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pitchsidestories · 9 months ago

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familia II Irene Paredes/Barça Femeni x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1991

a/n: based off this lovely request here. Thank you for sending us so many great requests !

You loved training camps with the FC Barcelona. They were always loads of fun. The players seemed happy and the weather was great. But this time, you were also painfully reminded how exhausting camp life could be. As the team doctor, you had to be there for their medical needs at all times and the past few days, the players had kept you quite busy. So busy, in fact, that you barely had time for your girlfriend.

In a quiet moment during your lunch break, your girlfriend snaked her arm around your waist and whispered into your ear: “Let’s do something tonight. Only us two.“

There was something impatient in her eyes as you turned towards her. You were glad to hear that she missed your alone-time as much as you did.

“Yes, that sounds great.“, you smiled.

The two of you did not even have the time for a quick kiss as another stumbled into the treatment room.

Patri stopped right in front of you and heaved an annoyed sigh: “Hey, Doc. We need an ice pack.“

“An ice pack? Patri, tell me quickly what happened.“, you urged her sternly.

As a response, the young midfielder rolled her eyes: “Claudias finger got trapped in the door. Nothing happened but she is pouting.“

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.“, you promised and took an ice pack out of the freezer.

“Thanks.“, Patri said while leading you and Irene to the injured player.

Claudia stood in front of the dressing room, holding her finger. Her brows were furrowed and for some reason, she reminded you of an oversized toddler.

“Claudia. I heard about the accident with your finger.“, you started and held out your hand so she would show you her finger.

While you examined her hand, she complained: “That was Patris fault.“

The older player took a deep breath in an attempt to protest but one look from Irene made her close her mouth immediately.

Her finger seemed fine but still, you could not stop yourself from hugging her: “Oh, Claudia. Do you need some ice?“

She nodded, her big blue eyes widened: “Yes.“

You handed her the ice pack: “You’re welcome.“

“I told you it wasn’t that bad.“, Patri scoffed, slightly annoyed.

“It’ll be alright.“, you promised them both before the two players disappeared into the dressing room.

Irene should have followed but instead her arms wrapped around your body once again. With a fond smile, she said: “Can’t wait for tonight.“

“Me neither.“, you replied happily but someone else quickly caught your attention.

Mapi was on the pitch and tried to do some tricks with the football. One of her knees was still in a brace after her meniscus injury.

Your heart sank for a moment, watching her rather reckless moves: “Mapi, be careful!“

“I’m fine.“, she answered nonchalantly, keeping her focus on the ball.

“Think of your knee, Maria!“, you yelled back at her.

As you had suspected, this got her attention. She stopped and grimaced at you: “Maria?!“

“So, you know I’m serious about it.”, you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

With a smirk on her face the defender tried to reassure you:” Calm down, I’m fine.”

“Please be careful with your knee, okay? It needs a bit more resting time to properly heal.”, you sighed.

She couldn’t help but to roll her eyes at your protectiveness:” Yeah, mum.”

“Don’t mum me, Maria. We’re only two years apart!”, you reminded her.

“Then stop acting like a mum.”, Mapi countered.

Quickly you corrected the football player: “I’m not, it’s my advice to you as a doctor.”

“Sure, mum.”, Mapi responded in a teasingly tone.

You groaned and demanded from her to stop it.

Grinning Irene who you haven’t noticed while having your talk with the younger player joined the conversation:” But our children would behave better.”

“Lies. They would do the same.”, the heavily tattooed Spaniard disagreed.

“I strongly believe they wouldn’t be as annoying.”, you joked as you exchanged knowingly looks with your girlfriend. You were able to communicate with each other without words which was helpful on and off the pitch.

The peaceful moment between you two was interrupted once again by a player, this time it was Mapi: “Yeah, they would.”

Afterwards she promised to be more careful with her knee. You knew how much you asked of her, as an athlete all they want to do is play with a ball at their feet. Every injury was a reminder that their time as football players was short and could end at any moment.

A bit later the rest of her teammates arrived in their training clothes. Watching Keira, you gasped out loud:” Oh my god, Keira. Have you forgot your sunscreen again?”

“Why? What do you mean?”, Keira frowned at you.

Frustratedly you pointed to the sky, the sun was still intense even in the afternoon:” It’s so sunny outside, you need to protect your skin.”

“Your nose is already getting sunburned.” Lucy stated matter-of-factly.

“You English always underestimate the sun here.”, you chuckled before handing Keira the sunscreen which has been in your bag for emergency cases like this.

The dark-haired defender who was half Portuguese protested smiling:” Hey, leave me out of this.”

“You need that sun protection too, Lucia.”, you remarked.

“Here, take it before you get in trouble.”, Keira whispered.

“Ugh fine.”, the older of the English players mumbled.

Satisfied you turned around only to be face to face to Barcelona’s captain who smirked at you:” Happy madre happy life.”

“Alexia not you too.”

“Just here to steal your girlfriend for the gym session.”, she winked at you.

“Alright, I’ll see you both at dinner. Time for me to look at the injured players.”, you announced.

With a warm smile Irene said:” Have fun.”

“You too.”, you answered. Although fun was a difficult wish to fulfil considering you had to take care of the women who were currently out of the game and they needed extra care physically as well as mentally.

“Come on, Irene, you need to work on your muscles!“, Alexia teased as they walked side by side to the gym.

Irenes jaw dropped open: “Excuse me?!“

Alexia grinned back at her: “You heard me.“

“Go work on your knee instead.“, Irene laughed and playfully pushed her teammate in the direction of the gym doors.

Alexia rolled her eyes: “You sound like your girlfriend.“

“Someone has to tell you.“, Irene shrugged while starting with her workout plan under the supervision of one of the physios.

Her teammate followed suit: “Yeah, I know.“

The two football players worked in silence for a while until Alexia gave Irene an inquisitive look: “Were you serious about the children earlier?“

Surprised by the question, Irene paused her exercise and laughed: “About actual children? We already have you.“

“And?“, Alexia shrugged.

The defender continued to feign cluelessness: “And what?“

“Just letting you know that we’d be there for you two when you decide to have actual children.“

“Thanks. We appreciate that.“, Irene replied casually.

Alexia just smiled knowingly and focused on her workout again: “You’re welcome.“

Dinner was one of the few regular moments in camp when you and Irene had some time for each other. Her hair was still damp from the shower when she sat down next to you. She had the same satisfied expression her face that she always had after a good workout.

“Hi, how was your gym session?“, you greeted her while filling her glass with water, making sure she was adequately hydrated.

Irene gratefully took a sip before answering: “Good, really. But Ale was weird.“

“Weirder than usual?“

She softly chuckled: “Yes.“

“What did she do?“, you asked curiously.

Irene lowered her voice so the other players on your table would not hear her: “She said something about supporting us if we’d actually wanted to have children one day.“

“Wait, that doesn’t sound like Ale at all.“, you joked.

“No, it doesn’t.“

“Strange.“, you commented. Subconsciously, you looked at Alexia on the neighbouring table. A tablet was propped up in front of her while she ate. You assumed that she once again looked at video footage of games and training sessions. “Ale?“

She looked up in surprise: “Huh?“

“It’s not a match day tomorrow. Take a break, you don’t need to overwork yourself.“, you gently reminded her.

“I’m not.“, she protested, her eyes darting back to the screen.

You raised an eyebrow: “Promise?“

She gave a you a small smile: “Promise.“

“Okay.“, you sighed and turned back to your dinner.

Irenes elbow bumped against yours just as you were about to finish eating. She pointed outside the dining room window: “Y/n, want to go to the beach now? The sun is about to set.“

You carefully put your fork down and again glanced over to Alexia who was still focused on her screen: “Sure.“

“Come on, she’ll be fine.“, Irene smiled comforting at you.

After one last look at the captain, you admitted:” You’re right.”

With that said your girlfriend stood up, holding her hand out for you take it:” Let’s go.”

“Coming.”, you reassured her.

Silently you walked to the beach, enjoying each other’s company after a long workday. The sand was still warm underneath your feet even though the sun was about to set. The sky was pink and purple shaded.

Irene was the first to speak again:” It’s nice here.”

“I agree, also the calmness feels nice after such an eventful day.”, you replied, admiring the scenery in front of you.

The defender smirked at you:” Quite busy with our children, right?”

“Yeah, but I’d not change a thing about it. I love them.”, you confessed smiling fondly while thinking about the players.

“Me too. Mostly.”, she responded.

Amused you lifted an eyebrow:” Mostly?”

“They can be annoying.”, Irene shrugged her shoulders.

Slowly you agreed:” Yes, sometimes.”

“But I’d not swap them for anything else.”, your girlfriend replied in an honest tone.

Thoughtfully you nodded to her remark:” Me neither, they are family.”

“They are.”

As the waves crashed to the shore your lips touched for a heartfelt kiss. Afterwards you two still leaned your foreheads together, eyes closed, enjoying the moment.

“If we ever have real children, we’re well prepared.”, Irene whispered.

Hearing her saying this out loud made you yearn for a family of your own:” Yes, they would welcome them in immediately, I’ve no doubt about that.”

“I’m sure.”, she sounded sincere.

“Are you thinking about starting to try for children?”, you cautiously asked her.

Nervously the defender licked her lips:” I mean it’s a nice thought to have children one day.” For a moment Irene paused before adding, would you want that too?”

“I do, yes.”

Your girlfriends face lit up with giddy excitement:” So we’re trying it?”

“Yeah, we’ll.” Suddenly you were interrupted by her teammates who were running towards you.

“What?”, startled Irene looked at them.

Equally confused you wanted to know from the other women:” Girls, what’s going on?”

“It’s time to celebrate.”, Patri declared grinning.

Curiously you continued: “To celebrate, what?”

“Just to celebrate.”, Alexia waved it off beaming.

Baffled Irene turned to the midfielder who she has been friends with for a very long time:” Ale, were you guys listening to us the whole time?!”

“Maybe.”, she answered with an innocent smile.”

“So, yes. God that’s so embarrassing.”, you groaned.

Empathically Marta padded your shoulders:” We especially loved the family part.”

“Agreed.”, Alexia said.

“It’s simply the truth.”, you told them, your cheeks burning red.

“Guys that was private.”, Irene huffed at her teammates.

This made Mapi roll her eyes:” Oh please, nothing stays private during training camp.”

“Maybe we hate you now.”, you teased her.

“No, you love us.”, Patri shook her head.

With a sigh you gave in:” Yeah, fine, we do.”

Because those women were more to you than just people you worked with, they were family.

#irene paredes #irene paredes x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #woso community #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #espwnt #patri guijarro #claudia pina #mapi leon #keira walsh #alexia putellas #lucy bronze

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟲: 𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 & 𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀/𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. not beta read. vampires. dubcon (from the inherent plot). safe, sane, and consensual though. coming untouched. no penetrative sex. implied sex. blood drinking. biting. mention of multiple orgasms. unnecessary world building. the grid & mercedes knows about george being a vampire. hickeys/love bites. bruises. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: george russell x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: prey • the neighborhood

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i guess i got too into the plot and lost myself in the exposition. i was originally going to delete the beginning ramblings of setting the scene and what not, but this would be like 500 words if i did that. for some reason, the entire grid knows george is a vampire? i couldn’t find the brainpower to explain who he’s hiding it from or how that would work in f1. the kink is more of the inherent tension from drinking somebodies blood. lol, anyways have fun reading 🫶🏽

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cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

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george had gotten enough schooling to learn what classical conditioning is. pavlov conditioned dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell ringing; a conditioned response. george may have done the same thing to you–he made the mistake of making sure you orgasm as he bites and drinks from you. now every time he feeds from you, you cum, even if there’s no sexual build-up at all; it could be the most bland feeding session and the minute his venom enters your bloodstream, you can’t fight it—he’s pavlov-ed his girlfriend. he should’ve never allowed himself to feed from you.

when george first met you, he was enamored with you from the start. after every morning run, he would end at a local coffee shop and you would already be cozied up in a corner seat working away on your computer. you smelled delectable, george quickly picked up on that. he was thankful the barista had already memorized his usual order, because he really wouldn’t have enjoyed explaining why his canines had elongated into fangs. he couldn’t handle the way your blood was calling to him and left the coffee shop as soon as he got his drink, running into several people on the way out. you would be in the coffee shop on two out of the three days he came in, and he would be a serious hazard to any customer who came in during the five minutes he was there. it was like this for two months and twelve days (not that he was counting or anything), until you weren’t in your seat one day. george sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing and the fixed grimace in anticipation sliding off his face—what he didn’t expect to feel is disappointment at the lack of your appearance and addicting scent. he dismisses the emotions, convincing himself that he’s just used to the constant repression of his instincts around you. he even takes the time to engage in small talk with the baristas; two months ago he was well-invested into their lives, he has a lot of catching up to do. he allows himself to be forced into a seat at the counter to drink his coffee and indulge in a few pastries that are definitely breaking his diet. it’s an off day for him, his only plans are to stream in the evening with the usual quartet, so he can afford to dine in this morning…and indulge in catching up on the coffee shop gossip, he’s only a man, alright?

george is halfway through his cup of coffee and laughing along to a story about how this adorable kid tried to buy hot chocolate with monopoly money when the entrance door jingles open. he chokes on his sip of coffee, almost spraying it over the counter in surprise as you walk up to the counter. he turns to look at you ordering at the register, to confirm he’s not imagining your presence and—you look amazing. you’re wearing flared black trousers with a short-sleeved, white, collared shirt tucked into them, elegant gold jewelry accented against your brown skin—you’ve dressed up today. it’s different from the usual hoodie and headphones george sees you wearing in that corner nook of yours; at least that’s his excuse for why he ends up staring you down. after finishing your order, you head towards your usual seat and end up making direct eye contact with george, because the universe hates him. he sees your attempt at a polite smile and his cheeks burn red at being caught, and jerks his head forward breaking his stare. he hears you continue to walk past him, and the barista stares at him disbelievingly, “mate…you fumbled that.” george stutters through a denial, but then he hears your footsteps stop—and he knows you haven’t reached the corner seat yet. he picks up on the sound of you turning on your heels and heading back in his direction, and he drops his head into his hands, resigned.

“ah! someone’s taken your seat today,” the barista in front of george calls out to you—george narrows his eyes at the man in warning, “come sit at the counter then; you can tell me what you’re all fancied-up for.” the barista glances at george with a smirk, and he swears this may be the first time he bleeds a human dry.

you laugh and sit at the counter, one seat in between you and george. and george sighs in relief for the second time today; you’re wearing perfume and it taints the smell of your blood, enough for him to not start salivating, at least. its silent for a minute, and george can feel your awkwardness radiating.

“so…” you question teasingly, “not in a rush today, then?”

george turns to look at you, shocked that you’re even talking to him—he never figured he’d be in a conversation with you. while your voice may have been teasing, your eyes are soft, warmed with kindness, and george melts. he manages to muster a tease back in your direction, “no, not today. but, look at you—in business casual attire, i was starting to believe you only knew how to dress in sweatshirts?”

you roll your eyes at him, and a smirk replaces your painfully polite smile, “ah? today must’ve not been the only day you’ve been staring at me, if you’re so familiar with how i dress…even though we’ve never spoken to each other before.” george’s mouth drops open at you checking him, and he can hear both baristas giggling behind the counter. and at that moment, george is pretty sure he fell in love with you right then—even though he didn’t have the balls to ask you out for another month and a half.

for those weeks, every time george came to the cafe, you would wave him over to your table with a bright grin and invite him to sit down across from you. even on days when he really couldn’t afford to be late, he’d find himself sitting down to chat with you. instead of being early to zoom meetings with the mercedes team, he started being on-time, often enough for lewis and toto to comment on it. his only response to their gentle prodding at the change in his behavior being, “i added another mile to my morning run,” when he really was spending those minutes talking to you after his run. after he built up the courage to ask for your number (platonically, of course), he would show up to the driver’s briefings a few minutes late, rushing in yet tapping away on his phone struggling to hide the smile on his face. for all of his superior senses, he doesn’t notice how his grid mates stare at him like he’s lost his mind; eventually, one of the officials calls him out when he glances down at the notifications popping up on his phone screen for the fourth time in five minutes, “mr. russell, i am sure that whatever you find so interesting on your phone can’t be more important than our discussion about track conditions, can it?”

george flushed red (he knew he shouldn’t have fed until later) and stumbled through an apology. after the briefing ends, the drivers start teasing him for being ‘so unprofessional,’ and lewis doesn’t help when he reveals how george has started being late to mercedes team meetings, too. charles pretends to faint, alex gasps in horror, and lando’s eyes light up at the opportunity to be a gremlin.

“boysboysboys,” lando grins, gathering everyone’s attention, “i think it’s finally happened.”

george sighed, over the dramatics already, “what’s happened, lando?”

“you’ve managed to get yourself a girlfriend!” lando shrieks, his high-pitched laughter hurting george’s ears.

george flusters, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “she’s not my girlfriend!” and, he’s only made it worse.

alex’s eyes widen, pointing at george in shock, “oh my god—so you are talking to a girl!” george groans and spins on his feet to leave the room, ignoring the jibes and teases of the grown men behind him.

later that night, his hotel room is infiltrated by almost half the grid (including fernando, for some reason), all seeming to rally behind their common goal of getting george to ask you on an actual date. they debase all of george’s points about why he shouldn’t ask you out—the main point being that he’s a fucking vampire—and ask him the one question that he’s been refusing to acknowledge, “you can smell how she feels—does she smell like she likes you?”

george hisses at them half-heartedly, more like a frazzled kitten than a terrifying monster, “yes, i’m already aware that she’s interested in me—that’s the problem! i’ve already led her on this whole time, and she doesn’t know that she has a crush on an undead, immortal, vampire!” the room quiets at his outburst, and he can only groan and drop his head into his hands.

“so just tell her,” max states bluntly, not looking away from the fifa game he’s beating charles’ ass in. george stares at max, appalled.

“let her make the decision for herself, right?” max starts, pausing the game to look at george, “for some bizarre reason she likes you for who you are,” george scoffs, “so, just tell her from the jump—you’ve already led her on enough, so give her the opportunity to decide whether or not if she should date your lame ass.”

the vampire stares at max disbelievingly, “that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

the red bull driver shrugs, ears turning red under the surprised stares in the room, and quickly un-pauses the game and scores on charles. the monegasque screams dramatically, and the tense air is broken. george shakily sighs, anxious, and pulls out his phone to ask you on a date. originally, he was thinking about asking you through a text, but with almost every driver in the room disapproving of any way he goes about wording it, he bares his fangs at them, and steps out of his own room, to call you.

the phone doesn’t even complete the first ring before you pick up, and a pleasant, “hi, georgieeee,” slips from your mouth; he can hear how you’re smiling through the phone. he banters with you for a minute, listening to how you're singing praises about his performance even though the actual race isn’t for another day. when the conversation dies down, he blurts out the question, “do you want to go on a—“

“i would love to go on a date with you!” you cut him off, eagerly, “i mean–sorry, yes. i would like to go out with you.” george laughs, relieved and comforted by the fact that you’re as gone for him as he is for you. he can’t even bring himself to be mad when he hears the men in his room raucously cheer.

and when george took you out for brunch to the same cafe, ignoring the baristas’ proud expressions, he realized he had nothing to worry about. the conversation flowed easily, he made you laugh and you made him laugh, and most importantly, he didn't think about draining you dry like a caprisun. you’ve ditched the cozy outfits and dressed up again—dressed up for him—and george is out of his running attire and fancied up; and you make a off-hand comment about how unnatural this feels, and george is reminded of the one important thing he was supposed to tell you. time has flown by so quickly while the two of you were hidden away in your preferred corner seat, and it’s become mid-afternoon. george surveys the surroundings briefly and is shocked to find that it’s only the two of you, and the baristas in the cafe; it’s the perfect time to tell you.

when george states that he’s a vampire, you obviously think he’s joking, “well, you’re not burning in the sunlight, georgie–so i don’t believe you! i am afraid that if this is a kink of yours, i don’t see a second date in the future.” he tries to smile at your joke but it ends up as more of a grimace, and he exposes his fangs for you to see. he hears the breath catch in your throat, sees your eyes widening in shock, blown-out pupils shrinking in fear, hears your heart beginning to race in your chest, blood rushing in your veins, and smells your scent souring.

