanted to go.

Honestly, he thought it was fun

The following year, he tried to subtly suggest going to one.

He left flyers around, and would generally share stuff about them on Facebook. Hoping that you got the hint. You did.

The years after that, you asked him if he wanted to go

You were always met with, "Yeah, sure. Whatever. But I'm not saving you."

He's a fucking liar

He basically kept you glued to him

A few of the props and actors startled him, but never got actually scared

He wouldn't let any of the actors separate you guys, either

If he thought someone was getting a little pushy, he'd threaten them

He blew up half the corn maze because one of the guys touched you

You started getting the no-touch wristbands after that

That didn't make matters better

If something popped out at him, he'd light it up

You ended up saving a few of the actors from his wrath

One time, your group had to walk back because he destroyed the hay wagon.

You had to apologize to more people than you could count for his actions

You also had to pay to replace a few things

Now half the haunted houses in the country have his face on the ban list.

You all just go to look at the animatronics at the stores now

He still rants about getting banned

IZUKU MIDORIYA

This poor baby would be shaking before you even got there

Villians? No problem. Guys in Halloween masks that pop out at you? No fucking way.

He's even scared of the ticket sellers, who only have on some badly done clown paint and smears of fake blood.

The longer you're in line and listening to sound effects, the more he looks ready to run

You reassure him over and over that they're just actors, they can't hurt him

You even wore the wristband that lets the actors know they can't touch you

Izuku holds your hand so tight through the whole thing, you're sure you're going to have bruises

He tries to pretend he isn't scared, but it’s written all over his face.

Will ask you a thousand times if you're okay, if you're scared.

He gets lost super easy in the maze

You two are the last ones out

He doesn't mind the hayride as much, but you can still feel him shaking beside you

You end up hugging him close so he can hide his face in your shirt

Izuku is honestly relieved when you finally leave

He asked if you guys can just do a nice, calm hayride next year.

You contemplated going to a haunted hayride. But decided you like your boyfriend alive, lol

TENYA IIDA

Would probably be for it

Tenya would make sure to ask a thousand questions about emergency exits

And then question the story that the actors are telling

Honestly, it's a little embarrassing

"Lighten up a little, it's all in fun," you say.

"Just because it's fun, doesn't mean safety is not important. And I have concerns about the motive in these characters."

He tries to act like the actors and props don't scare him

But this boy is two seconds from pissing his pants

He might shove you in front of him once

After that, he grips you closely. Never once lets go of your hand.

At one point, Tenya activates his quirk and sprints the fuck out of there.

He completely over analyzes the corn maze

He leaves you standing in the middle with the small group you've acquired. Then does a sprint around the whole thing.

When he comes back, Tenya acts like a boy scout leader. Counting heads, and telling everyone to stick together. Then leading them on.

He scolds the actors on the hayride about how unsafe it is to jump off and on a moving tractor

After embarrassing you, and clearly just not getting the point. He has the audacity to ask if you can go back next year

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

Of all the guys, Eijiro would be the most fun to go with

He's totally down for it

In fact, he's the one would suggested it!

You two put on a little make yourselves, going as a zombified couple

He so siked, his excitement amping up as you wait in line

He admires all the hard work put into the rooms

Eijiro admits the story is corny, but he thinks it's cool nonetheless

When you go through, he jumps at all the right times

And tells a few of the actors how cool their costumes are

He only uses his quirk once, when something springs out near him and hits him

Turns out one of the animatronics broke when you went through, that's why it hit him

Honestly, he keeps you laughing through the whole thing

The two of you hold hands and dash between rooms like a couple of bandits

He piggybacks you through the corn maze, that way you don't get separated

Eijiro is also the one to start the hay fight on the hayride

Even the actors started to join in, even though the guide yelled at them not to

He resists the urge to jump out of the wagon, just because he'd thought it'd be fun

Afterwards, you two would go out for hot chocolate (because, let's face it, you get hecka cold by the end of the hayride)

And probably try and find another open haunted house

MINA ASHIDO

This girl is hella excited about the haunted house

She spent some a lot of her free time looking up reviews trying to find the right one before she invited you

You're a little apprehensive, but Mina's excitement is contagious

She invites a few friends along, but assures you that she'll stick by your side the entire time

You guys are the loudest group in the line

Actually, you're the loudest group in the entire attraction

A few people even said your group scared them more than the actors

Speaking of, Mina pokes, prods, and compliments the actors costumes

She's super fascinated by them

Along with all of the props and effects

It ruins the magic a little she examines how something is done

But that doesn't stop her from getting the ever-living hell scared out of either

Your group glomps together, moving as one entity through the house

Mina keeps her promise, though, and holds your hand the whole time

The corn maze was the worst part

Everyone got separated

You and Mina snuck a little make-out session in one corner, like the idiots in a horror movie

Eventually, everyone met up. Although you're pretty sure tromping over the corn was against the rules

Mina found the hayride lacklustre, your group spent most of the ride throwing stuff at each other

She decides to plan a haunted house trip for every weekend in October

MOMO YAOYOROZU

Momo is happy enough to agree to going to a haunted house

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, she doesn't like getting scared first off

In line, she acts super tough. Assuring you that everything will be fine. And that she's going to be right beside you the whole time.

However, as soon as your group starts going through, her attitude changed

She constantly muttered, "They're just actors, Momo. They can't touch you. They're just actors, Momo."

Actually, they can touch you. You didn't think about getting the bracelet to let them know not to.

So boy was she surprised

You're pretty sure she broke someone's nose when they out their hand on her shoulder.

She offered to make flashlights for you, but you told her that was cheating

She held tightly onto you, not that you minded

She was honestly a lot more freaked out than she lead on to be

The only time she wasn't, was in the corn maze

She was analytical and quick you get you guys out of there

She wasn't as freaked out on the hayride

In fact she relaxed

Until someone buzzed a plastic chainsaw in her ear

She shrieked super loud

She hid her face in your side after that

That earned a few chuckles

Afterwards, she'd act like that definitely didn't happen

"S-See, that w-wasn't scary at all." Her voice shook while she said that.

You'd take her out somewhere nice after that, to get her mind off of it

The following year, you stuck with apple picking, costume shopping, and a nice normal hayride

OCHACO URARAKA

Ochaco agrees to go as soon as you bring it up

Little did you know, despite the brave face, she was terrified

She yelled at herself for agreeing until the day you went.

There was no way she was going to be able to do this, but she decided to stick it out for you

The screams you could hear in line scared her

The people in front of you assured her that the attraction actually isn't that scary

She doesn't believe them

But you guys are lucky enough to be going through with them

Sure enough, Ochaco finds she's braver than she thought

She still jumps when things pop out and characters come after her

But she doesn't faint, which she always considers to be a good thing

In fact, she starts looking forward to room after room

She holds your hand tightly as you go through

Her favorite part is the corn maze

Mostly because there isn't any people in the corn maze

But a bunch of dummies

She cheats and uses her quirk to lift herself up just long enough to find the exit

After the haunted house, she doesn't even find the hayride scary!

She still flinches into you every now and then

But she doesn't freak out!

In fact, Ochaco ends up wanting to go the following year too!

Which you do, and she's not freaked a lot then either

Afterwards, you guys go back to your place to watch scary movies and carve pumpkins.

[readyplayerhobi]

So You Wanna Be The Best

; Pokemon Trainer!Jungkook x Pokemon Trainer!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, crack

; Word Count: 8.1k

; Synopsis: Every Pokemon trainer has a rival, and it’s just your luck that you got stuck with your hometown nemesis Jeon Jungkook. As any good rival, he’s determined to beat you to the title of Pokemon Master and he might have a chance at both that and you...if he wasn’t so dang inept.

; A/N: So I finally hit 10k followers and I’ve had this floating around almost finished for months...so I finally finished it to say thanks! It’s nothing serious...and it’s probably not even good but...I hope you get some enjoyment out of it anyway! :) slight spoilers for Stranger Things season 2 and season 7 of Game of Thrones lol

-

Groaning quietly, you pull out the water bottle from your bag and take a deep pull. It’s a little warm from being stuck in your bag for so long and you’re beginning to run low, making you vow to drop by the PokéMart when you next get chance.

The next Mart isn’t for another half a day’s walk, though you could definitely shorten that distance if you used the fold away bicycle you’d finally invested in the other week. Blinking up at the blazing hot sun, you chew your lip lazily for a few minutes as you place your bottle firmly back onto the side of your bag.

It’s too hot to bicycle, you decide to yourself and begin to trek forward once more. Your shoes are getting a little worn out, the rubber thinning and you resolve to hit up Goldenrod City when you next get chance. The magnet train would take you there, but you’d have to reach Saffron City first.

And you’re nowhere near there.

It only takes another half an hour of walking before you’re tugging at your blue vest top, grimacing at the sight of it slowly turning transparent around your sweaty areas. Looking down at the ridiculous amount of boob sweat you’re generating under your bra, you decide to finally do something about it to try and cool down a little.

There’s no-one on the path, so you grasp the third Pokeball on your belt and press the button to expand it. “Come out Starmie!” You call and watch as a purple, multi-pointed star Pokémon appears. Letting out a little noise, it jumps around and leans backward to look up at you, red jewel glinting in the hot light.

“Hey girl, it’s really hot. Can you help me out and give me a little spray? Little! Not water gun please.” You warn, reaching a finger out to warn her. She had a mischievous temperament and was as likely to knock you flying with a water gun as she was to give you some spray.

Thankfully, she must be in a pretty happy mood as her second set of arms spins frantically while she makes a high pitched noise. Moving away from you, she leans forward slightly and a gentle spout of water erupts from her in an arc, tiny droplets falling and creating a rainbow curtain.

Grinning, you dash between the arc and giggle wildly, tugging your black and white cap off and letting your hair go damp with the cool water. Dancing around under the spray, you laugh and sigh happily as the water cools your hot skin to a pleasant temperature.

“You know, if this was Jurassic Park then you’d be the first one to get eaten by the T-Rex doing that.” A deep voice suddenly calls out, making you shriek in surprise and jump away from whoever it was. Almost immediately, Starmie reacts and shoots a high powered jet of water in the direction of whatever had made you scared.

A loud yelp sounds out around the quiet area as the young guy gets thrown backwards from the force, his white shirt immediately going see through and sticking to his defined abdomen while his navy jeans darken even further.

“Starmie, stop!” You call out, running over and running a soothing hand along her top arm. She lets out a frustrated sound before stopping, her second arms spinning to show her agitation. You pat her gently and give a smile. “Thank you girl, I really appreciated it. I’ll make sure to give you a Poke Candy when I get one, okay?”

She makes a happy sound at that and jumps, going back into the Pokeball without complaint as you turn to face your rude interloper. Striding over to where he lays on the ground, you stand next to him with hands resting on your hips while looking down at him with a brow raised.

He gasps on the floor, wiping at the water on his face before brushing the wet strands of his dark hair away from his forehead. “That Starmie is a menace.” Is all he says for a moment as he lays there, before groaning and sitting up on his hands.

Your eyes graze his figure, noting the defined abdominal muscles on show along with delightfully thick thighs in the tight jeans. He really must be a sucker for pain because those jeans must be chafing anyway in this heat, nevermind now that they’re wet.

“My Starmie just doesn’t like you because you’re always mean to her. And it was the Lost World, not Jurassic Park. Loser.” You mumble, rolling your eyes as he glares up at you with those pretty eyes that has everyone else thinking he’s sweeter than sweet. And okay, maybe he is sometimes,

Since you were little, Jeon Jungkook has always been the boy that has needled you in the worst way. When you’d gone to Professor Oak’s lab to choose your starter Pokémon, he’d proudly stood to the side and waited until you’d picked yours. Your Chikorita had seen him pick Cyndaquil, cackling at how fire beats grass. Probably the only time he’d ever got a type right.

Ever since, he’d been your official Pokémon rival trainer. You might respect him more as a trainer if he wasn’t a giant buffoon who was about as good at training Pokémon as you were at ballet dancing. And consider you fall over if you turn too fast, you’re really not good at dancing. But he wasn’t a terrible friend in fairness, just overly competitive.

“You’re a loser.” Is his quick witted reply and you sigh deeply, rolling your eyes. How did you get stuck with him again?

“Why are you here anyway? I thought you were supposed to be heading over to Kanto?” As much as you make a lot of noise about him, you actually kinda miss Jungkook when he’s gone for long periods. He may say some of the dumbest stuff you’ve ever heard, but he wasn’t the worst travel companion you’d ever had.

And travelling across the world could get a little lonely sometimes.

He sits and stares at you for a moment before standing, grimacing and sticking his tongue out in an ‘ick’ face as he peels his wet shirt off his chest. “This is gross. Actually disgusting. You need to train your Starmie better.”

Spluttering at his outrageous words, you viciously rub what hair of his you can reach until it’s going in a million directions while he whines at you and tries to dodge. “You take that back you little shit! Do you even have a water Pokémon? I know that when it comes to types, you become as useful as a chocolate fucking tea kettle.”

He slides out of reach and raises his hands in a karate gesture, causing you to fling your head to the side. Honestly, for a 21 year old man he’s incredibly immature. And he turns you just as immature.

“Anyway, I was gonna go to Kanto but then I found this sick Pokémon and I just had to show it off to you. He looks freaking awesome, I bet you have nothing like it.” He goads childishly, crossing his arms over his chest, almost transparent under the wet fabric, and smirking. You’ll admit, you’re distracted by the way the muscles in his arms bulge at the movement and you curse the fact that Pokémon gyms aren’t the only kind of gyms he goes to.

“You’re such a fucking kid. You’re like that kid in Stranger Things that finds that baby demogorgon and thinks it’s cool when everyone else is screaming that it’s dumb. I swear, you’d destroy the world if it involved something you thought looked cool.” You scoff and he glares at you.

“SPOILERS. Oh my fucking god, you know I haven’t seen season 2 you bitch! Keep it up, and I’ll fucking spoil that Viserion dies in Game of Thrones.” He hisses, pointing at you in anger and you scream while running at him, hands clawed to his throat.

“YOU JUST DID YOU ASSHOLE!” For a moment you’re both fighting with each other, neither of you realising how ridiculously dumb you look. It’s only when you hear a soft cough that you both freeze, glancing over at a youngster stood there with wide eyes. Jungkook is bent in half, his head firmly underneath your arm as you push at his head.

