#i wanna take a bite out of those drumsticks

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

Old habits die hard

1998 (age 27) and 2024 (age 53)

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

Black silk and eyeliner is a wonderfully dangerous combination on David

Fright Night (2011)

[hawkinsmafia]

𝔾𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝔼𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟: 𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗 𝔸𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕖𝕥

day 25 : Gareth

featuring Gareth Emerson x reader (no assumed gender)

rating: teen

cw: mention of Gareth and reader having sex (not described), allusion to Gareth giving oral (not described), brief mention of the existence of violent homophobia (not described)

wc: 2k

an: it’s my boyyyy! i’ve been waiting for Gareth Day since the start of @corrodedcoffinfest!

𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 :: How does Gareth spend free time with his partner?

⟢ Gareth is one of those guys who remains an overgrown teenager for most of his life, and his favorite shit to do with you is play video games, skateboard, and make out on the couch like he brought you home from a date and found your parents aren’t home.

𝔹𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕪 :: What does Gareth admire about his partner?

⟢ With Gareth, it’s all about attitude. You know how to have fun, how to turn a boring Tuesday afternoon into a good time, and you don’t put up with anyone’s shit (including his). A strong personality is a major turn-on for him.

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥 :: How does Gareth help his partner when they’re struggling?

⟢ He’s got two approaches depending on your mood: either he tries to provide distraction, or he cuddles the shit out of you. When you want to take your mind off your troubles, prepare to get red shelled off Rainbow Road, bitch. (Okay, fine, he might let you win.) If it’s consoling you need, Gareth is a grade-A cuddler of the full-body variety. If you like the feeling of being pressed down by a heavy weight, he’s on top of you, smothering you down into the cushions; if you prefer being held, he pulls you on top of him and lashes his arms around you, tucking your head beneath his chin.

𝔻𝕒𝕥𝕖 :: What is Gareth’s first date with his partner like?

⟢ He invites you to come watch Corroded Coffin play—yes, he’s absolutely showing off for you the entire show, twirling his drumsticks (and only losing his grip on them maybe 30% of the time!), improvising fills on the lead-outs…. (Eugene is delighted by the rhythm section garnering more attention than usual, but Jeff keeps shooting Gareth dirty looks for showboating and Eddie snaps at him to stick to what they rehearsed.) Afterward he’ll take you backstage, introduce you to the guys, and ask if you wanna go grab a bite somewhere.

𝔼𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕝 :: Is Gareth more dominant or submissive in his relationship?

⟢ Gareth has a loud, abrasive personality in public, but in personal spaces, he is the subbiest sub who ever subbed. His aggressive attitude was a survival skill when he was growing up, fending off two bossy little sisters and trying to hold his ground against the bullying jocks, and it evolved into a stage persona that serves him and the band dynamic very well. But when it’s just the two of you, what Gareth wants most is to curl up in your lap while you play with his hair and call him your good boy.

𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 :: What is it like when Gareth and his partner argue?

⟢ Oh god. Gareth can get a little… dramatic. Lots of passion in that boy, and sometimes a little raincloud can blow up into a whole monsoon. If you’re the type to respond in kind, arguments can become screaming matches quickly if no one intervenes. The good news is that they blow over just as fast as they blow up, and it’s not long before the two of you are making up (and hearing his bandmates grumble ‘get a room, jesus’). But that’s another alphabet….

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖 :: Does Gareth acknowledge how much his partner does for him?

⟢ I won’t lie, he’s not the best about it. It’s not out of malice or anything, but he can fall into a bit of a routine, where all your gestures and contributions become rote standard, and he gets so used to them being there that they become just part of the scenery, so to speak. However, if you were to confront him about it and express your frustrations, he would be so quick to apologize and try to make it up to you, taking you out and reminding you (and himself) how important you are to him.

ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕪 :: Does Gareth keep secrets from his partner or does he share everything?

⟢ Out of all the CC boys, Gareth can be the most secretive. He doesn’t lie to you, but he might not volunteer the entire truth either. He might try to hide a hangover from you, or not tell you how much he had to drink last weekend, or say that Eugene’s birthday boys’ night was great and just not mention the stripper to you.

𝕀𝕟𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 :: Has Gareth’s partner inspired him to grow or change in any way?

⟢ Like with Jeff, it’s not a specific change that can be pinpointed, but it’s definitely there. Being with you leads to a maturity he didn’t have before you, and more conscientiousness of other people and their feelings. (The first time he goes to grab a drink from the kitchen and comes back with one for Eugene too without being asked, the guys think he’s coming down with something.)

𝕁𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕪 :: How does Gareth handle jealousy in his relationship?

⟢ Not well. Going back up to Fight, he tends to blow up over it. If you’re the one feeling jealous toward him and his interactions, he’ll tell you flat-out that you’re being ridiculous—but when it’s him jealous of you, that’s a legitimate emotion. But these are some of the quickest arguments to blow over, usually ending with one of you pinned to the nearest flat surface, joined at the mouth.

𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤 :: Is Gareth a good kisser?

⟢ Yeah, he is. Before Jeff’s braces come off and Eddie gets trained in what his partner likes, Gareth is probably the best kisser in the band. He’s pretty damn good with his mouth in general. Kissing, talking, singing… other alphabetical shenanigans….

𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 :: How does Gareth confess his love to his partner?

⟢ Look, I know this is a fluff alphabet, but the first time Gareth drops the L-bomb is during the act, when he’s so caught up in feeling and sensation that his speech filter is just fully switched off and he’s got a stream-of-consciousness babble happening. He doesn’t even realize he’s said it until you either return it in the moment or bring it up afterward. He freezes for a moment, but slowly realizes that… yeah. Yeah, he meant it.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕘𝕖 :: Would Gareth want to marry his partner?

⟢ Gareth is indifferent to the idea of marriage. If it’s something you want, sure. If you’re not bothered about it, he’s fine living in sin. (His mother will bring it up every single time you see her, though. She wants grandbabies, dammit!) If marriage is your thing, be prepared to be the one in charge of basically all the planning, though; Gareth would be perfectly fine with a Chapel o’ Love elopement.

ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 :: What does Gareth call his partner?

⟢ Babe and baby are his go-to pet names, and a diminutive of your actual name. He could also hit you with a pretty boy/girl if it suits you.

𝕆𝕟 ℂ𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖 :: What is Gareth like when he’s in love?

⟢ Distracted as fuck. He is fully checked out of conversations, he’s losing his place in the music during rehearsals, Jeff manages to beat his ass at Mortal Kombat II… all because the only thing he can think about is you.

ℙ𝔻𝔸 :: Does Gareth openly share affection with his partner, or is he more private?

⟢ Gareth will happily stick his tongue down your throat any time, anywhere. He’s not at all shy about PDA, and if you don’t mind it, sometimes he’ll even push things a hair past decent just to repulse Jeff and Eugene (but Eddie couldn’t care less). The only exception to this is if the two of you don’t pass as a straight couple during the decades when homophobic violence runs rampant and goes unpunished; if you’re a noticeably queer couple, Gareth does know how to read the room and will behave himself to keep you both safe.

ℚ𝕦𝕚𝕣𝕜 :: What’s a random action Gareth performs for his partner?

⟢ Gareth is a bit of a resource hoarder. It’s another survival skill he developed from growing up with two little sisters who had a knack for getting their way. He used to have to swipe his favorite snacks from the pantry and hide them before his sisters got to them, or stow his new crayons in his sock drawer so Claire and Lily wouldn’t find them and wear them down to nubs. Stemming from this, your favorite things become part of his hoarding as well, nabbing your favorite chocolates from the communal variety bag before Eddie can inhale them while he’s stoned, hiding your preferred drink brand at the very back of the fridge behind the spoiled milk that no one’s touched in three months….

ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 :: How romantic is Gareth?

⟢ Okay, so, here’s the thing. Gareth’s got that ‘overgrown teenager’ thing going on, and I can see why you might assume he’s not much for the overt displays of love. But Gareth loves you. And when it comes to showing you that, he pulls out all the stops. Don’t forget, he’s a dramatic motherfucker too, which means his grand gestures can get big. Buying out the restaurant so your anniversary dinner is completely private and free of interruptions by autograph seekers? Done. Romantic ‘vacation’ to the penthouse suite of the highest rated hotel in six counties? Oh yeah. Hell, fucking flash mob?? Wouldn’t put it past him!

𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 :: How does Gareth help his partner achieve their goals?

⟢ He helps you by helping you. If you’re trying to get your degree, he will help you study, either by drilling you with test questions or making sure you have a quiet place to work alone with minimal distractions. If you’re angling for a promotion at work, hell yeah he can get your boss’s kids that exclusive CC merch, and hey, how about floor tickets with backstage passes too? Are you trying to get started in the music industry? He’ll invite CC’s production manager over for a Super Smash Bros tournament and jumpstart your network.

𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕝𝕝 :: Does Gareth like to experiment and try new things, or does he prefer familiarity?

⟢ Oh this boy is down to try anything, in any facet. New restaurants, new foods (bonus points if he can make Jeff gag), new set lists, new tour destinations, new bedroom activities…. Gareth wants to experience it all.

𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: How well does Gareth know his partner?

⟢ Like the back of his hand. Gareth doesn’t do anything by half measures, and he’s practically obsessed with you. There’s not a single subject anyone could bring up that he can’t relate back to a fact or trivium about you.

𝕍𝕒𝕝𝕦𝕖 :: How important is Gareth’s relationship to him?

⟢ Damn important. He loves you, he loves showing you off, he loves how you fit in with his bandmates and their partners. You make him happy.

𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕕 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕕 :: A random fluffy headcanon.

⟢ Ever since he was a kid, an expression of Gareth’s love has been in the gifting of tiny trinkets, like a courting magpie. While he definitely gives bigger, more typical gifts as well, damn near every time you see him, he gifts you a tiny little object. They’re nothing special or fancy, it might be a neat rock, or a pretty leaf, or a perfect acorn, or a wheatback penny, or a simple piece of origami.

𝕏𝕆𝕏𝕆 :: Does Gareth like to be affectionate with his partner?

⟢ Oh my god, yes. Gareth lives for affection. He would be snuggling on top of you 24/7 if it were at all feasible.

𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: How does Gareth cope when he’s missing his partner?

⟢ Oh he’s a sulky bitch. When you’re apart, he gets crabby and cranky so much more easily. If you couldn’t join CC on tour, the other guys try to make sure Gareth gets a break in the schedule every day to call home and talk to you, if only to stop him becoming unbearable to work with.

ℤ𝕖𝕒𝕝 :: To what lengths would Gareth go for his relationship?

⟢ He might walk off a tour to see you instead, or at least cancel a show or two. He’d argue to bring you along on the tour bus with the rest of the band, and if the guys don’t go for that, then they can go on without him, he’ll get his own transportation—with you—to each city, thanks very much.

[rodr1cks]

Hi! I don't know if your request are open, but I'd like to know if you could write a rodrick x reader where the reader is Rowley's sister and discovers her talking on the phone with a friend saying she's in love with Rodrick and tells Greg and he tells her that Rodrick has been in love with her for a long time and they try to put them together?

cw: none it’s pure fluff

word count: 1.8k

“I know! And he didn’t even apologize!” Greg ranted into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, Greg,” Rowley frowned, sympathetic nature as present as always. “Anyways, mom says dinner is ready, see you tonight?” Rowley’s tone lifted at the end of his sentence, excitement brewing as he thought about the sleepover he was meant to have with Greg later that evening.

You slid into the kitchen on your socks, just as Rowley was concluding his conversation with Greg.

Rowley sat anxiously through dinner, quickly consuming everything on his plate, including the vegetables. You observed him from across the table, cocking your head as your younger brother inhaled his peas like he hadn’t eaten in days.

He took his last bite before exclaiming, “I’m going to pack my stuff for Greg’s!”

Not without clearing his dishes first, of course.

You rolled your eyes at his charisma and headed into the living room. You slumped over on the couch, limbs splayed every which way as you called your friend, Marissa. You had been needing to gush to somebody about your newest crush, Rodrick Heffley.

You had only interacted with the messy haired boy in passing: family dinners, picking up Greg, dropping off Rowley, etc.

“I don’t know what it is, he’s just so- so- captivating. God, Mar, I swear I could watch him play drums for hours on end!”

Unbeknownst to you, Rowley had entered the room and was about to speak. You were too caught up in drooling over Rodrick to notice. “Hey, y/n-” He cut himself off quickly, curiosity getting the best of him.

“And did you see what he was wearing at Matt’s party? Those jeans? And that eyeliner? God I could just tear them-”

Rowley cleared his throat, unwilling to hear the rest. “Y/n can you take me to Greg’s, please?” He stood awkwardly with his lips pursed.

Your head whipped around faster than the speed of light. “Marissa, I gotta go.”

“Rowley, how much of that did you hear?”

He lied, something he wasn’t really good at, “Not much! I promise!”

“Rowley Jefferson you had better keep your mouth shut, or I swear I’ll-”

You stopped yourself, closing your eyes and drawing in a deep breath. “Just get in the car.” You breathed out in a scarily calm tone. Your red headed sibling nodded frantically out of fear and darted to the garage.

Usually, you would make him walk, but ever since your infatuation with Rodrick began, you were more eager to give him rides over there. The mere prospect of getting the slightest glance sending excitement throughout your entire being.

When you pulled up to the Heffley home, you gave him a final glare. “Say nothing.” He gave you the same shaky nod he gave you only moments ago. With that, he was bounding towards the front door. You made sure he got inside safely and drove off.

“Rowley? Everything okay?” Greg asked his friend, concerned with his behavior. Rowley couldn’t handle keeping secrets. His hands grew clammy and a slight sweat broke out on his forehead. Rowley had an uncomfortably fake smile plastered on his face as he tried to assure Greg that everything was just peachy.

All it took was one knowing look from Greg and Rowley broke.

“Alright, fine! I heard my sister talking to her friend about how hot Rodrick is and how she wants to-”

“Okay, okay! I get the picture!”

Greg took a moment to proceed, his brows furrowed as he brought a contemplative fist up to support his chin.

“Lemme get this straight. Your sister likes my brother?”

Rowley nodded slowly.

“Y/n likes Rodrick?”

Rowley nodded again, confirming Greg’s exclamations.

“But y/n is smart a-and hot!”

“Greg! Don’t say that!” Rowley groaned, rolling his head back in disgust. Greg threw both of his hands up in defense, “I’m just stating facts.”

“Wait, I have an idea.” A pit of dread grew in Rowley’s stomach, Greg’s ideas never turned out well.

“What if we set up y/n with Rodrick? Just hear me out, this could be good for him.”

Rowley mulled the idea over in his head, thinking that maybe dating you could make Rodrick more… agreeable? Maybe you could be a good influence on the intimidating teenager. A happier Rodrick would make sleepovers at Greg’s a lot more pleasant.

“I think that could work,” Rowley said apprehensively. “But how do we do it?”

Greg shrugged, “Simple, we just tell Rodrick there’s a really hot Girl interested in him.”

The boys proceeded to draw up a plan.

Phase one: The approach. Greg and Rowley nervously ascended the wooden steps that led to Rodrick’s room. Rodrick was laying on his back, spinning a drumstick between his nimble fingers.

He shot up immediately when he noticed the boys’ presence. “What are your dweebs doing up here?”

Phase two: Delivery. “Calm down Rodrick, we have some information you might wanna know,” Greg reasoned cooly, easing Rodrick’s anger from a roaring ten to a mild six.

Greg nodded over at Rowley, signaling him to start talking.

“W-well,” Rowley stuttered, “I uhm- heard my sister talking about you and she- she likes you and she was talking about your jeans?”

Rodrick blinked in confusion, processing this intel.

“Your sister likes me? Are you sure she meant me?”

“That’s what I said!” Greg exclaimed and Rodrick shot him a terrifying glare, silently telling Greg to can it.

Rodrick was honestly shocked. He always observed you from afar, deciding himself that a chick as cool as you would never go for him. This news was absolutely world shattering for the boy, he completely admired you.

Phase three: Action. “We have a plan.” Greg said, a conniving grin creeping onto his face. “Rowley calls y/n, tells her that he’s feeling sick and blames it on Mom’s pot roast or something. Then when she rushes over all worried, you greet her at the door. And then you work your Rodrick magic!” Greg smiled, abundant pride for his plan evident in his stature.

“It’s a go.” Rodrick declared, scrambling around his room to put on deodorant, a new t-shirt, and cologne before pointing at Rowley. “Make the call.”

“Hey, y/n,” Rowley groaned into the phone, sounding as sick as he possibly could. “I- I think I ate something bad and I really need you ro come get me.”

You sighed, telling him you’d be there in ten minutes and to have his things ready to go. You departed for the Heffley house for the second time that night.

When Rowley didn’t come out to your car, you trudged up to the red door to go retrieve the sickly boy.

You gave the door three lazy knocks, expecting Rowley’s face to be the one behind it when it swung open. “Hey kid, are you feeling okay?” You asked, not yet making eye contact with the figure leering in the doorframe.

Your eyes widened as you came to realize who it was.

“Funny seeing you here,” Rodrick drawled out, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your cheeks burned with the heat of one thousand suns, you were not expecting this tonight.

“Y-yeah,” you smiled awkwardly, staring at your feet. “Rowley called, he uhm, he’s not feeling well. So if you could just get him for me I can leave. Immediately.” You cursed yourself for your blubbering idiocy as you twiddled your fingers.

“Actually, Rowley is feeling much, much better.” Suspicion grew as you studied Rodrick’s devious expression. “What’s going on?” You asked, genuinely puzzled as nothing was making any sense.

“I don’t know, y/n. Why don’t you come in and tell me?” Rodrick was surprisingly smooth in this situation, despite his nerves being at an all time high.

“Rowley is just up here,” Rodrick said while guiding you up the stairs to his room. In the meantime, Greg and Rowley peered out from the hallway, watching you follow Rodrick upstairs and giggling to themselves.

The overhead lights in Rodrick’s room were turned on, the glow from his string lights illuminating the area instead. “Mood lighting,” as he had called it. Rodrick had already instructed the boys to stay far away once you had arrived.

You were still lost, Rowley nowhere in sight. “So? Where is he?” You asked expectantly.

“Here’s the thing y/n. You know Rowley can’t keep secrets, right? I mean you have to know that, he is your brother”

Shit.

“That little shit stain! I’ll get him, I swear to god!” You turned to bound down the stairs, ready to tear the entire house apart in hunting for him. Rodrick grabbed your wrist before your foot could even reach the first step.

“Y/n, relax, relax!” His grip on your flesh made your breath hitch and stomach churn. “It’s okay, I feel the same way.” Rodrick’s cocky facade dissipated into nothing as he revealed his feelings.

You got a glimpse of a more vulnerable side of Rodrick that you were sure he didn’t typically share. “But girls like you don’t usually like stupid guys like me,” Rodrick was staring at the ground now, grasp on your arm softening.

You were too unsure of your words so you opted to move your free hand to hold his bicep, closing a considerable amount of distance between the two of you in the process.

“Rodrick, I’ve never liked anybody as much as I like you. And I don’t mean that in a weird or creepy way it’s just that-”

Now it was time for Rodrick’s own addition to the plan. Phase four: The kiss.

Your rambling was cut short by a pair of warm lips pressing against your own. He kissed you with just enough force to cause you to stumble back a bit, causing you to brace yourself against his torso.

He carded a gentle hand through your hair and tugged back on your soft locks. You moaned at the vibrations tendrilling at your scalp and kissed him with even more ferocity.

Somehow, you ended up on his bed, straddling him. The blankets strewn across his mattress melded against your knees and the fronts of your calves as you stabilized yourself on his lap.

He placed apprehensive hands on your hip bones, unsure of what was okay and what wasn’t. You placed your hand on top of his larger one, assuring him that you were comfortable. You even allowed a small whimper to leave your throat as he tightened his hold on you.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, looking into his eyes for the first time that night. You smiled warmly at him as you cupped his cheek. Suddenly, Rodrick’s signature smirk returned to his face.

“Now tell me what you were saying about my jeans.”