“george russell,” you whisper yell, glancing around anxiously, “what the fuck! i believe you—you shouldn’t do that in public! what if someone else saw?!” and that’s when he realized that sure, a small amount of your fear was from the confirmation that he is a supernatural being—but mainly that, you were afraid for him. and at that point, george knew that he could allow himself to be vulnerable with you.

and after three years together, he fed from you for the first time. a lot of planning went into the initial feeding: after the end of the racing season, a trip away just for the two of you, george would satiate his thirst with his usual blood donor supply, he wouldn’t drink more than six ounces from you, you’d eat a full meal and be properly hydrated, and of course, he’d drink from you when you orgasm. the bite hurts in the beginning—george has been told many stories from feeders—and the most common distraction to the pain is a simultaneous orgasm. you were apprehensive yet extremely willing to allow george to drink from you, and told him that you trusted him completely—you even sat through his numerous clinical rundowns of the plan without complaining.

however in the moment, george diverted from the script. instead of having you cum once, george forced three orgasms out of you and bit you on the last one. he practically mauled your neck, chest, and hickeys throughout the night, as if he was teasing himself with the indents on of his teeth on your body before he bit into you. you couldn’t figure out if it was the venom from his bite or the multiple orgasms that had you floating pleasurably. george couldn’t deny that seeing you covered in love bites and his actual fang marks didn’t provoke a hidden possessive trait in him. the love bites he left on your body would fade within a few days, the bite mark would fade in around two weeks—and you told george explicitly that if he ever wanted to feed from you again, he’d be more than welcome to do so.

the vampire always thought that he was the one who was at risk for getting addicted to your blood; his greatest fear being that he wouldn’t be able to resist sucking you dry. however, it rapidly dawned on him: you’re the one who formed an addiction.

george always made sure his thirst was properly sated with his usual blood bags before he drank from you. over three months, he’d consistently make you cum whenever he bit you, whether it was with his fingers, cock, mouth, thigh, etc. but he never quite realized that he conditioned you into cumming whenever he bit you, until the singapore grand prix.

singapore was hot. it wasn’t hell on earth like qatar, but it was still fucking hot. and then, he crashed. as he made his way back to the mercedes garage (stomping under the force of his self-deprecation), he became increasingly aware of the tingle in the back of his throat; he’s hungry, he needs blood. he ignores his race engineer asking if he needs medical attention, and asks for a ‘juicebox,’ the codeword for a blood-bag. only to find out, he had his last one yesterday after qualifying—the hotter race weekends have him draining his supply quicker than usual. the vampire whimpers, and suddenly he’s bombarded by you speeding over from the back of the garage. you’re tugging his face down to eye level, worriedly asking if he’s hurt, but george can only register how alluring your blood smells. contrary to popular vampiric-belief (if that’s a thing, he has no clue), blood does not smell sweet. it smells metallic, and the overall scent is affected by water content and ph-level; you smell velvety, and absolutely perfect to george.

the vampire briefly reassures you that he’s fine, before he grabs you by the hand and turns to toto. george begs his team principal to postpone any of his post-race interviews for as long as he can so he can get a brief feeding in with you before he loses his mind any further. toto cuts george’s pleads off immediately and allows him to do whatever he needs; the brit's temper is short enough already, if your blood can calm his mouth toto will personally send you a brand new g-wagon.

george pulls you along to his driver’s room, slowing when he hears how you’re tripping over your feet two match his speed. he shoves the door open, but kindly guides you with a palm on the small of your back into the room, before he steps in and slams the door shut, locking it with a quickness. he speedily sits on the edge of his couch, and pulls you onto his lap, staring up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“love,” he starts, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, “may i drink from you? i should’ve been smarter about preserving my supply, usually i’m more careful about it, but i think i was just overager with everything this weekend. i’ll only take a small sip, just enough to hold me over until we fly back home, yeah? i mean, if you’re uncomfortable, i will not drink from you. i should be able to wait—”

you cover the vampire’s mouth with a hand, and smile softly at him, “yes, georgie, you can feed from me. the whole point of drinking from me was to have me acclimate to the feeling for rare situations like this, yes? i’m okay with it, you can take as much as you need from me.”

george stares at you for a few seconds, for some reason, he’s surprised at your easy allowance, before he’s shaken out of his stupor by you waving a hand in front of his face.

“i won’t be able to make you cum—i need to get out there as soon as possible,” george rambles out.

“ok,” you state, looking at him oddly, “i’m pretty sure i’ll be able to handle it, and if not you’ll know before i do.”

the brit asks if you’re sure one last time, before he effortlessly stands up with you in his arms, spins around and places you on the couch, sitting you where he was. the vampire kneels in front of you, and parts your legs gently, before tugging at the waistband of your pants for permission. you’re still reeling from his easy manhandling (you forget about his superior strength, he never makes it obvious), and how he fell to knees for you—the duality of his actions has you embarrassingly hot. you lift your hips up allowing george to tug off your pants, and you see firsthand how he loses his train of thought.

when george brings you along to a race, he avoids leaving marks in a visible spots, so unfortunately for him, your neck and torso are complete bruise free; the humid weather in singapore meant that you would be wearing tank tops or cropped shirts, so he can’t risk someone seeing a smidge of a bruise on your body; they wouldn’t understand. although, george could take his fill of marking you up on your thighs. the dark skin of your inner thighs is mottled with bruises from his lips and indents of his teeth, all in various stages of healing observed by the various shades of purple they’re colored in. george slowly presses a finger into one of the marks and smirks when a strangled gasp escapes you from the pressure. if the vampire wasn’t so focused on the scent of your blood, he’d probably notice how that motion alone already had you wet.

george buries his head between your thighs, close enough that you can feel the exhales of breath from his nose over your panties. you shift, squirming away from the feeling—this is about giving george blood, which he needs for sustenance, not for you to get turned on at, you try to remind yourself. the brit halts your movements, his hands flexing around you only slightly. you try and buck your hips away to test his grip, and you don’t move a single centimeter. you glance down, making eye-contact with your boyfriend, and the teasing smile he’s hiding behind your thigh has your heart rabbiting faster, even though you roll your eyes at him. george begins to lick and nip across your thighs searching for the best spot to pierce your skin, and you are trapped in your own mind. you’re at the mercy of an immortal being, you have no chance of fighting him off if you needed to. of course, you’re very aware that george wouldn’t lay a finger on you, but your hindbrain runs off of instincts, and it’s telling you george is a predator and you’re clearly his next meal. the adrenaline thrumming underneath your skin causes you to start breathing a little heavier and you manage to wrangle the instinctual fear away to relax under him. george startles you from your thoughts when his cold hand leads yours to rest on the nape of his neck, and he pauses when he feels you jump underneath him.

“hey, you can still say ‘no’ if you’re not ready for this yet. there’s no pressure, love,” george reassures you. the calming tone of his voice has no judgemental lilt, and his words soothe you enough to double-down with your agreement.

“thank you for doing this for me, love. as soon as we get back to the hotel, i’ll take care of you properly–i promise,” george praises you, “now, remember, this won’t take any longer than ten seconds. if you need me to stop beforehand, pinch the skin on my neck and i’ll stop, okay?”

you swallow, clearing your throat, “yes, george. can we start already? my nerves will scare me away if we wait too long.”

george nods, hands petting at your waist reassuringly, before he focuses back on your thighs. his nose tracing along your sensitive skin for a few more seconds, until he stops and nuzzles at a spot almost on the underside of your left thigh, close enough to your pussy to have the fear fade under the anticipation of pleasure. the vampire kisses at the spot three times, before he lets his fangs slide out with an audible shlick. he presses them gently against you skin for a few seconds before he bites down.

the pain isn’t from the invasion of his fangs, but from the spread of the venom. it burns as it spreads through your bloodstream; you imagine this is what boiling alive feels like. the feeling is immense but fleeting. the initial bite has always been paralyzing, but when george takes the first pull of blood, the venom must have reached your brain and taken effect, because the pain instantly switches to an immobilizing amount of pleasure. the scream that was originally building in your chest transforms into a keening moan, the burning pain no longer present.

you feel your core tightening as george continues to feast on your blood; thighs trembling in pleasure, eyes rolling back overwhelmed, and toes curling. it’s happening so quickly, quick enough that you don’t register that you’re cumming. waves of pleasure crash over you unendingly, and you’re unable to figure out why. every drag of blood george takes ruins any chance you have to think. the pleasure is so catastrophic that you don’t even register when george releases the bite.

the vampire can only stare up at you in awe as your mouth parts, drool beginning to leak from the corner of your lips, your eyes slamming shut, and face scrunching from the force of the orgasm he ripped out of you. george soothes the bite closed with careful sweeps of his tongue, allowing you all the time you need to come back to him. he softly sucks a few more marks into the meat of your thigh before he fights himself away from cradle of your legs, brushing a kiss on your cunt over your panties.

the vampire slides his way onto the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms to allow you to shake through the aftershocks in his grasp. he presses kisses to your forehead, while he murmurs praises freely. while his mouth is running in one direction, his thoughts take a completely different turn.

he’s ruined you for any other person. he’s trained you to orgasm with a simple bite of his fangs. your body has correlated the painful spread of his venom with pleasure. george has tied you to him for the rest of your life. this is a huge fucking problem. his mind starts racing; if that’s the case he either needs to work that out of you, or he can never feed from you in situations like this again. you’ll be useless for the rest of the day, your brain has turned into jello. he needs to make sure that he manages his blood supply properly in the future, so he doesn’t have to drink from you where the media can discover how gone you are.

george has no idea how he would go about un-training your…pleasurable…response to his bite. on second thought, george doesn’t want to change your newfound reflex. if anything, it’s like an equal exchange. the vampire satiates his thirst, and you satiate your thirst. george coos at you adoringly when he hears the near inaudible moans your breathing into his neck—yeah, he thinks you’ll agree with him when you’re aware enough to do so.

he finds himself tracing the fresh bite mark with a thumb, groaning when your hips grind against him in return. he fumbles his phone out of his pocket to tell toto he needs at least another twenty minutes.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

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theemporium · 9 months ago

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NO DRINKS FOR SVECH??? oh absolutely not! lets give him a lil dirty flirtini! "Let's flip coins. Head, I'm yours. Tails, you're mine."

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

19. “Let’s flip a coin. Heads, I’m yours. Tails, you’re mine.”

“You look pretty lonely over here.”

You paused, the rim of your glass hovering just at your lips as you turned your head to find a familiar face grinning at you. In all honesty, you were surprised it had taken him as long as it did to come over, considering the fact his eyes had been glued to the second you walked into the bar.

“You been watching me?” You asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Maybe,” Andrei murmured, his cheeks rosy and pink from whatever drinks he had been nursing since the win earlier that night. It was a big one, one that deserved the boys heading out to a local bar and pretending like they didn’t have practice the next day. “Thought you’d come and say hi.”

Against your better judgement, your eyes flickered over to where the boy had been stationed for most of the night. Most of the players were sitting around or near the booth, along with a flurry of girls in a mix of jerseys that had followed them from the rink. You tried to not roll your eyes at the sight.

“You looked busy,” you answered eventually with a halfhearted shrug.

Andrei was grinning when you looked back at him. “Not fun when my favourite girl doesn’t talk to me, though.”

You tried to ignore the way your face heated up at his words. “You trying to sweet me up so I buy you a drink, Svech?” It was meant to be teasing, funny even. Something to cover up the fact the boy had more of an affect on you than you cared to admit.

“Maybe I was hoping you’d let me buy you a drink,” he retorted, stepping a little closer until his arm was leaning against the counter and his body was mere inches away from you.

You cleared your throat, taking a long sip of your drink.

Andrei tilted his head to the side. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No,” you lied before turning to face him again, his eyes watching you with focused intent. “I just…”

“You just?” He prompted, fingers lightly tapping against the wood of the bartop.

“I just thought you would have more fun over there,” you answered eventually, nodding in the direction of the booth where the majority of the team was still sitting. “I was probably going to leave after this drink.”

“It wouldn’t be fun over there,” Andrei said with a shake of his head. “Not without you.”

“Andrei,” you sighed, his name heavy on your tongue. Because he did this. He always did this when the two of you were drunk. He would come over, make you feel all warm and fuzzy with his flirty words and cute accent and then you would feel like an absolute idiot in the morning when he acted like nothing had happened. “I can’t keep doing this.”

It was adorable the way he frowned in confusion. You hated yourself a little for thinking it was adorable.

“Doing what?” He questioned, his lips turned downwards.

“This. Us. This friends with benefits situation,” you confessed, your chest feeling oddly tight as you managed to spit the words out. Every cell in your body was screaming for you to stop, to not rip away the chance to feel his body pressed against yours again. But your brain knew better, your brain was being logical. “It isn’t healthy.”

Andrei blinked. “You think we are just friends?”

Your gut twisted a little. “You think we aren’t?”

“I–” Andrei looked a little bashful, and it was oddly endearing to see. He seemed to contemplate something, his eyes watching your expression closely before he spoke again. “Let’s make a bet.”

You paused, thinking you misheard him. “What?”

“A bet. You know, with a coin,” he continued, and hints of that self-assured smirk started to appear as he stepped forward. His hand cupped your elbow, keeping you close as the small distance between you closed and that familiar warmth of him overwhelmed your senses.

“A coin,” you repealed, still a little lost in his touch to fully compute what he was saying.

“Yes,” he nodded, smiling down at you with that grin that made your heart lurch a little in your chest. “Let’s flip a coin. Heads, I’m yours. Tails, you’re mine.”

You could feel your cheeks burning. “I—”

“You weren’t just a friend to me,” he spoke up, a little more serious as he lifted his other hand to gently cup the back of your head. “I just thought…I don’t know. I thought you knew. There was no one but you for me. From the start.”

You blinked, your chest feeling heavy for a whole other reason now. “Oh.”

“Can I buy you the drink now?” He asked, that playful smile of his spreading across his face as his thumb lightly brushed against your cheek. “Or do I have to find a coin to flip?”

“You did say it was a bet,” you teased.

“If that’s what it takes, malysh,” he murmured, his gaze dipping down to your lips and, for a second, you thought he would lean down to kiss you. But then, he was stepping back and you found yourself instantly disappointed as he continued to walk backwards.

“Where are you going?”

His grin widened. “To find a coin and make you mine!”

You snorted. “I might win.”

“I’m not complaining.”

#cece's cocktail celebration #andrei svechnikov #nhl #carolina hurricanes #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov x y/n #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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prettyboykatsuki · 5 months ago

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how surprising ur response doesn’t address the issue at all!!!! i would love for u to go off on me because it’s easy for me to win a disagreement when i know i’m right lmao and also i KNOW 100% for a fact that countless people would agree w me but it’s not reaching the correct audience w a sane mindset cuz all ur followers are 🌽 addicts too thinking the same shit as u and pitying and comforting ur ass in ur replies🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️shits cringe to watch but anyway every normal person knows it’s weird and that’s all the matters i suppose cuz post that shit literally anywhere else and your ass WILL get dragged

maybe let’s try a one month no 🌽 challenge and try again! maybe ur mind will detox and you’ll realize ur fucking weird

i didn't respond to your ask with any dignity because the original premise of your ask was not worthy of being dignified with time nor attention.

ive gotten tens of asks of people who also want to hold moral superiority over me by regurgitating opinions they've adopted from their online internet circles without any real nuance and thus i have no reason to take it seriously. you are not the first person to try to peddle this to me and there is nothing about your ask that warrants any of my thoughtful consideration.

i normally wouldn't bother with correcting this one either, but because im already in a deeply irritable mood - sure, i will give you the response you are asking for, starting with the post you are criticizing.

firstly, you're incorrectly reading my post. you intentionally misrepresent my post with your wording and also the sort of joke i was making by implying "memed about waiting for the age of consent" so i can indulge my porn addiction."

im going to disregard your application of harmful real world rhetoric to what is essentially fiction and go along with the idea that fictional characters are in anyway effected by my posting.

the main issue is fundamentally that you are misreading it. i know you are because i am the original poster and the author of this post - which means i can directly tell you that the point of this post is ironic.

it is poking fun at the people who have accused me of pedophilia for aging up a fictional character for years because he is now, in canon, an adult.

the irony of that is that i was doing what horikoshi was when writing my fics. the people who treated my aging up as invalid simply because horikoshi is the author are no longer able to wield it against me. the author has no confirmed his adulthood, which makes that argument moot.

your argument is that i was in some way making a joking about having waited for izuku to reach adulthood in order to sexualize him. this is blantantly incorrect and a misreading of the post in general. that is not something you can counter because if you've spent any time on my blog at all - it would be very clear i was already aging up and sexualizing characters on my own whims.

both posts for better viewing.

the other thing you spout off about is porn addiction. this is the main reason i didn't find any reason to take your points seriously. if you knew, researched, or understood any of the points you've borrowed from your peers on tiktok - you would know why porn addiction is not a term you can apply to erotica.

in the first place, there is no universally understood diagnostic criteria for porn addiction. there are other forms of research related to how porn interferes with cis-heterosexual partnerships and the quality of sex life and some affiliation with watching porn as a compulsive behavior - but neither of these things qualify as addiction.

pornography is a highly politicized topic because our society is structured upon old school protestant christian beliefs and puritanism. but pornography and sexually explicit materal is a difficult thing to quantify in usage. it is culturally ubiquitous and has several nuances in relation to its use. it is near impossibly to quantify sexual behavior because it is a normal, human urge like hunger or thirst whether or not you choose to believe that.

here are three articles making points about the claims around porn addiction from reliable sources that you're welcome to point out.

one | two | three

as i keep repeating - addiction is a specific line of behavior and being frank, it's rather insulting you think i suffer from a porn addiction given i used to do actual drugs and suffered from real life addictions lmao.

but if you want to use other addiction diagnostic critera in this argument. my posting on silly erotica tumblr does not

interfere with my daily life or relationships

negatively affect my performance in school or at work

cause me to withdraw from social situations

lose interest in my other hobbies and activies that improve quality of life.

none of the above applies to me. but im guessing you don't have any actual concern.

it's very clear to me and everyone else that your peddling of this term has nothing to do with whether or not i actually have the addiction - and everything to do with you attempting to moralize my behavior to an audience and boost up your own points.

if i really did have a porn addiction, implying i had an addiction - you are implying that this is something i should be ashamed of just as you are implying my fellow porn addicts should also be ashamed.

you see addiction as a point of shame and not a disease and don't show any actual empathy which makes you a morally bankrupt human being in my subjective view. you don't have any actual arguments about how this might effect my behavior or character. only that addiction (a thing people can't control) is bad, that i am bad for watching porn and being addicted to it.

neither of these are provable as you do not know me.

instead your attempt to find fault is to arm yourself with puritan talking points and internet tiktok buzzword language and make your clauses have some kind of ground or validity. it is trite and frankly embarrassing watching you come into my inbox with such confidence that you would be able to argue with me critically and meaningfully.

the last thing i will address is your point about this not being a popular opinion.

you are under the impression im not aware of this and that this is not a choice i've made deliberately so i will be kindly blunt.

i, unlike you, have formed these opinions with my own critical understanding of culture, sociology, psychology, and politics by researching and reading from people who study these things with more expertise than me.

these opinions are formed by my own discretion and worldview. they are unpopular opinions.

unlike you, my peers are not decided by my moral parading. rather, im frank and upfront with those world views and have formed a circle that agrees with them.

i do not need your validation nor the validation of people online to confirm whether or not im a good person. the reason people agree with me is not pity, but because they too have formed their own opinions and ours happen to allign.

you think this is pitying behavior because the people you choose to align with would cast you out for showing even a breadth of disagreement or critique. you have not fostered a space for intelligent conversation because you can't see disagreement without accusing someone of this or that.

you are all the same and you are all equally confident in your hivemind opinions. i applaud your audacity and admire your confidence in your own ability to argue something you've barely formed your own conscious thought about.

i dont need to detox anything and i dont care about being weird. i also, really don't care about you or your opinions.

you are unoriginal and boring, a pest of the highest pedigree and i don't find you intimidating. your inability to receive validation from your own moral character will doom you to shame and guilt for as long as you allow and thats much more punishment than i could ever dole out to you

have a good day pookie 🫂🫂

#return to sender #so agitating #delete later

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clockwayswrites · 2 years ago

Text

Like Betta Fish Do - Part 11

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts. wc 2942 (Chapter 8 when on ao3)

“So who’s Jason?” Sam asked without preamble after the rest of the topics had wrapped up.