Immediately, you’re both jumping away from each other and looking away innocently. Coughing yourself, you tap at the ground awkwardly before grinning at the young girl. “Hey, don’t do drugs. You’ll end up like this guy.” You point at Jungkook.

The words have him jumping at you, teeth bared before they turned into a clenched smile at the girl. “Ignore her, she’s just angry that I got a cool Pokémon and she didn’t.” You stare at him in disbelief, ignorant of the way the girl nods slowly before quickly skating away.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” You curse, hands flailing in the air. He stands by and rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out immaturely.

“Whatever. Wanna fight? I wanna show you my Murkrow.” Jungkook grins, his face practically radiating excitement at his new Pokémon. Sighing, you shrug before dropping your bag to the floor.

“Sure...why not. It’s not like it’s a boiling hot day or anything. Of course, let’s fight with our Pokémon, because that makes sense.” You grumble to yourself, grabbing the Pokeball that you want to use as you watch him send his new acquisition out.

Immediately, a Murkrow appears out of the ball. You watch as the dark Pokémon flies around for a few moments before landing on the ground, giving you an evil glare from underneath his hat shaped feathers.

He does look pretty cool, but Jungkook has more knowledge about video games than he does Pokémon. So you send out your Pokémon with a tiny smirk, knowing he’ll immediately ridicule it. Which he does.

A tiny pink flower floats in the air while a white Pokémon with a green lower half clutches tightly onto the flower. It gives a little chirp at the sight of you before zooming to face the rumbling Pokémon in front of it.

At the sight, Jungkook cracks up and his cackling laugh is probably all that can be heard for a mile around. He laughs for about a minute, arms wrapped around the still damp top of his middle half as he bends over before wiping away the tears.

“A fucking flower? You sent out a flower? What even is that? Murkrow is dark and flying Y/N, oh my god. And you tell me I’m useless with types.” He snorts, rolling his eyes. Smirking at him, you watch as he orders his Murkrow to use pursuit, the dark type move causing it to fly with purpose towards your Pokémon.

“Flabébe, avoid it!” You call out and immediately she darts out of the way, floating gently away from the Murkrow which squawks with outrage. Grinning, it’s with a glance to your Pokémon that you call out. “Okay Flabébe, use moonblast!”

Flabébe squeaks cutely and spins in a circle, looking up into the sky. Today, the moon is just barely visible in the sky as the sun outshines everything else, but it seems to glow a little as your tiny Pokémon draws on its power. As she gets brighter, she suddenly spins in a circle before a glowing, pure white light erupts from her in a direct beam.

It hits Jungkook’s Murkrow head on and you both have to cover your eyes at the blinding light. Once it finishes, Flabébe is left floating happily while Murkrow is collapsed on the floor, having fainted from the instant KO. Smirking, you watch as Jungkook’s jaw drops.

“What the fuck!” He curses, running over to his Murkrow and drawing him back into the Pokeball while he looks up at your Pokémon with wide eyes. “It’s a fucking flower, what the fuck was that?!” Jungkook sounds outraged and you giggle, walking over and letting Flabébe rest on your hand gently.

“You’re still useless with types. Murkrow is dark, Flabébe is fairy. Fairy has a type advantage.” You grin brightly as his disgruntled look, the gentle pout on his lips as he scowls at losing adorable.

“I’ll beat you one day.” He grumbles to himself, cheeks tinging pink with embarrassment at losing. You laugh and pat at his chest lightly as you give Flabébe a tiny stroke of thanks, sending her back into her ball and picking up your bag.

“Sure thing Jungkook, and I look forward to it. I also look forward to the day Michael Bay makes a film without one of those stupid slow mo scenes with an explosion in the background but I doubt that’ll happen soon so...keep hoping! Everyone has to have a dream right!” You call out, waving to him as you begin to make your way down the path.

“Michael Bay’s movies are great! Transformers is fantastic!” He shouts out and you smile despite yourself, shaking your head.

“That right there, is why I never take you seriously. That and you consider Batman & Robin to be the best Batman film!” He curses you out as you walk away from him, causing you to chuckle to yourself. Jungkook might annoy the hell out of you, but you sure do enjoy beating him time after time. Everyone needs some experience right? And he makes it so easy for you.

Especially when he looks that good.

-

You reach Violet City by the end of the day, just as the sun begins to creep past the horizon and the sky erupts in swashes of pinks, purples and oranges. It’s with more than a little happiness that you situate yourself on a grass verge outside of your hostel and munch down on a kimbap and some lemonade that you’d bought from the local store.

You’d swung by the PokeMart as well to buy some potions to heal your wounded while also stocking up on rare candies to treat them all. For half an hour, you simply enjoy the time to yourself. No other trainers are staying at the hostel apparently, so the street is quiet and peaceful with the scent of the nearby flower garden dancing through the air lazily.

Swallowing the last of the kimbap, you dust off your hands before pulling out the packaway bowls and pouring a small amount of Pokémon kibble inside each one. There’s six bowls to go with your six Pokémon, and each one is well aware of which is their bowl. It makes feeding them easy as they all require different amounts as well.

Pouring out water for them as well, you take out your Pokeballs and call them all out, balls popping open as each one of your beloved team emerges. Starmie lets out an excited scream and begins to eat eagerly, which makes you feel bad as you’d asked her to help you so much earlier.

Flabébe chirps softly before floating down to rest at the edge of her bowl, tiny hands grasping a piece of kibble and little mouth taking the softest bites. You have to stop yourself from cooing at the sight before turning your attention to your others.

An annoyed snort lets you know that your Rapidash is irritated and his diamond hard hooves cause sparks to erupt every time he paws at the ground. Walking over to him, you pat the soft, white fur on his neck before running your hand through the blazing hot flames. His trust in you means that it just feels a little warmer than normal and you grin as he noses your pockets, nostrils flaring.

“Okay big guy, okay. Let me heal you first okay?” You murmur, tugging the potion bottle off your belt and heading to his back hooves. A cut from the fight you’d used him in today is prominent and you sigh, running fingers over the top as you crouch down to get a better look. “I’m sorry Rapi, you did good though!”

He’d won the battle for you though, charging forward in a blur of speed to become what looked like a flaming meteor. But he’d suffered before, the Pidgeotto hurting him before it eventually fainted. Spraying the potion on the cut, you watch as it bubbles slightly before healing right up, causing you to smile.

“Good boy, anywhere else hurting?” You ask, running your hand along his back before coming back to his head. Big, bright and kind eyes stare back at you, filled with love and affection. For a moment, you’re left breathless as they remind you of a certain rival trainer. Rapidash shakes his head and you smile, rubbing his silky soft nose before pointing at his bowl.

“Okay, good. Go eat.” Soft clomping is heard as he heads over to his bowl and you cross your arms, watching them all eat. Your Meganium, the final evolved form of the Chikorita that had started your whole journey years ago, has finished eating and is happily playing with your Raichu.

Sitting down next to them all, you sigh deep and let your head fall, the content noises of your Pokémon all you can hear. A soft nose bumping your hand causes you to look down, spying the black body with yellow rings of your Umbreon. Grinning at him, you cross your legs and watch as he purrs happily before jumping into your lap, his big body taking up way too much space.

Running your fingers through his soft fur, you simply watch as his breathing begins to deepen and he slips into a quick nap already. Sometimes, you remember back to when he was a tiny, fluffy Eevee and nostalgia grips your heart. But you love your little dark Pokémon so much, so you know it was the best decision to evolve him.

“Hey butthead, thanks for just leaving me.” Your peaceful moment is interrupted by the voice of your rival, causing you to groan out loud as your head rolls back. There’s silence, before your looking at the upside down figure of Jungkook’s face only inches away from your own.

Letting out a cry, you shift forward and mumble an apology to Umbreon as he grumbles at being jostled around. “Christ Jungkook, what do you think this is? The Spiderman movies?” You grunt at him, fingers getting a little tighter on Umbreon’s fur until he growls at you softly.

The guy sits down with a flop, letting out a deep and long groan as he extends out his long legs and relaxes. Starmie begins to make irritated noises and you make a negative gesture to her, shaking your head. You really don’t want to hear Jungkook’s whines if he ends up wet again. Especially as he’s obviously staying the night at the hostel too.

He surprisingly stays quiet for a moment before he interrupts it as usual. You swear the boy has never spent more than five minutes being quiet or not moving except when he’s sleeping. Even now, his feet are slowly rocking from side to side in a rather childlike movement.

“Your Pokémon are such girly Pokémon, you know that?” He says before getting into a crouch. His own bag, army camouflage and ridiculously big, opens up and he begins to pull out his own Pokémon bowls and food. You sometimes forget that he is actually a trainer too, despite how bad he is at it.

Raising an eyebrow at his words, you watch as he releases his own Pokémon and instructs them to eat. Your own watch warily before you smile at them and gesture. “It’s okay, you can play.” Almost immediately, his Pikachu runs over to your Raichu and they both begin conversing intently.

“Since when did Pokémon have gender norms you butthead? Besides, you’re one to talk. Overcompensating much?” You state wryly, pointing to his ominously large Gyarados that has taken over the fountain in front of the hostel before gesturing to his Arbok that is coiled up.

Jungkook gives you a droll stare. “Yeah, your shitty attitude.” He’s obviously visited the Pokémon Centre as his Murkrow is back, squawking happily as it chows down on kibble. His Typhlosion, the evolved form of Cyndaquil, is sunning himself lazily on a flat rock nearby.

The Scyther he’d caught in the Safari Park in Kanto is currently glaring at everyone from afar. You don’t know why he keeps it around, as it has to have the grumpiest disposition you’ve ever seen in a Pokémon.

“Weird, didn’t know I meant that much to your life to make you revolve your whole team around me. Besides, if you didn’t like this shitty attitude, why do you keep following me around?” Taking a sip of the now warm lemonade from your side, he simply watches for a moment.

His clothes have dried again but there’s still something rather appealing about the way he sits next to you, one arm resting on a knee while his other leg rests on the floor. Scoffing at you, he tugs out a granola bar and chews down on it, making soft noises of annoyance at the bland flavour.

Rolling your eyes at his behaviour, you reach into your bag and throw him the remaining kimbap, trying to ignore the way his face lights up in an adorable bunny-esque smile. “Because of that. You’re too kind-hearted to turn me away yeah?”

Watching him through narrowed eyes, you scoff lightly and push at his broad shoulder. “More like your mom would ream my ass out worse than Mrs Weasley if I let you die.” He glares at you at that, giving you the finger before taking a huge bite of the kimbap.

“Fuck you too.” He gets out, voice muffled as his cheeks are stuffed full of seaweed, rice and spicy tuna. “Anyway, you’d be so lucky to see my dick and see if it stacks up.” At that, he nods to his Gyarados that is now napping in the water, giant body breathing softly despite the permanently angry look on its face.

“Are you...are you seriously comparing your dick size to your Pokémon? Wow Jungkook, I don’t know about being a Pokémon master but if you’re being serious then maybe you should consider a role in PokePorn. They’re always looking for...well endowed folk.” You glance meaningfully down at his crotch then and miss the slight flushing of his cheeks.

“You are the worst person. How do you even know that exists? It’s...it’s a bad place okay? The internet is a wonderful place but that...that is a dark place. You must never go there young Padawan.” His face is blank as he stares out, raises his hand as if he’s showing you some grand painting or something.

It’s with a heavy sigh that you simply roll your eyes at him. “You mixed up two films dumbass. It’s from the Lion King, not Star Wars.” You finish your lemonade and simply go back to stroking Umbreon’s long ears, smiling softly as his back leg begins to shake as you itch at a troublesome spot for him.

You don’t see the fond way that Jungkook watches you quietly, nor the way he jerks his head away when you bring your eyes back up to the human sized pain in your butt. “I didn’t mix two films up. Mufasa is voiced by the same guy who does Darth Vadar...ergo Star Wars!” He exclaims, raising his hands wide while his eyes go big endearingly.

Laughing softly, you shake your head and point at him. “That’s like saying that because Liam Neeson plays both Qui-Gon Jinn and Aslan the lion, then Aslan is a Jedi master badass.” A smile plays on your lips as you watch Jungkook nod enthusiastically, shuffling around to face you as he sits cross legged with a childlike look of happiness.

“Exactly! Have you ever listened to Aslan? He could easily be a Jedi. Everything is connected, I tell you.” He nods sagely at that, pretty pink lips pouting adorably and you get the bizarre urge to reach out and poke that soft, rounded cheek of his.

Humming lightly, you tap your lips to your fingers. “So by your logic, then Xenomorphs are real in this world right?” He pales slightly at that and you giggle, remembering how freaked out he got when you both watched the Alien films at the hostel in Celadon City when it had been raining too hard for either of you to leave. Jungkook had whined at you for weeks after that, too afraid to sleep.

“Well...no.” He mumbles, fingers playing with the grass.

“Yes! Natalie Portman was in Star Wars and also in Thor: The Dark World. Chris Hemsworth was in Thor: The Dark World and also The Cabin In The Woods….and Sigourney Weaver was in that. Which leads me to...Alien.” Sitting back on your hands, you smirk at him with a raised brow as his mouth simply opens and closes a few times.

“You ruin the fun sometimes.” Is all Jungkook mutters, carding his fingers through his hair and leaving it styled rather attractively. It’s hard not to focus on just how attractive Jungkook is sometimes, especially when he unleashes his forehead like now. It makes you want to reach other and ruffle his hair back.

Stupid Jeon Jungkook and his stupid good looks. Who did he think he was?

Silence falls between the both of you and it kind of surprises you. Umbreon shifts in your lap and lets out a little content sigh, causing you to look down and give a tiny smile as you run your fingers through his soft black and yellow fur.

Looking back up, you note the sun is even lower to the ground now and it’s almost blinding at eye level. The sky is now a stunning painting of stark colours, as if the sky Pokémon have decided to become artists in their free time and smear an abundance of colours together in a work of art that could grace any museum.

Turning your eyes over to Jungkook, your breath stutters as you capture the sheer beauty of him. He’s turned his head to watch the sunset as well, pouting lips parted ever so slightly. The softly dying rays cause his golden skin to almost glow while the gentle breeze blows soft strands of dark hair across his forehead.

The bridge of his nose extends out before rounding off softly while the sculpted line of his jaw is even more prominent than before, making you swallow quietly as it really, completely strikes you that Jungkook really is no longer that obnoxious young boy you knew who dreamt of being a Pokémon Master. He’s still obnoxious of course, but he’s grown into himself so much.