[trekkiepirate]

It’s Jeff who takes Steve aside. Mostly because Eddie and Gareth are arguing in hissed whispers across the room. Honestly, the day in ‘85 when Gareth lost his hero worship of Eddie and saw him as just his Best Friend was a wonderful day for Gareth and Eddie and a bleak, bleak day for Everyone Who Has To Put Up With Gareth And Eddie.

Steve is watching the fight with his head tilted and Jeff don’t swing that way, but he completely understands Eddie’s little monologues about “Steve Harrington’s beautiful, perfect puppy dog eyes” in that moment.

“What’s going on with them? Is it about me?” Steve asks, never as stupid as some people think he is.

Jeff idly strums his guitar and nods. “Yup. Gareth is annoyed Eddie always uses your full name when talking about you. Eddie is... well, Eddie.”

That brings a small smile to Steve’s face. “He says it’s because he had a crush on me since his sophomore year and can’t really believe we’re dating so he uses my full name because it makes him feel-” Steve waves a vague hand, in the way Jeff had begun noticing he does while searching for words, “like it’s real? As if HE’S the lucky one in this relationship.” Steve laughs a little, as if at the absurdity of the idea.

The rest of Hellfire Club, oh wait sorry Principal Higgins, of GAMING Club (Eddie may be graduated and the name changed officially but Gareth makes sure all the new sheepies KNOW its True Name, he even dug out an old Hellfire shirt to give to Will Byers and Jeff just needs those two to get together anytime before Christmas. He and Steve have bet money and Jeff wants Harrington to pay for his new guitar strings and amp) all came together to give Steve a shovel talk when Eddie finally broke the news about who he was dating. Because Eddie’s dreamy little sighs were nice, but he’s been Jeff’s best friend since goddamn middle school and he had to make SURE Harrington had really left the douchery behind. Steve had nodded humbly and said if he ever intentionally hurt Eddie, he would let them take his ‘nail bat’ to him.

Which, Jeff still has so many questions about. Actually basically everything that happened between Lady Applejack defeating Vecna on the Friday before Spring Break and Eddie landing in the hospital having only recently been cleared of multiple murder charges (cleared by the previously thought dead Sheriff at that) is stuff they all still have questions about.

Eddie said “Steve Harrington saved my life” and a recent pool party showed he and Steve have some matching scars. Jeff’s dad is a wildlife ranger so Jeff knows animal bites and he can’t come up with a single animal that leaves marks like those on Steve’s torso and neck and Eddie’s... well basically Eddie’s everything. Seriously, if a damn grizzly bear had used him as a chew toy, Jeff doesn’t think Eddie would have been any worse off. He’s still not entirely certain how Eddie could possibly have survived because CPR alone doesn’t bring a person back from those kind of injuries.

“Oh my god!” Gareth’s hisses just a bit too loud and brings Jeff back to the present.

Jessie, a junior Hell- Gaming Club member and their new electric bass player since Mark headed to Chicago for college, rolls her eyes. “Steve, you’re a swell guy and all, but please rein in your man before Gareth chews through his last drumsticks and Eddie damages his voice. There’s a guy who I invited to the show on Tuesday and if we can’t perform because half the band needs a GODDAMN TIME OUT LIKE CHILDREN-”

Eddie and Gareth startle and look back as if just remembering there are other people in the garage.

Jessie and Erica Sinclair are very, very scary when their characters collaborate. They may be the only girls in the club but Jesus Christ, Jeff knows when Lady Applejack and Artemis La Fey team up whatever they’re facing don’t have a chance.

“-then I will lose my best shot at losing my V card and I don’t wanna do that.”

Steve puts his hands on his hips in what Dustin Henderson calls his Mom Pose. “You’re only sixteen, Jessie. There’s no rush. And if he doesn’t think you’re cool even without the band then he isn’t worth your time.”

Jessie blinks her dark eyes up at him and smirks. “My god, dude there’s still graffiti in the girl’s bathroom stalls about you at sixteen so may I cordially invite you to shut the fuck up, dipshit?”

Jeff laughs at Steve’s expression, somewhere between offended and curious with a bit of a preen thrown in.

It’s worth driving down from Butler U every weekend for practice for Jeff to not miss moments like this.

Eddie and Gareth have shaken hands and are rejoining them all by the time Jeff calms down. “What’s the verdict?” He asks.

Eddie shrugs. “I will... attempt, no promises okay, but attempt to refrain from constantly using Steve’s whole name, only during band practice and shows. DnD nights and movie nights are still a free for all.”

Steve smiles and comes over to kiss Eddie on the head, the both of them meeting eyes after and seeming to glow from within. “I’ll pick you up at eight,” he shoots a look at Gareth, “Eddie Munson.”

Eddie cackles as Gareth starts swearing under his breath in a mixture of Welsh and Elvish. “See you later, Steve H...honey.”

Just before Steve hops into his car, he waves at the band. “Bye, Eddie Munson! I love you, Eddie Munson!”

Gareth groans and drops his head on his drums.

Yes yes eddie calling Steve sweetheart/darling/baby is good. It’s lovely BUT true chaotic goblin boy Eddie means he probably uses Steve’s full name At Every Opportunity. Any chance he gets.

He wanders into family video, sees Robin; ‘oh hey, is Steve Harrington here?’

He’s giving dustin a lift home, they are in conversation about a mixtape Eddie made for him and comes out with ‘I played this song for Steve Harrington and he said it didn’t feel like his ears were bleeding so that’s a good sign for his musical education’

At a corroded coffin band practice ‘sorry I’m late guys, Steve Harrington was late picking me up’ and he’s got the stupidest smile on his face but Gareth loses it ‘DUDE THERES NO OTHER STEVE! WE KNOW ITS STEVE HARRINGTON! ITS BEEN MONTHS!’

And Eddie just pouts down at his guitar ‘I’m telling Steve Harrington about this’

Eddie when Steve arrives to pick him up: ‘ITS STEVE HARRINGTON! :D’. Steve asks why Gareth is trying to bite through his drumsticks but Eddie shushes him and says ‘it’s okay Steve Harrington, Gareth is just teething’

[earthh2jadee]

if you kissed me - Rodrick Heffley | 1.9k

Yeah yeah i know i haven't written since a million years ago. and yeah yeah i know this is my first real fanfiction i posted on tumblr. fair warning, i'm not the best writer, i honestly just do this for fun and i'm totally up to criticism because i do want to make my writing better. if this is literally inaccurate, im sorry its been like 5 years since i've read the books. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest that I created in the span of a few hours.

paring: rodrick x reader genre: fluff. lots of fluff

Credits to the maker of the picture! 15 Days till the Contest | 9:42 PM, Saturday

Plick, plick, plick

My speakers were blasting so loud I almost didn’t hear the sound of pebbles hitting my window.

Plick, plick, plick

I rubbed my eyes and slammed my laptop shut, walking toward my bedroom window. Peering down, I saw a figure a few yards down from my second-story bedroom, looking back up at me. Dark brown, messy hair that stuck up around his face. A red and black flannel, black ripped jeans, and, (of course) a tee-shirt with “Loded Diper” clumsily written on it. A grin spread on his face as he saw my face come into his view, causing me to blush. Rodrick Heffley, Crossland High bad boy, and my boyfriend.

I unlocked the latch to my window and stuck my head out, taking in the cool air and letting the neighbors enjoy the music I was playing (they never did). I looked down.

“Y/N!” He whisper-yelled

“Evening, Heffley.”

“I need to tell you something!”

“What’s so important that you have to scratch my window instead of using the power of modern technology to call me?”

His mouth opened to give me a response, but nothing came out. I smirked, “Come on up.”

I opened the window wider as he climbed the trellis that lined the back of my house. I backed up to my door and locked it. Precautions, my parents liked Rodrick but they definitely wouldn’t approve of him in my room at night. I looked back and I saw him, every feature of him illuminated by the light of my room. His cheeky smile and chocolate brown eyes. He slowly closed the window and walked toward me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. I still got butterflies whenever he touched me.

“Hey, Spiderman. What did ya climb in here to tell me?” I asked

“I got Loded Diper into a contest.”

My eyes widened, Loded Diper, my boyfriend’s rock band, wasn’t exactly known for being the best. It was mostly known for his mom’s insane dance moves during the Plainview Talent Show. But of course, i'll never say that in front of his face.

“You did?! That’s awesome Rodrick!”

“Yeah! It's a battle of the bands contest, we’re going against two other bands. I really think this is gonna be our big break!” His eyes sparkled in excitement.

His happiness was contagious, he was like a goddamn puppy. I pulled him into my arms. “I’m proud of you Rod.” I muttered and smiled into his collarbone. I felt him inhale the scent of my hair and twirl my locks around his fingers.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the hug. “I’m having practice tomorrow with the band, you wanna come?”

“Sure. I go to every practice anyway, why miss out on this one?” I shrugged.

He chuckled and looked at me. Really looked at me. That’s one of the reasons why I fell for him. It never seemed like it, but he paid attention. We’ve only been dating for 4 months, but he knew me like no one else did, and I knew that in the way he looked at me. I felt his hand cup my face, his thumb rubbing my cheek in small circles. I looked up at him, noticing how tall he was, how close he was. Was I the one who leaned in? Was he the one who leaned in? Did we just do it subconsciously? Did he want this? Was he ready? Was I ready?

The ringing of Rodrick’s phone filled the room. The daze we were trapped in was gone and we separated, our faces red. Rodrick picked up the phone, it was his mom.

“Yeah, mom? Mom...I’m in the middle of something. I’ll do laundry later, ok? Now? C’mon… Alright, fine. Bye.” He hung up. “Sorry, I gotta blast.”

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked him as he started toward my window.

He looked back at me and planted a kiss on my forehead, the farthest we’ve ever gone with physical touch as a couple.

“Tomorrow”

~~✰✰✰~~

14 Days till the Contest | 1:22 PM, Saturday afternoon

“Should we take it from the top?”