“Jason?” Tucker echoed.

Danny winced.

He had been hoping Jason wouldn’t come back up. He’d know that was complete foolishness, this was Sam, but he’d still been hoping. Because… he didn’t know how to explain Jason.

Being a halfa was Jason’s secret, one that Danny could tell the other was still struggling with. As much as Danny trusted his friends, it wasn’t up to him if Jason should. It wasn’t his secret to tell (no matter how much it affected him too).

There was also the fact that a little part of Danny didn’t want to tell. Being a halfa might have been Jason’s secret, but Jason was his secret too; his bit of his new life in this new place. Sam and Val and Tucker already had whole piles of little things like that from leaving Amity, but Danny didn’t. Nothing for Danny had been new for so long.

And now there was Jason who was new and amazing and completely different—

“Danny?” Tucker prompted.

Danny was regretting giving them a call on the way back from his first lab class.

“Someone I met when I was just out exploring Gotham some,” Danny lied. There was a little bit of truth there. “We’ve eaten together a few times now.” Donuts and take out while Jason was ill but still. “And he’s been showing me some of Gotham.” Or at least telling him about the city for safety reasons.

There was silence on the other end of the call. Shit, did he not sell it well enough? He had thought without being on video he’d be able to get away with the lie.

Finally, suspiciously, Sam asked, “Is he cute?”

“Ancients Sam!”

“It’s a valid question, you’re weak for the cute ones.”

“This is true,” Val spoke from experience.

“It sorta is, dude,” Tucker agreed. His tone completely (and sympathetically) resigned.

“It’s— I don’t— okay, yes. Fine. He’s built like a brick house, okay? He could kill me with his thighs.”

“TMI, my dude,” Tucker teased.

“No, go on,” Val interjected.

“Oh fuck you all.”

Sam gave an amused scoff. “I don’t think it’s us you want to—”

“Okay!” Danny said loudly, talking over Sam which just made the others dissolve into laughter. “He’s just a friend, okay? He’s a Gotham native who’s been nice. He’s fun to hang out with.”

“Sure Danny,” Val said in a tone that made it clear none of them believed him. “Sam and I have to get going for dinner. Give us an update later on the not boyfriend—”

“And a picture.” Sam chimed in.

“And a last name!”

“I’m not letting you stalk him Tucker.”

“Not stalking, background check.” Danny could practically hear the finger guns Tucker must be doing.

“Bye,” Danny said, firmly, though he knew that they knew he was close to laughing, and ended the call before he fished out his keys to get his door open.

“You know,” Danny said as he started at the scene that greeted him. Jason sat on his couch, looking comically large on the small piece of furniture, messing with some wires. “I don’t remember giving you a key to my apartment.”

“You didn’t,” Jason said, words a little muffled by the screwdriver that he held in his mouth.

“Right.” Danny closed his door. He fumbled blindly with the locks, not taking his eyes off Jason. “So you, what, decided Tuesday was a great day for breaking and entering?”

“Yep. Which is why you need better security,” Jason grabbed the screwdriver and pointed it at Danny who’s eyes flicked between it and Jason’s mouth. “Which is what I’m doing. Setting up better security.”

“You remember the whole I’m half dead thing, right?” Danny drawled, but couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. The faint feeling he got off Jason’s forming core was a pleased rumble. Like the purring cat that got the canary. How could he be annoyed in the face of that?

“Don’t need you to end up all the way dead, kingya.”

“Okay…” Danny dropped his backpack (his new, tear free backpack) on the tiny island counter. He had adulted up and gotten a new one right before classes started that week and was glad for it. (It was nice to not have to worry about losing things out of the bottom.) He moved to perch on the clutter free edge of the coffee table. He tucked his knees up to his chest to stay out of the way. “What does kingya mean?”

“Pet goldfish in Japanese.”

Danny just started at him, knowing Jason would explain if he just gave it time. He was getting used to these stupid fish names. They were still weird, but he was getting used to them. (Maybe he liked them, a little.)

Jason glanced up from where he was tightening the screw on a plate and grinned. “’Cause you’re my sensei in all things ghost.”

“Ancients,” Danny groaned. “That is the—” No, he would not laugh. “—worst one yet. How am I both a sensei—” Okay so he was laughing, sue him. “—and a pet. That makes no sense! You are fucking ridiculous.”

Jason just smirked and focused on the electronics in his hand.

Once Danny’s laughter had finally calmed, he leaned in to get a look at everything that was covering his coffee table, part of the couch, and even some of Jason. He’d spent enough years with Tucker to know that it was all very custom and very high end; that meant expensive.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Danny said. He didn’t know if that was true though. What if Jason’s developing core made it feel like he did?

“Nah. You’re my teacher in ghost, I’m your teacher in Gotham. And rule one of Gotham is if you take precautions you do it. Have you gotten that gas mask yet?” Jason asked, snapping the back back on a camera.

“Jason.”

“Danny.”

“Again. Half dead. I don’t have breathe if I don’t want to.”

Jason blinked at Danny. “What.”

“What what? Like, sure, I have to in human form but I can still hold it for, like, upwards of twenty minutes? I figure that’s long enough to get out of most situations. You could too with practice.”

“Human form,” Jason echoed.

Danny froze. “Oh, shit. I, um, sorta thought that the two forms thing was given.”

Jason rubbed, wearily, at his face. “Fish.”

“I’m sorry!” Danny said, throwing his hands up. “I mean half ghost, half human! What did you think?”

“A mule is half horse half donkey but it doesn’t stop being a mule!”

“Did you know when the horse is the dad it’s called hinney instead?”

“I’m going to stab you with a screwdriver,” Jason grumbled wearily. “Explain, now.”

“Okay. Right. I really thought you knew? I mean I was forced to change when I died. But, right, so,” Danny placed his hands together and tried to gather his thoughts on how explain this. “Ghosts are just, fundamentally different beings than humans. As humans, we take in parts of the word around us— air, water, food— and those things keep us alive as they’re processed by our organs. Ghosts, on the other hand, are the world around them.

“The Infinite Realms—” Danny still struggled sometimes not to call it the Ghost Zone after years of doing so, but he wasn’t going to use a name made up by people who hated ghosts for their home. “—are made up of ectoplasm. Everything there— the structures, the land, the sky, the people— is ectoplasm. Ghosts are too. The closest thing to an organ that ghosts have is their core.”

“You’ve used that word before. When you said you had an ice core,” Jason said. He’d put down the parts he had been messing with and was giving Danny his full attention.

“Probably. Cores are everything for a ghost. If you’re being poetic, you could call it the heart but it’s a bit more like a brain? You have one, but it’s strangled by the corruption. I didn’t want to go too much into it yet when you couldn’t get. Most of it of it would mean nothing to you right now. It would like, I don’t know, trying to explain what a rose smelled like to someone who’s had a stuffed up nose all their life.”

“Right, so, something to come back to,” Jason grumbled.

“Basically. But the core is sort of the only… I guess tangible part of a ghost? But humans have their whole bodies so those two things really aren’t compatible. That’s what makes halfa’s so rare. Somehow the ectoplasm was able to bond with our DNA enough so that our human bodies can handle what our ghost bodies are. But it also made a ghost body for us. It’s a balance.”

Jason leaned back into the couch, arms crossed as he frowned at Danny. “And I’ll get one?”

“Every other halfa has one,” Danny said with a little shrug. “You just don’t have access to it yet I bet if you’ve never changed before. Like, there are some powers or effects that I have access to in this form, but they’re more powerful in my ghost form. So if the corruption are blocking the flow of your ectoplasm and your ability to generate it, you probably just don’t have enough power to change yet.”

Jason’s fingers tapped a restless staccato against his arms as he glare at the other side of the room. Danny tried hard not to fidget as he let Jason absorb the information. He really hadn’t meant to keep something like this from Jason. There were other things he was waiting to talk to Jason about, once they saw how he was developing, but Danny just really hadn’t thought about Jason might have never changed into his ghost form. May it was because he had been buried? Jason was the only half with an actual grave.

Coming out of the portal as Phantom had been everything for Danny. It had been the end of everything. It had also been the beginning of everything. His ghost form had been part of that from the start.

Jason looked back to Danny, who froze under the glacial gaze. “Will you show me?”

Danny’s heart stuttered in his chest.

He’d be revealing Phantom. For the first time, by his own choice, he would be showing someone.

“Hey, fish,” Jason said. He leaned forward and rested a hand on Danny’s knee. “You don’t have to.”

Danny made himself take a breath. He’d stopped breathing.

“Sorry, no, it’s fine.” What would someone in Gotham, home of the Batman, know about a small town hero like Phantom? “I’ve just… I’ve never shown anyone who didn’t already know? I guess it just got to me a for a moment. But, I mean, you do know, you just haven’t see it yet.”

Danny stood up, ‘going ghost’ running his head, as the familiar white rings appeared.

Jason dropped the arm he had raised to block the blinding white light and just stared. He hadn’t known what to expect from Danny changing to his ghost form, but the color change was not part of it. Or the clothing change.

Gone was the black and orange NASA sweater, well worn jeans, and collection of space themed earrings that Danny seemed to love. Instead, Danny wore a tight, long sleeve top that showed off that he was more than just a stick, something that looked a bit like black cargo pants, white combat boots, and white fingerless gloves. There was a white DP was emblazoned on his chest.

He glowed faintly of a blue green that didn’t hold a candle to his bright, bright eyes.

(Jason’s breath caught at the sight of those green eyes.)

“I didn’t know a costume change came as part of the package,” Jason’s mouth said without his permission while he was still trying to process the rest of the details. Like the way that Danny’s now white hair seemed to drift as if gravity had effect on it. It was almost mesmerizing. That was easier to focus on than the green eyes.

Danny rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. What Jason thought must have been a blush crawled up Danny’s cheeks, but it was oddly purple tinted, like this form had a different undertone than blood red.

“Um, yeah. Ghost things for the ghost form? I was stuck in the hazmat suit I had died in for years until I learned to control the ectoplasm that makes up the clothing in this form. It takes some effort to change it but… I didn’t want to be stuck in that any longer.”

Jason resisted the urge to shudder. He couldn’t imagine even being his old Robin outfit for even a moment.

He stood and cross the single step it took to be standing in front of Danny. Smirking, he reached out and flicked Danny’s right ear. “You look naked without your earrings.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny mumbled.

Yep, that purple, magentaish tint was definitely a blush. He felt a little bad for teasing Danny when the other was obviously nervous about this.

“The hair suits yo. It’s a good look,” Jason said. Without really thinking about it, he reached up to run his hands through Danny’s swoop of bangs. The soft strands shifted between his fingers as if they were under water. But his attention went back to the green eyes. “When you’re like this, there’s no…?”

“No what?”

Jason tapped next to his own eye. “Pit Rage. Anger.”

“Oh, no,” Danny said with a thoughtful little frown as he… drifted up?

Holy shit, Danny really was floating. His feet were drifting apart as if they were made of smoke as he rose a few inches up into the air.

“I guess now that I know about ghosts liking to brawl, I can see that a little? Like, I’m more willing to meet a fight if they start it, just like with you, but they also don’t mean any actual harm. Well, most of them don’t,” Danny explained. “The green really is just part of the color change. Some ghosts have red eyes or cyan or something else.”

“Is the white hair a constant?” Jason asked, thinking of his own white streak.

“For halfas it seems to be about being inverted? Like, frootloop has white hair as a human, but it’s black in his ghost form. And Danni matches me. But for full ghosts, lots of them have flaming hair in all sorts of colors. We think that maybe it’s our human half influencing the ghost half. Also maybe why I don’t have blue skin or something.”

“Blue skin?”

“Ghost coloring is weird and very bold,” Danny said with a little shrug. He reached down to grab the not all there foot he had lifted up and just folded his legs under him— sitting cross legged in the air like it was nothing.

“You’re really comfortable like this, aren’t you?”

Danny gave a little shrug. “I mean, yeah. This has been a part of me for eight years. I was a ghost before I was through puberty. But it was a learning curve for sure.”

Jason eyed Danny wearily. “So what haven’t you told me about now?”

“Well, so I mean part of that is that I was a teenager when I changed? So I was a mess in so many ways and we’re— Frostbite and I, I haven’t told anyone else but him about you, not you being a halfa I mean—but we don’t know if you’ll have have the same side effects since Danni didn’t really. But sometimes I would just suddenly go invisible or intangible. The intangibility was the worst because a few times I just… go stuck part way something?”

Jason gave him the flattest stare at that and Danny just grinned bashfully back.

“You don’t have to worry about that yet! You’re no where strong enough, even if those are things that every ghost can do. Frostbite doesn’t think that you’ll really start having any noticeable effects until your core snaps into place anyways. You just might be extra sneaky for a little bit?”

“So it’s just a big mystery?” Jason asked.

“Welcome to being a halfa. I’m sorry.”

He wanted to be mad. It would be so easy to be mad. Danny was keeping things from him. But… a lot of that seemed to be accidental or things they didn’t have a clear answer for or that maybe, actually, didn’t matter yet.

There was enough for him to deal as it was.

And Danny was just so very… Danny. Jason was learning that Danny was earnest, but pretty fucking awful at explaining things. Unless Jason asked specifically, or it came up in conversation, Danny just outright forgot to mention things. There were some problems with that: 1) there was so much to learn about 2) he didn’t know what he didn’t know 3) ghosts were fucking weird

“I promise,” Danny said, a nervous sort of pleading in his words. “I’ll be around for all of it. I’m not saying parts won’t be hard or confusing, but at least you’ll have me here to help?”

Danny was maybe horrible at explaining things and keep missing out details, but he was still trying. Danny was floating right there, offering something that he never had for himself— understanding.

Jason heaved a sigh, leaning into the dramatics of the sound a little. “Fine. Since you can float make yourself useful and help me mount some of the tech in the corners.”

“Sure thing, dead boy.”

Snorting, Jason gathered up one of the cameras. He paused, just briefly, before he turned back to Danny with smirk. “So, does this make you a flying fish?”

The groan he got was worth it.

-----

AN: Danny, raised in a small city in rural Illinois: “Hey I have a fun fact!” I love Danny being so bad at explaining things. He’s trying, he really is, he’s just not great at it. Jason not really mad, he’s just struggling with things a little and coping by making sure that ‘his’ people are safe. Luckily Danny has the friends he does and is used to the odd protectiveness like breaking and entering.

Fun (?) fact: Danny’s black and orange NASA sweater is from the mars rover line the Smithsonian did a few years back. It is very warm and comfy. Anyways, stay delightful darlings!

So, this should be the whole tag list. I’m sure there’s a limit. I’m not sure if I’m over it? So sorry if you’re at the end of the list and not getting pinged! (I removed anyone unabled to be tagged.)

#dp x dc #jason todd #danny fenton #dead on main #dead on main ship #deadonmain #like betta fish do

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worksby-d · 1 year ago

Note

if you’re still doing drabbles could we get a drabble of andy and evie coming home from ice skating and evie being so excited telling her mumma how it went 🫶🏽

yeah!!! i’ll always add to that series thank you for asking about it 🥹🫶

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader + their daughter

Summary: Follow up to Ice Skating.

Warnings: dad!Andy, Andy got injured!!

Word count: ~700

series masterlist

The peace and quiet while Andy and Evie were out for the day was nice, but you know it’s coming to an end when you hear the front door burst open and the sound of your daughter’s boots stomping against the floor.

“Mommy?”

“Kitchen,” you call out to let her know where you are.

She turns the corner into the room and is quick to give you a hug, but you chuckle knowing it’s just so she can snoop at the food on the counter to know what you’re making her eat for dinner.

Nonetheless, you hug her back and start taking her jacket and mittens in your hands as she hands you everything that she takes off.

“Where’d you leave dad?” You laugh, realizing he hasn’t made it inside yet.

“He’s slow,” she shrugs, leaving your side to walk around and sit in a barstool across from you. “He got hurt.”

She says it so nonchalantly, but you furrow your brow at her. Your genuine concern is missed by her as she reaches across the counter to steal a piece of food.

“What? Is he–”

Your question of whether or not he’s okay is cut off by him finally walking in, holding some ice to his hand.

You're thankful to see that him being slow and him being hurt don't actually correlate, but you still dodge the side hug he tries to give you, turning and taking his hand in yours instead. “What happened?”

“I’m fine–”

“He fell,” Evie answers for him.

You both laugh quietly at her, but look back to each other.

“I fell and used my hand to brace myself,” he explains.

He lets you take the ice off to look and you can’t help the small pout you flash at him as your fingers brush over a bruise.

“Just some bruising and a little sore,” he promises, using his other hand to tilt your head back up so he can give you a quick kiss. “They offered me some ice, so I took it for the way home. I’m fine.”

“Clumsy,” you sigh, shaking your head at him before diverting your attention back to your daughter. “Did you have fun ice skating, sweetie?”

“Yeah!” She beams at you. “I’ve never ice skated before, but I think I did okay. Right, daddy?”

“Are you kidding? You were fantastic,” he assures her. “Best skater out there today.”

“Nobody else was there,” she giggles, rolling her eyes at him before looking at you and changing the subject. “Dad told me about your ice skating date a long time ago.”

The mischievous smile she has on her face tells you she knows what she’s doing by using the phrase “a long time ago.” Anything to call you guys old.

“He did?” You smile, glancing at him before back at Evie. “What did he tell you?”

“He said you didn’t live here so you had to drive here to go with him and then you fell asleep because he was boring you–”

“Hey, she’s twisting my words,” Andy interjects to defend himself. “I wasn’t boring mom.” He looks to you. “Was I?”

“No,” you laugh, helping him out. “He wasn’t boring me, I was just tired.”

Evie barely acknowledges the fact checking, going on with what she was supposedly told.