Strong biceps peek out from under his shirt while broad shoulders fill it out in a way they hadn’t only 3 years ago. The tightness of the shirt simply magnifies his tiny waist, a waist you already knew was hiding a spectacular pair of abs from the many times he liked to waltz into your hostel room shirtless.

The blue jeans are currently clinging for dear life to his spectacular thighs, truly they’re a work of art that would look wonderful next to the sky painting, and you can almost imagine the seams of his jeans screaming from the strain. Where he gets the time to end up buffer than a Machamp is beyond you. It hits you square in the face then though - the realisation that Jeon Jungkook is quite possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

When he turns his attention back to you, your eyes track over his stunning face. Buck teeth that are endearing peek through his open mouth while his eyes, so achingly wide with innocence right now, watch you in turn.

“Don’t you think the sun looks like the yolk of an egg from the side?” He muses to himself, brow creasing in concentration while his lips pucker out. Almost immediately, the moment is lost and you internally sigh. Right there is why you can never take him seriously, no matter how beautiful he is.

Groaning, you let yourself fall backwards onto the soft grass and ignore the protest from Umbreon as you do so. “I swear, you’re like...the biggest moron ever.” You whine, pushing his hand away as he moves to poke your side.

“What? It does! A big ball of yummy yolk. Mmm, I want ramyeon now. Do you wanna go get ramyeon?” He asks idly, humming to himself as he taps his chin lightly. Your face creases in a combination of awe, disgust and confusion - impressive the emotions he can pull from you at once.

“You literally just ate a roll of kimbap...and you want to eat a whole bowl of ramyeon? God...do you have a bottomless pit there or something? If I stare into it, will it stare back at me?” He ignores your sarcastic remarks as he begins to call his Pokémon back, securing them safely away in their Pokeball homes.

“Come on! I walked so far today! And you beat me so like...you owe me.” At that, you stand up abruptly and press his chest your finger to his chest firmly, causing him to whine as he moves back.

“Are you fucking kidding? Since when does the winner buy the loser the meal?” You swear, it’s like he lives to annoy you. But then, you remember when he got asked if you were his girlfriend when you were 13 and he’s staunchly answered that you weren’t his girlfriend, you were his opponent.

Both of your parents were forever convinced that you were going to get married one day. You know, the usual ‘childhood-friends-to-lovers’ thing and honestly? You agreed. There was only two routes for Jungkook and you realistically. You either killed each other after an epic Battle Royale, which you would win because he’d be the one stuck with a frying pan from his backpack, or you fuck and eventually get married.

And given that you really enjoyed being alive and weren’t particularly interested in seeing him dead, you knew it would be the second option. Plus, the idea of someone else getting to fall in love with Jungkook annoyed you. He may be as annoying as Ashley in Resident Evil 4, and lord was she annoying, but he was your annoying.

No one could accuse you of not being a realist. Besides, you occasionally acknowledged that he was attractive and there had been more than one occasion where you had dreamt about doing something other than pushing at his abs casually.

“You’re bitching at me...but I’ve noticed you haven’t said no.” Jungkook sings sweetly, his voice pure as he spins in a circle slowly. You glare at him before pushing at his back, the solid muscles giving in easily as he lets you push him forward.

If you didn’t buy him a meal, he’d just whine at you until you eventually did. So you may as well just get this over with.

“Fine...let’s go. Everyone,” You call out, voice slightly louder as you look over your team with fondness. They all stop what they’re doing and turn to look at you in varying stages of alertness and you feel a twinge of sadness that they have to go back into their Pokéball’s. Your Pokémon are tired and haven’t had a lot of time to have fun lately so you sigh and point at them. “Stay here okay? Don’t run away, we’ll be back soon.”

They’d be fine within the area of the hostel, a common sight for trainers who were making their way through the world and they were all well behaved. All of them make an affirmative noise to you as you walk over to your Rapidash, smiling and patting his soft, milk coloured fur with affection. “Hey boy, will you take us into town please? I’ll make sure to get you the spiciest treat!”

His large eyes narrow slightly as he takes in Jungkook, who stands behind you paling slightly at the sight of the fiery mane and tail that dance lazily in the cooling breeze. A slight dip of his head lets you know he’s willing and you smile brightly, petting him harder before kissing his solid cheek and turning back to the young guy behind you.

“Come on, he’ll let us ride him there.” Jungkook looks over Rapidash warily and you laugh lightly, moving over to him before smirking. “What? Are you scared of him?”

“Errr...yeah. He’s got fire for a mane, he could give me fire crotch. Like...real life fire crotch. And he’s huge! And really fast!” The excuses fall from his lips easily but you can also see the curiosity in his eyes, causing you to smirk and poke his chest lightly.

“Yes, he does have fire for a mane and tail. Very hot fire. But he’s said he won’t hurt us, so he won’t. He loves me, so he’s definitely not hurting me.” At that, Rapidash slams a diamond hard hoof down onto the floor, the flames on his fetlocks flaring slightly. “Come on, you’ll enjoy it. He won’t go too fast, right boy?”

Rubbing at the base of his horn, Rapidash nickers quietly as he shakes his head before nodding exaggeratedly and you chuckle in amusement. You do love the personality your Pokémon have sometimes and you’re beyond thankful that they’re just like you.

Jungkook moves up quietly, for once no longer cracking any wise jokes and you smirk as you lift a leg to him. He looks confused until you gesture towards your Pokémon and his mouths opens in a small ‘o’. Rapidash is almost as tall as Jungkook, and there’s no way you’re getting on top of him without leading him over to something.

He gives you a lift up and you sit on Rapidash’s slim back with happiness, letting your fingers run through the odd sensation of his flame mane. It just felt slightly warm, which really did feel strange at your crotch.

Hopping up behind you, Jungkook lets out a small noise of fear as Rapidash begins to move towards the town centre and his arms wrap tightly around your waist. Your recent realisation that you might actually genuinely like the guy behind you makes his pseudo-hug feel like he’s lighting you up from the inside and you wonder if maybe you should have just walked instead.

But he feels nice pressed against you, so you don’t say anything. In fact, you just enjoy it.

How you’ve managed to end up falling over the years for the dumbass who thought he’d picked up a bottle of ketchup once only to discover it was actually chili sauce was beyond you. But opposites attract and all that you guessed.

“So err...why don’t you ride him more often? I mean...he’s fast right? You could’ve gone everywhere by now...left me behind.” Jungkook’s voice is so close to your ear that you jump, looking back at him with wide eyes before your cheeks heat slightly at how his plush lips are so close to your own.

“He’s my Pokémon, not my ride. You gotta treat them like friends, they’re your partner not your workhorse. Like the girlfriend or boyfriend who’ll never let you down.” You give him a raised brow at that and he whines quietly.

“Hey...it’s not my fault that everyone I’ve dated has been about as solid as half the MCU at the end of Infinity War.” Snorting, you shake your head and look back towards the slowly approaching town centre.

“Wow, too soon man. And you ever notice there’s something that links all these particularly flaky people together? Namely...you know...you?” He doesn’t respond to that for a moment before sighing, his hands almost subconsciously stroking your stomach and your abdominal muscles tense at the sensation.

“I know I act an idiot...and that I failed most classes, I’m aware you don’t need to point that out, but I’m not actually one. I just...don’t like educational environments. I like being out here, in the real world. Learning out here with people and Pokémon. And maybe I just didn’t want proper relationships with any of them. I’m only 21, there was no need to go full on Notebook with someone yet.” He sounds serious for once and you give him the respect of taking him seriously too, humming lightly.

“I know you’re not stupid Jungkook, even if you act very odd sometimes. You’re...not a terrible Trainer. Definitely need to actually do some studying on your types, which I’ve been telling you for years but whatever. And no, you don’t need to be in a proper relationship yet. There’s a lot of life out there.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to hum this time, only he sounds slightly reluctant. Reaching the centre, you both dismount from Rapidash and pet him while he goes to graze on the public grassland in the centre, underneath the overhanging branches of the blossoming tree while the pond ripples when a Goldeen swims to the surface.

You sit on a bench facing the pretty scene, smiling at two Pichu as they chase each other around in the longer grass surrounding the pond while a Girafarig bends awkwardly to drink.

The sudden tapping of your shoulder brings you back and you turn to see Jungkook offering you a cup of ramyeon, steam rising off the spicy noodles and you smile a thanks as you take it and dig in with the chopsticks he gives you too. How he’d managed to bring them over you have no idea as he’s got two cups for himself, his lips already swelling and going red from the spice of them.

“How do you eat that much? Seriously, don’t you like...want to vomit?” You query, watching him with wide eyes before scooping a helping of noodles into your own mouth. The spice makes your nose run already a little and you scowl at him, wondering why the hell he got the extra spicy version.

Jungkook just gives you a gross smile, noodles dangling from those spice-inflamed lips before he slurps it down happily. “I get the shits, what do you expect? And I get a bit bloated too but...it’s filling and I like the taste.”

Coughing slightly, you wave your chopsticks at him and note the red tint of the ends of them with amusement. “You like your ass feeling like Mordor and your tongue disintegrating?”

Snorting, he shakes his head and stuffs another mouthful in before letting out a content noise that’s borderline disgusting. “Mount Doom you mean. Mordor’s just the place, Mount Doom is the volcano. And no, I don’t like my ass feeling like that but here we go. Did you know that your ass feels like that when you’ve eaten spice because it has the same nerve endings as your mouth?”

Pausing with your noodles halfway to your mouth, your brow turns in before you shake your head. “You’re impossible you know that. How do your Pokémon stay with you?”

“Because I may not be the best Trainer, and I may never be the best when you’re around, but I love them. Even if they’re not the Pokémon everyone thinks is cute.” God dammit, why did he have to go and say something adorably sweet like that? You’d almost got over that weird little crush you’d realised earlier only for it to come flooding back at his words.

You should’ve realised long ago that it was all futile...that you’d long been fighting a losing battle and that your parents were right. It was a good measure of a person with how they treated their mom and how they treated their Pokémon.

Jungkook adored his mom, he called her every night for at least half an hour to update her on all the cool things he’d done that day, and despite his lack of common sense when it came to battles, he really did love his Pokémon. He’d even adopted some who’d been abandoned because they were considered ugly or scary, like the Houndoom he’d sent to go live with his parents when no one wanted it because it scared people.

You’re not entirely sure what takes over you, but you place your cup of ramyeon to the side and shuffle up to him. He’s so unused to you being this nice to him that he gives you the side eye before looking you over suspiciously.

It’s almost hilarious how he almost hugs his last cup of ramyeon to him closer, as if you want that.

“Hey...Jungkook. Has there ever been like...a reason why you never take dating seriously?” You want to laugh at how he tenses up so suddenly, his shoulders almost to his ears as he instead focuses determinedly on the Totodile that waddles up to him. Giving it a sweet smile, he reaches down and strokes the Pokémon’s head before it walks off with happy eyes.

“No...no reason.” His Pikachu suddenly arrives out of nowhere, slightly out of breath before jumping up into arms with a sweet ‘Pika’ before he begins berating Jungkook with quick sounds that have you laughing. Jungkook seems to be happy that he’s got a distraction and he makes soft soothing noises before his Pokémon lets out a sleepy yawn, blinking at you blearily before crawling out of his arms and into yours.

Watching as the yellow and black electric mouse Pokémon falls asleep, Jungkook’s lip kicks up in a smile before he’s shaking his head. “Even my own Pokémon like you more than me.”

You cringe slightly and shrug as best you can, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

He lifts a hand up to stop you before giving a soft smile, looking way too sappy at you as his eyes practically shine while he watches you with his favourite Pokémon. In fact, he’s rather watching you in the same way that he watches his favourite Star Wars movie and your stomach twists slightly, your hand stroking Pikachu’s head before you finally ask.

“Do you like me? Is that why you never dated properly?” You’re pretty Jungkook wishes that he could burrow into the ground like a Ditto and just...never emerge or something. Become a legendary Pokémon that’s only spoken of in hushed whispers.

“So you’re just gonna ask it like that, huh? Really confident of yourself there?” He says, eyes wide and you just smile at him so softly that he practically deflates.

“On a scale of one to the ending of Red Dead Redemption 2, how obvious was it?” Biting your lip, you try hard to stop your smile but fail as you watch him squirm about awkwardly with what is possibly the sappiest look you’ve ever seen him give you. Honestly, how he ever thought he was subtle was beyond you.

“Jungkook...you’re a terrible liar. I’m pretty sure anyone with eyes has probably noticed.” His cheeks are bright red now before he covers them with his hands, his normally confident self collapsing in embarrassment and you place a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

“You can let me down easy, I mean...please. Don’t be mean, not now.” Jungkook mumbles into his hands, refusing to look at you and you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

“Why do you think I’m going to turn you down?” The question is legitimate, and you watch as he rolls his eyes in turn at you before holding out a hand and counting down the reasons.

“You think I’m an idiot, you always bitch at my types because I never remember, you always beat me so I’m weak and I don’t think I have any redeeming qualities for you. You’re gonna be a Pokémon Master one day and I’ll...I dunno...be working in a PokéMart or something.” His words are practically silent by the end but you let out a soft tut before pushing at his shoulder, wiggling your body across the bench to keep Pikachu asleep until you can comfortably rest your head on him.

You’ve done this before, and it always felt nice. It feels nice now, but slipping your hand into his feels even nicer.

“You’re smart where it counts and you’ve stopped me making stupid decisions out here, like that time when I was going to buy a Love Ball until you pointed out how dumb it is and that it’s just a waste of money. And you’re totally right on that. You don’t care about types and it’s stupid for fights...but it’s because you just pick Pokémon that you like and stick with them, even if they’re not the best. You’re loyal, because you’ve stayed with me all these years. And PokéMart’s are important to the economy so don’t knock them or the people that work there. They’d be privileged to have you.” Jungkook is suspiciously quiet and you try to get a glimpse of his face, curious to see if he’s crying.

“Are you crying?” He’s shaking his head furiously and you chuckle, pushing your face into his arm. “Is this like that time you totally weren’t crying at Endgame and it was just popcorn dust in your eye?”

“This is exactly like that. I’ve just got...ramyeon dust in my eye.” He mutters, using his free hand to wipe at said ‘not-crying’ eyes.

“I don’t think it works like that, but okay.” You shrug and quieten down, focusing on the little tuft of hair his Pikachu has on top of its head, almost like a super tiny mohawk.

“Do you mean that?” A nod is his silent response. “Would you...consider it a privilege to have me?”