Practice wasn’t going so well. I could feel the nervousness, the tension. Drums were slightly off beat, the guitarist’s fingers would fly to the wrong places on the fretboard, lyrics would go all over the place. The contest was two weeks away, and Loded Diper was already feeling the anxiousness. I sat on the floor of the garage, on top of a picnic blanket I found. To Rodrick’s dismay, his mom forced him to let Greg watch band practice, as a form of “brother-to-brother bonding time.” Greg sat next to me, mockingly covering his ears.

“Oh thank god, it's done.” Greg said with an immense amount of sarcasm and uncovering his ears.

Rodrick threw a crumpled-up piece of paper at his head, “Shut up.”

“Both of you, be nice.” I laughed. “I think you guys should take a break for a while, maybe shake off the nerves.”

“Good idea Y/N, 20 minute break everyone!” The lead singer said. Everyone spread out, grabbing a piece of pizza ordered earlier and laying down. Greg ran out of the garage, yelling, “I’m free!”

Rodrick stood up and began gulping down a bottle of water. He wore a black tanktop and black ripped jeans, sweat dripping down his forehead. I ran up behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso. He turned and faced me, running his hands through my hair, lost in thought.

“You ok, Rod?” I asked him.

He sighed, “nerves”

I leaned my head on his chest, “You’re gonna do great, you’ve done so many gigs in the past. Think of this as one of those!”

He smiled at me, “You know what would make me feel a lot less nervous?”

“Oh god. What?”

A really common thing Rodrick did was try to bargain a kiss on the lips from me. It's been an ongoing joke, a meaningless bit he did all the time. I’ll do my homework if you kissed me on the lips. I’ll smile in the picture if you kissed me on the lips. It still hasn’t worked.

“I might be less nervous if you kissed me on the lips.” He whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes, “If that’s what it takes then I think you’ll lose the competition.”

He let go of me and laughed, my favorite laugh. “Worth a try.” He shrugged, going off to join his bandmates and the pizza. But as I watched him smile and laugh with his friends, I lost myself. I thought about the previous night. The way we fit into each other, the closeness, the fact that was so close that I could see my reflection in his eyes.

Maybe I should just say yes.

~~✰✰✰~~

The Day of the Contest

For the past 2 weeks, Rodrick has given me the “kiss-bargain” joke 9 times. Every time, I deflected it with sarcastic remarks, and every time I regretted not agreeing.

I sat on the front steps of my porch, waiting for Rodrick to pick me up. I regretted the jean shorts and plain black tee-shirt I had on, as a cold breeze brushed my skin. I pulled my black leather jacket on, which I painted “Loded Diper” on the back in white paint. Then, I heard it. The echo of heavy metal turned to full blast, and… the faint sound of something big getting knocked over. Oh god, they’re here. The white van with “Loded Diper” written in huge words screeched to a halt in front of my house.

The window rolled down, revealing my boyfriend and his excited grin. “Get in.”

~~✰✰✰~~

30 minutes till Loded Diper preforms

It felt surreal to be backstage, and really exciting. Energy was flowing through the room, as all the other bands talked and played. The rest of the band members seemed excited, full of adrenaline. Except for Rodrick, he’s been nervous ever since soundcheck. His leg was bouncing,he twirled his drumsticks around, drumming them on random objects, and his eyes stared into nothing.

“Rodrick, you want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Huh?” He didn’t take his eyes away from the ground, his voice seemed far away.

I lifted a liquid eyeliner pen I had in my pocket, “Eyeliner. I just did mine, we can match!”

He lifted his head and noticed me. I had my eyeliner smudged, just like he always does during a gig. He grinned, “Yeah. Yeah sure.”

I’ve done his eyeliner many times in the past, and I loved doing it because I had to be as close to him as possible. So I hopped onto his lap, pressing myself close to him, trying to comfort him with my warmth.

“Close your eyes.” I ordered.

As I applied his eyeliner, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was heavy, and fast. I’m pretty sure I would still hear it if I wasn’t as close to him as I was, even though the loud music blasting through the theatre.

“Done”

He opened his eyes, and butterflies flooded my stomach. We were close. Very close. Should I do it? Should I lean in?

Rodrick probably sensed my flustered-ness. He smirked, “Cat got your tongue?”

I rolled my eyes, blushing hard. “Shut up.” I said, playfully punching him.

~~✰✰✰~~

“5 Minutes until Loded Diper performs!” A man exclaimed to us.

Rodrick was as nervous as ever. We’ve been standing on the left wing of the stage, watching the other bands play. It felt like a bunch of Loded Diper copy-pastes. A bunch of high schoolers, weird names, very aggressive playing. But they were still pretty good. Rodrick was biting the nails of one of his hands and tapping his other hand on the wall behind him. I looked up at him and held his hand, stopping it from fidgeting. He smiled nervously.

Now or never Y/N…

“Hey, you said that if I kiss you, you won’t be as nervous. Right?”

He looked at me, wide eyed. He seemed to be trying to compute what I said.

I stood on tiptoe and put his face in my hands. It was that night all over again. Every detail of his face, of him was in full view. His eyes, his eyeliner, his scent, his lips. I leaned in.

His lips were soft against mine, but they were tense, flustered. I was terrified, It was the wrong place, the wrong time. Until I felt one hand in my hair, another on my waist, pulling me closer.

How long was the kiss? A few seconds? It felt like minutes, hours. Sparked ignited. Butterflies flew in my stomach. His scent was the only thing I smelled, his warmth was the only thing I felt. The music faded away. Everything faded away. It was just him and I. Until we broke apart, taking in deep breaths of each other. We wanted more, but Loded Diper was playing in a few seconds.

“Hey, Rodrick.”

“Yeah?”

“If you win I’ll kiss you again”

We both knew I would kiss him regardless.

I didn't edit this because editing is for wimps (just kidding be responsible and edit your work)

please like and reblog because it gives me serotonin and i need that

[katsukikitten]

Aight yall know the rules. 18 PLUS. Minor DNI, this was written for and helped to be dreamed up by @kingkatsuki who is always down to simp over Bakugou with me. Drummer!Bakugou x kindagroupy fem reader. Warnings include lots of smut and impact play. 💋🐱

Welts and bruises were hardly seen beneath the black swirling ink that snaked from a thick wrist all the way up a banded arm to nestle itself just barely over a normally guarded heart. Your fingers grip at drumsticks as you look over a certain hot head, unsure of your relationship status other than the fact that he used you to bring himself down from the height of the show. 

Just like he did a month ago at a meet and greet. Glaring at your stupid rare band shirt that featured him instead of his band mates. "No one gives a fuck about the drummer. It's why I'm the fucking drummer so I don't have to deal with mindless extras."  

To be honest it was his first time seeing that shirt since production, signing all 70 in existence half heartedly. You recall how agitated he was, obviously forced to this meet and greet when normally there were rumors that he never shows. He twirls his drumstick in his large fingers to keep from exploding as Kirishima, Jiro and Denki entertain the snobby VIPs. You had been lucky enough to win your ticket in a radio drawing and even though Bakugou wasn't talking much, not that you expected him too, it was nice to be there. 

Nice to have his garnet gaze cutting into your skin even if it was just harsh glares. It takes Kirishima a minute to figure out just why Bakugou hasn't left yet. His own glistening rubies roaming the small group of five until they land on you. The devil settles himself in Kirshima's skin as he stands, a rare and cocky smirk adornes his lips. He sits next to you, practically on top of you and your cheeks flush from the closeness of your second favorite band mate. You can smell the linger sweat from the show, musk and dark pine needles tickle your nose as you swallow desire whole. Choking just a bit as he leans closer. His calloused digits finger the hem of your shirt, pulling it away from your body a bit to inspect it more closely. 

"Ah, that's a sight to see." He chuckles, eyeing the shirt that has a shirtless Bakugou in action, sticks raised as he sits over his precious drum set, "This is from one of our first real gigs." 

"I know. The drumming interlude while Jiro rested her strained voice was so energizing. After that amazing show I had to buy a t-shirt of my favorite member! But they didn't have any at the show. It was hard finding this." Suddenly Bakugou's gaze becomes too much, leaving you feeling hot and bothered as the room seemed to smell like spiced caramel. What little ease you felt by Kirishima was devoured by the brooding blonde sitting on his throne of well worn leather. Gulping, you turn to face Kirishima a bit more as he chuckles again. 

"You don't want sour puss as your favorite. How about I make you a deal huh?" The room goes a little quiet as the other VIPs feign interest to hear. After a moment you nod a bit nervously fighting to keep your gaze on Kirishima. Meanwhile Bakugou tongues his lip ring with irritation.

"Why don't we trade shirts? I'll give you mine for yours?" He says, large hand gripping at the fabric at the nape of his neck. Pulling it off in one swift motion, setting it gently in your hands. The fabric a bit damp from the show, tingling pine masks your senses as you grip at the black fabric. 

Would it be rude to turn down a rock star? 

Just as you're about to find out the blonde stands, all eyes wide and set on his godly figure. His abs peeking out from beneath his infamous sleeveless and tattered black denim vest. 

The same one you wore now. You remember how he dragged you from the room and showed you just exactly who your favorite band member. Not knowing he played right into Kirishima's hand. 

Even now he still gets possessive when Kirishima comes too close. Pushing the guitarist and side vocals harshly away as Bakugou comes to close to you, cornering you against a sidewall backstage. 

"Hey Brat. Are you flirting with fire engine again?" His face says pissed but his tone is all tease. He nips at your ear before gripping your hair to tilt your head, exposing your neck to him. He licks a stripe up the column relishing how you taste before leaving a gasp inducing bite. Pink indents and a beautiful bruise bloom in his wake. Absentmindedly his thumb swipes over the mark gently. 

"Did you hurt yourself Suki?" You ask softly, hands having discovered just how raised those welts were. He watches the worry stain your features, pulling your bottom lip into a delightful pout. He leans down to your face, pulling at the jutting lip and giving it a small bite. Your skin erupts in heat, surging through your body until it settles in between your legs.  He pulls back, giving you his signature arrogant smirk. 

"Oi, don't get so worked up Princess. I'll show you how I got them after this set." He takes the drumsticks from your grip giving you a final, searing kiss before he makes his way on stage. Always the first to get the crowd hyped up as everyone else got situated. 