“And when you got there, there was no one there just like when I got there today! And then he said you fell and made him fall too,” she recalls. “But he didn’t get hurt that time.”

You scoff, nudging Andy with your shoulder. “You didn’t have to tell her I fell. You could have lied and said I was good at skating to make me seem cooler.”

“Hey– What?” He chuckles, rubbing his arm as if your nudge hurt him. “That was a vital part of the story.”

You fail at suppressing your smile. “Whatever.”

Your shared look lingers and he leans into you for another quick kiss.

“Not again,” Evie groans.

“Oh, yeah,” Andy hums against your lips. “She didn’t like that part of the story.”

You lean back so he can see your raised eyebrow. “Which part?”

“The part where I helped you up like a gentleman after you fell and gave you a consolation kiss. She doesn't wanna hear about us ki–”

“A consolation kiss?” Stepping out of his arms, you scoff. “And here I thought you kissed me because you liked me. But you just felt bad for me.” You let out a dramatic sigh, clutching your chest. “Tsk Tsk. Truth coming out after all these years.”

You've got Evie laughing pretty hard with your dramatics. Her giggles die down when you look back to her.

“Well, I'm glad you had fun, peanut,” you tell her, tone more serious. “Dad was excited to take you.”

“Me too!” She smiles proudly. “I want to go again sometime and you can come with us so I can show you how to do it without falling!”

Tag list: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

#cursing myself for not making this shorter like i want to start doing AHHHHH #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber drabble #a great mentor series #requested

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e-dubbc11 · 1 year ago

Text

One More Sleep

Photos are not mine except bottom center, that is me with real life Ginger. All others are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: None really…little angst if you squint, maybe a swear word or two but mostly pure Christmas fluff, all the bunnies and all the unicorns. Alludes to smexy time.

Word Count: 5.7K-ish

Summary: Part of the Gingerverse. You and Billy were married in January and are excited to spend your first Christmas together as a married couple but he takes a job out of town close to Christmas and he may not be back in time to celebrate with you or attend your work ugly sweater Christmas party.

A/N: Title is a song by Leona Lewis off of her album, Christmas with Love. Real life Ginger did pick her Christmas karaoke song and another one that I put together in a Christmas karaoke playlist that I’ll link at the end. Frank and Reader have more interaction with each other in this one. It’s pure fun with a little bit of conflict. I hope you like it and enjoy your holiday season!🎄

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Why can’t someone else go, Billy?” You asked with an elevated tone.

His open garment bag was on the bed, a few crisp suits and ties rested on top as he packed his toiletry bag. You weren’t the only one who was having a hard time with the fact that Billy had a job out of town so close to Christmas, he was too.

He hated disappointing you which is why he was trying very hard not to look at you.

Your arms were folded protectively across your chest as you leaned against the bathroom door frame while he angrily threw things into his bag.

“You think I wanna be away from you, baby?! It was either me or Frankie and I’d rather not take him away from his family this time of year. He was away from them enough when we were deployed.” He said.

His voice was low and angry. You knew he didn’t want to leave you but he had no choice, it was a big opportunity for the company and the team to travel to D.C. for a job. He just didn’t know exactly how long it was going to take.

This was supposed to be your first Christmas together since you got married back in January so when he told you about this job, you were very happy for him and the company but also sad that he might not be home for Christmas.

“I know, Billy. I just wanted to spend my first Christmas as a married woman with my husband.” You said, relaxing your shoulders and dropping your arms away from your chest.

Billy looked up from the bathroom counter and into the mirror to look at your reflection. He smiled that perfect smile at you, the one he always gave you when he didn’t want you to be mad at him anymore.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he flashed that smile at you but you weren’t really mad, just a little sad and disappointed.

He turned around and held his arms outstretched, he wanted to hold you.

“Come here, sweet girl.” He said softly.

Billy pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. You snaked your arms around his torso and you could hear his heart beating against your ear. The tension in your shoulders eased as you closed your eyes and felt the warmth radiating off of his body; he always managed to make you feel better.

“Well, if I’m not home in time, that just means you get to spend Christmas Day with Ginger.” He said. “So it’s not all bad but I will try my hardest to get home in time.”

You could feel him smile against the top of your head.

“No, it’s not all bad. But if you’re not back in time, you’re gonna miss my ugly Christmas sweater party at work too.” You said in a disappointed tone.

Billy tilted your chin up so you were looking into his rich brown eyes, they looked like two endless pools of black ink and you never failed to get lost in them. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to yours. You could taste the fresh peppermint on his lips as you delicately scraped your nails against his scalp.

“I know, I’m so sorry my love. But I put Frankie in charge of that job, your company wanted security for it, I guess in past years you guys have had some party crashers?” He asked.

This was the first you were hearing about your company hiring Anvil for security at your party so it caught you off guard.

“Oh! Yeah we’ve had some crashers in the past. So wait, Frank will be at the party? Oh, Ginger is gonna torture him. Did you tell him there’s usually karaoke?” You asked.

Billy gave you a devilish smile.

“No, but here’s the best part…I told him he had to wear an ugly Christmas sweater because that’s what your company wanted but that was a lie. He’ll be the only one from the team wearing one. He’s gonna kill me but it’s gonna be really funny.” He said with a wide smile and raised eyebrows.

“Billy Russo!! That is SO mean!” You exclaimed, trying to hold in your laughter.

He kissed you again.

“I know, but hey that’s what we do…we prank each other. This is a good one though! And don’t you dare say anything.” He said, pointing his long slender finger at you while you were biting down on your lower lip.

God, you loved him so much.

“I promise I won’t say anything.” You said.

“I love you, sweet girl.” He whispered in your ear.

You smiled affectionately at him and replied. “I love you too, handsome. Ooh I can’t wait to tell Ginger!”

You turned and ran out of your bedroom toward the kitchen when Billy called after you.

“Hey, what did I say?!”

You yelled back from the kitchen. “Oh she’s not gonna say anything, Billy! Trust me, she’s gonna want that to happen more than anyone!”

He just shook his head and smiled.

God, he loved you.

**********

“Wait…so I need to make sure I heard you correctly. Frank thinks he has to wear an ugly Christmas sweater to the party because that’s what work wants him to do? So he ��blends in?’” Said Ginger, typing away on her keyboard.

You turned your head to answer her. “Correct.”

A wide Cheshire cat smile stretched across her face.

“Aaaaaand Billy told the rest of the team to dress in their normal work clothes and not to tell Frank about it?” She asked.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh my god, this is gonna be the best party ever! He also has no idea we have karaoke at this thing, does he?!” She asked, full of excitement.

“Nope!” You replied.

“He’s gonna be PISSED!!” Ginger said, clapping her hands together. “I gotta figure out which Christmas songs to sing!”

The wide smile slowly disappeared from your face. You were excited for the party and had the perfect ugly Christmas sweater but remembering that Billy may not make it back in time for the party OR for Christmas was a little upsetting. You tried to smile anyway but Ginger could see right through it.

“Billy may not make it back in time, huh?” She asked.

Shaking your head vigorously back and forth, you answered, “He said he’s not sure how long this job was going to take. Was I wrong to be upset with him for going out of town so close to Christmas?”

“You have a right to be upset, all you wanted was to spend Christmas with your husband and now you might not be able to…anyone would be disappointed.” She said.

You nodded.

“But hey, even if he doesn’t make it back, I’m gonna make sure we have a fun Christmas. Ok?” She said with a warm smile. “I’m gonna get champagne, breakfast food, oh and we’re soooooo sleeping at your place because…penthouse! Make sure my room is ready!”

Life was certainly better with friends like Ginger and you were probably just as excited as she was to see the look on Frank’s face when he realizes that he didn’t have to wear the sweater and Billy pranked him.

Even though it would be difficult, you were going to try and enjoy the rest of the holiday season.

**********

You tried to keep as busy as possible.

There were days where you went shopping with Ginger, or had dinner with the Castle family because Frank and Maria didn’t want you to be inside the penthouse all alone.

Before he left for his trip, Billy had put your Christmas tree up. You loved that the penthouse had high ceilings so you could pick out a very large tree but a real one didn’t fit in the elevator so you settled for a very real looking artificial tree. Nothing was more important to Billy than to see a smile on your face or make you laugh and he knew that setting the tree up would make you happy.

So most nights you would sit in the dark with only the tree lights on, drinking your tea, and looking at all of the ornaments. The soft warm glow of the white lights illuminated the ornaments in front of them nicely.

Your parents let you take the ones from your childhood that used to be on their tree, then there were the ornaments Billy had given you, and the ones that the Castle children had made for you that had their pictures on the inside. It really warmed your heart that they called you “Auntie.”

The busy streets below shined brightly with festive white lights placed in trees and buildings all around the city. There wasn’t anything quite like New York City at Christmas time.

Looking out at the moon, you wondered if Billy was doing the same. It loomed large encased in an ethereal glow while the bitter winter wind howled past the window. You suddenly felt cold; you missed him terribly and wanted him home but there wasn’t anything you could do about it except wait.

Billy had already been gone for a week, Christmas was four days away, and he still didn’t know when he would be coming home. A tear streaked down your cheek remembering the phone call with him earlier. That one did not end well.

“Wait, so you might miss New Year’s too?!” You had said, sternly.

Touching the palm of your hand to your forehead, you had closed your eyes, trying very hard not to get upset with him but the stress had been too much.

It was a little lonely working all day and then coming home to an empty apartment, listening to Christmas music and looking at the tree alone, baking cookies without him sneaking one when you weren’t looking, or taking a sip of your hot chocolate before giving it to you to make sure it wasn’t “too hot.”

“Hey, I’m not doing this on purpose, alright?! You know I hate being away from you but this is my job, sweet girl. You know this! You know who you married, I’m not always a 9-5!” He had yelled.

He was right. It wasn’t his fault; you knew who you married and it was good business for him but before you could apologize, he had ended the call. Billy was the closest person to you: It was just easy to take it out on him and he didn’t deserve that.

You tried to call him back but it went to his voicemail.

“I’m so sorry, Billy. I know some things can’t be helped and it’s not your fault. It’s good for your business and I’m happy you’re doing so well. I just miss you…I love you, baby.”

Billy shuts down when he gets angry and still doesn’t quite know how to navigate his anger so he keeps it all inside, and then it comes out sometimes in explosive ways.

You had a feeling you may not hear from him for a couple of days.

**********

“So he just hung up on you?” Asked Ginger.

You needed to have an after work drink and vent the next day.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at him, Ginger.” You replied.

“And you haven’t heard from him today?” She asked.

You shook your head.

“No…and I doubt that I will. I tried to call and apologize but he didn’t answer.” You said, taking a sip of beer.

“Well hey, our party is tomorrow, Christmas is in three days, and I know he’s not here with you but we’re gonna have fun alright?” Said Ginger. “Plus we get to bust Frank’s balls about the sweater. Maria said it’s a good one but she wants it to be a surprise.”

She started to laugh which brought a smile to your face and made you laugh too.

The two of you clinked your glasses of beer together.

“Thank you for making today better, Ginger.”

“You are very welcome!” She replied.

**********

December 23

It was your last day of work for the year. The company always shuts down for the week between Christmas and New Year’s, not completely but most of the employees have a bit of a break which is really nice but again, you didn’t want to spend it alone.

That was another reason you got upset with Billy; you have a week off from work coming up and before he went away, he told you maybe he would take a couple of days off with you but now that was also in jeopardy.

On your way out of the building, you could see the silvery gray clouds overhead and the air was dry yet it had a fresh scent to it. It smelled like snow. The scent brought you back to your wedding day when Billy smelled the snow coming…and he wasn’t wrong. The weekend he proposed to you, you told him it smelled like it was going to snow.

Until you told him, he had no idea incoming snow had a scent. You weren’t even sure that it did but it always smelled the same to you and your nose was never wrong. And now you were on your way home, about to get ready for your Christmas party but you couldn’t get Billy off of your mind.

You missed him.

It was difficult to concentrate on getting ready when all you could think of was Billy but luckily Ginger came over and distracted you as you were getting ready.

The two of you had matching ugly sweaters so you obviously had to show up to the party at the same time. The sweaters were red and green, wrapped in silver garland with red and green Christmas bulb ornaments on the front and back.

“These are gonna be such a hit!” She said, excitedly. “They are so loud but so fun!”

“The only thing that would make them better is if they lit up.” You said with a smile.

“Well, we’ll look for something like that next year, let’s go!” Said Ginger.

She pulled you out the door by your coat and the two of you headed for the elevator. On your way down to the ground floor, she reassured you it was going to be a great night, you were going to have fun, and maybe get your mind off of Billy even if it’s just for a little while.

You really hoped she was right.

When you arrived at the party, it looked like the company really outdid themselves this year with everything…the food, the decorations, and of course, the security.

Frank was hard to miss in his sweater…it was gray with snowflakes all over it and it had the body of an elf on it so Frank’s head was also the elf’s head.

You tried your best but you and Ginger could hardly contain your laughter.

“That’s uh, a nice sweater Frank.” You said, trying to control yourself.

Ginger was practically in tears, she was laughing so hard.

“Maria was right, that is a good one!” She cackled.

Frank folded his arms across his chest, trying to cover up the body of the elf but it didn’t help. The more uncomfortable he looked, the funnier it was.

“I’m gonna wring your husband’s neck when he gets back, you know that don’t ya?!” He bellowed. “I’m the only one dressed like this!”

Another member of the security team saw Frank in his sweater.

“Lookin’ good, Castle.”

“Yeah? You think this is funny, Wilcox? Keep walkin’ and go do your job!” Said Frank.

“We’ll be back later, Frank! Hope you’re ready for karaoke later!” Ginger said, walking away.

Frank stopped you while Ginger walked away to go mingle.

“Your husband’s a dead man, kid. Tell him right now, I’ll wait.” Frank said.

The smile disappeared from your face. “Yeah, he’s not too happy with me right now, Frank. I, uh, got angry with him when he said that in addition to maybe not being here for Christmas, he may not make it home in time for New Year’s either.” You said in a low voice.

The tears that welled up in your eyes was instant, almost like it was a reflex. You hated fighting with Billy but you were under added stress with the holiday’s coming, family obligations, parties, etc.

You explained to Frank that it was just a busy time of year and everyone had slowly been chipping away at your patience level and you took it out on Billy when he didn’t deserve it. You just wanted to spend Christmas with your new husband.

Frank put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“I know what it’s like to not be with your family during the holidays, kid. I couldn’t thank Bill enough for letting me stay behind so I could spend this time with Maria and the kids. But I know that he hates that he’s had to spend this time away from you. He told me the other day when I talked to him. You are his family.” He said.

The side of your mouth curled up into a half smile as you gently brushed the tear away from your cheek. Billy Russo was your husband, the love of your life, and the person that made you happier than you ever thought you could be.

But no matter how many times you reassured him of your love for him, sometimes he was still scared that if he didn’t do everything perfectly, that you might end up leaving like his mother had done or anyone else that he had cared for.

Billy was strong; he was a survivor and had already gone through so much heartache that you tried your very best to make sure he knew he was loved and that you weren’t going to abandon him…ever. You showed him that he didn’t have to try so hard to be the perfect husband, the perfect lover, or the perfect friend because nobody was perfect.

You certainly weren’t. But you were perfect to Billy because you loved him more than anyone ever has. He finally had what he had always wanted which is why he tried so hard to not disappoint you and shutting down was easier than trying to say how he felt.

It was something that was always a work in progress with him; he needed to hear those words…”I’m not going anywhere, Billy. You can tell me, it’s ok. You are good enough.”

But sometimes, you would need that reminder too. You needed to remember that he needed that extra coaxing and encouragement so you could continue to help him put back together the pieces of that fragmented little boy inside that he desperately wanted to fix. And he worked very hard at that…for you.

“I love him so much, Frank.” You said with a hitch in your voice.

Frank smirked. “He loves you too, kid. It’ll be alright…you’ll see.”

“Is Frankie the elf gonna go tell Santa what I want for Christmas?” You started to laugh.

He couldn’t help himself; he started to laugh too.

“Ya know, we were having a nice moment and you had to remind me that I’m wearing this ridiculous sweater!” The gruff tone to his voice sounded even more intense but he was still smiling. “Alright, get outta here, go have fun and lemme do my job, yeah?”

“Thank you, Frank.” You said with a playful smile.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart…Bill’s still a dead man though.” He asserted. “Ginger was kidding about the karaoke, right?”

A sly smile stretched across your lips as you walked away.

“RIGHT?!!!” Frank called out after you.

“See ya later, Frank!” You answered back and waved.

Now you were ready to have a little fun.

**********

The lights dimmed a little lower after dinner, the bar was open, and it was almost time for karaoke. Frank looked more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Not only was he in a silly Christmas sweater, he was going to be subjected to Ginger’s singing until the party was over. She tended to hog the microphone at parties like this but no one minded because she was so entertaining.

If you asked Frank though, he would most definitely disagree which made her performances even more entertaining to see the grumpy look on his face. He couldn’t even leave the room because he had a job to do.

He held it together for the most part but the song that had him wanting to fling himself out into traffic was Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses. What’s not fun about watching Frank squirm while Ginger entertains the room? It definitely had you in stitches.

Bah, humbug!" No, that's too strong

'Cause it is my favorite holiday

But all this year's been a busy blur

Don't think I have the energy

To add to my already mad rush

Just 'cause it's 'tis the season.

The perfect gift for me would be

Completions and connections

left from Last year, ski shop,

Encounter, most interesting.

Had his number but never the time

Most of '81 passed along those lines.

So deck those halls, trim those trees

Raise up cups of Christmas cheer,

I just need to catch my breath,

Christmas by myself this year.

Ginger did her best to get everyone in the room to sing along too. “Come on everyone! Help me out here! Frank loves this song!”

Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!

But I think I'll miss this one this year

Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!

But I think I'll miss this one this year

Mingling around the room, you conversed with co-workers, had a couple of drinks, and then decided it was time for you to do a couple of songs.

Billy was usually your focal point, staring intently at you with his infectious smile that lit up any room. The way he looked at you showed everyone how much he was in love with you and that you were the only woman in the world for him.

The duet you and Ginger did of Baby It’s Cold Outside was a HUGE hit. The two of you were in matching sweaters, so of course you had to do a duet of some sort and you had a blast doing it. Frank did seem to enjoy that performance from the sly smirk you noticed across his mouth.

When Ginger walked away and left you by yourself with the microphone, you were nervous so you felt the need to explain the reason why you chose the next song. You gave them all the short version.

“My husband is out of town at the moment and I really miss him. So I keep hoping that it’s only one more sleep until I get to see him again.” You said softly into the microphone.

Snow is falling all around us

My baby's coming home for Christmas

I've been up all night inside my bedroom

He said that he'll be with me real soon

You weren’t quite the entertainer that Ginger was but your performance wasn’t bad.

So I wait

And I wait

But I've had as much as I can take

'Cause I've got 5 more

nights of sleeping on my own

4 more days until you're coming home

3 more dreams of you and mistletoe

2 more reasons why I love you so

I've got 5 more nights

until you're next to me

4 more days of being lonely

3 more wishes I can barely breathe

If I can make it to

Christmas Eve then it's

One more sleep

(one more sleep until it's Christmas)

One more sleep

(Can't believe how much I missed us)

One more sleep

(One more sleep until it's Christmas)

One more sleep

When you looked off to the side, you noticed Frank talking on the phone. His eyes kept shifting from the entrances to the room then to you and back to the entrances. You assumed he was just doing his job but you did wonder who he was talking to.