Your heart practically clenches at his soft words and you grin, shifting until you’re both looking at each other. He’s nervous, his eyes glancing everywhere until you finally pull his attention back to you. It’s weird to see him like this, but you find it endearing either way. For once, he’s being serious about something, and it’s you of all things.

“I would. And I do, hence why I’ve never quite properly gotten rid of you.”

Before you can do anything else, your face is suddenly smashed against his awkwardly and you both let out a surprised noise, your mouth against his cheek and nose against his eye. It’s not even slightly comfortable, or romantic, and you both push away to spy your Rapidash standing behind the bench, an almost mischievous look in his eye.

“Did your...Rapidash just smash your face against mine?!” Jungkook asks, eyes wide as he watches the Pokémon in suspicion. Smirking, you turn back around to look at him with a raised brow and shrug.

“Well...I do pick smart Pokémon right? He’s just trying to tell us to get a move on already.” He goes to ask with what, you know him that well, but instead you take both hands and cup his cheeks gently.

Almost immediately he shuts up, eyes going wide as you slowly lean into him. You give him plenty of time to back away, but he just lets his eyelids flutter shut before his lips purse into a sweet pout, waiting for the kiss you’re about to give him.

And you really are, until a sudden blast of icy cold water causes you both to go flying off the bench with a loud shriek. Sitting on the floor, your shirt soaked to your skin, you spot the culprit and let out a groan of frustration.

“Starmie! He wasn’t hurting me! Why are you even here?!”

“I told you! That Starmie is a menace! I can’t believe she just...ruined the best moment of my life!”

“She isn’t a menace, she’s just protective! You just don’t lik-”

“Can you just shut up and kiss me please? I’ve waited years for this.”

“Oh...okay. Yeah...Starmie, don’t you dare!”

[artificialqueens]

just let me adore you (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 4136

AN: Haven’t written a boy fic like this one in a while, too caught up in all the lesbian aus. Thank you writ and barbie for helping me with this and making me laugh my head off while writing it. Hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think if you want to! Title from ‘Adore You’ by Harry Styles. Thank you writ for betaing <3

Brock’s new LA apartment, despite being half the size of his Nashville place, feels bigger. Emptier.

Maybe it’s all the boxes he hasn’t gotten around to unpacking. Maybe it’s the way his cats are still nestled in their kennels despite the opened doors, too afraid to leave the fleece blankets and explore their new home. Or maybe it’s the fact that even though he’s spent a lot of time in LA, he’s always had somewhere else to go back to. Somewhere else that’s considered ‘home’.

Except now, LA is his home. Or it will be, eventually, once he gets used to it.

The move makes sense, career wise, because being anchored to Nashville when he’s outgrown it isn’t logical anymore. It’s a city of too many bachelorette parties at his home bar and way too much country songs playing on the radio, and the subtle southern twang in everyone’s voice that he’s been afraid of accidentally adopting himself, these last few years.

LA is where his booking manager is based out of. LA is where he can make stronger connections that’ll help catapult his career in the direction that it deserves to be in. LA is warm - as warm as Nashville, yes, but now he’ll have regular access to the beach, a chance to let his curls get wilder than usual in the ocean air, and to let his skin get a sunkissed glow, provided that he won’t burn to a crisp first.

Brock doesn’t have any connections left in Nashville anymore, either. Most of his friends have moved on to bigger things, left the city that had kept them in touch in the past. His family isn’t in Nashville, and neither is his work. But LA has many fellow queens and some friends, too, and even some distant cousins and-

Jose.

Brock hasn’t told Jose about the move. They haven’t really been talking much, and it makes sense that they’re growing apart, no longer tied down by NDAs and keeping up a storyline or by having to share a tour bus. It’s given them space to breathe, yes, but it also feels strange, no matter how freeing it is.

Brock doesn’t get a morning text when he wakes up anymore, texts that used to be filled with so many nonsensical emojis that he would have no idea where Jose even found them. But then again, Brock doesn’t send any himself, either. He and Jose don’t have their late night phone calls or facetimes that they used to when they’d miss each other just a little bit too much, and it’s not out of the ordinary, the fact that they’ve drifted. Because it’s been awhile, and the rubber band that had tied them together has snapped. They’re free floating, and apparently the paths drawn by their newfound ability to move aren’t meant to cross with one another.

Why would they? When they both travel, they both are free to involve themselves with other people, and they used to be based in different cities. Except that they’re not anymore.

They have the same home base now, because Jose lives in LA too.

Brock thinks back to a year and a half ago, when they were sprawled on Jose’s couch in his apartment and Jose had been poking his shoulder, trying to convince him to move to LA. Saying that it would be a good career move, and why was he still in Nashville, anyway?

Back then, things had been so fresh and new. They’d finished filming Drag Race, and their season wouldn’t air until the next year. Being able to wrap his arms around Jose, hold him close without any cameramen trying to capture the moment had been thrilling, almost freeing, even. But it had felt too soon. Too soon to leave Nashville because it still had been his home.

But now? It’s not Brock’s home anymore. Not when being able to perform, to do what he loves to do and dance every night gives him that same feeling of comfort, of security, that his bed in Nashville used to provide. The fact that he’s in control, the fact that he doesn’t have to be tied down to a certain place, but rather just needs that feeling of satisfaction in his heart to feel like he’s complete.

Brock wonders what the Jose from a year and a half ago would think. He wonders what Jose will think now.

He debates on whether he should tell Jose. Let him know. Do exes do that? Let each other know that they’ll be in the neighbourhood for the foreseeable future? A warning of sorts, or maybe a homecoming?

Brock’s not sure which one it’ll be, which one he even wants it to be.

The clock on his oven is reading 11:00 pm and he’s tired, way too tired to unpack much more than some of the clothes and toiletries and silverware and plates he’d gotten to taking out earlier, stuff he’ll need sooner than later. Everything else can wait for the morning daybreak, when the flashing lights of the cars outside are replaced with the LA sun that burns just a little too bright for his night loving eyes.

It would be too late to bother Jose, anyway, if they were in any other profession. Except all of their work is done in the evenings and nights, when the lighting is just a little bit more forgiving on their harsh makeup and the loud beats of the music are socially acceptable. Still, texting Jose to say that he’s in town feels a little bit strange, a little bit presumptuous.

He’s going to pull a Gatsby instead. Hope that Jose gets the message.

Instagram story posted by @bhytes. A panning shot of an empty apartment, stacked high with boxes against the walls and two kennels with open doors, one which has a grey tail sticking out of it. Location: Los Angeles.

It doesn’t take long until Brock’s phone lights up with an Instagram direct message notification. He’d fiddled with his settings to have most notifications turned off, his account too bustling to handle the onslaught of fan comments and messages and likes. Most of them, that is, except for his close friends, his family members, and Jose.

He’d never gotten around to turning Jose’s notifications off after they’d broken up, not when he dives for his phone the same way that he used to, back then.

vanessavanjie: LA huh

vanessavanjie: ur ass finally listened to me

vanessavanjie: all those boxes, ur ass just get here or what

bhytes: something like that

bhytes: drove over yesterday with everything, finally free of the u-haul

vanessavanjie: damn i thought it was only lesbians who u-hauled lol

bhytes: you around LA these days?

vanessavanjie: i see u watching my stories bitch u already know

bhytes: fair

vanessavanjie: u tired of unpacking everything or what

bhytes: a little, honestly

vanessavanjie: come out

vanessavanjie: can’t be a hermit already before ur even properly moved in

Brock doesn’t know why he says yes. Maybe, just maybe, in the back of his mind he does, because the lack of inhibitions from some alcohol and loud music creates the perfect setting in which to see Jose in again, after months and months of only seeing his face behind an Instagram profile. A club setting means no need for the awkward small talk, no conversations about the weather that always happen with people that feel too far away, unreachable, when they used to be close enough to touch.

Jose’s not hard to find. Not by the way he’s yelling up a storm in the corner of the club with a drink in each hand, surrounded by fellow queens and dancers and spinning in place as if no one’s watching him. And it’s true, no one really is, too busy wrapped up in their own conversations and dance moves.

Except for Brock, because Jose’s like a magnet, one that grabs his sight from far away and refuses to let him go and be free from his pull. Brock can’t tell if his heart is beating faster and faster because of the deep bass of the music, or because of Jose’s smile that lights up his whole face, one that Brock used to see all the time. He fiddles with his baseball cap as he walks over, because his curls had been too hopeless to be tamed by any amount of pomade.

Not that Jose really cares. He never did, not when Brock used to wear the same sweater for days in a row because he didn’t feel like rifling through his closet, not when Brock couldn’t tell apart Jose’s various outfits even if he tried. Brock’s energy for styling himself is just enough to get himself looking decent in drag. Out of drag? It doesn’t matter much to him.

Doesn’t matter, until Jose spots him and drops his drinks into the hands of those beside him, walking over with a glint in his eyes and a onceover that’s enough to make Brock pull in a breath.

It’s irrelevant that they’re not together, that they’re better off not as a unit. Because there’s something about Jose that’s magnetic and always manages to pull Brock in, makes him want to sidle up to him, close enough that the familiar scent of Jose’s cologne washes over him from head to toe and makes him close his eyes.

“Sleeping already? You on LA time now.” Jose brushes his fingers along Brock’s wrist and it feels like an electric current, one that travels straight to his heart.

“Moving is tiring.” Brock’s a bit distracted as he answers because Jose’s features are still so stunning, so precisely cut, balanced with the delicate flutter of his eyelashes, the soft curve of his mouth.

Jose looks the same as he always does, still as if it’s two in the afternoon and he’s fresh after a nap, rather than taking on the weariness that adorns the features of their colleagues from all of the travelling that comes with the job.

“Ain’t thought about asking me for help? We in the same neighbourhood now.” Jose raises one perfect eyebrow and Brock has to resist the urge to reach out, smooth it over, the way that he always used to.

“Didn’t think your small frame would be able to handle the giant boxes.” Brock grins and the light dig is worth it, because Jose lets out a little yell, swats at his arm, the ice shattering as it always does if they spend more than thirty seconds with each other.

“Forgot what a shady ass bitch you were.” But Jose’s smiling, the kind that reaches his eyes, and Brock knows that he’s not really mad.

Brock catches at Jose’s hand before he lets it drop, turning it over. “Damn. So the tattoo is real, huh?”

He’d had his doubts, because the ink had looked extensive. But Jose’s impulsive, guided by his heart and rash decisions and so it makes sense. The lines are deep within Jose’s skin, pretty patterns along the top of his hand and his wrist and Brock would be mesmerized by it, he would, were it not for the flashing lights of the club making it difficult to clearly see.

“You think I’d play with some Sharpie just for fun?” Jose lets out a scoff as he wiggles his fingers, letting Brooke get a view from all angles.

“I distinctly remember the time on the season eleven tour when you drew a mustache on Silky while she was sleeping, so yes. You’d play with some Sharpie.”

The memory makes Brock grin, remembering the cramped tour bus and the things that the queens would get up to in order to pass the time. It feels like a lifetime ago, one that’s been marred by tours that followed and geographical distance and other flings in between.

“Don’t know if you’d be able to scribble so nicely, though.” Brock flips Jose’s hand over again and Jose pulls it back with a huff, a little pout on his lips.

“I’m a modern day Mother Teresa and invite you out and this is how you treat me. Hateful, truly hateful.” Jose crosses his arms, taps one of his feet and Brock snorts, because it feels like old times. How they always used to act.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Also how they used to act.

Maybe it’s a good thing that the dance floor is so crowded, that the WeHo gays have come out in full force on a Sunday night. It lets Brock pull Jose flush against him, a hand on the small of his back, without worrying about cameras or anyone else’s opinions. Because right now, the way Jose is looking up at him is all that matters.

Rihanna herself, Jose’s patron saint of music is blaring over the speakers and maybe that’s why Jose’s keening into his touch, losing himself in the music. The heat is radiating off of Jose’s body like a fire, and Brock’s not scared of getting burned anymore because he wants it, nights like this. Because he’s here in LA, and Jose’s here in LA, and there’s no rule that says that it’s bad to hook up with an ex after months and months and months, even though his sober mind likes to pretend that there should be.

Jose’s lips form the familiar pout that Brock knows so well, knows how to answer to. It’s as easy as breathing, kissing Jose. So familiar and right and yet somehow it still makes Brock’s blood pump just a little bit faster, makes his heart skip a beat when Jose whines into his mouth.

Brock ruts his hips forward slightly into Jose as he nips at his lower lip and it makes Jose gasp, open his mouth more as he deepens the kiss. Sure, they’re doing things on the dance floor that would make any good Christian woman weep but Brock doesn’t care, not when Jose’s in his grasp and so pliant and so willing to be there, wanting more and more.

Sue him, he’s missed this. Missed the way he can undo Jose so easily, pulling him apart with a strong touch and lips upon his skin. Not discounting how Brock can feel himself unravelling too, his brain only focusing on Jose and his cologne and his hands tugging on Brock’s belt loops and the way his stubble is gently scratching at his skin.

It’s inevitable, really, when Brock palms at Jose’s crotch, feeling the way he’s already halfway hard in the damn club, not unlike himself. Brock nips at Jose’s jaw before whispering right by his ear, close enough to be heard over the music.

“I’d invite you to mine but my mattress is sitting on the floor. No sheets, either.” Moving is hard, after all. Making a bed takes effort.

“Now ain’t you living like a prince? Mine, then. Reacquaint yourself with that headboard you chose.”

Brock tugs on Jose’s arm in lieu of an answer, already typing in Jose’s address for a Lyft because he still has it memorized, of course he does.

“When did you get that new mirror?”

“That really what you focusing on right now?” Jose tugs Brock’s head back down towards him, his kiss biting, taking, and Brock gives into it, lets himself get reacquainted with Jose’s breathing, his smooth skin along his hipbones when Brock pushes the edges of his shirt up.

“You redecorated, that’s all.” Brock lets Jose push him up against the wall beside the entrance closet, because he gets the feeling that Jose needs this just as much. This bit of release that no one else can even come close to providing, an itch that only the two of them can scratch for each other. The quickies in bathrooms and the rare nights in hotel rooms on tour that were so cathartic, so draining in the best way.

Brock needs it again now; they both do.

He pulls Jose close with fingers in his belt loops, catching the little hitch in Jose’s breath that matches the way his pupils are blown, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You missed me, huh?” Brock bends down, kissing along Jose’s neck and oh, it’s already starting to bloom in maroons from Brock’s lips at the club. He knows Jose’s going to be pissed later, but he doesn’t care, not really, not when it’s so satisfying to see them there.