Anyone who had seen the same set of songs performed twice weekly for a month might have used the word bored to describe how they were feeling as they waited for the band to finish. 

But you were not like most people, see these 90 minutes that sometimes stretched into two hours was equivalent to a strip tease for you. Always having to shift your weight with the passing of each song, trying to get some friction for the heat that he caused at your core. His ash blonde hair would become darker, losing his spiky nature as it drooped from the weight of caramel scented bliss, the stands sticking to his skin causing him to push it back, exposing his forehead. His black shirt would darken as well, agitating the hot head as it clung to his muscles, sticking to skin and trying to throw off his rhythm. Between a song he places one of his drumsticks in his mouth, letting his large hand tear at the shirt until he can shed it off as if it were a second skin. 

The crowd always roars with excitement as the camera zooms in on him. On his dark eyes and glistening pecs. The ink of his arms and just barely over his pectorals sends a jolt of electricity through you, mouth salivating as you remember them hovering over you the night before. 

You clench around nothing, underwear becoming uncomfortable in your pleated skirt as you pull the well worn denim closer to you as you wait. 

Finally the show ends with Jiro giving all of her love to the crowd, to Kirishima and Denki rifting notes off of corded strings as Bakugou guides them with his ever steady beat. Slamming onto the symbols, foot bass and the drums, sweat flying from him as he moves. 

"Until we meet again!" They scream and the crowd echoes back their famous saying. 

Bakugou practically runs off stage, damp with caramel bliss as he rushes to you. Hunched over so he can scoop you up, giving you a twirl as he hoisted you into the air. Banded arms resting under your ass. 

"Did you see me out there, kitten?" His voice is rasped as he pants, laced in rare and genuine excitement. His skin sticking to your skirt and shirt as he brings you down to your black converse. He kisses you hungrily, gasping between kisses trying to catch his breath as he clings onto you with shaking fingers. 

"I'm always watching, king." You reply between swipes of his tongue. 

"Skipping the meet and greet again Bakugou? Manager Todoroki won't be happy." Kirishima comments, his voice softer than normal, his own dyed hair sticking to his skin. 

"Fuck him. It's an hour from now anyway dick head. I'll be in later." Bakugou growls back, as you push hair from his face to better see his eyes and his forehead. He lifts your giggling form again as he takes you back to his room. 

Neither of you hear Kirishima's comment to Jiro. 

"Have you ever seen him so in love?" 

The darkness of the room and the smell of you are soothing to Bakugou, his body still a live wire from the show as he tries to get a second wind so he can please you. He knows what his performance does to you, having come back to you soaking through your panties. Just as you were now, still his endurance was tested this week with three shows in a row. 

"Maybe you should-" 

"No." It comes out as a growl as he slowly begins to strip you of your clothes. Leaving you in nothing but his favorite skirt, he pushes you to lean over the futon, flipping up your skirt so he can see your bare sex. 

"God you're such a dirty slut." He sees your sex and thighs glistening with your slick, he lets his fingers collect your essence before swirling over that sensitive bud. 

"F...fuck Katuski." You cry out, hips bucking against him already before he leans over your body, his hard on poking your through his black jeans. 

"Still wanna see how I got these bruises baby?" He pants, even fingering you was taking effort but he wanted, needed to see you panting, begging beneath him. 

"Y..yes yes please!" His fingers still working as he's pressed against you, the coil in your stomach snapping as you see stars. Shaking beneath him as he puts you through two more. Slick pulling away from your sex in strings causing him to lick his fingers dry, holding eye contact with you as you shudder. 

Eye liner already starting to smudge as your mouth falls open into a mewl. He reaches for the wooden sticks in his back pocket. He removes one, the stick nicked and scuffed in various spots from the intensity of tonight's show.  He rubs your ass with his large palm before letting a harsh smack land on your supple cheek. Repeating the process until your cheeks glowed bright red. He lets the smooth wood run across your burning ass before he tests it with a light whack. Trying to remember how it felt against his own skin wanting to keep the damage at a minimum.  The precise impact causes you to jolt and whine. 

"More, I need more." You cry again and again as he let's the wood impact on your tender cheeks. Alternating sides while rubbing where he just hit  

"Yea? Such a greedy slut." Getting lost in your begging he brings down the drumstick a little too harshly, his mind hazed from the lingering show and from the pull of you. The stick snaps in half causing a bruising welt to rise at an alarming rate. Growling he tosses the stick aside, coming down to kiss and bite at your ass tenderly. You push your hips in the air. 

"Katsuki, baby. Please, please fuck me." You beg as tears fall down your perfect cheeks. 

"Fine, but." He pants slowly freeing himself as he lets the head of his cock stretch your sentence, "But only to cockwarm." 

"Noooo!" You whine, squirming as he plunges himself into your velvety walls, already setting a slow pace just to feel you clench against him if anything. 

"Please, please King. I want more. I need you to fill me, Katsuki, please." 

"I'll fucking give it to you brat." He snaps, the sight of you was too much.  Peering over your shoulder, eye liner smeared, hair sticking to your face as your mouth formed that perfect O. He throws caution to the wind and gives in to instinct, to you. 

He sets a harsh pace, his body shaking from exertion as he pounds into you with sloppy haste. Being much more vocal than usual as he grunts and groans allowing your tight cunt to pull him in. The sounds of your arousal echoes through the room as your feet come off the floor, squeezing your thighs around Bakugou to keep him close. Slowly you become limp letting him fuck into you before tensing as he hits that damned spongy spot. Causing stars to catch in your vision and the sounds of his groaning send you over the edge. 

"I'm gonna-" But you never finish it as a scream rips up your throat causing your voice to go hoarse. Your spasming cunt sends the hot head into a groaning tangent. His hips pistons into your soaking heat sloppily before they stutter. His hands gripping at your hips, body shaking the way yours normally does after a heavy session. He pants your walls in ropes of delicious hot cum, the action causing you to whimper.

In what feels like too a short time to Bakugou but the perfect amount to you, he withdrawals from you. Watching you twitch as his seed slips out. Gently he pushes it back in, before gathering some on his digits determined to make you cum a few more times until he is ready to go again.

Bucking and crying trying to squeeze your thighs to shut him away but he spreads you out until his fingers pull something special from you. Body so tense that if touched wrong you might shatter. 

And shatter you do as a silent scream escapes your lips, a clear liquid squirting onto his inky arm and black clothes.

"Ah, kitten I wanted you to squirt on my cock." He coos, rubbing slow sensual circles to bring you down slowly. Rubbing your ass, sure to check on your battered cheek, damning himself for losing control. He lifts you up, turning you to face him as you cling to him, arms crushing him to your smaller frame. 

"You okay Princess?" He asks, peppering kisses atop your head causing tears to burn your eyes. You choke out the question you had been meaning to ask since that first night. 

"What am I to you?" Your voice shakes as badly as your body, as if you were freezing from a chill. He tenses beneath you and you think you've crossed the line. Before you can backtrack he pushes you away from him to grab your chin. Leveling your face to his as he stares into your soul. 

"My fucking everything." He growls out, voice worn from overuse, "How else can I show you?" 

His thumb wipes away a few stray tears as you process what he has said. 

"I gave you my lucky vest didn't I?" You giggle at his question, nodding in agreement. He pulls you into a hug, eyes glaring at the clock. 

"Stay." He commands rushing to the sink to dampen a rag in warm water. He starts with your face, clearing it of the black eye liner. Slowly making his way down your body until he gets to your sticky sex. Wiping away his essence and yours before pressing a soft kiss to your hair line. He tosses the rag into the sink and rummages through your duffle bag returning with the shirt that started it all. A kiss is pressed to the black fabric before he slips over your head, sliding his lucky vest onto your strong shoulders before he adjusts your skirt. Twirling you in a mock dance to check for stains on your skirt, when he sees none he dresses himself pressing a water into your hand. You bite your lip thinking he's going to leave you here. 

"Sorry but you gotta come with me to the meet and greet since you've got this on." He tugs at the black denim causing you to giggle. Relief floods his aching body as your lips curl into a bright smile. 

True to his word Bakugou slips into the long meet and greet with you in tow an hour and a half after he started. 

"Here's your fucking sticks kid." He says, shoving a set of drumsticks into some snobby kids hands. The man scoffs with a retort. 

"I paid for the ones you used tonight. These ones are brand new." 

Bakugou narrows his eyes at him, leaning in close as if you share a secret but he speaks at a normal volume. His face suddenly changing to a cocky, knowing smirk. 

"Guess I broke tonight's pair kid. Tough fucking luck."

He sits in his normal spot, away from others. Pulling you onto his lap, reminding the room that he was taken. 

[yelenasdog]

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈  𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

-

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

-

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of  excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do. 

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous. 

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

-

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

-

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

[debbiebeary]

Disgust and Ecstacey

3

Hayden’s belly jiggled and wobbled violently in the dim, hippy light of the room. The combination of the incense and marijuana haze made the doughy expanse of his body appear even softer and more rounded. The curtains were slightly drawn and in the light was a smoky beam, the rest of the room was lit by red string lights and a few kitschy lamps.

In Hayden’s chunky arms, arms with those beautiful biceps that mushed up against his moobs into a cellulity pillow, he carried Ben and Jerries, peanut butter sandwiches, and some bananas (hey, digestion is important, ok?)

“Alright little britches” said Hayden, time to get to three hundred!” He said as his uncovered belly, lightly shined with sweat, surged forward even more as he added to the snacks already present on the table (chocolate, korean fried chicken and potato chips).

Dillon laughed.

“Oh come on I only reached two fifty yesterday!”

“Only two fifty!?” Cried a voice from across the swirling aromatic haze.

“Only two fifty?!” He repeated, standing up and revealing his own two hundred seventy pound form, he put his meaty paws onto his lightly dark furred, pear shaped body and gave it a strong jiggle, “That’s forty pounds since you arrived, it’s only been a month and a half! If you keep it up you’ll be bigger than me!”

Dillon looked down at his stretchmark covered gut and heaving moobs, which themselves had stretchmarks emerging near the armpits and also stretchmarks on his biceps too. His growth surely exceeded his own expectations. And it didn’t help that Garry, whom was the coffee shops resident chaser turned chub himself, was always feeding Dillon super creamy specialty coffees free of charge throughout his shift.