Now I don't think I can remember

A cold and lonelier December

And I find myself staring at the window

Wondering when you're

gonna get back home

It had been a little lonely the past couple of weeks but you had great friends that were there to make sure you were ok and didn’t have to spend the season alone.

So I try

And I try

But there is nothing I

can do to pass this time

I've got 5 more nights

of sleeping on my own

4 more days until you're coming home

3 more dreams of you and mistletoe

2 more reasons why I love you so

I've got 5 more nights

until you're next to me

4 more days of being lonely

3 more wishes I can barely breathe

If I can make it to

Christmas Eve then it's

One more sleep

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement over where Frank was standing. A tall slender silhouette glided into the room, the man’s back facing you as Frank talked with him.

Frank was all smiles when he embraced the other man, also in an ugly sweater; they were both laughing and pointing at the other’s sweater; he squeezed his shoulder and glanced over at you as the other man turned around to look at you.

Until we're rocking

around the Christmas tree

Until I got you sitting next to me

We got a lot of catching up to do

I just can't take this missing you

Even with the lights down low, you knew that smile anywhere.

As Billy came closer, you could see his sweater better. It was black and white with red along the collar, the cuffs and the hem. Pictures of reindeer, Christmas trees, snowflakes and candy canes were splashed all over it. The sweater was hideous.

5 more nights on my own

4 more days

3 more dreams

Mistletoe

I can't believe I ever let you go

5 more nights of sleeping on my own

4 more days until you're coming home

3 more wishes I can barely breathe

If I can make it to Christmas

Eve then it's one more sleep

It'll be one more

(One more sleep)

It'll be one more

(One more sleep)

One more sleep

You weren’t even sure the microphone was back on its stand before you took off running. Before you could jump into his arms, he held his hand out to stop you.

“Whoa, wait one second sweet girl!” He said with a welcoming smile.

Confused, you stopped just short of crashing into him when he reached into his sleeve and pressed something. Lights all over his sweater started to twinkle and he extended both of his arms, welcoming you into an embrace.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” Said Billy, pulling you into his chest.

He squeezed you tightly and you, in turn, squeezed back. His body was a warm cradle for yours as you rested your ear against his chest. “Merry Christmas, handsome.”

Cupping your cheeks, his liquid brown eyes flicked from your eyes to your mouth as he leaned in to kiss you. His long slender fingers traced down the hollow of your throat and the bristles of his beard raked against your soft cheeks.

“Are you surprised?” He asked.

“I think you know the answer to that, baby.” You lightly touched your lips with your fingertips, trying to place the sweet taste to Billy’s lips. “Is that chocolate, I taste?” You asked him.

Billy chuckled. “Well when I stopped home to change into my sweater, I found the cookies you made.” He said.

“You sniffed out those chocolate chip cookies inside the sealed Tupperware?!” You asked.

He winked at you. “I found the peanut butter ones too. You’ve been busy! They’re delicious.”

“You are such a sugar junkie, my love.” You said with a playful smile.

The smile on your face quickly disappeared in favor of a slight frown while you tried to apologize to him.

“It’s alright, sweet girl. You already apologized…I’m—I’m sorry too. What I’m NOT sorry about is having Frankie wear this sweater! That is a good one.” He laughed.

Frank pressed his lips together in a straight line, a look of embarrassment washed over his face along with playful hate for Billy.

“The only reason I don’t give you a black eye right now is because y/n is so happy you made it home.” Frank growled. “Oh no, Ginger has the microphone again. What time is this party over anyway?! I can only take so much, kid.” He said.

You glanced at your watch. “Thirty more minutes, Frank. And are you saying you DON’T wanna do this again next year? Ginger will be disappointed if you don’t.” You giggled.

Billy couldn’t take his eyes away from you. His stare was incessant and made the hair on the back of your neck stand up but in a good way. He drew your hand up to his lips and planted a soft kiss along your knuckles sending delightful sparks down your spine.

“I’ll gladly go out of town for a job so I don’t have to do this again next year!” Said Frank. “But I like seeing you smile, sweetheart. And as much as I wanna slap that smirk off of his face, I like seeing this guy smile too.” He said, pointing at Billy.

“Come with me, beautiful. I wanna show you something.” Billy said into your ear.

Clinging to him tightly, you didn’t want to let him go but you let him lead you out of the room. His fingers laced with yours, you had to take two steps at a time to keep up with his long strides.

Frank called out after the two of you. “HEY!! Where do you two think you’re goin’?!! Don’t leave me here alone listening to this!!”

You and Billy left the room while Frank was forced to listen to Ginger do her best Mariah Carey impression.

Oh, I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true

Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is youuuuuuuuu!!!

“Where are we going, Billy?” You asked.

He turned to look at you over his shoulder. “Just outside.”

As you got closer to the door, you could see the sidewalk was covered by a light dusting of snow, the street lamps illuminated the snow as it gently fell from the sky, and the cold winter air stung your lungs as he ushered you outside.

The snowflakes were so big, they almost didn’t look real and the surrounding city sounds were muted as a subtle smile stretched across your lips.

“I knew it…I could smell it on my walk home today. Is this my Christmas gift, handsome? You brought home snow!” You exclaimed, your hand tightening firmly around his.

Billy shook his head, clusters of snowflakes gathered in his rich brown hair and his eyes locked on yours. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach gradually intensified as he continued to gaze at you, not noticing people on either side of you passing by.

“I wish I could take credit for this, baby but have you noticed that it we’ve had snow during some of our biggest relationship milestones?” He asked, pulling you in close again.

He noticed too.

“When we got engaged…the day we got married…and now our first married ‘almost’ Christmas.” You replied with a warm smile. “I thought about that earlier today, actually.”

It was cold but with Billy’s arms wrapped around you, the cold didn’t seem to bother you. You could only imagine what you look like to the people walking around outside, holding each other in the snow with your ugly Christmas sweaters on with Billy’s actually flashing different colors but it was nothing less than perfect.

“It’s been ok the past year, hasn’t it?” He asked with concern in his voice.

You pulled away to look at him. “What do you mean, Billy?”

“Our marriage…I know we fight sometimes but I—“ He said before you cut him off.

Billy Russo wasn’t scared of anything. He had been to war, survived childhood trauma, and found the one thing he thought he’d never have…love. Not only did he fall in love, that person in turn, loved him back.

“Of course we fight, Billy! I’d be worried if we didn’t! How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to be perfect?” You asked him.

His lips curled into a shy smile. “At least one more time, sweet girl.”

“Billy Russo, I will always fight for you and I will never give up on you as long as you try…as long as we both try. I don’t need you to be perfect. All I want and all I need is you.” You said, trying not to let your tears fall but failing miserably. “I love you.”

You felt his warm breath against your eyelashes before he leaned in to kiss you, the scent of his cologne on his sweater was faint but still there, and his cold fingers wrapped around your neck like a necklace.

You drew in a sharp breath as his mouth slanted over yours, parting your lips with his tongue, kissing you desperately, and telling you over and over again how much he loved you.

“I love you too, baby.” He said softly. “You ready to go back inside?”

“Y-y-yes.” You replied, your teeth chattering slightly.

“We’re taking Ginger home with us, I’m assuming?” Asked Billy.

“Her room is ready and waiting.” You said. “She’ll be with us for Christmas too.”

A devilish smile extended across Billy’s mouth, a smile that you knew all too well, and with that smile, you knew you were in trouble as soon as you got home.

“I hope she packed noise cancelling headphones because, Mrs. Russo, your sweater is really doin’ it for me.” He purred in your ear.

You could feel yourself blushing as you replied.

“Oh…you’re not joking, are you.”

He had a feral look in his eyes when he slowly shook his head back and forth. You wanted him just as badly as you whispered back,

“Well…let’s go home then, Mr. Russo. You can probably get a better look at it if I JUST wear the sweater.”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #the gingerverse #Spotify

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literary-illuminati · 1 year ago

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Book Review 39 – Lying for Money: How Legendary Frauds Reveal the Workings of the World

This is one of those books I’d heard mentioned in a dozen different places before I finally decided to read it. I think it was the review in Thing of Things that finally pushed me over the edge and convinced me to read it myself? Very happy I did, even if I had a severe case of deja vu reading a few particular passages (and even if it does suffer from a few of the usual pop nonfiction issues at times).

The title gets across the substance of the book clearly enough; this is, to paraphrase the author, a work of counter-economics. That is, an attempt to illuminate the workings of an advanced capitalist economy by showcasing the sorts of crimes that take advantage of its complexity and parsitize it. It’s nowhere near as dry or academic as all that, of course (Davies keeps up a chatty, conversational sort of tone throughout, and takes every chance to dunk on academic economics as a discipline that presents itself); most of the meat of the book is case studies and anecdotes of particularly famous or illuminating frauds, which are all great reading. Honestly reading about con artists is so fun I should really feel guiltier about how hypocritical my disdain for more traditional true crime is.

The books, if not central thesis, then definitely on of the main things it keeps coming back to, is that the optimal level of fraud in an economy is higher than zero. Fraud is fundamentally an abuse of trust, after all, and if no one’s trust is getting abused, then that probably means that an unjustifiable amount of resources are being spent checking up on every possible thing, and a great deal of productive work isn’t getting done because people are too paranoid to work with each other.

The term Davies uses is the Canadian Paradox. Which is the fact (anecdote, popular wisdom, whatever) that Canada, with its mostly trustworthy institutions and rule of law and developed financial system, has vastly more fraud than, say, Greek shipping (I don’t know why specifically Greek and specifically shipping. Specifically Canada because in the ‘90s the Vancouver Stock Exchange was apparently the most full of scams and fakes in the world). The reason for this being that Canadian investors more or less assume that anyone with a stock listing is probably on the level, because they’re usually right; Greek shipowners, by contrast, absolutely expect to get screwed over if they leave themselves vulnerable, and so do business exclusively with people who they have strong relationships and embedded social ties with. The overwhelmingly intended takeaway being that the Canadian equilibrium is the one to aspire to.

The book’s organized around Davies’ own taxonomy of fraud – he divides the broader category into four distinct (if overlapping) types based on the trust they abuse and so (in a broad sense) are crimes against. Those types being: 1) the Long Firm (neither of the words mean what you think they do here), which is just lying and defrauding someone, buying on credit, reselling and skipping town before the first bill comes due, etc 2) Counterfeiting, of currency yes, but also legal documentation, audited account books, hell even mining samples, providing forged documentation that people trust so they accept your lies 3) Control Frauds, when employees or trustees take advantage of their control over assets to juice the books and manipulate returns in ways that maximize ‘legitimate’ profits for themselves (distinct from embezzlement, which is just taking advantage of control over assets to, well, take them) and 4) Market Crimes, which intuitively might not seem like crimes at all, at least in a moral sense, but are regulated or criminalized or made taboo because people engaging in them damages the wider structure society or the market or capitalism or whatever relies upon.

The types of fraud, you’ll notice, get steadily more abstract and conceptual as you go on – the only thing that distinguishes most control fraud from managerial incompetence and over-optimism is a paper trail showing they knew what they were doing. The only thing that distinguishes a market crime form just, being good at business, is the opinion of whatever jurisdiction your in’s regulatory authorities. One gets the sense that these sorts of tricky conceptual crimes interest Davies more than more straightforward sorts of fraud, and his discussions of them certainly get more philosophical than the mostly technical descriptions of long firms and counterfeiting.

Of course, you don’t really read a book like this for the theorizing – I mean, I didn’t, anyway – but for the interesting and absurd case studies of historical frauds. Of which the book delivers in spades; everything from the ‘salad oil king’ of New Jersey with with his vats of water with a layer of oil floating on top, to Ponzi and his original scheme, to the counterfeiter who destabilized the Portuguese economy sufficiently to pave the way for a reactionary military coup, to the first actually comprehensible explanation of the whole Savings&Loans crisis in ‘80s America that I’ve ever read to, of course, the 2008 Mortgage Crisis.

One trait of historical frauds that gets more salient the more of them you read is that, because many of them involve taking advantage of some since-patched loophole in law or regulation, in retrospect it seems positively absurd that they could ever have worked. The book cautions against this point of view – given how bewilderingly complex the modern economy is, there are doubtless more absurd loopholes and abuses of what people will take on trust now than there have ever been. People just haven't written books about them yet.

Anyways, speaking of 2008 - the financial crisis was a generation-defining event for the people who got fucked over by it, but it clearly did a number on the paradigms of guys like Davies too. It gets a chapter to itself as an ‘innocent’ control fraud. That is, an institutional setup and incentive set that inevitably causes massive amounts of crime even though the people at the top actually profiting from it all are, technically speaking, innocent (and most of the low-level employees doing the crimes are mostly just trying to meet aggressive sales targets and keep their jobs. Which, hardly justifies a lot of the conduct, but they weren't profiting from the enterprise like the managers and executives.) The term Davies uses is ‘crimogenic’ – as in, an environment that incentivizes and will almost inevitably lead to the commission of crimes.

A note on the author – Davies was a regulator and then a market analyst in the UK for much of the early 21st century, and whatever the specifics is clearly someone with an insider’s view of financial markets and investment banking. Not really an apologist – or I mean, he is, to the extent that he clearly considers them useful institutions that do more good than harm for the world at large, and considers the present regulatory setup governing the markets if not just, then at least pragmatically useful. But about the culture and foibles of the financial services industry itself he’s pretty cynical. In any event, as the book goes on he starts peppering in personal anecdotes about how he was personally involved with some event on the periphery of the frauds he’s discussing or saw them happen live, which I mostly found charming but I can see how it would grate.

In any event, it’s a very chatty, casually written book, by a centre-left pro-regulation but incredibly finance-brained guy. So, you know, caveat lector if you’re going to find that totally insufferable. For myself I found it a fun, casual read, and a more educational one that I really expected.

#book review #dan davies #nonfiction #economics

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mayflowers515 · 10 months ago

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Since it was so liked last time...

I'll do a second part of the Smiling Critters incorrect quotes!

(Again, not related to my AU, and who cares if it's canon? Just as long as it's fun! ^^)

Actually, I lied- There may be a couple near the end relating to canon in some way because I can 😌

________________

Picky: Don't worry, I've got a few knives up my sleeve. Bobby: I think you mean cards. Hoppy: She did not. Picky, pulling out knives: I did not.

________________

CatNap: DogDay, what are you doing? DogDay: Making chocolate pudding. CatNap: It's four in the morning, why are you making chocolate pudding? DogDay: Because I've lost control of my life. DogDay: Here's your pudding, Bobby. Bobby: Oh that's okay, I'm not hungry anymore.

(Okay, but DogDay would be making the pudding for his friends, not himself- He hasn't lost THAT much control to do that TvT)

________________

Picky: Today, Hoppy said a swear word, so Bubba said that he was going to wash Hoppy's mouth out with soap. Hoppy replied, “It’s okay, I like the taste of soap”. Turns out, she's been putting soap on her lips to blow bubbles.

________________

Hoppy: When I die I want Kickin to lower me into my grave so he can let me down one last time.

________________

DogDay: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner. CatNap: DogDay, It’s 1:15 am, what the fuck. DogDay: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not. CatNap: Well, I mean yeah. DogDay: So come downstairs while they’re still hot. CatNap: Wait, you just made them? DogDay: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets. CatNap: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time DogDay.

________________

Picky: Fun Fact! The average person will walk by 36 murderers in their lifetime. Kickin: I like how this is a "fun" fact. Picky: It's fun because they didn't decide to murder you.

________________

*the squad is at a dinner party but someone has been murdered* Picky: You’re acting pretty carefree for someone who’s life’s at stake. Who’s to say you aren’t the killer? Kickin: It’s a murder, not a tax audit. I’ll be fine. Bubba: What about Bobby? Nobody ever suspects Bobby! Bobby: Well what about CatNap? He has a gun! CatNap: Picky has a knife. Picky: Yeah, for fun, not for murder! *stabs Bubba in the arm*

________________

Bubba: I'm never having a debate with Kickin again, he literally started his argument with "Riddle me this."

________________

Crafty: Isn’t it a bit dangerous? Hoppy: Crafty, please. We’ve in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt. Crafty: ... Hoppy: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt. Crafty: ... Hoppy: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves on the way home.

________________

Bobby: How would you like your coffee? CatNap: As dark and as bitter as my soul. Bobby, shouting to someone behind the counter: I need one vanilla latte with extra cream and sugar!

________________

Picky: On the count of three, what’s your favorite cake? Picky & Bobby: One, two, three- Picky & Bobby: Chocolate cake, peanutbutter frosting, and chocolate chunks! DogDay: Our turn, CatNap! One, two, three- DogDay: Vanilla! CatNap: I’ve never had cake before. What is cake?

________________

Bubba: You're not my friend anymore. Kickin: I was your friend?

________________

Hoppy: Fight me! CatNap, standing behind her and holding a knife: *mouths* Do not.

________________

CatNap: I’d kill someone if you asked me to. DogDay: I’m pretty sure you’d kill someone even if I didn’t ask you to.

________________

Crafty: You read my diary? DogDay: At first I did not know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

________________

Crafty: Is stabbing someone immoral? Picky: Not if they consent to it. CatNap: Depends on who your stabbing. Bubba: YES??!!?

________________

Crafty, talking to Bobby: He's trying to lure me into a false sense of security! Well, joke’s on him! I’ve never been secure in my life! And I’m not about to start now!

________________

Kickin: We should be partners. Hoppy: You mean like, partners in crime? Kickin: Yeah... that’s precisely what I meant.

________________

Kickin: How stupid do you think I am?! Bubba: You really want an honest answer to that?

________________

CatNap: I’m never donating blood ever again. CatNap: The second you walk through the door, it’s just one invasive question after another! CatNap: ‘Where did you get it?’ 'Why is it in a bucket?’ I mean, do you want it or not?

________________

Bubba: A sprite is anything not static. Crafty: A sprite is a variable object, be it 2d or 3d. Hoppy: A sprite is a fucking soda. Hoppy: You god damn geekass bastards.

________________

DogDay: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. CatNap: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. DogDay: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?? CatNap: Is it working?

________________

Picky: Would you like something to drink? *She opens the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper- DogDay: Spiders? Picky: Spiders it is then. DogDay: No, that wasn’t- *But she was already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…*

________________

Hoppy: Real life should have a fucking search function, or something. Hoppy: I need my socks.

________________

Bobby: Someone made Crafty cry! Bubba: Crafty always cries! Crafty: That's not true! *cries*

________________

Crafty: Do you want this handful of moss? Bubba: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss? Crafty: Damn, you could’ve just said no.

________________

Kickin, holding up his class notes: And then this doodle of a burrito because when I first read Aristotle, I thought it was pronounced like “Chipotle”. Kickin, in shock: Wait a minute, is it “Chip-o-tottle”?

________________

CatNap: Oh my DogDay. Bubba: Don't you mean 'oh my god'? CatNap: You worship your god, I'll worship mine.

________________

(Alt version; more canon)

CatNap: Oh my Prototype. DogDay: Don't you mean 'oh my god'? CatNap: You worship your god, I'll worship mine...

(Except obviously it isn't this peaceful because you know what...)

________________

(After the events of the official VHS cartoon episode)

CatNap: I got grounded for a whole week just because I came home late. Picky: Well, you deserved it. I mean, getting everyone's hopes up like that and then showing up again.