“Don’t get cute.” It comes out in a groan, an arch of Jose’s back, a flutter of his eyelids.

But then Jose regains his breathing as his eyes clear, and he’s pushing on Brock’s shoulders until he’s against the wall, like he has an agenda, like he wants to see it through. Jose’s on his tiptoes in his sneakers but Brock’s not going to make it any easier for him by bending down, because he likes it, seeing how bad Jose wants it, needs it, and is willing to make it happen. Except that he nearly does when Jose’s unbuttoning his pants and tugging on his zipper, dropping onto his knees, and it’s a miracle that Brock is able to keep himself up when he’s missed this sight more than he wants to admit.

Jose wastes no time in wrapping his hand around the base of Brock’s dick, swirling his tongue around the tip when a bead of precum leaks out and Brock has to squeeze his eyes shut, pull in a sharp breath because Jose’s too good at it, so close to making him come undone before they’ve even done anything. When he opens his eyes Jose’s looking up at him, keeping eye contact as he twists his hand, coordinating it with the movements of his mouth and Brock has to reach down, tug on Jose’s elbow roughly to pull him back up because he doesn’t want to come so fast, not like this.

Jose’s lips are swollen and his eyes wild and he looks satisfied already, and Brock kisses him partly to wipe that expression off of his face, and partly because he loves the low groan that leaves the back of Jose’s throat when he does.

Jose’s bedroom is the same when he tugs Brock down onto the mattress. There’s an unfamiliar scent of cologne coming from the pillow on what used to be Brock’s side, once upon a time. But Brock ignores it, pushes it away, preferring to focus his attention on Jose and on tugging his shirt off before pulling off his own so that they’re finally, finally pressed up against each other. Jose’s all taut underneath him, his skin hot like coals and it burns Brock in the best way, the heat warming his chest in a way that nothing else can.

“Hurry up.” Jose’s voice is gruff, his head lifting from his pillow to try and capture Brock’s lips but Brock pulls back, kissing down Jose’s chest and ribs and right above his hip bone. The broken noise that Jose lets out as Brock tugs on his shorts and underwear is worth it, a sound that Brock wants to be able to hear over and over again.

“Still kept in here?” Brock opens the first drawer on Jose’s bedside table and the lube and condoms are still there, like Brock remembers.

It’s a weird sense of deja vu - they’ve fucked all over the world, on tour and in between gigs but somehow being back in Jose’s apartment brings a feeling of familiarity, from when they were just beginning, when everything was still fresh and new. Kissing along Jose’s skin, the salty tang of sweat a taste that he remembers from their very first time, one that hasn’t changed.

Brock holds the condom packet up in question, and Jose shoots him a look. “What, you want me to do it for you, or something?”

“So impatient.”

“Shut up.” But Jose’s words are cut off in a groan when Brock pushes his legs open, teases his lubed up fingers by his entrance while he presses kisses along Jose’s hipbone, the crook of his thigh.

He loves seeing Jose come undone like this, so not in control of himself when he’s arching up from the bed, curses falling from his mouth already as Brock curves his fingers, along his prostate. Brock’s close enough himself, already on the edge because his own dick is leaking and he has to focus on the motions of his own fingers to distract himself, to keep going.

Brock pulls his fingers back when Jose whines, tugs on his arm until he crawls back up and captures his lips again. He lets Jose control the pace of the kiss, lets him deepen it but then hooks an arm under the small of Jose’s back, flips him over so he’s on his stomach, gasping and squirming underneath him.

He pushes Jose’s legs apart again after he rolls on the condom, kisses up Jose’s spine and by his shoulder until he’s right by his ear. “This okay?”

“Why you taking forever, bitch-”

Brock pushes into him suddenly, drawing in a breath because fuck , it doesn’t matter who else he sleeps with, who else he has close like this, because it’s different with Jose. Everything he feels so much stronger with Jose, and it makes his own body feel so much more electrified, so much closer to being bowled over. He tugs on Jose’s hips until he’s off the bed slightly, as close as possible so that he can drive himself deeper, faster. Jose is a mess of moans and swear words that blend into one another as his shaky hands fist in the sheets, his face burying in his own elbow.

“Fuck B, fuck-”

Brock makes up for lost time, the distance that’s been between them over the past few months, burying his face in juncture of Jose’s neck and gripping at his skin hard enough to leave bruises. Jose’s letting out broken noises beneath him that make Brock squeeze his eyes shut, push faster, harder, until the headboard is bumping up against the wall. Brock knows Jose’s close, he just needs a little bit more-

Brock lifts Jose’s hips up a little bit more so he can grab his dick, pump it while twisting his hand just the way Jose likes it, not letting up the motions of his hips. And then Jose’s whines become higher in his throat, until he’s coming all over the sheets and on his own thighs. Brock pulls his hand back, grabs at Jose’s hip again and speeds up until he’s gone too, shaking and trembling and trying to catch his breath, his lungs empty and gasping for air.

He turns Jose over, licks the come off his skin and crawls up until he’s at Jose’s lips, kissing him again and it’s less desperate from both of them now, slower. Calmer. Brock rolls off of Jose, rests on his side, and Jose’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, all breathless and fucked out but with eyes that are sparkling, warm.

Brock’s never going to tire of the sight.

“I just washed these sheets this morning, you ho. Gonna have to wash ‘em again now.” Jose’s voice is gravelly, a smile playing on his lips as he trails his fingers mindlessly along the veins of Brock’s forearm.

“I’ll help you in the morning.” The words roll off of Brock’s tongue without effort, as if it’s a given that he’s staying over, that trekking back to his own apartment as if this is a one night stand doesn’t make any sense. As if this is a normal occurrence for the two of them.

And maybe, just maybe, Jose’s on the same wavelength too, because he smiles, drops his head on his arm on the mattress. “You better.”

Brock should be worried, freaking out like he normally does, because this isn’t a random city on tour or an unknown dressing room backstage somewhere. It’s Jose’s room, Jose’s bed, somewhere dizzyingly familiar but Brock’s mind is clear, free of the buzzing thoughts that normally turn his brain into a highway of sorts.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, not yet, nor does it ever have to. Maybe it’ll just lead to their paths intersecting more often, crossing with one another more frequently because now they’ll have the chance to, living in the same city. They’re not tied down, nor do they have to be. But the way Jose’s already starting to drift off curled into Brock’s side, an arm over his waist, doesn’t feel restricting, not like it should. Not like it used to. It feels more like a homecoming, because Brock can already feel roots burrowing down into the LA soil and taking hold, anchoring him here, making it his home.

[fluffyunicornofdanger]

Shellshock

A/N: I kinda, sorta combined two requests into one. They are pretty much the same, just a little different. Anyway, I want to thank @oscarwilde-hellyeah​ for editing it for me and giving me some solid writing advice. I can always use some. I should have another fic out tomorrow if I get my act together and finish writing it. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and requests are always open. You can request something here.

*~~*~~*

Masterlist

Nikki Sixx x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous & @jennahughes18

Request:  Hey I saw you did a Nikki imagine that was based on a queen song ,, I was wondering if I could request that the reader is related to one of the members of queen and Nikki finds out and gets star struck 😂 sorry this is a weird request lol

May I request a oneshot where reader is dating Nikki Sixx and she is best friends with Queen, especially Freddie, one day Queen makes a suprise visit? I am curious about the reactions of Motley Crue. I am rambling at this point but I would be really happy if you can write something like this🧡

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Drinking, Language

The glass toppled over, shattering as it made contact with the floor. The brown liquid inside leaking out of it as the small shards of glass littered the floor. Vince cursed, throwing one of Tommy’s drum sticks at the man. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That was a perfectly good bottle of whiskey!”

Tommy shrugged, ducking as Vince threw an empty beer can at him. Mick shook his head when the drummer took a seat next to him. 

“If Barbie throws something at me,” he glared at the younger man. “I’ll kill you.”

Y/n laughed as Tommy put his hands up in defense, but anything he was going to say to help his case wasn’t going to do him, not with Vince aiming his shoe at him. An odd silence fell over the group as a soft thud echoed around the room, the shoe missing its intended mark and hitting Mick instead. Before anyone could bat an eye, the drummer jumped over the couch and raced out of the room before Mick could get out a string of curses.

“You were saying something earlier,” Nikki started, walking towards the couch with a beer in his hand. Y/n nodded as he took a seat next to her, putting his arm loosely around her shoulders. “About some friends that are coming to visit.”

“Oh, great. More obnoxious people,” Mick comment, glaring at Tommy who stood outside the doorway, cautiously glancing in the room.

Nikki turned back to Y/n, seeing how music wasn’t going to be made with Tommy hiding in the hall. 

“Yeah, a couple of my friends from England are coming to L.A. and I thought it would be fun to catch up with them,” she smiled. “Maybe I could bring them by. They are musicians, after all, and everyone could probably learn something from each other.”

Nikki smiled, seeing how happy the idea made her. He wasn’t in any mood to have visitors, not when it was taking ages for them to get their next album done. If someone wasn’t late, then everyone was fighting, and if everyone wasn’t fighting, someone was missing. Normally, it was Vince and Tommy. If they weren’t throwing things at each other, they were screaming at each other, shouting insults until their voices faded to nothing. So, they didn’t need any more distractions. They already had plenty. 

But Nikki loved Y/n and, as much as he hated to admit it, she made him melt like butter. Growing up without any sort of love, it was weird for him. It was an experience that kept him on his toes as it was both unfamiliar and foreign. No matter how familiar he was with love, he knew that part of being in love was compromising and giving. He would give Y/n the whole world, the land, air, and sea, if he could. But since that couldn’t be done, no matter how behind the band was with the album, he was going to give her what she wanted; and if that was for her friends to stop by for a visit, then so be it. 

“That sounds like a great idea. Maybe they’ll teach us how to get along,” he stated, glaring at Vince and Tommy while he said it. Turning back to Y/n, he pulled her close. “What time are you gonna bring them around?”

She thought for a moment. Any conversation she had with them went seven different directions at once and it didn’t help that everyone tried to talk over each other. From what she could remember of their grumbled up conversations, they would be arriving in a few days. But who really knew?

 “I do believe I’m picking them up from the airport in a couple of days,” she told him. “I’ll probably bring them by that day if they’re willing.”

“I hope they’re hot!” Tommy exclaimed, poking his head in from the hallway, excitement shone in his eyes. 

Y/n laughed, shaking her head, almost as though she were laughing at an inside joke. “Oh, they sure are.” 

“Well anything’s cuter than you,” Mick pointed out, earning a laugh from everyone as  Tommy flipped him off.

*~~*~~*

Nikki stopped in front of the studio door, sighing when he heard something crash. He hoped that it wasn’t an instrument. If it was, no one would hear the end of it--especially if it was the drums. Someone (they never found out who, though Nikki had a strong suspicion it was Vince) broke Tommy’s drums and the man sulked, complaining about it for weeks. Whenever somebody thought they’d heard the end of it, he’d bring it up again. 

Opening the door, Nikki was met with the sight of Tommy at one end of the room, holding a drumstick like a baseball bat, and Vince at the other with a small plastic ball. Raising a brow, he looked at the two, both too focused on whatever they were doing to notice him. Vince threw the ball and Tommy attempted to hit it, the lanky man lunging to the side and missing the ball by an inch, before landing on the coffee table that had most likely been moved for their little game. The table crumbled against the weight, Tommy landing on its remnants. Nikki shook his head, not bothering to deal with the two at the moment, and went to sit by Mick on the couch.

“How long have they been doing this?” he inquired, wishing he had a table to rest his feet on. But no, Tommy had to go and break the only one they had. 

Mick shrugged, his eyes closed. He’d probably been trying to drown the pair out since he’d arrived. “Too long.”

Tommy laughed, brushing pieces of the table off him as he got to his feet. Looking down at the mess that was once a table, he shook his head. It was clear that he didn’t care. The table would be missed for a good five minutes, but they would learn to live without it.

 “Where’s Y/n?” he asked, brushing his hair out of his face.

Nikki gestured for Vince to hand him a beer as the singer headed towards the case they bought a few days before. 

“She’s picking her friends up from the airport.” Vince tossed him the beer and bassist caught it, pulling a bottle opener out of his pocket. He popped the top off and took a long sip.

“Dude, why does she get to bring friends around but I don’t?” Tommy whined, taking a seat on the floor. 

“Maybe because she doesn’t go around breaking tables,” Vince suggested, motioning to the wooden shards that littered the floor

“You are the reason I broke that table.” Tommy said, gesturing to the table that laid in ruins a few feet from them. 

“It’s not just tables! You break everything!”

“Not true!”

Mick opened his eyes, glaring at them as their volume increased. “They act like they have friends.”

Nikki laughed, choking on his beer. 

“Yeah-” He coughed, clearing his throat. “-they do.”

*~~*~~*

Heads turned as Y/n walked into the studio, her friends right behind her. All the friendly faces that normally greeted her whenever she stopped by, were twisted in confusion. She shrugged it off. That was quite the normal reaction she got when she went places with them. It wasn’t because they were some green alien, or because they were decked out in all the colors of the rainbow. They were just normal people, but their fame was almost forg,en to everyone. 

Y/n shook her head at those who were staring, hadn’t their mothers’ taught them that it was rude to stare? It would seem not, for they continued to do it. At least Nikki and the boys wouldn’t do that, she was sure of it. 

“The cats are doing just lovely, Y/n. They miss you terribly, though.” Freddie mentioned, earning a sad smile from the woman.

“I miss them terribly as well. Maybe I’ll come out a visit soon.”

“How many musicians record here?” Roger asked, running his hand through his hair, looking down the hallway they had entered that held at least 20 doors. He assumed that each had to lead into a studio.

She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Leading them to the end of the hallway, she stopped in front of one of the last doors. Opening it, she walked in and was met with dead silence as the people in the room dropped what they were doing. The drumsticks that Tommy had been twirling fell to the floor, his eyes widening. The rest of the boys weren’t much better. As Y/n surveyed them, it looked like Nikki had gone pale, all the color practically gone from his face, and Vince’s knuckles turned white as he tried to keep a strong hold on the drink in his hand. The only one that seemed unfazed was Mick, who hadn’t even turned around when she opened the door.