“Yeah. Who knows,” he began, a smug grin forming between his fattening cheeks and burgeoning double chin, both beginning to dominate his features even under his thickening beard, “perhaps I will hit three hundred.”

“Well it isn’t a matter of ‘if’, it’s a matter of ‘when’. And either way,” Hayden paused to toke the joint he just lit, stifling a cough before he continued, “either way, you gotta eat to make that happen, pig.” And without warning he took a peanut butter sandwich and crammed into an unsuspecting Dillon’s fattening maw. Garry wore a lascivious smirk on his face as he yet again watched Hayden work his gluttonous magic on Dillon.

“Remember!” the three hundred fifty pound blonde stud mumbled after tearing a massive chunk out of his own sandwich, “we match each other bite for bite, no matter what” he continued, swallowing the mouthful into his growling, churning tank, giving it an emphatic slap.

Dillon chewed and swallowed his own mouthful,

“Yes big bear-“

But he was interrupted by Hayden once again plugging his airways with the second half of the sandwich.

Dillon could feel the scale shattering beneath his feet already.

Again and again, handfuls of chocolate brownies, of chips, fried chicken (with an inspired melted Velveeta American cheese dip) were shoved into the awaiting Dillon's mouth by the bronze skinned, blonde haired hunky blob. Though Garry was the bottom, Hayden, a versatile boy who when he was a top, was a very dominant top. This extended to feeding.

Though Hayden was attracted to Dillon, he found force feeding him aggressively to be somehow even more… penetrating. More satisfying than the thought of fucking him ever could be. He was morphing Dillon’s body, potentially towards a permanent absolution. He may never go back to the way he was before the summer began.

Dillon could see the twisted thrill in Hayden’s eyes as he crammed in handful after handful and despite the overstuffed pain in his abdomen he kept opening his mouth, begging again and again for the ruin of his once athletic form.

Hayden had heard tales of the pretentious condescension of Brian. Of his prideful taste in skinny boys, his carbon-copied preferences. In this a dark desire lay, one in which to sever Dillon from his obnoxious fuckbuddy. All he would need were calories and time.

Of which he incidentally had both.

“Damn Hayden, you’re turning him into a blimp!”

“Bwaaap!” Was Hayden’s guttural reply, “ugh, fuck. S’cuse me! Turning myself into a blimp while I’m at it too, don’t ya think Gerry boy?”

Gerry was too busy drooling at them both with big horny puppy eyes to respond, but Hayden’s smile curled with smug deviousness.

Eventually the snacks dwindled until nothing was left and Dillon's already stretchmark laden gut was now bright red and itchy with swelling.

Hayden smacked Dillon’s belly, causing him to wince,

“Fuck!”

“Sorry fatboy, couldn’t help myself, you look like you got a full litter in there.”

“Yeah. A hundred food babies in one. Feel like imma puke.”

Hayden snatched a lit joint that Gerry was enjoying and popped it in Dillon’s mouth, Dillon sucked in frantically,

“Make yourself useful, Gerry. Rub his belly with some of that CBD/tiger balm concoction I made, can’t have him purging all these beautiful calories now can we?”

“N-no sir!” Said Gerry, Gerry always turned into a bitch when Hayden threw his weight around.

“Good boy. Alright Dillon, just hold tight,”

“Uuuuhh. Ok. No I can have that last drumstick then we’re done, I’d rather get this over with and just have some cuddles after.”

“Yeah alright, big dude.”

Hayden let Dillon sink his teeth into the glistening red drumstick, courtesy of the local fried chicken restaurant, Han Ten, Han for the name of the chubby korean bear who owned the pace, ten for ten different glazes. Toasted Perilla, butter honey, spicy, lemon, sweet and sour etcetera. They even had a Ghanaian spicy peanut butter based sauce that was a real zinger. But the one they had was the hybrid honey butter/gochujang ketchup, the K-Supreme with American Cheese Dip, toasted garlic chips and green onions to finish, Dillon’s favourite thing in the world besides Hayden’s succulent puckered-in belly button.

Dillon, after finishing the last bite, let out a rather meaty burp and panted out:

“That’s it, all done…” struggling to breathe, “but it isn’t as bad as last time, uuurap, I’m feeling waaay less sick now, Hayden?”

Hayden was in the kitchen, the fridge door shining it’s menacing white light upon Hayden’s summer- bronzed, food-speckled gut. When Hayden caught Dillon's eye reflected in it was his own evil scheming.

From the glowing gainers bastion of the fridge, like an amulet or treasure of untold power, Hayden withdrew a gallon of chocolate milk.

“Uurp! Fuck, no Hayden that’s pushing it too far! There is no way, mmmlf!”

“Hahaha, you like this funnel? Just got it,” but Dillon managed to spit it out

“Hayden no! Even splitting it it’s way too much for me! I’m too packed!”

Hayden’s face took on a demonic appearance as, with the sun now fully set, the red lights stretched the shadows across his face into l demented forms.

“Whoah, shit this is strong weed.” Dillon suddenly remarked,

“Yeah I cut it with a bit of salvia too, gives everything a nice… twinkle.”

“Well I’m not sure ooouhf!” Hayden shoved the tube back into Dillon's mouth,

“You didn’t let me finish… I’m not splitting this with you, you’re taking ALL OF IT!”

“Whoah, Hayden! You sure? He seems pretty full.”

“He’ll be fine once you get your lips wrapped around his cock, Garry.”

Garry grew quiet.

“RIGHT GERRY!?!”

“Yes sir…”

“Good boy… ok Dillon, open up your throat and GUZZLE! Garry. Uh. Do the same.”

As Garry face planted Dillon’s dick, Dillon was reinvigorated and began to suck down the sweet chocolaty goodness. Garry was a master, sucking Dillon’s meaty head, flicking his slit with his tongue, and deepthroating him like a pro, he never let Dillon get used to his w and was building up to a climax rapidly.

“Yeah you fat fuck, we keep this up you’ll be 400 in no time.”

Dillon moaned. The Gallon was now only half.

“Come on tubbs, you know you want it, you want to beach yourself on the couch and eat and smoke and drink until you’re nothing but a big fat whale.” The gallon was empty but still Dillon sucked on the tube.

“Greedy pig. You still want more?”

withdrawing the tube from Dillon’s mouth, his tortured stomach released a torrent of pressure as Dillon sprayed out a fat wet belch which rolled across the hazy apartment like thunder.

“UUURRRRP!”

In the same moment Hayden, smirking demonically, leaned down and pinched Dillon’s nipple, Dillon convulsed and shot his load, hosing down Garry’s throat with his seed.

“FUUUUCK!” He screamed in agonizing pleasure.

Garry nearly choked on Dillon’s load.

“Holy fuck. Looks like Dillon isn’t the only one that sucked down a gallon of sweet nectar, eh Garry?”

Garry let out a burp of his own before responding.

“I’d say it’s rather more savory but yeah. Basically.”

“Come on, help this fat fuck up, I wanna weigh him.”

“Urrp, fuck guys won’t you give me a second?”

“No fucking way, I wanna see the damage we did, let’s go tubbs!”

After laboring them to the bathroom, they made him stand unaided, swaying dizzily under his own strength after a few minutes of assistance, finally the scale read out its deliberation.

Hayden screamed in disbelief:

“FUCK ME! Two sixty five!?!”

[bitch-out]

OKAY i know you didn’t ask for a full length fic but... i couldnt help myself. here it is: 

Four times Alex saw signs that the world was changing to become more accepting of people like him, and the one time he actually realized it.

1. TV SHOW

After finishing practice for the night, the band walked into Julie’s house. Luke immediately walked into the kitchen, wanting to see what meal her dad was whipping up. His obsession with watching lifers eat was starting to get a little concerning. Reggie followed after him, wanting to hang out with Julie’s dad. That was also a little concerning.

Julie plopped down on the couch next to her little brother, Carlos, who was watching a TV show that she didn’t recognize. Alex hopped over the couch and took a seat next to her, looking at the screen intently.

“What is he watching?” Alex asked, reclining into the couch.

Julie shrugged in response. “I’m not sure…”

Carlos looked over to her with a questioning expression. “Huh?” Oh crap. She needed to stop talking to the boys while other people were around. It made her look absolutely bonkers.  

“…what you’re watching! I’m not sure what you’re watching.” She said quickly, trying to avoid any awkwardness. “What is it?”

He seemed to buy it, letting her weirdness go. “Oh, I’m watching this new show. I forget what it’s called. It’s about this girl who accidentally gets musical superpowers after getting stuck by lightning.”

“Cool,” she answered, settling into the couch. She and Alex watched for a few minutes before looking at each other in confusion. They had absolutely no idea what was going on in the show. They looked at the screen as the main character sighed dramatically, slamming her door while running out of her house. “I’m lost. What’s happening? Why is she so mad?” Julie asked.

Carlos rolled his eyes. “She’s in a fight with her dads right now because they won’t let her go to this big party. Now shhh! It’s getting juicy!”

Luke’s eyes went wide as the scene switched to the main characters dads, who were sharing a tender moment while discussing their child. Two dads? On television? Without it being played off as a joke? He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

Julie looked at him inquisitively, noticing his surprised expression. She raised an eyebrow.

“I see.” A soft smile settled on his face. “Cool.” He bit his lip and leaned back.

“Cool.” She agreed. She almost said something, but then decided it would be better for her to wait for him to tell her.

2. PUBLIC DISPLAY OF AFFECTION

“People watching in 2020 is way better than people watching in the 90’s.” Reggie stated as they walked through downtown LA. They were killing time while Julie was at school. They passed a man in a superhero costume who was taking pictures with tourists.

“I know right?” Luke agreed. “I love looking over people’s shoulder and watching what they’re doing on those… high tech cellphone things.”

“Smartphones,” Alex offered.

“Smartphones, right.”

Reggie ran over to a middle aged guy in a suit sitting on a bench who was looking intently at his phone. “Look at this guy! He’s looking at an article called ‘How to tell if you have foot fungus’.” He wrinkled his nose. “Gross. You might wanna get that checked out, buddy,” patting his shoulder, his hand passing right through.