________________

(Alright, as fun as these are, I really need to actually get back to work on their AU soon lol TvT')

#pickypiggy #bobby bearhug #hoppy hopscotch #catnap #dogday #bubba bubbaphant #craftycorn #incorrectquotessmilingcritters #smiling critters

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kvhasproblems · 1 year ago

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Boy Next Door - Part 3

Main Masterlist, Series Masterlist

Part 2 - Part 4

Van x Reader

Summery: My whole life seemed to be perfectly planned out for me, the perfect family, the perfect house with a white picket fence, the perfect boy next door… the only problem is I can’t seem to take my mind off my best friend…

Warnings: major homphobia, slurs, subtle racism, horrible parents, discussions of an attempted forced kiss

A/n: ok i meant to post this a long time ago but then my life lowkey fell apart, why is the curse of being a fanfic writer real lmao

Word Count: 2,869 (lol)

very subtle background lottie/nat and jackie/shauna

I got home just before my curfew was up with a sigh of relief.

"What kept you so late?" My mother calls from the kitchen as I'm passing.

"Jackie kept interrupting our studying with her boy problems, so it took us longer than we thought to read the chapters." I lied through my teeth, hoping the on-the-spot excuse was convincing enough.

"Oh, that girl and her doe eyes are bound to have boys falling for her, that's for sure." My mother laughed to herself before going back to wiping the counter. "You get up to bed now; you have school tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Mom. I love you!" I call as I walk up the stairs.

I don't miss how she doesn't say it back.

"At 6? Ok. I'll see you then! Bye!" I hung up the phone after untwisting the cord that I wrapped around my finger.

"Who was that?" My mother's voice cut through my happy daze. She stood in my doorway, her spying disguised as curiosity.

"OH! Hi mom. It was… just Lottie. She asked if I could come to the movies with her and Tai." My mother's nose wrinkled at the sound of Tai's name. I keep a neutral face despite the way her reaction makes my stomach twist.

"Hmmm, alright, well, don't be too late; we have brunch next door tomorrow morning at 10!"

"I won't be out past curfew!" I call, already getting up and running to my drawers to find an outfit to wear.

It had taken a while to convince my mother not to drive me. As I rolled up to the theatre, my eyes found her immediately. She stands along the postered display wall, rocking back and forth on her heels, looking around occasionally, waiting for me. At her next check, she spots and waves to me before making her way over to the bike rack where I was chaining up my bike.

We stood in line at the snack corner. Tonight was surprisingly busy, and the line was annoying long.

"I can't believe you haven't seen Jurassic Park yet!" Van talked excitedly, filling the wait time with fun facts about the movie she'd read about in a magazine. "I mean, the movie came out months ago; you're lucky they are still showing it."

"I was supposed to go with Jackie, Shauna and them, but once we got here, they dragged me to The Firm."

"Why did they wanna see The Firm?" Van scrunched her nose, wondering more out loud than she meant to.

"Something about impressing boys by watching R-rated movies."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Sounds like them."

"I thought their whole reasoning was dumb; it wasn't a bad movie though." I countered while shoving her lightly with my shoulder, smiles across both our faces.

"It's definitely not as good as Jurassic Park." She bumped me back.

"I don't know Jackie screaming the whole time made for a pretty good movie." I went to bump into her again, but she dodged me at the last second, sending me stumbling for a brief moment before her warm hands grabbed my shoulders, helping me steady myself, all while we laughed up a storm. My giggles almost get caught in my throat as I look up and realize how close our faces are. Close enough, I can feel the tickle of her warm breath against my face.

"NEXT!" The grouchy teen working the canteen shouted, fed up with trying to get our attention politely. Van quickly stumbled to the side, motioning to me to go first. My cheeks were still pink as I walked up to the counter.

"Two tickets to Jurassic Park, please!"

"Hey, wait! I can buy my own ticket!"

"Van, you're my best friend, and I just got my allowance for the month." I ignore the rest of her grumbling protests and turn back to the canteen. "One regular popcorn and a coke, please."

I move to the side so Van can order, but she just comes to stand by me.

"You not getting anything?"

"Nah... I don't even like popcorn that much anyway."

I just nod, but I don't miss the way her eyes track my popcorn as the worker hands it to me. It's also hard to believe her as her hand keeps bumping into mine as she steels from my bag throughout the movie. I couldn't even be annoyed if I wanted to. Her laughs and reactions to the film make me way happier than any popcorn does. I try to focus on the movie, but I keep thinking about how blue her eyes look when my face is way too close to hers.

The memory continued to dance around the forefront of my mind, her hands on my shoulders keeping me upright, close, the way her eyes seemed endless, the slight warmth on my face from her breath-

Steven's hand grabs my arm, shocking me back into the moment. I look around the table, everyone with expectant glances.

"You were asked to pass the syrup to Mrs. Fraser." my mother practically glares at me. I internally cringe.

"Oh, sorry.. here you go." I shook Steven's hand from my arm while passing Mrs. Fraser the syrup bottle. I tried to ignore the way my skin crawled at his touch. I haven't talked to him since he tried to kiss me at that party. Steven's father breaks the silence.

"So, y/n, when's soccer tryouts this year? You gunning for Varsity?" He asked before shoving some French toast in his mouth. Steven coughed and quickly reached for his orange juice as I cringed beside him. Of course, he had to bring up Varsity… stupid rumour. Stupid girls.

"Tryouts are 2 weeks on Monday, and yeah… being on varsity in freshman year would be great." I don't elaborate more than that much to Mr. Fraser's disappointment. He always asks for updates on how soccer's going; I'm not sure if he's trying to make Steven feel guilty for quitting or to live through me instead of his own son.

"Well, you gotta tell me if you think you have any real competition at tryouts, if they can keep up with you, I say you got a real shot at states this year. You know, back in my day, my team almost won States." He continued to ramble about his glory soccer days despite the fact that I've heard this story a thousand times.

As we finish the brunch, I help by picking up plates and dishes to bring to the kitchen.

"Y/n, wash the dishes for Mrs. Fraser, please." My mother called from the dining hall.

"Of course!" I put on my cheeriest voice. I hate washing dishes, but at least I can avoid any more awkward conversations. I start to run the water as I get the drying rack set up.

"Here, let me help." Steven brushed past my side to grab a drying rag. My heart sank in my chest, god I don't want to have any awkward conversations about what happened. I began washing to give my hands something to do, praying Steven will just stay quiet the whole time.

"Look, about what happ-"I cut him off quickly.

"We don't have to talk about it."

"I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

"It's o-" I stop before I can brush off his apology, sighing I start again. "It's just that you've been my friend for as long as I can remember; I just was confused, I guess."

"Oh, yeah… I just needed to apologize; I didn't want things to be awkward; like you said, you've been my… friend as long as I can remember." He refused to actually look at me as he grabbed the dish from my hand. Just before an awkward silence could creep in, Steven turned to me.

"Oh, you got something on your face there." He pointed towards my cheek.

"Where?" I tried to reach for the cloth so I could dry my hands, but Steven held it away from me.

"Here, let me get it."

"Ok, than-"

Steven quickly scooped soap bubbles from the top of the water before smearing them across my face. I jumped back, letting out a yelp of surprise.

"Oh, it's so on now!" I challenged scooping up bubbles to throw at him.

We ended up with a larger mess to clean than we started with, but I'm glad it made things feel normal again. Steven being Steven, my friend who throws soap at me, not some boy who tries to kiss me at a party.

At 15 I found myself lying to my mother the most I ever have as I had hung out with Van 3 more times since we saw Jurassic Park. My current up-and-running lie was Shauna's study group, which "most definitely" exists. I was meeting Nat and Van at the fields at the school. With tryouts coming up in 2 days, we thought it would be good if we got some extra practice in. We were doing a late-night practice because Van had a shift at the bowling alley till 8. It takes me about 20 minutes to bike to school, meaning that I only really have about an hour to practice to make sure I get home before my 10 o'clock curfew.

When I got there, Nat was already there dribbling and juggling the ball.

"Hey, Nat." I threw my bags down by the goalpost before jogging up to her. We lightly pass the ball back and forth and chat while we wait for Van.

The sound of faraway grumbles and shouts drew my attention away from our mini scrimmage, which was basically just play fighting at that point. Nat took the opportunity to bodycheck me and run away with the ball.

"HA! Got yo-" she paused as she heard it too. "Van!?" She called out as Van rounded the corner, practically carrying her bike.

I abandon Nat and run to help Van with her bike. The stupid thing was too big and too old, a hand me down from an older neighbour whose son grew out of it.

"What happened this time?" I say with a small smile while grabbing the front of the bike to make carrying it easier.

"God, you wouldn't believe it. first, the fucking chain popped off, and I had already got off work late, so I threw it back on as fast as I could, and then I rushed to get here, and I must have run over something because my front tire is now completely flat." She threw her arms around while telling the story once we set the bike down with our bags. "I just gave up riding, and I thought carrying it would be easier, but I forgot this thing weighs a million pounds." She rolled her eyes while pulling her cleats and gloves out of her bag.

Nat, who had been trying to muffle her laughter, finally bursts as Van kicks the bike once more before sitting down to put on her shoes.

"OH shut up!" Van chucked a shoe at Nat, who then picked it up and ran away. "OH, YOU-"Despite only having one regular shoe and an undone cleat, Van sprinted after Nat, who was much slower than normal due to her laughter. Just as Van was closing in on the shoe, I ran towards them.

"NAT! OVER HERE!" I waved my arms, signalling to her as she tossed the shoe to me. Van's grumbles were impossible to take seriously, with the biggest grin on her face as we played this sort of monkey-in-the-middle tag. It was probably another 30 minutes before we even got to any sort of real practice.

"Fuck! I totally thought I had that one. I swear you teleport around that goal." I grumbled light-heartedly as Van saved another one of my attempts to score.

"I'm just too good." Van rolled her shoulders and faked a yawn.

"I, for one, would be able to aim better if I could actually see the goalposts." Nat

"Shit yeah, it's getting pretty late," Van commented, looking around at just how dark it's gotten in the past 90 minutes ish of playing.

Dark. HOLY FUCK, ITS DARK DARK OUT!!

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I scrambled to my bag, throwing off my cleats to change my shoes.

"I gotta go like now! I'm so late!" I shoved my shoes into my bag. "God, I'm gonna be so dead when I get home."

Van and Nat gave me a sympathetic glance before bidding their goodbyes as I sped off.

I tore around the corner onto my street, peddling as fast as I could. I was so totally screwed. My mom is most definitely freaking out right now. I tried to come up with a reason for why I'd be home so late.

Jackie was having boy trouble and wanted to get ice cream?

Shauna realized she forgot a bio test and needed extra help studying?

My head was spinning. None of those were good enough.

I couldn't even remember what my original lie was.

I pulled into my driveway, and that's when I saw her. Standing on the front steps with my father and Steven of all people.

"Fuck…" I mumbled under my breath.

My mother, who was pacing, stopped dead in her tracks, glaring at me with harsh, angry eyes. My father came down from the porch and took my bike from me as I stepped off it.

"I-"

"Just get inside."

I didn't bother with a verbal response, instead fleeing to the stairs to be met by my mom, giving Steven a quick hug.

"Thank you so much for your help." She told him. He nodded before turning to me. He didn't say anything; he just mouthed sorry and put his hand on my shoulder quickly before heading down the stairs. I watched him walk away. I don't know what he's sorry for, I got myself into this mess.

I was pulled from my thoughts as her hand grips my bicep. Her touch burns as if a hot poker is being pressed into my skin, and I'm sure I will have a bruise once she removes her hand. I try to pull my arm away as she drags me into the house, her face as red as my skin feels.

"Mom! Mom, please stop; you're hurting me!" At that, she shoves me forward before slamming the door.

There was a silence. A stare down of sorts, and when she first speaks, it's so quiet.

"I've let you get away with so much. I thought that if I gave you time… if I let you work this out of your system that, you'd be fine. But I was wrong. I knew I should have trusted my gut. I let you leave this house. THIS HOUSE THAT I AND YOUR FATHER HAVE WORKED SO HARD FOR. I GAVE YOU MY TRUST AND YOU," She gasps, taking in air, "AND YOU THROW IT IN MY FACE. RUNNING AROUND WITH THAT TRAILER TRASH BEHIND MY BACK!! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU LIED TO ME!"

My blood felt like ice in my veins as I found it hard to take in a breath. Tears sprang to my eyes at her yells. I couldn't bring myself to answer her. My voice frozen in my chest; I'm sure I stood there gaping. My mouth opening and closing like a fish hung cruelly out of water.

"How many times have you lied to me." Gone was her manic yelling; this was much scarier, her eyes dark face set. "Don't make me repeat myself again."

I stumbled for an answer, and her growing impatience had me losing my train of thought.

"I- I don't know for sure.. not that much, I swear." She started to advance on me. I stumbled for a way to give her what she wanted. "Once this summer to go to a party." I was talking fast, my voice raising in pitch. "Tonight! Two times last week! Once the week before! Last May, after we lost that big game! AND END OF YEAR PARTY! MY SCIENCE GRADE BEFORE EXTRA CRED-" My rambling was halted, words slapped from my mouth. She looked slightly shocked as she looked at her hand. Part of me wondered if it stung as much as my face. Another part of me hoped it did.

"Here's what's going to happen. You are going to stop hanging out with that dyke on your soccer team. I didn't raise you to be a fucking faggot!" She spits her words so violently, and the same burning rage I felt in the cafeteria bubbled up to the surface. "and speaking of soccer, you're done!"

"WHAT!" Any rage I had quickly boiled to fear.

"DONE! IF I SO MUCH AS CATCH YOU RUNNING, YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED OUT OF THIS HOUSE AGAIN!"

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS! PLEASE! IT'S ALL I HAVE!"

"DON'T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME!"

It was eerily silent for a moment. As I stared back at her.

"Please…" I tried to keep my voice even and steady, but it came out as more of a whimper.

#yellowjackets #van palmer x reader #fanfics #yellowjackets fanfic #vanessa palmer x reader #van palmer #van palmer x reader fluff #van palmer/reader #van palmer x reader angst #vanessa palmer

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withacapitalp · 2 years ago

Text

Fuck It Up

Read it on ao3

“No,” Steve said firmly, lifting the latch on the counter and ducking away from his best friend, “Absolutely not. I think that is quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“Actually, I think it’s the best. The Nobel people are going to be calling me any minute now,” Robin replied, skipping after him and grabbing some of the tapes out of the pile he was carrying.

Steve shot her a look, continuing to put VHS cases back where they belonged. When Robin didn’t budge or back down, he sighed, handing her the rest of his pile and putting his hands on his hips.

“So, your brilliant solution to my problem is to ask Eddie to be my Valentine?” Steve asked rhetorically, raising a brow. “You do remember that the whole problem is the fact that I have a crush on him in the first place, right?”

“I just don’t think the crush is the problem!” Robin shot back, attempting to throw her arms up in the air and fumbling the last few cases that were in her arms, “The only problem here is that you’re being kind of a pussy.”

Steve groaned and walked away from her, going back to the counter. He pulled himself up onto the stool they had there, spinning around idly and trying to distract himself from the dilemma at hand.

Robin was wrong. The crush was the problem. Actually it wasn’t just a problem—it was the thing that was going to implode the amazing life that he had carefully created for himself.

“You know I’m right,” his platonic soulmate stated, hopping up onto the counter and nudging her foot against the chair so Steve was stuck facing her directly. “You asked me to help you.”

“Help me get rid of it, not help me ruin everything,” Steve clarified. Robin let out an extremely long moan, putting both of her hands on his shoulders and shaking them both.

“Steve! He! Likes! You! Back!” She shouted.

“You don’t know that. Everyone’s acting like it’s a given he likes me back, when it isn’t,” Steve said, untangling himself from her grasp. The anxiety was starting to creep up his spine again, making the entire world start to grow right before his eyes.

This was the problem with falling in love with your best friend. Steve was practically a pro at crushes by this point in his life. For most people, it took a while to fall in love. They would go back and forth, trying to decide if the feelings were real enough, if the person was worth the risk.

Steve didn’t get that privilege. He fell in love like falling asleep, and when he did it was hard and fast.

When he had a crush, his mind would get stuck on a single person like glue, and there was nothing that would make the feelings go away until they ran their course. Normally he didn’t really mind it. He actually enjoyed the process. Knowing that eventually the love would fizzle out meant that he could have fun with the swooping delirious happiness that came with spending time with someone he was attracted to.

But this crush hadn’t faded. It only got deeper as time went on, and Steve was going to go insane if things kept going the way they were.

“Steve? What’s actually going on here?” Robin asked, lowering her voice into that gentle tone she liked to take when she knew she was starting to tread in dangerous waters. He let his head droop, taking a long deep breath before looking back up at her.

“He’s my best friend, Birdie,” Steve whispered, knowing Robin wouldn’t take offense. She was his soulmate, something that transcended the word ‘friend’. “I don’t wanna fuck that up. No crush is worth that.”

“It’s Eddie, Steve. He’s not going to hate you or anything, you know that,” Robin said, softly knocking her shoulder against his, knowing that Steve responded best to tactile displays of affection.

He leaned his body into hers, staring out at the rows of tapes and letting the worries plaguing his mind out into the air around them.

“I’m not worried about that. I know he would let me down easy. I’m worried about things changing. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, or awkward, or like he has to feel some way that he doesn’t…I just don’t want to have everything change again,” Steve admitted.

That was the reason he hadn’t said anything. Normally Steve had no problem with making his feelings known. Hell, he had told Nancy he loved her only a month into their relationship!

But this was different. This was Eddie. Smart, funny, sweet Eddie, who had fallen into his life out of nowhere, but had become so integral to Steve’s day to day that even just the idea of not having him exactly as he did now made Steve’s heart creep up into his throat.

“Change can be a good thing,” Robin said after a long pause. She tilted her head back and looked at Steve from the very side of her eye. “You’re not going to know until you ask,”

That was true. Not asking left them in the weird limbo tango of (fake?) flirting and deep introspective talks that had Steve reeling. It had been heaven at first. Now the not knowing was complete torture. AT this point, even finding out Eddie didn’t want him would be a relief.

But that meant he had to somehow get the courage to tell Eddie how he felt. And that was scarier than taking on a dozen fully grown demogorgons.

“Look, if it doesn't go well, I’ll be right here to nurse your broken shattered little heart,” Robin said, hopping down off the counter and ruffling Steve’s hair. “But I’ll bet you ten bucks I’ll be telling this story to your kids and making them see how much of a Dingus their Daddy Steve used to be before he finally told Papa Eddie he wanted to date him.”

Steve huffed out a soft laugh, ignoring the instant fantasy that popped up from Robin’s words. Eddie, a little older, chasing around a tot who was shrieking in glee. A tiny little darling with long dark curls and big bambi eyes…

No. Nope. No. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous. Addictive, but dangerous.

“Why do I love you so much?” Steve groaned, dragging himself into a standing position.

“Because I’m the best,” Robin declared, handing Steve his keys and starting to push him towards the door. “Now go home early and figure out a plan. I’m sick of listening to you pine.”

“I’m your boss,” Steve pointed out. Since Keith had high tailed it out of Hawkins, Steve was officially the manager of their dear dear Family Video.

“Go!” Robin shouted, shoving Steve out the door with a wave, “Just tell him!”

If only it was that easy.

---------

“Nancy, normally you’re the smartest person I know, but that might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Eddie stated, dragging a hand through his hair and glaring daggers at the phone in front of him.

“No, it’s just not what you want to hear,” Jonathan said, blowing out a long column of smoke and idly watching it hang in the air above them. Argyle snickered from where he was lying on the floor next to his boyfriend, holding out a hand to take the joint

“Zip it peanut gallery,” Eddie snapped without any heat, leaning his chair onto its two back legs and staring up at the ceiling of his new bedroom.