Looking back at the men behind her, they didn’t look much different. They eyed the other band up and down. The contrast in color-- in personality-- was clearer than the sky outside. The black Nikki, Tommy, and Mick wore clashed with the whites, blues, and yellows that Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John had on. The difference was almost enough to cause Y/n to take a step back, but she knew the differences between the two bands… she’d known for a long time.

“Um… so, these are my friends I was telling you about,” she tried to snap everyone out of their daze. All Nikki could do in response was blink. “This is Freddie, Brian, John, and-”

“Roger fucking Taylor!” Tommy interrupted. “That’s sick, man. Y/n needs to bring friends over more often.” 

The shock had clearly washed off him as he picked his drumstick up off the floor and was beaming like a child. Roger laughed, a smug grin appearing on his face. At least someone was appreciating his presence. 

Even Tommy’s carefree attitude did nothing to snap Nikki out of his daze. Y/n approached her boyfriend, rubbing his arm in an attempt to get him to look at her. “Nikki, are you all right?”

He nodded, looking down at her. The color slowly coming back to his face. 

“These are my friends, not some superstars like everyone else sees them as. They are just like you and the boys,” she assured him, hoping that it would help with the shellshock. “We all know that Tommy was expecting them to be hot, what were you expecting?”

“Dude, your friends are better than hot!” the drummer voiced, interrupting the conversation he had started with Roger. 

She shook her head, biting her lip, waiting for Nikki’s answer.

He sighed, blowing out air.

 “Definitely not Queen,” he said, looking at the band. Everyone laughed at his answer. That’s probably what most people would say.

“It’s alright darling,” Freddie told him. “We’re a lot to take in.”

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

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[eddie-boii]

Never Let You Go (part 5/14)

Fic info: Both Eddie and Stan live because I do what I want. Multichapter.

Rating: Teen and up (may change). Language.

Pairings: Reddie, Benverly.

Ao3 link: here

Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding. The aftermath of that party...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

*

Richie awoke the next morning with a hangover far less jarring than he was expecting. His head still pounded and his dry mouth still tasted like shit, but he could move without wanting to die so that was something. The phenomenon was confusing until he remembered waking up in the middle of the night to find water and aspirin placed neatly on his bedside table. At the time, he hadn’t put any thought into how it had gotten there, but now he wondered who it might have been.

After several minutes spent building up the will to leave his cozy cocoon, he managed to extract Beverly’s arm from around his waist, shivering at the sudden lack of warmth, and stepped out of bed, instantly tripping over his tangled sheets and face planting the floor.

“Shut up,” he grunted when Beverly giggled. Of course she had to wake up in time to see that.

He picked himself up and made his way to the en suite bathroom on muscle memory alone since he couldn’t see shit without his glasses, then splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth for long enough to make Eddie proud, if only to remove the gross taste from his mouth.

He made his way back into his bedroom after freshening up, shoved his glasses back on and retrieved his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans before crawling back into his still-warm bed beside a dozing Beverly.

“Wake up, asshole,” he said, poking Beverly’s cheek. “If I have to be awake and suffering, so do you.”

Beverly groaned and made to swat his hand away, but completely missed and smacked him in the face instead. She snorted at his ensuing yelp, even while sputtering out a quick, “Sorry, sweetie.” Then she made her way to the bathroom as Richie checked his messages.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered as ‘127 unread messages’ flashed up on the screen on The Losers’ group chat. He scanned the last few messages, which was hard since most contained atrocious typos from his drunken friends.

[1:52 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: Delete that fucking video Stan I swear to god.

[1:52 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: If Richie sees it I’m gonna kill you.

[1:55 am] Not-so-flat Stanley: Nahd bro sfucking makae me

[1:57 am] Flowerpot man #1: Wesll pute it isn a aslideshiow for youre vegas wedsing 

[1:58 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: Your typing is fucking awful.

[1:58 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: I have blackmail videos too you know.

[1:58 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: I’ll send them to your wives don’t think I won’t.

[2:01 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: Get back here assholes!!

[2:01 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: Stanley!!!!! Bill!!!

[2:02 am] Mikey Mouse: They passed out :(

[2:02 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: They better hope they stay in a fucking coma.

[7:43 am] Flowerpot man #2: Guys what the hell happened last night???

“What the fuck?” Richie mumbled to himself, scrolling back up on his phone, but Stan must have actually deleted whatever video they were talking about, the evidence that it was there at all shown only by a jarring gap in the flow of conversation. From:

[12:32 am] Queen B: Omg are yuo seeing the ass on thsi stripper??

[12:34 am] Flowerpot man #1: Evrn juicer thsn Stan’s

[12:34 am] Mikey Mouse: Impsosible

To:

[1:13 am] Not-so-flat Stanley: Miskde yuo owes mae 30 buskcs1!!!1

[1:14 am] Flowerpot man #1: lol gay

[1:14 am] Mikey Mouse: Doesdn’t count!!!!!

[1:16 am] Queen B: Has to be mutual Stanley!

[1:17 am] Not-so-flat Stanley: Eds waas cleasrldy into it!!!!!!!!!

“Bev,” Richie called, frowning at his phone with growing dread. “Mind reminding me what the fuck happened last night?”

Beverly appeared in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still in her mouth. “I don’t know, usual drunken shit?” she said, though the words were hard to make out through her mouthful of toothpaste. She spat the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed, then returned to leaning against the door. “I remember playing truth or dare, and we stole your glasses, and then…” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh shit.”

“What?” said Richie wearily, kind of dreading the answer but needing to know anyway.

“Okay, honey, promise you won’t freak out…”

“That is the number one way to freak someone out,” said Richie, beginning to freak out. “What the fuck did I do? Did I post a dick pic on twitter? Am I going to be on the news?”

“No, no, no, nothing like that,” said Beverly. She moved to sit on the bed beside Richie and took his hand reassuringly. “Everything that happened is just between The Losers. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Well, do you remember trying to stick your tongue down the throat of anyone who got within an inch of you?”

“Oh god,” said Richie, but honestly he’d expected worse. He’d always been kind of a ‘friendly’ drunk. “Is that all? Please tell me that’s all.”

“Well,” said Beverly, “do you also remember that the reason you tried to kiss anyone in sight was because you didn’t have your glasses on and you thought… Well, you thought we were Eds.”

Richie stared at her. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no.” He groaned and ran his hands down his face, his unshaven stubble scratching at his palms. “Are you sure? Coz, uh, maybe I just thought you were all Eddie’s mom.” He tried for a light-hearted grin but it came out as more of a shaky grimace.

“Oh, you made it quite clear, babe,” said Bev. “You screamed ‘Eddie’ at us right before. Mike would like to know if you’re colourblind.”

Richie buried his face in his hands and let out an even longer groan than before. “So everyone knows?”

“That you’ve got it bad for Eds? Yep.”

“Does Eddie know?”

Beverly scoffed at that. “God, no. He’s as dense as you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing,” said Bev, avoiding eye contact.

Richie groaned some more, then something occurred to him as his gut filled with growing horror. The missing video... “Wait, fuck, Bev, did I kiss Eddie?”

Beverly didn’t answer right away. She was gnawing at her lip, her eyes looking anywhere but at Richie. “Well, yeah, but I doubt he thought it meant anything. I mean, you’d already made out with everyone else by that point. And- Oh fuck, there’s something else, babe.”

Richie stared at her. How could this possibly get any worse? “What?”

“Well, I didn’t hear everything coz I was in the hallway, but, um, you might have told Eddie you loved him-”

“What?!”

“He was making sure you got to bed okay and-” Richie had leapt up at this pointing and was frantically pacing the room while Bev remained on the bed, her arms waving around frantically as she tried to explain. “I think he just thought you meant in a friendly way! He still doesn’t know anything, I promise!”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s Eddie!” said Beverly as if this settled matters. “He doesn’t know shit. If he didn’t know back when we were kids, he’s not gonna figure it out now.”

“He-” Richie stopped pacing abruptly and turned to look at Beverly who clamped both hands over her mouth as though she’d only just realised what she’d said. “You- you knew I liked him when we were kids?”

Beverly slowly lowered her hands from her mouth, her expression apologetic. “Oh, babe, everyone knew.”

“Everyone?!”

“Well not Eddie,” said Beverly. “Listen, honey, this really isn’t as bad as you think. I mean, I think he likes you too.”

“Yeah right,” Richie scoffed. “Have you seen me?”

Beverly got off the bed and grasped both of Richie’s hands in hers, squeezing them as she looked up at him, her expression sincere and a little stern. “Honey, you are a fucking amazing, wonderful person, and also a weirdly good kisser, and if Eddie doesn’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you. But for the record, I’m pretty sure I’ve caught him checking out your ass.”

“When Stan’s ass is right there?” said Richie. “Damn, he must like me.”

“He does!” Beverly insisted. “Now grow some balls and ask him out! Preferably before the wedding or Stan and I will lose that bet we have against Mike and Bill.”

“You guys are betting on us?!”

“Just a little,” Bev grinned apologetically, then leaned up and kissed Richie on the tip of his nose. “Now don’t tell Mike or Bill you know about it or they’ll say I’m cheating.”

“You are all horrible friends,” said Richie, but he grinned back at her anyway, then retrieved his phone off the bed as Bev went to finish getting washed up. He contemplated his friends’ dumb messages for a minute, then sent one of his own:

[11:43 am] Little King Trashmouth: Sorry about last night Eduardo the resemblance between you and your mom is just too strong (~￣³￣)~

He didn’t have to wait long for replies:

[11:44 am] Eduardo Spaguardo: That is so not fucking funny

[11:45 am] Flowerpot man #1: Where do you keeping finding those faces???

[11:45 am] Flowerpot man #2: Seriously guys what the hell happened????????

Richie smiled down at his phone then shut it off for the time being. There was no way Eddie liked him, so matter what Beverly insisted, but Richie was just glad he hadn’t screwed things up. As long as they were still friends, as long as Richie still made ‘your mom’ jokes and Eddie still got mad at him for it, everything would be okay. And, hey, if Beverly was right, if Eddie did really like him like that, then maybe he’d let his guard down just a little, stop hiding behind so many jokes, let Eddie find his way through the gaps if he wanted to try. 

Whatever happened, happened, and Richie was okay with that.

*

Previous Next

[kaetastic]

VACATION

pairing: Bucky Barnes X Rogers!Reader

summary: Steve Rogers finally decided to take time off, away from his nonstop phone calls and endless meetings that made him pull his hair out. Only this time, he brought his daughter to the lovely holiday. And oh, his best friend tagged too.

word count: 4.5k yeeee

warnings: starter angst, no complete smut, dirty talking

notes: i have so much on my plate lol, my study routine is at least 2 hours a day and although my sleep schedule is not falling out- i demand for more. I AM SOOO SORRY for not posting that much, writers block has seriously done me badly and it hurts.

The flight felt like forever, in the middle of the air with the aeroplane wheezing; passengers asleep, eyes shut tight even though the transportation bounced up and down- hitting faint turbulence that was somehow not noted towards the flyers. Y/N crossed her legs, her arms on the foam-filled armrest of her first-class chair; a luxury she was born with. The spacious pod felt free, not suffocating at all as she could breathe with no one beside her. Although she was free from forced conversations, this could only mean one thing she didn’t like: uncontrollable thoughts that can sometimes lead to unpredictable imaginations. Her fingers drummed a gentle beat like pressing softly onto the keys of a piano, she rested her head onto the glass to admire the dark night, stars painted with glittering highlights.

She caressed the double-framed window, the frigid air from the outside glossed her fingertips. Her fingers ran over the twinkling stars, a frown playing on her lips at the sudden remembrance of her mother’s writing. The story she wrote ever since she met her father. It will never find a conclusion. I wish to hold you, my love, I want to stay with you until you grow old and I shall cripple with age; but my dear, even though you aren’t here, outside with me- I love you. I wish to sing you a different lullaby every night. You will always be my little girl, now I understand why my mother used to stick by me. Dear my love, your father and I are ecstatic waiting for you, although he isn’t patient- every time you would kick me (which really hurts), he would rush in to feel it. Before we even knew of your gender, we had already planned the whole room for you. I don’t know what it was, but I went with a space theme; stars stuck to every inch of the walls and ceilings. Even your crib mobile had the moon and planets; I didn’t force it onto you did I? I’m sorry my love

And the dotted lines that drifted out of the boundary of the paper ended. Its black ink smudged the words that existed above it. That was it. No other words added onto her melancholy part of the story, if it shall be continued- it will never be the same. Whenever she was curious child, she would read the writing on and on; it was like a guide book to her. A tourist pamphlet from her cherished mother. And although she never got the chance to speak to her or be able to brag about the amazingness of her mother, the book was the connection she could faintly have. The bond between her words and Y/N’s heartbeat will always be in sync. The slight clench it gave her will never be the same if someone else was to proceed with the beautiful art her mother had created and crafted with her emotions. That was the ending.

Every time a stewardess or a steward would walk down the aisle, she would just wear a faint smile and a shake of her head when they would ask if she needed their assistance. They would reply with the same gesture before fading away. A sigh escaped her lips. With a bang of her head, it landed on the inflexible seat.

“Psst,” A voice called her, she snapped back; her head whipping up and down the aisle- everyone seemed to be asleep. The only light illuminating was from the galley and those massive screens which shone brightly onto the asleep figures. Clearly too bothered to switch it off. She was not surprised when her eyes landed on Bucky. He looked so freshly awake, not a tint of tire in him. He gestured his hand for her to come to him, she glimpsed at her father who sat on the opposite seat of her aisle, his mouth wide open as faint snores rang out. His nose scrunched. “Come here,” Bucky mouthed, pointing to his seat as an invitation.

Y/N bit her bottom lip in contemplation, she glanced at her father one more time before unbuckling her seatbelt. The click of the metal clashed with the muffled seat, she winced in her head at the volume. She stood up, holding her armrest as a stabilizer, making sure no one was walking down the aisle. Strutting to the designated place, Bucky poked out of his seat; his eyes trained on her as she puts on a show for him. A chuckle left her lips. She plotted onto his lap, legs hanging off the seat and swinging into the aisle. He huffed at the abrupt place of weight on him, a slight wince fell off his lips. She threw her head back, slapping his chest at the exaggerated reaction. 

His arms snaked around her waist, tugging her closer, her hands flat open to rest on his shoulders, “You look so hot in this.” His fingers slyly brushed against her skin, it was freezing like ice. She yelped. Although she created an audible noise, she was quick to realize her mistake. Covering her mouth with a slap of her hand, her eyes widened while Bucky laughed, amused at her expression.