Luke looked around for someone else to observe. “Okay see the one over there in the blue striped shirt eating a chili dog?” He pointed over to his left to a man walking away from a hot dog stand.  

The man went to take a bite out of his chili dog but dripped it all down the front of his shirt. “Oooooh…. Missed his mouth on that one,” Luke said, cringing.

“That’s nasty,” Alex chimed in.

A guy who looked to be around their age speed walked past them, looking down. He brushed his shaggy blonde hair out of his face as he grinned down at his phone. He was obviously walking with a purpose.

“This guy is hustling! Cmon!” Reggie grinned, jogging after him. Luke and Alex ran over to catch up, all three of them following in pursuit. They all looked over his shoulder to read his text messages. He was texting someone he had named “babe <3” in his contacts.

Can’t wait to see u, his text read, im right around the corner

Reggie whistled. “His girlfriend’s probably a complete hottie if he’s that excited to see her-”

As they turned the corner, the blonde stranger they were following put his phone away as he caught sight of someone. He broke into a run and bear hugged the person, wrapping his arms around them and lifting them off the ground. As he pulled away, it was revealed that the person he was hugging was a brunette guy around the same age as them.

The brunette murmured something, his lips quirking into a smirk. The blonde teen let out a laugh, then pulled him into a kiss.

Alex nearly gasped in surprise, looking around to notice that… not a singular person was looking over. Everyone was just going about their day as normal. No glares, no sneers, not even a scoff.

It felt like the breath was sucked out of his lungs. Was this… normal? The couple broke apart and joined hands, continuing down the street. Alex couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. No one had even batted an eyelash at the public display of affection.

To him, it hadn’t been that long ago since 1995. When even looking at someone for too long would get you called a slur. When his own father would call him a-

“Alex? You good?” He was broken out of his thoughts by Luke looking over at him concernedly.

Alex opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by someone else.

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

They turned around in tandem to see Julie standing there, her eyes sparkling. And they continued with their day, moment forgotten.

3. MUSIC

Alex found himself once again alone with Julie, hanging out with her in her room. He was the only member of the band she would let hang out with her in here, which filled him with an odd sort of pride.

They were currently listening to one of her Spotify playlists. Julie was doing homework on her bed and Alex was tapping his drumsticks on his knee, following the beat of the song they were listening to. He was getting into the groove of the song “This song has a good beat!” he exclaimed. “What is this?”

She grinned at him. “It’s called ‘Girls like Girls’ by Hayley Kiyoko!” She stood up on her bed, dropping her homework and singing into an imaginary microphone as the chorus hit. She belted at the top of her lungs, “Girls like girls like boys do, nothing new~” She laughed as she flopped back onto her bed.

He gaped at her, surprised that she was treating it with such nonchalance. In the 90’s, this would have been music you listened to at 2 am when your parents were asleep. “Is this a… popular song?” he asked.

“Yeah, I mean it’s from like 2015 so it’s basically ancient but it’s still pretty popular.” She turned back to her homework and picked up her pen. “I think the music video has like over 100 million hits on YouTube or something like that.”

His jaw dropped even further “100 million?”

The timer on her phone went off. The words BAND PRACTICE blared across the screen with the chime of her ringtone. “I’ll show it to you later! But we have to go to rehearsal right now.”

He shook his head and followed her out of the room.

4. COVINGTON

As both his friends were pulled away by girls saucily dancing in feathered blue outfits, Alex stood awkwardly like a fish out of water. Covington slid up to him with a sly smirk on his face. “Come now. You can’t be the only one not dancing.”

“No, I… I know.” Alex sputtered. “I’m just…” Not into dancing with girls? No, he couldn’t just say that. He didn’t want to cause a scene. He pointed over his shoulder. “I’m looking for Willie,” he finished lamely.

Covington seemed to read him like an open book. He smiled and gestured with open palms. “Dante! Fuego!” Two handsome men slid up to either side of him. “Meet Alex.” The linked arms with him.

Alex looked at them, surprised. How did he know? Is this like a theater thing? Or… “You’re welcome,” Covington smirked, ducking down. Is this normal here…?

His thoughts were cut off as he was lifted up over Covington’s head and pulled into a fast-paced dance.

5. PRIDE

“Slow down Willie!” Alex shouted, running after his brunette friend as he skated through lifers and tore down the street.

Willie laughed and hopped off his board, picking it up off the ground. He waited for Alex to catch up with him “Relax, we’re almost here…”

Alex was too busy catching his breath to realize they were in the middle of a giant crowd. Lifers walked through them every few seconds like it was nothing “Wh-What is this?” Alex asked, looking around. Everyone was wearing colorful clothing and most were wearing some kind of glitter.

The skater laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the street. “We’re skating the floats, dude.” He pointed at the bright floats that were parading down the street.

Was this some kind of festival or something? Alex wondered. “Why is everything so… colorful?”

Willie looked at him like he was missing something obvious. “It’s June. Pride month.” Alex didn’t know what that was. He looked around, trying to figure it out. “You’ve never seen a pride parade before?” Willie questioned. Then, he realized. “Right. Right, you’re a 90’s ghost. I keep forgetting about that.” He slapped his forehead.

Then, he realized what this was. Alex turned to his right and saw two women kissing. A couple of guys his age were holding hands right next to him. Signs as far as the eye could see read ‘here and queer’ and ‘all you need is love’ and ‘love is love’ and countless other sayings. His breath stuttered in his chest “This is…”

“I know. Pretty cool, right?” Willie asked, sounding pretty nonchalant. He was scouting out the floats, focused on his task.

“And this is all for…” Alex hesitated, “For gay people?”

“All LGBTQ+ people, technically, but yeah dude.” Willie clarified. He grinned, his eyes set on a float just down the road. He found the perfect route.

“So it really is different now, huh?” Alex asked, his voice cracking slightly. Willie looked back in alarm, not realizing how much this was impacting the drummer beside him. A tear rolled down his cheek, but his smile could not be bigger. Alex continued, “Like I had hoped it was, and there’s been some signs, but this is…” He covered his mouth to hide a sob.

Willie walked over to his side, dropping his skateboard and taking his hand gently. “Yeah, Alex. It’s different. Better. Not perfect, but... a lot better.” He squeezed his hand.

“It’s amazing.” Alex said, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve and grinning. He let out a laugh as a drag queen passed by and waved at the crowd, blowing kisses.

The skater couldn’t take his eyes off of Alex. He was absolutely glowing, basking in the atmosphere of the parade. “You know what? Let’s forget the skating.” Willie decided, taking his skateboard from the side of the street and tucking it in an alley.

“Huh?” Alex was confused. Willie wanted to... not go skating?

“It’s time to get your pride on, Alex.”

Together, they spent the rest of the day exploring every area of pride, ducking through crowds and sneaking onto floats. There was even one point where they ran through a huge glitter cannon, getting absolutely covered in glitter.

After it was all done, Willie teleported back to Julie’s house with him to drop him off.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had.” Alex admitted, his smile seemed to be permanently glued to his face.

“Me too. I’ve been to tons of pride parades, but none of them were as fun as this one.” Willie admitted.

“Really? What was different about this one? Was it the glitter cannon? It was probably the glitter cannon-”

“It was you, Alex.” The skater said quietly, brushing a couple stray pieces of glitter off of the taller boy’s cheek.

“Oh,” Alex breathed, looking down at Willie. His heart was racing a mile a minute. He hadn’t realized they were standing so close together.

Willie hesitated for a moment. Was this the moment? He didn’t want to rush Alex. He was probably overwhelmed enough after experiencing his first pride. He smiled up at the blonde and patted him on the shoulder. “Goodnight, Alex.” He stepped away and turned to leave.

He was just about to teleport when he heard “Wait!”

Willie turned around Alex kissed him.

He stiffened at first, surprised. Before he could respond, Alex pulled away and looked at him in panic.

“I’m so sorry, I thought-”

Willie grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him down, kissing him heatedly. Alex responded with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“ABOUT TIME!” someone hollered from behind him.

They broke away to see Luke and Reggie beaming. They both ran over and hugged them both in a group hug. “We thought you two would never figure it out.” Luke said, causing Reggie to laugh. 

“Happy pride, Alex”. Willie murmured, squished up against his side. And Alex couldn’t have been happier.

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

New year, same wonderful man

[ohmiiigosh]

Starter for @dragons-cove​; Big Mama!  | Starter Call (open)

       “I’m meeeeeeltiiiiiiiiing . . . ”

Summers in NYC could be oppressive. Sweltering heats tickling triple digits and sticky humidity. Today was exceptionally hot, the sun was baking Earth enough that the turtles could feel it underground. Mikey sprawled out in the middle of the lair in front of a fan, waving a pizza place’s pamphlet to get extra airflow. 

It was too hot to be creative. Sweat smeared his art supplies, stuck paper to his skin. No way in shell was he going into the kitchen to deal with the oven either. Ballet or skateboarding? In this weather? No thanks.

His brothers had found their own ways to contend with the day, leaving Mikey on his own. Tubing in the sewers wasn't fun alone. He was a social creature who thrived around others! Youngest child problems. 

If only he could go to a pool. Unfortunately, he didn’t know of any pools that’d let a mutant ninja turtle in – WAIT.

Struggling to get off his back, it took longer than he’d like to dwell on, Mikey darted into his room to get changed. There was one place he knew of that had a pool and accepted the otherworldly. 

       The Grand Nexus Hotel!

Were he or his ilk exactly wanted guests? Well, no, BUT if he wore a disguise it’d be totally chill! After donning an outfit, ironically involving putting on clothes, he left a note in the kitchen, ‘going to the pool” and a doodle of him living his best Turtle Boy Summer life, then booked it to the surface. 

It was even hotter up top. At least the cement staved off some of the sun’s angry gaze but now he was under its direct watch. Wiping at his brow, Mikey wasted no time making it to the hotel via rooftops. Now all he had to do was act casual and walk in like he belonged. Ornate doors opening and letting out an air-conditioned gust was like being kissed by a bunch of (cold) angels. Heavenly. 