It was white.

He missed the weird designs that came from the water damage of the trailer.

“Where did that phrase come from?” Jonathan mumbled.

“I think it’s from Charlie Brown,” Argyle whispered back, not being quiet in the slightest, “You know the peanuts?”

“Oh yeah!” Jonathan exclaimed, giving his boyfriend a dopey smile.

Both of them began to hum the theme song to Charlie Brown.

“Wow, my friends ladies and gentlemen,” Eddie said, gesturing to the non-existent crowd. “So supportive, so helpful in this time of great crisis.”

“We would be more supportive if you weren’t being such a baby. You know what you have to do,” Nancy’s voice was tinny through the speaker phone, but Eddie could just tell she was rolling her eyes.

“I have to go, but I’m still right!” she said, calling out quick goodbyes to all three before hanging up. Eddie put the phone back on the hook and let out a quiet growl, throwing himself onto his bed and burying his face in the pillows.

They had been talking for five hours straight, and he was still as mixed up as he had been when they started. He had called Nancy in a fit of desperation after Argyle and Jonathan had asked if Steve and he wanted to go on a double date, still not understanding why they weren’t already a couple. Unfortunately for him, she had agreed with them, and told Eddie to go for it.

“He’s my best friend,” Eddie said for the thousandth time, throwing the pillow onto the floor and hitting his head against the mattress, “He’s…He’s Steve!!”

“Steve who has a huge crush on you too,” Jonathan pointed out.

“That’s not the point, Jonathan,” Eddie said, giving the younger boy a haughty look of derision. “The point is, he hasn’t asked me either. Maybe he doesn’t actually want anything more out of this?! Maybe I’m going to fuck it all up.”

“Maybe he’s scared,” Jonathan countered, not looking exactly sober, but definitely seeming way too aware to be totally high.

Scared? Steve?

The dude had torn a demobats guts out with his teeth. Steve wasn’t scared of anything or anyone. Eddie was the coward between the two of them, hence why he was in complete and utter turmoil about his neverending crush.

“My dude. It’s simple,” Argyle said, sitting up and shaking his head. “Do you want to always wonder what might’ve been?”

Well, Eddie had called them over to give him advice, and that was some pretty damn good advice.

Eddie had spent most of his life hating guys like Steve Harrington. He had hated Steve specifically in fact. Not only was he the king of the school, he was also disarmingly pretty, which was exceptionally frustrating for teenage Eddie.

And then he had gotten to know him, and it was even worse.

Because Steve was good. There was no other word for it. Steve was one hundred percent certified good. Sure, he could be a bitchy little brat at times, but beyond that was a soft heart that opened up to just about anyone who got past that first wall. A soft heart, a brave soul, and loyalty that ran deeper than the grand canyon.

How was Eddie not supposed to fall for that?

So Steve was good, and for some reason he thought Eddie was good, and every minute they spent together left butterflies in Eddie’s stomach. Eddie might’ve been able to stand it if they only ever interacted in group settings, but they were always alone, always just the two of them. Steve came over when he couldn’t sleep, which was pretty much every night, and Eddie went over to his whenever he was lonely, which was pretty much always.

They had fallen into step with each other in a way that was so natural it hurt. Eddie had never met someone who so easily accepted him exactly as he was. It was like he never had to explain anything, never had to dial himself back. He was so used to being ‘too much’ that being ‘just enough’ to Steve was dizzyingly wonderful.

Did Eddie really want to risk that? Could he handle losing that steady warmth and devotion?

“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t,” Argyle tacked on, interrupting Eddie’s thoughts. “Take it from me brochacho, you don’t want to look back and wish you’d taken the chance when you could.”

That was the other side of the coin. There was the fear of things not going well, and also the fear of missing out on what might’ve been the best thing he ever did.

Did Eddie want to forever wonder what might have happened if he had taken the leap? Did he really want to start running again?

“No, I don’t,” Eddie finally sighed, grabbing the phone.

If he was going to do this, then he needed help.

--------

“What kind of ending was that?!” Dustin exploded as the credits on the movie rolled. The rest of the party began to join in with confused nods and disgusted looks.

“So what…happened?” Will finally asked, looking at the rest of them in hopes that at least one of them understood the end of the movie.

“No clue,” Mike said, staring down at the box.

Picnic at the Hanging Rock had been a Robin recommendation, one of the many she had given them when she found out how they planned to spend Valentine’s Day.

The Party had decided that since they were all single (for the moment) the best course of action would be an all day movie marathon of cheesy Valentine’s horror movies. It was a very specific niche, but surprisingly they had found a ton of them at Family Video. So armed with a dozen movies, a ton of junk food, and the desire to forget Valentine’s existed, the seven of them were camped out in the Wheeler’s basement for the foreseeable future.

“Ugh I need to get that out of my head,” Lucas shuddered, grabbing a fresh bag of M&Ms and ripping it open, taking some and passing the rest to his sister “What’s up next?”

El looked down at the cases, picking up two and examining them.

“Bride of Frankenstein or My Bloody Valentine,” she read slowly, handing both to Will before holding up the big blue bowl in front of her, “Also we need more popcorn.”

But as they began to call quick not-it’s, the phone rang. All seven kids paused for a second before they were all scrambling to be the one to answer it. Max beat them all, mostly because she was willing to actually beat them all. The rest of the party quickly sidestepped her crutches, except for her one unfortunate victim.

“Hello, Wheeler Residence,” she said with a smug smile, watching Mike hop on one foot and give her a super dirty look. Just as she reached the phone, Dustin’s walkie talkie sitting in the corner crackled to life.

“Hey brats, where are you?” Steve’s voice floated across the room. The entire group looked between the walkie and Max, unsure of which new distraction they should be focusing on.

“Hi Eddie,” Max said into the receiver, only adding to the mystery.

Eddie and Steve were both calling at the same time? And not together like they normally would?

“Can you hold on for just one minute?” Max said to the phone, making the decision for all of them. “Thanks.”

She carefully muted the phone and maneuvered over, getting settled with the rest of them in a cluster around the walkie.

“What’s up Steve? Over,” Lucas said, taking point.

“I need help,” Steve said, making the entire group stiffen up.

‘Help’ could mean a thousand things, but the use of the walkie and the cryptic message spelled all kinds of trouble.

They had almost made it a whole year. Couldn't they just get through one full year?

“You need to say ‘over’,” Lucas reminded him, giving them all a minute to steel themselves against what might be coming.

“I wasn’t finished, jackasses,” Steve said irritably, unintentionally making them all loosen up.

If something was wrong wrong, then he wouldn’t be annoyed with them. Bitchy Steve meant things were safe. Whatever it was, this was normal. Blissfully normally.

“I need your help with something. Over,” Steve tacked on at the last second to avoid another lecture about walkie-talkie etiquette.

“Uh yeah, we got that. What do you need help with?” Erica said, laying on the sass thick to hide the fact that she still looked pretty spooked.

“I need help….setting up a date for me and Eddie,” Steve finally said, making the entire group collectively lose their shit. They kept their hands off of the walkie-talkie as they shouted at each other in glee.

It had been months of watching Steve and Eddie dance around each other, endless weeks of blushes and shy compliments and meaningful little touches. It was adorable, but it was also painful, and it was finally about to come to a happy ending!

Even Mike seemed excited, or at least happy at the prospect of not having to watch Eddie and Steve flirt anymore.

Max waved her arms around, getting the rest of them to quiet down before she grabbed the walkie-talkie from the table

“Steve, we’d love to help but we need one second, over,” she announced. Steve agreed, and she silently began to point towards the phone, making gestures that only Erica seemed to understand. The youngest quickly got up and scampered over to the phone, holding it up to her ear.

“What do you want, Eddie?” she asked, getting straight to the point. The party watched as her eyes widened in glee, and she held a hand over her mouth to smother any laughter that wanted to escape.

“Oh? You want our help with wooing Steve tonight?” she said when she got control of herself, waving at all of them to try and keep them silent. “Absolutely. We’ll be over in a few hours to figure out the details. Bye!”

“Steve, we’re gonna be over in half an hour. Over and out,” Max said the second Erica hung up the phone, slamming the antenna down just as they all began to howl with laughter.

“Wh-wh-what is going on?” Will managed to stutter out.

After months of waiting, had their two babysitters finally both decided to confess on the same exact day?! Was this real?!

“Chaos,” El said with a sage nod.

“Excellent,” Mike replied, smirking as they began to put their heads together and plot.

Valentine’s had just officially become fun.

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

“What the hell?” Hopper said the second the back door of the truck closed. He was glaring at Steve and Eddie from the rearview mirror, making both of them shrink in their seats.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Eddie muttered.

This was the wrong thing to say. Exceptionally wrong. Both of them flinched as Hopper took an exaggerated breath in, his hands clenching up around the steering wheel.

“I just had to leave Joyce in the middle of Enzo’s because I got a call from El saying you two got arrested for arson,” Hopper said calmly. Too calmly. Most people thought an angry Hopper was a dangerous Hopper. Everyone in their family knew better.

A calm Hopper was a dangerous Hopper.

“So I’m going to repeat,” the police chief said, his peacefulness rapidly evaporating into pure fury. “What the HELL?!”

This was the point where it would be best to just start begging for mercy. They should just give Hopper whatever he wanted and hope it was enough to put out some of the flames of his fury. This was the moment to just spill their guts and hope for the best.

The problem was neither of them even understood how they had ended up in this situation.

From Steve’s perspective, the kids had agreed to help him set up a late night romantic picnic by the lake. It was a perfect idea, because the lake was where Eddie and Steve had really had their first moment together. They had even offered to put little lanterns out on the water, just to make the whole thing absolutely perfect.

From Eddie’s perspective, the kids had been helping him to set up a fantasy boat ride on Lover’s Lake. Not only was it one of the most romantic places in Hawkins, it was also a great way to rewrite the start of their journey. Lover’s Lake could be a good place for them, instead of a place that reminded them of a narrowly avoided apocalypse.

Yet somehow the night had ended with a boat on fire in the middle of the Lake and a call to the cops from a very distressed old lady.

“Our children are little demons,” Steve finally said, hoping that would be enough to explain.

“I- you-” Hopper stuttered out a few more starts to various sentences before he just stopped himself, angrily starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot. They drove in complete silence, Steve and Eddie sitting as far from each other as they could in the back, both staring out the window on their respective sides.

Hopper slid into the parking lot outside of Enzo’s with ease, tires practically screeching as he put the car in park and turned in his seat to face both boys.

“Here is what is going to happen,” Hopper started, enunciating each word with completely cold rage, “I am going to go back inside, to enjoy a nice, quiet, peaceful evening with my new wife. You are going to stay here and talk.”

“About what?” Eddie asked hesitantly, sharing a brief look with Steve, who seemed just as petrified.

Hopper sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

“I really don’t like getting involved. If I had my way, none of you would date until you’re thirty,” he muttered, pursing his lips and turning to face forward again, undoing his seatbelt as he continued. “But this little dance of yours has now become a health hazard, so you’re going to talk out whatever is going on here, and not set the forest on fire while you do.”

With that he exited the car, slamming the door for emphasis and trudging towards the restaurant, leaving Steve and Eddie in the most uncomfortable silence they had ever had.

This was somehow even worse than the charged silence between them when Eddie had been holding a broken bottle to Steve’s neck.

“Today’s been such a disaster,” Steve finally groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed with a hollow little laugh, wrapping his arms around his middle and hunching his shoulders, “Definitely not what I had planned.”

“What were you planning?” Steve asked softly, afraid to get his hopes up, but unable to keep them completely down.

After all, Eddie had also been at the lake for some reason. Maybe it had something to do with him.

“I have no idea,” Eddie responded, snuffing out any flame that had started to spark in Steve’s chest, “What were you planning?”

“No clue,” Steve murmured, hating the way all of his courage had instantly disappeared. He had spent the better part of the day psyching himself up for this exact conversation, and he had thought he was ready, but face to face with everything he could possibly want, he faltered.

“I just-” Steve trailed off, searching for the right thing to say, the right thing to do.

Finally it hit him that there wasn’t going to be one. There was no perfect way to confess, no ultimate act that would ensure things went right. All he had was the truth, and the truth was going to have to do.

And apparently, Eddie had been thinking the same exact thing.

“I don’t want to fuck this up,” they both blurted out at the same time.

Oh.

All at once, it was easy. The same easy that everything was when it was them. Steve and Eddie both took a moment to laugh, and Eddie slid over till they were pressed up against each other, the distance suddenly feeling incredibly stupid.

“You like like me,” Steve said teasingly, unable to help the huge smile that was growing on his face.

“Oh my-” Eddie cut himself off with a snort, raising his eyes to the sky, “Yes darling, I like like you. I like like you a whoooole bunch.”

Steve turned so they were face to face. It was dark, but the street lamp outside gave off just enough light that they could see each other. Eddie had the same silly grin as him, and his beautiful doe eyes were sparkling.

“Be my Valentine?” Steve whispered, reaching up to cup Eddie’s cheek.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Eddie replied, leaning forward and giving Steve the best first kiss he had ever had.

#Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

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stxrmylxve · 2 years ago

Text

You want ‘fun’?

Pairing: bonten!ceo!mikey x fem!worker!reader

Notes: tw: slight description of abuse, blood, mentions of guns, mentions of blood, toxic relationship, suggestive but no smut, curse words, lewd backstory, mikey is 2 years older than reader, takemichi is reader's older brother

A/N: okay so this was a bit delayed but this was from the poll i did for a ceo!bonten!mikey x fem!reader a while ago; so... here it is!

Word Count: 1.4k

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! DON'T READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE, LOVE

Your heels kicked against the marble floor as you passed down the offices, glancing into each one to find someone different working like a bee at each table. You smirked slightly to yourself as you continued down the hallway, turning down another hallway that no one dared to ever go down.

The hallway was exclusively meant for the higher-ups, or for lack of a better word, the ‘executives’. Whenever someone said that title in a conversation, you couldn’t help but snort. You had been in each of their pants at least once, something you never mentioned through your past of working there for almost 11 years, but they had gotten you through what you had needed in school.

They were anything but superior to you, and you knew damn well in a way that you were over them instead of the other way around. But the word never got out about the affairs you had, so the hushed moans that were once vibrating off of the office walls became quieted as you grew up and out of that lewd mindset.

"Uhm, no, Sanzu. That's not even close to what I said. Are you high again?" you asked, knowing the answer without him even saying a word as his clouded eyes and goofy grin met your own.

"Me? High? Not at all, baby." he cooed as his eyes danced to the clock, shifting uncomfortably and sitting up as mikey came into the room not soon after.

"Good afternoon, mikey." he said as he awkwardly cleared his throat, earning a questioning glance from mikey before he excused himself, leaving just you and the deadly ceo in the room together alone.

“Things never change, do they?” mikey let out a dry laugh as you examined his expression through his white hair. You reached a hand up and brushed his hair back, revealing a new, yet healing, bruise.

“I could say the same for you.” you reply as you let go of his hair and resume sorting your files. He shoots you a subtle glare, stepping away from the desk and moving to instead sit in his seat.

“Why don’t you come back to me? To us? You know you were happy with us, without a doubt. That new boyfriend of yours simply just isn’t reliable.” mikey challenges as he clasps his calloused hands together.

“He’s the most reliable thing I have right now, manjiro.” you say with a sad smile as you set the last file down and walk out of the door, leaving mikey dumbfounded not only by the use of his formal name, but by the fact that he’s not the most reliable.

——~

You sighed as you walked into the house, setting your bag down before shaking off your heels to be thrown elsewhere. You stretched your neck slightly, patting to the kitchen in silence, choosing to ignore the banging of the headboard in the next room from your boyfriend’s new one-night stand.

You stared out the foggy window into the street, drinking the sour water from the sink’s faucet. You let out another sigh, this one being from exhaustion as you grabbed your phone from the counter. You clicked mikey’s name, calling him without hesitation.

“Hello?” he answers, clearly busy with something else as you frowned at no one in particular.

“Hey.” you reply eventually, brushing through your hair as you glanced at the bedroom door behind you again.

“Need s’mthin? Is he still cheatin’?”

“You knew?” you ask, raising your voice a little before quieting down as the banging against the wall slowly died down.

“Of course I did. You’re living in my house that I bought you.” mikey deadpans as you scoff. You turn around to come eye-to-eye with your boyfriend, his frown killing the slightly lightened mood as you awkwardly shift in your place.

“You fuckin’ him now you bitch?” the man questions as you set your phone on the counter behind you, slightly shivering at the sudden coldness against your shoulders.

“No.” is all you can bring yourself to answer as you swallow a small lump in your throat.

“You fucking are, don't lie to me!” he yells as he throws you against the counter, thrashing your shoulder into the hard countertops as you yelp in pain.

“I’m not!” you cry and plead, but it falls on deaf ears as the man above you glares down at you like you were a piece of worthless trash.

”Fuck yourself.” you mutter under your breath, catching him off guard as he turns back to your whimpering figure on the ground below him.

“What did you just say to me?” he asks, quirking one of his eyebrows up.

“Fuck off!” you yell as you kick his knee, forcing him to fall as you grab your phone and run out of the front door. Fat tears streamed down your face for oncoming pedestrians to encounter, but you didn’t care as you ran away. Away from the house. Away from your house.

You cut down an alley as you stumbled on a piece of thrown-away metal, skinning your knee on a rock as you slid down against a wall. You took out your phone and realized the call was still going on, a soft purr of an engine being heard from the other side of the line instead of a voice this time.

“Mikey?” you croaked out.

“…Yes?” he replies, a slight hesitation in his voice as if he thought he would hurt you.

You sit in silence for a while before you sigh. “Where are you?”

The hushed muttering was heard as a car door opens and closes, the sound of a gun being cocked accompanying it soon after.

“Somewhere. Doing business as normal to protect someone,” he says.

You let out a small laugh as you stare at the wall in front of you. “Drive down the road past my house. I’m in the alley.”

“Get out of that alley. Now.” mikey says, a sense of urgency lacing his voice as you crept out of the alley.

“Why?” you ask, turning around just quick enough to catch the sight of a barrel of a gun as you duck as quickly as possible, the bullet ricocheting off of a car behind you as you stood back up.

“Really, Takemichi?” you deadpan as the man comes out of the dark with a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey” he coes as he slips his gun back into his back pocket.

“Y’know mikey will kill you if he sees you. Plus, he is coming for you right now,” you say as you wrap your arms around him, his overwhelming amount of cologne intoxicating your senses immediately.

“Nah, he couldn’t bring himself to take me away from you, sis,” he says with a grin as he slips out of your arms, walking back into the darkness. He turns back with a small smile as he waves goodbye.

“Stop by the office someday, that is, when you don’t have your snow white ladyboy on your tail.” he snickers at the nickname before taking off, disappearing into the darkness as soon as mikey rolls up behind you. You turn around just quick enough to catch the deathly threat in his eyes starting to dim down as he moves his eyes to set on you instead of your brother.

“Aw man. Now I’m horny.” you mutter under your breath as mikey comes out of the car, his tie slightly loosened with small specks of blood splattering the tattered white collared-shirt he had on.

”You alright?” is the only thing he asks as he locks you in his tight embrace. Though he was a bit stiff with his muscular build, his cologne was a bit more subtle and comforting than your brothers’ had been.