“It’s just a simple shirt.” She reasoned once she had scanned the seats to check if there were any awake witnesses, his laughter died. 

Eyes scanning the clothing, Bucky hummed, yes- it really was. The white shirt had a simple image printed onto it; an eyebrow quirked up, not agreeing with her opinion, “Well, you definitely look fuckable in it.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, unable to understand his insatiable horniness that can never be satisfied, “I guess I have to say thank you now.” He hummed, nodding curtly as his fingers played with the hem of the shirt, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. 

Bucky pushed himself back to relax on his seat; his eyes shot up to gaze at her. He leaned in, his mouth hovering over her ears as it occasionally brushes with little contact. Slight frustration roared in her. Eyes fluttered to a shut, she enjoys the warmth that swirled her to thoughts she shouldn’t be having, “You’ll have to be quiet baby,”

The confusion that strikes her sipped away as his hand rested on her clothed sex, his frustratingly slow gestures pressed onto the now wet panties. Her mouth fell open as his fingers traced her inner thighs with languid movements, he nudged a leg to open her legs wide for him. Toes curling whenever his fingers would accidentally brush against her, she grabbed onto his arms as intermittent breathing echoed out of her lips. As soon as his fingers slipped into her pants, his fingers rested above her cunt. A tired groan was heard- too familiar. And with a splat, Y/N met the floor with agony pain rippling through her body, “I’m so sorry babe, I-“ Although he didn’t know the father continued his snooze, Bucky whispered-shouted an apology to the person he just threw off his lap and onto the dirty floor.

Y/N glimpsed at him with anger before scoffing, ignoring the hand he let out for her to grab ahold of. Dusting her knees, she straightened her outfit before stomping away- back to her seat with pursed lips as she held her head high. Bucky could only peek with squinted eyes, holding a sigh of relief when he saw his passed out best friend; the anxiety that crawled in him for what he will get in return later on as karma- did not feel good.

“Finally, I can feel my legs,” Steve grumbled, head thrown back as he groaned out the complaint. The shades he wore tilted back, he narrowed his eyes. The burning and beaming source of the rays burning the whole planet like a flaming furnace.

Y/N exited the car, a duffle bag on her shoulders as her eyes scanned the area she assumed she would be staying in for a few days. The platform above the clear crystal water, that seemed as if it were millions of glittery gems, creaked and cried as every pressure cracked its bones. Petit kids ran around with little care in their heads, a large hat on their heads as a thick layer of sunscreen seemed to be slapped onto their skin. The manager of the area scurried in a hurried manner; the floors yelled. A clipboard in his hands- a string with one end wrapped around a minuscule seashell created the loudest of the noise whenever it would bang into the metal. It would vibrate over the cackling of the seagulls and the gnashing of the ocean waves. The saltiness was obnoxious, at least it was better than staying on a ship that would rock in the water. The puking challenge would’ve last for a second, “Please follow me.”

So they did so, her eyes wouldn’t rest on one area- its relentless movements filled her with fascination at the gobsmacking view of the see-through water. Y/N’s lips fell into an ‘o’. She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the position of the backpack to rest comfortably; but it just keeps digging and stabbing her shoulder with no mercy. She huffed. 

“Let me help you.” Her shoulders lifted up, feeling it light as a force tugged her bag away. She snapped her head to face the voice who offered her help, he already had his arm looped inside the sling. 

“You don’t have to.” She reasoned, tugging the bag in an attempt to carry it by herself. Halting, Bucky quirked his eyebrows up, the sunglasses he wore shading the icy blue eyes she could get lost in very easily. Giving up easily, she removed the weight off of her with slight reluctant, she pushed the strap to move to his. 

Houses connected its front entrance door to the platform, a small bridge that had been secured by fences that ran along the side for safety. Standing on top of each fence in front of every house was a sign. The wood was supposed to inform those as it displayed the house number. Y/N’s legs ached in agony, although they slept well in a flight like tired babies- it had caused them to throb with pain as soon as they stood up to walk. Even if it was a first-class seat with a supposedly large area for leg movements, the aeroplane still constricted area to go. And all she could remember was anytime a ding rung out, her father would wake up with his eyes shot open- his feet were quick to move, he ran up and down the aisle without uttering a word before plopping back onto his seat.

Finally, they stood in front of their holiday house. They took quick notice of the location, the furthest from the rest. Steve pushed his glasses down, to remove the layer of darkness that glossed over the stunning house that they will be calling home for a few weeks. Bucky hummed as had wore a faint smile, approving at the great choice by his best friend. 

Figures of those who were guiding her disappeared. Pulling away from the cursive view, a frown played on her lips, not comfortable by being alone in an area she didn’t know anything about. Before she entered the house, her hand rested on the doorknob, eyes scanning the sign that laid above the door- 39. Her head tilted to the side, a hum muffling in her mouth. But the idea of exploring the house attracted her more. So she did so. 

Y/N let out a loud huff as she stretched her arms, her back was stabbing her like thousand of needles. The interest in adventuring her room called her even if she just wanted to spring open like a starfish onto the bed. In the corner of the room was a simple desk with a wide mirror- all of its drawers empty. The walls held few framed photos of art she wouldn’t be able to understand- swirls of lines and colourful parallel shapes. Pacing towards her toilet, she pushed the door open. With a creak, the door welcomed her to the next room. A sigh of relief fell off her lips at the realization of the layout, she didn’t even know she was holding it in. She desperately craved for a bath.

That’s how she ended up in the tub, head rested on the sides as she enjoys the eerie swirls of the water. Even with the slightest of movements, echoing of the liquid could be heard throughout the room. It was so silent, quiet and tranquil. Every so often the growing sadness prodded her thoughts, but all she could do was hum a random lyrics with words presented on her head in an attempt to overtake the thoughts. It didn’t work.

“What a sight,” Eyes shot open with trembling shock, her head whipped to the voice that rung from the door. The thumping of her heart calmed as she gently pats it. Although peacefulness eluded from the room, she somehow did not hear the door opening. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. But before she had the chance to utter out the question full of doubts; Bucky beat her to it. “You left the door open, doll.” She wasn’t so surprised, he’d done this so many times- taking any chance he would get.

Pushing the crying door, he swung it- opening and closing it, playing with it (clearly not a toy) like a little child before halting to a stop as the words he always imagined her to say fall off her lips like strings of melody, “Care to join?” And oh boy, he did not miss a second as soon as the beat started; his fingers agile and rapid, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging down his pants. Turning his body to face the tub, his ready posture caused her to quirk her eyebrows at the open ajar door. His lips fell into a rounded ‘o’ at the realization.

With a click, he waddled back before curling his fingers at the side of his boxers; fiddling with it as his eyes rested on her face, watching her as he teased her. And boy did it work. Her eyes didn’t move anywhere else, a shameless act she wasn’t even ashamed of. Y/N’s mouth dried. The semi-hard shaft now hardening, it flicks as it was freed from the suffocation.

“Come on babe, make space for me,” He teased, a proud smirk playing on his lips as he watched her squeeze herself to the front of the bathtub- knees bent to rest on her chest. His eyes ran around her exposed skin before jumping in to join her routine. Hands resting on her hips, he pushed her up so she was hovering over the bed of the bath. Although there was a lot of space for one, to squeeze in two-person was a tight compromisation. A sigh left his lips at the warm water engulfing his body, the feeling of himself sink into her; the tender tight hug of her around him cause him to rest his head back. It hangs over the edge as the bathtub laid a few metres away from the walls. Y/N’s fingers curled around the tub, eyes shut tight as she felt his shaft throb; it poked her cervix. Thoughts ran around his head aimlessly, uncontrollable ideas zapping out of nowhere.

Soft caress rubbed against her shivering back. His calloused fingers prodded her sensitive skin. Although the water was warm, the temperature seemed to be out of balance. Cold air, warm water and the heat pressuring in her created a turmoil. The thought of having him run his fingers around with no pathway only made Y/N excited. Her eyes shut tight at the enjoyment. A low groan echoed from Bucky’s lips. His hands tightened its grip on her skin as she wiggled around, the soft splashing of water that created a loud noise, “Oh- fuck...”

His toes curled. The position she was taking him felt surreal, he was prodding places that felt like heaven. Eyes rested on her back with his fingers wrapped around the back of her neck; stabilizing her as she bounces up and down. Chorus of moans and grunts filled the room with water overflowing out of the container. The two bodies froze. A knock from the door stopped them. 

“Y/N? You okay in there?” Bucky’s hand halted, hovering above her cunt as the voice of his best friend echoed through the crevices of the door. If it wasn’t for Y/N’s reminded to lock the door, god knows what would happen to both of them. She would never want to see that day. 

She realized the lingering moment of silence that her father might’ve found suspicious. Her thoughts jumped from one idea to another, maybe he might be nosy and try to find out? Albeit a mess, her head still managed to squeeze out words, “O-oh! Yes! I’m fine, everything’s okay Dad! I’m peachy!” The assurance fell off her lips quicker than she wanted it to be, her eyes shut tight at the stupid mistake that seemed frantic and panicked.

“Sure? I heard a groan.” The muffled voice of her father seemed to be blurring away as a tender touch pressed onto her clit. Her eyes widened, head snapping down to face the hand that could not be controlled. Even at times like these, the insatiable man could not wait even for a second. Bucky smirked as she whipped her head back to face him, his fingers only brushing over her needy lips languidly and teasingly.

“Yes, I’m sure! It’s nothing really.” The grip she had on the walls of the tub tightened; she tried her best to not grind on his finger, she needed her father to go away first. The teasing fingers of Bucky caressed around the area she desperately needed him at. Although he wished he could carry on to play with her, edging her- he would love to see her try to muffle her moans. He wore a smirk, he tugged his cock out- the erected shaft stood out, poking out of the water as it slanted onto her cunt. He plunged a finger into her. Thanks to the water as lubrication, he had no problem to sink his digits into her with smooth flow. A ragged moan left her lips, her eyes shut tight at the tightness around the digit.

”Are you sure, honey?” Bucky rolled his eyes, tired of hearing his best friend cockblocking him. The frustration exerted force... somewhere else. Irritated, he pumped his fingers in a relentless pace; unbothered by the splashing of water that weighed him down. Her back arched, if only her father wasn’t in front of the door- she could have been undone by now. Knowing how she would react, he wrapped his other hand around her chest, he pulled her back so she would lay flat on his. A breathy sigh left his lips, he could only take a glimpse at his work. In figures of eight, he motioned onto her clit, he grunted as her nails dug into his arm.

“Yes, dad! I am very sure!” Her tone being too angry and furious was laced with frustration. The need of him to stay far away as possible dug into her head.

“Oh, alright, if you need me,” His words seemed to be stretched out, the strings of mumbling sentences bashed against the shield that covered her ears. Her toes curled as Bucky’s fingers rubbed the spot. It’s as if he knew her body as if he studied the areas that make her writhe with the slight touch of his hand. “I’ll be outside.” The soft pacing off footsteps outside the door was relieving.

“Is that all you got?” He raised his eyebrows at the competitive question. Oh, he was about to prove her wrong.

She pulled the doors of the fridge with slight force, the strong attraction between the door and its body seemed stronger than the bonds that brought her life together. She paced back at the abrupt consequence. Shadows of darkness lined the floors and every crevice. The only light illuminating rayed brightly from the opened fridge and the small lamp that sat in the corner of the counter. It watched her as she scanned the levels with hope twinkling in her eyes. But all of it diminished. She pulled away when she couldn’t find the glass of cold water. Nudging the door, she sighs as it emitted a loud splat as soon as it meets the door.

“Looking for somethin’?” Her body jumped at the voice who poked her ears with surprise, her heart thumped harshly. Eyes widened, she rested her hand on her dancing heart, in an attempt to calm it. The brown hair swiped to one side, his arms crossed and his head quirked to the left.

“Jesus Buck! You scared the hell out of me!” He chuckled at her whisper-shout.

“Sorry doll, come here.” With open arms, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the almost friendly gesture. Reluctantly, she paced towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist; she laid her head on his soothingly beating heart that was muffled by his skin. She inhaled the enticing scent of him, the cologne he uses still somehow laced into him. The soft fabric of his pyjamas rubbed her cheeks with gentle caresses.

And all the enjoyment died within less than a minute. Although she wished the moment to be pure and innocent, Bucky Barnes does not come with those two assets with clean intention. The throb that slapped her thighs caused her to let out a heavy sigh. Pulling away, she craned her head to glance at the guilty man. It was slightly amusing, to see him with closed eyes and pursed lips in an attempt to hide his expression away.

“You horny man.” Y/N chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He bit his bottom lips, trying his hardest to prod his thoughts with clean ones; none of imagining her on her knees. It didn’t work. He let out a sigh at the failure.

“I’m sorry okay? It’s hard to not imagine you on your knees.” She rolled her eyes at his horrible excuse.

“This whole holiday will be just us fucking around? What is it? A sex holiday?” Her eyebrows furrowed at the idea. Bucky raised his eyebrows, focused onto the new topic. Somehow, he was interested. “Oh, you.”

Her hand halted in mid-air, hovering above his chest that was ready to beat it. The fingers that wrapped around her wrist stopped her movements. With a smirk, he mumbled, “Who said it isn’t?”

She didn’t understand how she got herself in that position. With her lips moulding into his, loud smacking of lips echoed throughout the open kitchen. There was an attempt to lower the volume. A hand in his pants, rubbing his erected shaft that poked his sleeping boxers; she muffled his groans. Pumping his cock, she noted that one hand wasn’t enough to wrap around his whole dick. The room now filled with pitchy moans as Bucky’s hand slithered into her shirt, fiddling with her erected nipples that were not protected by a bra. He didn’t mind, her with a bra or no bra on; he liked both. The other hand that wrapped around his neck tightened, her chest rubbing into his. Running his hand down, he rested it in her pants, grabbing a handful of her ass cheeks.

Although she was concentrated on satisfying his needs, she couldn’t help but pull away in occasional times. The vein that popped out of his cock laced her fingers. While she was pumping him, he laid back and watched her with lustful eyes. Whenever his fingers would accidentally brush over her slicked cunt, which dripped like a waterfall- she would pull away with her mouth open, breathless moans rining out of her luscious lips. His eyes laid on the cleavage that was displayed to him, her breast resting on his chest. A groan left his lips, he couldn’t help it, it was too much. He couldn’t ignore it even if he wanted to, but why would he? The professional hand around his cock pumped him with passion and all he could do was watch her moan, tits just exposed for him?

Tugging her shirt up, the hem now rested above her breasts. Drool practically ran down his lips as he stared at it with need. As soon as the breezy air that ran out from the open window, the salty scent flowing in drummed on her chest- she let out a breathy moan once again. It rubbed on his chest. Flattening on him. She brushed the slit of his cock, the groans that rung out of his lips were music to her.

All actions were halted as soft dragging of legs on the wooden floorboard muffled into their ears. They pulled away, frozen with eyes widened. Y/N straightened her clothes, pulling down her shirt to cover her bare chest. Bucky cleared his throat in silence as he crossed his arms to look sophisticated. There was no one else in the house with them other than her father. The close proximity that was between them now increased with great number. A faint buzzing of light hummed, the dim light from the hallway shining a small area of the corridor.

“Oh, Bucky, Y/N. You both awake too?” Steve narrowed his eyes from the bright light, groaning at the sudden stabbing of the rays. The shadowed figure of her father stood at the open arch. Yellow rays beamed from his back.

“Same reason as you, Dad.” Bucky hummed, not knowing what to say so he followed his only resort that came to mind (clearly screaming in his head when he tried to play calm outside)- agreeing with her.

“Really? You had a horrible dream of a dragon trying to swallow you whole and you stumbled upon a great wizard who had a long beard?” She stood there confused, lips parted as she tried to think of an answer. Sadly, all she could say was ‘uhuh’. Bucky palmed his face, trying his hardest not to cringe at her chosen answer. “Oh, what a small world? I guess,”

They both leaned on the counter as their eyes rested on his figure, Steve opened the fridge with force once again. Bending down, he scanned for his desired item. He pouted when it wasn’t there. The splat of the attraction between the fridge and its door echoed through the kitchen. “I’ll get going, you two should go back to bed- we have places to be later on,” They nodded, agreeing with slight vigorous movements- a bit too positive with his statement. “Also, I think you just peed your pants Buck.” Steve chuckled, walking out of the kitchen with no thoughts. The remaining two glanced down at his pants. The large splotch of translucent liquid creamed his pants, preferably his groin area. He groaned at the incident. It was the only comfiest pants he brought with him.

tags: @callmebucky-doll @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @usernamesarebitches @iheartsebastianstan

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 210: Put-Downs, Poltergeists, and Plot Twists

Previously on BnHA: Bakugou’s team defeated class B in record time. Everyone praised them for their flawless performance, and All Might told Bakugou he got chills watching him and Bakugou got super embarrassed and mumbled something and walked off and it was in my Top 10 Cutest BnHA Moments and I love it. Then Deku came along to shower some more praise on him and the two of them went back and forth all “I’m gonna surpass you!” “no, I’m gonna surpass you!” for a little bit and that was really cute as well. Monoma took Tokage’s loss in stride and hashed out a strategy with his team that mostly consists of “take out Deku no matter what.” Deku, meanwhile, was all fired up after his talk with Kacchan, and confidently told his team they would definitely win, and this boy is looking more and more like a hero with each passing day, no joke. Round 5 started up, and All Might got a call from Gran Torino, and then we cut to Tartarus, where the guards were bitching about how dangerous All for One is, and the man in question was sitting in his cell grinning because apparently he can “hear [his] little brother’s voice.” Uh, what the fuck.

Today on BnHA: Gran is all “oh yeah now that you mention it, Nana totally did tell me about some freaky OFA dream bullshit a while back.” Apparently in the dream, a mysterious man shrouded in fog told Nana that it wasn’t “that time. not yet.” Meanwhile Deku full cowls his way through the stage on the lookout for Shinsou. Instead he finds Monoma, who activates his secondary quirk, Antagonize no Jutsu, presumably in hopes of getting Deku to respond so that he can ensnare him with the brainwashing quirk. But Deku is a smart cookie and keeps his mouth shut, even when he hears a scream that sounds like it might have come from Ochako. It didn’t, of course, but in fairness Ochako, Mina, and Mineta are being attacked by Yanagi, Kodai, and Shouda, who have combined their quirks to fling heavy objects at them all. But anyways, so Monoma is all “btw can we talk about how Bakugou destroyed the Symbol of Peace, though,” which, wow, and that does piss Deku off enough to fire an Air Gun attack at him! Or at least that’s what he intends to do. Instead what happens is... well. Something different. Seems like it might finally be That Time, now.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 224, so any ETAs will reflect that.) 

so we’re opening with All Might standing off to the side and trying to tell Gran to call him back later because he’s in the middle of class

but Gran is just immediately launching into conversation about how Shimura did in fact once tell him something about “a One for All dream” omg

and All Might is all “and you’re only just telling me this now!?”

and Gran says he didn’t remember until All Might asked him about it

his excuse is that he’s old. whatever, Gran!

“so listen up, but don’t expect much”

listen mister, I’ll expect as much as I damn well please. my plot-spoiled self knows full well that in this case there is a hell of a lot to expect! and I for one am fucking excited about it!

so now we’re cutting back to Team Deku and our boy is sprinting along while the flashback dialogue bubbles recount his strategy

oh shit hold up

...so it occurs to me again that that’s exactly what triggered his first One for All: Avatar State experience to begin with though, way back when. Shinsou brainwashed him and then the Ghosts of One for Alls Past appeared for the first time and activated OFA without him being aware of it -- very much like what happened the night right before this training exercise

and now here he is fresh from that weird dream and possibly about to be brainwashed for a second time. is this really a coincidence? seeing as I’m reading a fucking manga, I’m gonna go ahead and say hell no

shit now I’m even more excited

so Iida is observing that Team Deku’s formation looks similar to Team Bakugou’s, and Sero says that’s not a surprise since they’re similarly balanced. true that

but he’s pointing out that they don’t have a Jirou -- someone who can pinpoint the enemy’s location -- so they need to be more careful

yeah, especially since unlike Team Kacchan, they’re up against Shinsou who can take out their most powerful player in a second if he hits them unawares

anyways don’t mind me I’m just gonna post this part here

so Bakugou watching Deku without that characteristic over-the-top seething rage is still such a novel thing, though. him feeling threatened by Deku’s growth was really the key thing holding that relationship back. now that that’s no longer an issue, he’s observing this match with a surprisingly keen intensity

and what I love about this is that it’s exactly what he said he was gonna do back in chapter 121. he vowed that he would observe and absorb what he sees from others in the same way that Deku does in order to become stronger. he’s watching this match so intently because he wants to learn from Deku. do I even need to say how big of a deal that is and how far he’s come? just, wow

so Deku’s coming to a halt on one of the pipes and he’s silently pointing to something

okay so he’s putting his plan of “I’ll be a decoy” into action

seems like this is his way of compensating for his team not having a Jirou. if they can’t pinpoint class B’s location, they’ll just draw them out instead

now an oil drum is tumbling out from somewhere and it seems like it’s caught his attention

who’s Yanagi. lol I guess we’re about to see, what with the HERE IT COMES

OH SHIT

DEKU IF YOU THINK FOR A SECOND THAT’S HER... COME ON MAN, YOU’RE SMARTER THAN THIS

so he’s turning around and Monoma is there

don’t you dare fucking respond you little green bean. just kick him in the head and knock his ass out. this is a training exercise, you know Ochako’s not at any actual risk. and she can handle herself. these guys are gonna be banking on your heroic instincts in the same way the previous team was counting on Kacchan to be the same self-centered asshole he always was before. you guys are so fucking strong the only way they can beat you is by exploiting your mental weaknesses

oh snap Monoma’s holding up his pocketwatches. way back when his costume was first revealed I speculated that he might use them to time his quirk, so I guess we’ll see if that’s the case? I suppose they could also be support items and have some unexpected tricks to them

anyway he’s talking a lot, as usual

a clever person would also think “I’d better not respond to his baiting here since that’s obviously what he wants”

having said that, Monoma’s not wrong. that would be a good strategy for them to actually have. but I don’t think it’s their real strategy lol

ahh, good, Deku is being clever and cautious and knows better than to respond to him

lol so Deku just go KO him already! why are you keeping your distance?? you once said back at Kamino that you could make it from where you were standing to where Kacchan was in under a second with one leap using OFA. that’s fucking fast. you’re faster than the kid who basically fucking teleported in between Kamakiri and Jirou a couple chapters ago. just zoom over to Monoma and kick him in the head. come on. do it

jesus christ Monoma knows what his strengths are doesn’t he

he knows how to fuck with his opponent, I’ll give him that

so now Deku is finally leaping toward him like I said! about time

not sure if that’s actually the case, but he’s probably not too far off the mark, and I think he’s making the best possible move here given what he knows

uh oh

what is he doing

OH FUCK ME

OH FUCK NO MONOMA. YOU DID NOT JUST

WHAT THE HELL DUDE. IS YOUR SPECIALTY BELOW-THE-BELT ATTACKS OR WHAT?? COME ON OVER AND SAY THAT TO BAKUGOU’S FUCKING FACE WHY DON’T YOU. JESUS CHRIST THAT WAS LOW AS FUCK

and obviously he’s just trying to provoke Deku into responding still! but man, what a way to do it! you’ll resort to anything, huh??

do they have sound on those viewscreens, or just visual? I feel like it’s both, though I’m not gonna stop and go back and check right this second. anyways I’m just wondering if Kacchan heard that, since we know all too well he does feel personally responsible, and now here’s Monoma trying to poke at this recently-healed wound and reopen it again. and Dad Might is probably still on the phone with Gran. damn it Monoma you better not have sent him spiraling again. I will send you the therapy bills

(ETA: so yeah, they absolutely do have audio, it was confirmed in chapter 197. so Kacchan did indeed get to hear that, and everyone else heard it too, and it was probably super awkward, and probably would have been even more so had Deku’s arm not fucking exploded with his goth red vines quirk mere seconds later causing everyone to pretty much forget about anything else.

and by the way, can we just quickly touch on the fact that Hellboy later explains to Deku that “if you wield your power in anger, the power will respond accordingly”? in other words, Monoma pissed him off so much here that he went and activated a quirk he didn’t even know he had and it proceeded to go on a roaring rampage of revenge. so what have we learned today, kids? don’t insult the boyfriend, is what.)

anyway the good thing is Deku’s aiming his air gun at him and still isn’t responding, although he does look fucking furious and no wonder

now we’re cutting back to Team Float/Melt/Stick

and we’re confirming that the “kyaah” was indeed Shinsou which of course it fucking was. Ochako doesn’t KYAA, she ain’t no fucking damsel in distress

lol now I want to see it too

so Ochako’s reminding the others to look at each other’s faces when they talk

what have you been up to Mineta

holy shit a whole fucking lot got stuck to it. what the hell is this anyway

Mina’s protecting them all with a veil of acid, which is fucking badass. Mina I love you

and now we’re cutting to Shouda for a second and he’s watching them and says “they vanished”...?

ah!!!

IS THIS A TELEKINESIS QUIRK!? AT LONG LAST???

HOLY SHIT

THAT’S LIKE FUCKING COMPRESS’S QUIRK. WE’RE GOING FULL ANT-MAN UP IN THIS BITCH. HOLY SHIT CLASS B, IT’S JUST BADASS QUIRKS ALL THE WAY DOWN WITH YOU GUYS HUH

holy shit. I love both of these, but the size quirk especially. that’s so fucking good. I wish she was in class A now, ngl. so many potential applications of this

and how many quirks can Monoma handle at once? he had three pocket watches so I’m gonna go with three. so I’m assuming he took both of theirs along with Shinsou’s, since he was also floating small objects earlier

Ochako’s a good person to have against a quirk like this, though!

and now just smack them away again! take that

NOW WHAT

what the hell

sob omg

I would just like to point out that this was a WAAGH and not a KYAA though. for the record. even when they’re being attacked by rampaging thooming metal objects, class A does not KYAA. we die like men

so here are the deets!

telekinesis quirk confirmed yessssss. this is like a way upgraded version of Inko’s quirk. so glad we finally get to see a hero do this shit too

Kodai’s quirk is so badass and I love it. though it’s too bad she can’t shrink people too. lots of hijinks potential there. ah well

and Shouda’s quirk too!

ngl, I read this and I was like ‘what.’ I had to reread it several times and then go look him up in the wiki just to make sure I got it. this is one of those cases where a “for example” would have really come in handy. but anyways I think what this means is if someone hit a baseball, then he could recreate that impact in the same spot a second time, and not only that but the second impact would be stronger by several orders of magnitude. idk it’s weird and confusing

(ETA: seeing it in action later helped me understand the concept better, but I still for the life of me can’t explain it in words lol. super cool quirk though.)

anyway so even though all this crazy stuff is going on, neither team has actually come face to face with the other yet and they’re all still attacking each other from a distance, except for Deku and Monoma. so now Ochako’s wondering what happened to Deku

and now back to All Might! damn, Horikoshi, you sure know how to cut away from something just when it was getting good

so Gran says it’s probably not what All Might was looking for, but right around when Shimura first inherited One for All, he and her had a casual conversation whilst on patrol

NO, DEKU!!

WHY DID YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH DAMMIT

WHAT’S GOING ON OH MY GOD. ALL OF A SUDDEN ALL OF MY FAVES LOOK SHOCKED

oh I know this. “plaaaaay the best song in the world. or I’ll eat your souls.” so we played the first thing that came to our heads and it just so happened to be the best song in the world. it was the best song in the world

lol okay so let’s see why they all seem so shocked. IS IT THE SPOILER!?!?

IT’S NOT? OKAY? WHO ARE YOU??

(ETA: this is just the continuation of Gran’s story from the previous page, doy.)

WHAT THE FUCK

okay then! lol. well that explains the “wtf” expressions

so what exactly was Deku about to do that OFA took over and was like DEKU NO. were you going to fucking kill Monoma over insulting your boyfriend. is there some reason OFA lost its fucking shit and activated one of his secondary quirks for the very first (or second, I guess) time, right here and right now? or is the “it’s not that time” what the old man said in Shimura’s dream, and now with Deku it finally is that time?

oh my god. even knowing a little about what’s going on, I still really have no clue and I fucking love it. this is insanely cool and tbh the Joint Training arc is like #4 on my list now and will possibly be #3 by the time all is said and done. IMO this twist is cool and unexpected and will make future battles much less boring (because let’s be honest, Deku’s last couple of fights were really not all that dynamic. this is definitely going to help vary things up a bit), and I can’t wait to see how All Might and Kacchan react too omg

just. thumbs up from me