“I am,” you say with a smile as you bury your head into his chest. Your hands trail down his side as you stand there, but then an idea pops into your head. “But… you just look so nice right now.” you coo.

“What are you getting at..?” mikey questions, his icy eyes piercing yours as you grin.

"Well, I think I need a bit of cheering up now. By you, of course." you think aloud as his gaze softens slightly, forcing an even brighter grin onto your face. Now you knew that you were starting to get somewhere with him again.

"Mikey! What do you want me to do with the body?" sanzu calls out from down the street, earning a short glare before mikey waves his hand dismissively.

"Whatever you want." he replies as he takes your hand, luring you towards the car.

"I'll let you have some 'fun'."

special mentions: @shelly-ya

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knownangels · 2 months ago

Text

walking at night (october prompt)

wc: 3732

Benji knows he doesn’t belong in this place. Clearly, he isn’t the only one.

When the double doors swing open (shiny, recently cleaned glass and gold accents he has to assume are real), several heads turn his direction.

The hotel bar is fancy. Except that’s not the best word for it. Doesn’t do the establishment justice; Benji just lacks the proper descriptive skill to take a crack.

He’s keen (and used to) to DIY places without a license. Where ‘dimly lit’ meant electric hadn’t been paid, not ‘mood lighting’. Dive bars. The nasty yet entirely self-legitimate sort of establishments that have a mysteriously consistent crust over every surface, no matter what bar, what country, what continent. The kind that make you balance on rotting subfloor to take a piss at a toilet without a tank lid. With stalls that sport not just sharpie cock and phone numbers area codes the world over, but good and proper tagging.

Good graffiti is hard to come by these days.

Certainly isn’t any here, Benji thinks, lingering next to a potted plant at the entrance that’s got several centimeters on him.

And there’s no crust to anything. In fact, the mood-lit bar has been recently cleaned; he can tell from the scent in the air. No harsh cleaners, but something like what Saha uses: all natural, essential oils, what the fuck ever.

The smell mingles (shockingly well) with the variety of scents worn by the bar patrons. At every glittering marble-topped table are a few rich blokes in nice suits. A prim businesswoman, here or there. At a hightop, two heiress types in expensive athleisure sneak pulls from a vape. Their designer bags sit out in the open, not tucked around a shoulder or tight between knees to prevent opportunity.

Benji shouldn’t be here. Not just that he feels so out of place, so alone in a total alien environment, but because both his moral compass and political foundation feel…itchy. It’s bad enough they’ve copped rooms at such a posh hotel. The bar’s gotta be like this?

He’s about to turn on his heel and leave when he catches one of the barteners’ attention. A handsome woman with short cropped hair; he supposes he hesitates because her smart white button-up and sleek black suspenders remind him of Bunny.

Bunny would do well in a place like this. He can imagine her sitting here for hours until a proper insomniac, toying with all this prey. Less networking. More making up lies for fun, picking apart their tiny insecurities, and boasting with just the right amount of ‘oh, it isn’t that impressive’ and ‘you should honestly just kill yourself right now in front of me’.

Thinking of her has his lips twitching, and the bartender must take that as a sign of her fish on the hook. She lifts a hand and waves in a way that seems…shockingly welcoming. Almost normal. Almost.

Benji meanders towards the bar, tucking closer to himself than he needs to. All of the tables and chairs are spaced well far apart, and somehow the place still seems intimate.

He’s a fucking cynic, of course, so all he can think is that it has to be a part of the gimmick. Some trust-fund psychologist turned interior designer had figured out how to design the place like a comforting venus flytrap for rich idiots.

Benji supposes he’s one of those: he sits at the bar. It’s unlike any he’s ever sat at before. The counter is solid rock of some sort, polished enough but not overly so; it’s grittiness seems purposeful. The counter encircles the bartenders and their stations, as well as a massive glass shelf unit in the center. It’s taller than he is, maybe three times so, and well fucking stocked.

He can’t recognize a single label past the lowest shelf.

“Are you a patron of the hotel?”

Benji must make a face.

The bartender is polishing a glass, but she pauses to hold up a few placating fingers.

“I know how that sounds.” She casts a glance down to the far end of the counter, where another bartender is focused on two patrons. “My manager gets so bent out of shape if we don’t ask.”

“I get it,” Benji says, because he does. He had the experience of a few shit retail jobs between meager residual checks, back when he and Lark had first started out.

“Give me just a second.” The bartender says. Her focus drifts to a newcomer. Maybe a well-tipping regular, judging from the eager little glint to her eye.

“No worries,” Benji says. He wonders if she’s really that good at her job: comfortable enough now, he lets his jacket slip off around the chair.

Are you manipulating me? He thinks at her back as she goes. Don’t feel like I fit here, but maybe you think I do. That’s fuckin’ horrifying.

She doesn’t take long. Benji decides he respects the honesty of chasing a tip, and the fact that she returns to chat shit seems a good sign as well.

“Mel,” she introduces. “What caught your attention?”

A glass bottle on the fourth shelf. Benji points at it, and she turns.

“That a cock on the label? Who fuckin’ picked that.”

Mel laughs, taps her nose. “Someone with great taste. Want a try?”

He balks a bit. “Uh.”

“On the house,” Mel concedes, already going for a rocks glass and a pair of ice tongs. The places Benji would usually go, ice just gets fuckin’ dirty palmed.

She pours him a generous two fingers worth. Benji doesn’t recognize the liquid or the label, so he isn’t sure at all how he’s meant to take the drink.

So he takes it like a shot.

It does not go down like one.

Mel slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I should have — here.” She rushes to get him a pint, just something off tap. Benji glares at her without heat from the rim of the glass, eyes admittedly a bit teary.

“That was a test, a little bit.”

“For?”

She shrugs. “You already don’t seem like the type to come in here and pay fifteen for a shot of regular ass vodka. It’s…nice.”

Benji leans on the counter and assesses the room again. The newcomer is the only one who seems to be paying them attention. He can’t fully tell in the darkness of the bar, but he might be a redhead.

“Are you a musician?”

Benji smiles nervously. He hopes she doesn’t know who he is, hopes she isn’t playing at ignorance.

“Yeah, s’pose. Some might say.”

“Some wouldn’t?”

“Bunch more than some, I think.” He takes another sip.

“Controversial?”

Benji feels something cool settle in his stomach. Almost panic, but not quite. “We’ve had a bit of it, maybe.”

“Oooh.” Mel says. She closes one eye. “Band, then? We?”

“Right.”

She shakes her head. “Well. I hope you enjoy for now. You’re good company, so I might come bother you between scamming.”

Benji laughs. “Alright.”

“It was nice to meet you…” she trails off, and Benji realizes with an embarrassed blink he hasn’t introduced himself back.

“Benji.”

The newcomer at the end of the bar coughs. Mel casts a glance his way, and then smiles apologetically before meandering down.

After a few pints, Benji makes the mistake of checking his phone. He groans and pinches between his eyes.

“Ready for it?”

His shoulders tighten at the sudden intrusion on his quiet; Mel was a quick and decent reader of people, so had given him space. Now she’s back with that same apologetic smile.

“Tired of me?”

She shrugs. He likes how she does it. A bit of attitude there. Feels familiar. “Not trying to kick you out, promise. You just don’t seem like the until-closing barfly type.”

He’s tipsy enough to be loose, so Benji presses a hand over his heart. “Fuckin’ hell, thank you. I’ll take that compliment any day of the week.”

Mel is quiet a moment. Then her eyes narrow in a friendly sort of glint. “You know where else you might get those?”

“Hm?”

“Compliments.”

Benji blinks at her, shakes his head.

As sneakily as she seems able to manage, Mel points down the bar towards the other patron. He’s one of the last few people to linger, along with Benji and the heiresses. There are two rocks glasses beside him, and the remnants of —he tries to remember the drink that gets an orange peel and a cherry. Maran can down those little fuckers like no tomorrow.

“I don’t usually do this, but that guy would not stop asking what you were drinking.”

Benji blinks to clear the bit of fuzz to his vision. When he turns his head, he finds the other man is watching them with a hand propping his chin.

The second their eyes meet, his widen. Benji can’t tell if he blushes in the bar mood lighting, but he figures it’s a good probability: he ducks his head and tucks around himself.

Always been chum in the water for Benji — shyness.

He’s sweet, Benji supposes. Bit too awkward, maybe. His hands shake where they rest on Benji’s forearms as he gets both their belts undone, and he finds out his hunch was right. Redhead.

He can’t help but to think that it could be better, though. It could be a dingy, shitty bathroom in the sub basement of some warehouse turned DIY club. It could be a wood-paneled family owned place off in the country.

Rather, the hotel bar’s bathroom is all sleek lines and polished granite. There aren’t any knobs on the faucet of the sink Benji presses the man against.

Fancy.

The next morning, he wakes late to a text from Bunny.

Damage control working on it. Don’t freak out, it cost me too much money last time.

Benji palms his face, feeling groggy and sore. He squints at the message.

Then the anxiety smacks into him.

He finds the source of her cryptic (and more than a bit insensitive) message. It’s a post on some music subreddit making the rounds, talking about an encounter they had with ‘Ratspit’s own’.

His heart drops into his stomach at the title. Betrayal is a swift and brutal plunge of a blade, but the real twist of the knife is the post’s first sentence:

I don’t want to doxx myself, but I work at a bar and one of our guests last night was—

It goes on from there. What Benji had to drink as proof of the encounter, with several others commenting to chime in the alcohol choice ‘seemed like him’ and thus added credibility. The post even mentions him leaving with the stranger, coy assertions that he seemed very happy when he finally left. There’s a comment asking what he was wearing. A comment asking what hotel, specifically, for no worrying reason. There’s a comment where someone asks if anyone else in the thread remembers the drama in Montreal, the man he’d been pictured with in Houston, and on.

He texts Bunny back. They rarely do, so he fucking hope she doesn’t read too much into it.

I’ll handle it. Call off the dogs, creep.

Fuck you, comes the immediate response, but Benji doesn’t get a call from their PR lad, so he figures she at least listened.

That night, after rehearsals and a day on the town with Nomi that he thinks he manages to be normal through, Benji returns to the bar.

It hadn’t seemed particularly mysterious or magical the first time he’d been, but at least some of the intrigue has been lifted. It really is just an overpriced, pretentious bar for investment losers cheating on their wives.

He can’t believe he sat in this place so long. Had drinks here. Amongst a bunch of top-tier A-level pricks who were probably fiscally conservative, socially progressive liberals who would still suck Reagan raw given the opportunity.

Fuckin’ hell. He’d gone for two pints in the same room with investment bankers.

But he’s got a mission, as much as he’d like to leave and never return.

Mel is working again. She seems surprised to see him, but tentatively happy.

Benji doesn’t smile at her as he sits, or get friendly whatsoever. He orders a pint and waits for her to bring it. All the while, he stares up at that funny bottle. The label of that nasty whatever she’d recommended a taste. Benji stares at that medieval manuscript style drawing cock with wings.

Then he clears his throat. It’s a test.

Mel fails. She looks up too eagerly. Too much friendly, intimate comfort written all over her face.

Touched with a hint of guilt.

Benji imagines letting her have it. Getting rowdy. Loud, like half the people that hate him like to imagine punks get. Do get, really. It’s not a far-off stereotype, not without its edge of truth; there were times where they were the rotten, chaotic free-spirited young musicians who didn’t bat an eye upon receiving a bill of a solid grand for their trashed hotel room.

Go outside once in awhile, he wants to say to her. Do you think a normal person goes and posts every conversation they have with any average prick online? Do you think I wouldn’t find out? That I’m above it all like that? Or did you think I wouldn’t care. Or worse. Were you thinking at all about me?

Instead Benji stares at her. His breathing is even, deep. Relaxed, the way he doesn’t feel whatsoever.

Benji’s arms are crossed on the counter. He slowly nudges them forward until the pint glass tips off the inner edge of the bar and shatters at Mel’s feet.

“Oops.” Benji says. Then he drops a five dollar note on the counter, stands, and leaves.

Bunny had rented them the entire floor of rooms. They were there for a whole weekend, a music festival about thirty minutes out. Matilda advocated for no expense spared at some peace and quiet. Some safety.

Their floor is quite high up, but Benji avoids the elevator. Something about being enclosed in that glass box, alone except for the blinking dot of the security camera in the corner, feels a bit too on the nose for him right now.

When it dings for him to get off, he turns down the hall towards his door.

And then he pauses. He blinks.

At the far end of the hall, Xavier lifts a hand chest-high, as if he means to wave. It drops, as does the eager smile beginning to spread his lips.

Benji’s heart does something similar; plummets straight into his stomach with a cold chill of embarrassment. He turns towards his door, fumbling with the little plastic circle meant to get him in. He swipes and swipes and swipes it, as he hears long strides incoming.

It seems pitiful to chance a look over his shoulder. It feels pitiful, desperate, lonely. But he’s glad he does.

“Benji!” Xavier yells, and then slaps a hand over his own mouth. Wide green eyes dart side to side, pink peeking at his cheeks under the edge of his big hand. It lowers, and Benji is summarily stunned by the adorably sheepish grin hiding beneath.

“Shush.” He admonishes. The bloody door still won’t open.

Xavier falters for a moment, but only that. HIs gait slows, dripping rejection, until he realizes he isn’t being dismissed; Benji stands still, hands tucked in his hoodie and —

Waiting. He’s waiting. So Xavier comes towards him quicker, eager, excited.

Fuckin’ hell, Benji thinks, scrubbing a hand back through his hair. Fuckin’ hell, mate, have some self-preservation, you’ve got no idea — you’ve no idea what I’ve been thinking, are you serious?

Xavier stops several feet away. The hotel hall is dimly lit with fancy sconces lining the walls, orange glow turned soft for the night. He looks. Well. Benji, who is occasionally paid by the word if the lyrics are good enough, cannot manage a single syllable.

“Alright?”

“Yes.” Xavier breathes. That grin widens. “I mean, hey.”

They stare at one another a beat.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No rest for the wicked?”

Their synchronization makes Benji toss his head back and laugh.

“Fuck off,” he says, unable to keep any bit of fondness concealed.

“I heard there’s a crazy expensive bar downstairs.” Xavier smiles, pats his back pocket. “And I just got paid.”

Benji winces. “Ah. Not really my style. Or yours, if m’honest.”

Xavier looks absolutely heartbroken for a moment. It’s tortuous.

So, even though he’s exhausted and buzzed with the adrenaline of a confrontation, Benji tilts his head back towards the elevators. “I was gonna turn in but. Fancy a walk, instead?”

“Sure. Yeah.” Xavier sounds winded, still.

The elevator ride back down is mostly silent. At the door, the hotel doorman gives Benji a nod and then says something into his earpiece; maybe making note of the time of his departure, or letting Tino know that he’s been spotted, has a chaperone.

Benji glances up at said guard. Only to find him staring down. He blushes when he’s caught, and Benji can only think of fucking chum.

“Been busy? If you’ve already done your laps tonight, no worries.” He gestures at Xavier’s heaving chest.

Xavier looks, as if unaware. He takes a big breath and lets it out slow; Benji catches his fingers shivering as he winds them together and pulls at knuckles until they pop.

Shaking? Nervous, Xavier? I make you fuckin’ nervous?

They escape the hotel, dancing awkwardly out its rotating doors and into the cool night air. Benji can’t help but admonish himself a bit; he hadn’t even checked for a crowd or the absurdly committed fan or two usually lingering wherever they went. He wonders, distantly, if Xavier’s presence had scared them off. At the last few shows, Xavier had developed a bit of a reputation.

Take no shit, is what Benji had overheard him say to Benny, voice clogged by a broken nose. You gotta establish dominance. Like, y’know. The hierarchy of nature. Like meerkats.

Meerkats? Benny had asked incredulously, prodding at the blood on Xavier’s upper lip.

Yeah, dude, you ever seen Meerkat Manor? Those little fucks are metal.

The hotel isn’t situated in a particularly busy part of the city, but its a big enough town to have cars out on the street this late.

Benji smiles at the memory, tucks close to Xavier against the chill. He’s so fucking warm, all the time.

“So I take it that’s a no?”

“No!” Xavier says quickly. Then his brows pinch. “Uh, I mean? No, it’s not a no. What you’re asking about. Um. What were you asking about?”

Benji snorts. “Asked if you’d gotten your exercise, if comin’ for a walk was a bother.”

“No,” Xavier repeats even faster. “No, this is — I kinda needed this.”

Benji feels his snide, half-sided grin turn genuine and is somewhat terrified of that. “Yeah? Me too.”

“Shit day?” Xavier asks it sincerely, but he’s also glued to his phone enough that Benji has no doubt he’s at least a bit aware of the latest gossip.

“Yeah, you could say.” He leans in conspiratorially, completely in the other man’s space now. “I like this, though. Feels better.”

Xavier trips over a rock or a crack in the sidewalk, yelping just as he’s about to respond. “Ah! Fuck. This?”

Benji pauses and waits for him to stop, too. They stop outside and open-late deli, whose flickering neon sign side casts Xavier in pretty reds and blues.

Mood lighting, Benji thinks with something far too soft lodged in his throat.

“Spending time with you.” Benji says. He doesn’t feel bold for the honesty; it’s just the truth. Why not tell him? What’s he got to fucking lose, the rest of his dignity? He can handle a rejection, after all that.

It doesn’t help that Xavier looks so sweetly startled by the admission. His cheeks are pink, little rosy thumb-sized dots of color high on his cheeks. They start to join in a flush over his nose.

“Oh.” Xavier says. He blinks rapidly before breaking out into a smile so bright Benji feels like he’s staring into the spotlight.

“I like spending time with you too, Benji. I’m —” he pauses here, hands coming up to lace in front of his stomach. They coil and knot and fret. His usual tell. Whatever he wanted to say gets pushed visibly down, and Benji mourns it for a moment.

Just a moment. Because Xavier goes on:

“You’re cool. I’m glad somebody cool wants to be around me.”

Benji shakes his head. He knocks his boot against Xavier’s calf. “Mate, wouldn’t pay the compliment if I didn’t mean it? Wouldn’t be out here walkin’ with anybody.”

Xavier’s smile grows. It’s sort of addicting to accomplish. So Benji goes on, too:

“Naw, Xavier, honest. Not just flattering you. Think I get along with people like this? Fuck no.” A laugh that he hopes doesn’t sound too bitter. “Sounds mad and probably egotistical to say, but it’s hard…y’know, making friends like this. Especially ones as fast with it as you.”

Xavier’s blush depends, and he ducks his head. Shyly. “Come on.”

“No, honest. Banter with the best of ‘em, swear you do.”

Xavier scuffs his shoe. Benji can’t help what happens. He leans in, chin tilted, eyes cast up Xavier’s chest to find his face.

“Not bad to look at either, if I’m honest.”

The smarmy little compliment is received exactly as he anticipated. Xavier, clearly too flustered to function, mumbles something that might be a polite, awkward Catholic fucking ‘thanks!’ before immediately trying to pull Benji’s attention away.

He oohs and aahs at the late night joint in front of which they’ve paused their walk, pulling Benji’s sleeve. Trying to convince him to go in, as much as he is trying to get a reprieve from the compliments.

And yet, when Xavier’s eyes get too big for his stomach (a fucking feat, if the stories Lark tells are anything to go by), it’s Benji, idiot, who carries the boxes full of wings and two different pizzas and a cookie cake and subs and massive potato fries back to the hotel.

Xavier’s blinding smile is worth it. Lights everything up nice and lovely.

#writing #band au #bp #xw #bp x xw

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