He glimpsed employees in his animated strut across the lobby. Some gave odd looks but none moved to stop him or whip out a weapon. 

      Haha, suckers!! This is expert ninja-ing right here. 

Stepping into the lift, he made eye contact with the Yokai working the buttons and dropped his voice a few octaves. “Pool floor, please.” Their eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. The awkward pause was nerve-wracking. Sweat started beading on his forehead. Oh no, he had been found out?

      “I like your mustache.” They finally spoke. 

Huh? OH! Hands rose to pat the fake mustache dangling under plastic shades. “Thanks dude! I like your tiny legs. They’re like little drumsticks. I just wanna bite em.”

Getting a quirked brow in response, the other pressed a button to whisk them away. They didn’t get paid enough to dignify that with a response. 

Gold doors parted and revealed the floor. The vibes were PEAK! Mikey’s eyes glittered. Tiled floors, pillars, palm leaves, open balconies with billowing curtains to let in just the right enough of summer, and the main attraction . . . sparkling waters! After thanking the bellhop (always thank your local elevator man), Mikey headed in and perched on the edge of a lounge chair to dig through his bag. Fingers slathered a thick line of sunscreen across his beak. 

This was going to be SO killer. No regrets! Besides, what were the odds that Big Mama would be here, at her own hotel, enjoying her own pool? 

Psshhhhhhhh, like . . . a number less than zero! He’d take those odds. 

[vanillann]

‘tis the damn season (reggie peters x f.reader)

yes i’m 16 and obsessed with a children’s show, what about it?

inspires by “‘tis the damn season” by taylor swift

also i have no clue if i’m going to start writing for jatp or not so...

waring: bad angst and the word damn

word count: 1.6k

“‘tis the season,” Reggie fell back on the couch with the bright red cheeks and little giggles.

Luke looked to Alex, begging with his eyes to smack him but Alex shook his head. The three were waiting for Bobby to grab the sandwiches from the deli and they’d be working on another song, but Reggie had other plans.

“She’ll be here in two days,” Reggie felt the need to give a visible representation, putting up two fingers for all to see.

“Yeah we know, you’ve been reminding us since September,” Luke bite back, looking at Reggie with dangerous eyes.

“Oh Luke, you’re just not in the headspace to understand,” Reggie brushed off, starting at the ceiling above him, laughing to himself as he imagined her face.

“I can’t do this again,” Luke whispered to Alex, looking over. Alex shrugged, the drumstick banging against his leg with a nice little beat that Luke would have to ask him about later.

“It makes Reg happy,” Alex shrugged, looking to the boy in question quickly. He had a dopey look on his face, a little hum of a song on the tip of his tongue.

“Until she leaves to go back home,” Luke mumbled, worried for his friend.

Luke liked (Y/N), I mean he truly believed Reggie and her were soulmates, but every year she came for the holiday and she left a week later.

While Reggie used that week to his advantage, treating others as if they’ve been together for years, they were just two friends as she got back in her car to ride back to the Midwest.

Then Reggie was a heartbroken wreck, mumbling sad songs at practice and missing chords. It happened every time, every year, and Luke didn’t want to watch him wreck himself again.

Alex and Luke both slowly stood up, leaving the boy to look dreamily into the sky. They wander to the other side of the garage, looking over their shoulder every so often.

“Look I get it, she’s great but it’s this holiday fling that Reggie can’t handle.”

Alex understood Luke’s outburst, everyone was thinking it but it wasn’t going to end well if they tried to talk Reggie out of his infatuation. She was perfect for him and it was enough for Reggie to see her once a year.

“I’m back,” Bobby slid in through the garage door, holding bags of sandwiches in his hand as he dropped them to the table.

“Careful with mine,” Luke yelped out, running over to the table and forgot the topic of Reggie's little hometown girl as a whole.

*

Reggie bounced up and down, sitting on the bench by her parent’s house, the cold wind that blew across Reggie's face was odd for California but Reggie didn’t care about that now.

She was coming home for the holidays, that’s all that mattered.

He spotted the red car pulled around the corner of the small street, the one Reggie skated minutes ago with a joyous laugh.

As the car passed by, he spotted her little wave through the window. Her smile was as bright as the sun against a coastline.

Reggie would have to remember that line, Luke would like it.

Once the car was completely parked, the large door swung open. The sound of high heel boots slammed against the pavement with little giggles in-between.

“Reggie!”

“(Y/N)!”

Reggie stood from the bench, laughing as the girl launched herself into Reggie’s leather jacket-clad arms as if it was home. The familiar scent of one another was comforting and perfect, to say the least.

“I’ve missed you,” Reggie whispered into the nape of the poor girl's neck, the goofiest smile sketch across his face as if he was that thing Alex talked about.

Some painted ceiling?

In Rome or something?

“Not as much as I missed you.”

Those words made Reggie forget the question he had, just happy to hear her.

“That’s so not possible.”

*

“When did you learn to ice skate?”

(Y/N) shrugged, her skates leaving little marks in the giant ice. Reggie was thankful when Bobby found this place the other week, the boy enjoyed the people watching and the holiday vibes they got for it.

“I’m just a natural,” Reggie appreciated the way she smiled with her tongue between her teeth, a little goofy shrug as she moved closer to Reggie.

“I’ll teach you,” her hand slipped into his with ease, as if they were made to fit. If you asked Reggie, he’d respond with a “well duh” and continue talking about the girl in front of him.

She pulled him off the rail, smiling as she watched his ankle wobble as soon as she did.

“I got you jeez,” she laughed, reaching over to grab Reggie’s other hand for extra support.

He didn’t even think to look at his skate, too caught up in the girl in front of him. Reggie was watching the way she watched both their skate carefully, worried to let him collapse if she didn’t.

Reggie knew he would write all of Sunset Curves' love songs about her.

Who wouldn’t write love songs about someone who smiled like that?

“You’re staring,” (Y/N) smirks, looking back at their skates as soon as she spoke.

“Well duh.”

*

“How is fashion going?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, obviously not happy with how the dream of hers is going.

“I hate it, it doesn’t feel like what I thought it was,” she let her feet rest in Reggie's lap, laying back on the couch as they both waited for the rest of the band.

Reggie was excited to show her how much better he’s gotten at bass, but now he was worried. He never once felt like that about his dream.

“Are you sure you wanna do fashion?”

“Not anymore,” she spoke gently, pulling at the sweater sleeve with a sad little smile.

“I might just give up.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Reggie spoke, waiting for the words he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

If she quit fashion she’d come home.

“I don’t know, I just need to figure it out.”

She didn’t say anything, just looking at her shoes that sat in Reggie’s lap.

“You could always take a break, stay here for a while.”

Reggie didn’t want to hold her back, no he would never, but she didn’t seem happy and he couldn’t help think maybe she’d be happy here with him.

“You know I can’t Reg, my parents can’t afford another mouth to feed,” she reached out to brush a piece of the hair that had fallen in his eyes.

“I know,” he wanted to tell her to move in with him, but she didn’t deserve to hear the fighting and he could sell Bobby's garage to her.

“Maybe one day,” she spoke gently, the sound of the doors whipping open didn’t make Reggie feel any better.

“(Y/N)!” Alex pranced to the girl, a goofy smile as he wrapped his long arms around her.

“Alex,” she smiled gently, doing her best to brush the conversation to the side.

She would have stayed, she felt home here with Reggie and his band. Her friends in the city were cold and rude, ready to backstab you when their time was coming. Reggie would be good for her, a new setting and one she needed.

But she couldn’t have it.

So he’d have to stick with calling her babe for a weekend.

*

“Last one,” Reggie stuffed the last bag in the trunk of the car, watching it closely as he thought of what was about to happen.

“Thank you for helping.”

(Y/N) had just finished saying goodbye to her family, slowly walking out to find Reggie had backed every bag that sat outside the car.

“With all your bags you’d think you’d stay longer,” Reggie spoke absentmindedly, looking at the sticker covering it. He smiled when he saw his band logo drawn on the side.

“Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

Reggie nodded, the emotions already hitting him as he waited. He was going to regret this, but he couldn’t keep doing this.

“Don’t leave,” his voice cracked, which made (Y/N) more nervous to answer.

“I have to Reg-”

“But you hate it there,” Reggie turned to look at her, his boyish charm gone as fast as it would have normally come.

“I can’t stay Reg, this town isn’t for me anymore.”

She knew he meant well, she didn’t want to leave him anymore but her life wasn’t made for this city.

“But I’m in this town,” she could just barely make out his words with how many emotions were in them.

She slowly walked closer, wrapping her arms around his center. He let his hands rub circles on her back, wondering where to go from here.

“We’re going to have to stop, aren’t we?”

Reggie only nodded, knowing neither of them could do this “friends that weren’t friend” thing anymore, not when it only lasted a week a year.

“I’m sorry Reg, I don’t wanna leave-”

“I understand,” Reggie gave his last light-hearted smile, moving from behind the car, opening the driver side door for her.

She said nothing, nodding as slowly sitting in her seat for the next few hours of her drive.

“’tis the season, right?”

Reggie nodded, trying his best not to be broken the last time she saw him.

“’tis the season,” he muttered under his breath, nodding as she started the car when he closed the door. She backed out the driveway with ease, her eyes trained on the road.

“’tis the damn season,” Reggie spoke under his breath.

He knew at that moment, he’d write all of Sunset Curves heartbreak songs about her.

[crystalgirl259]

Life of a High School Vampire One-Shots 6 One Night Stand

WARNING! This chapter will include alcohol use and implied sexual content. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

**************** Summary: After a high school drinking session, Kai is trying to slip out on his one-night stand when his date wakes up needy, but he quickly gets clarification on what real neediness looks like... ****************

Kai groaned in pain as the morning sun peaked through the curtains and into his closed eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep when his ears and brain were filled with the loud, annoying sounds of dozens of birds chirping loudly. His head was still banging from last night, it felt like someone was using his head like a drum and using ice picks from the drumsticks. He could hardly remember anything about last night. The last thing he could remember was Lloyd dragging him and a reluctant Jay out for the night.

All the schools in the city were gathering together for tournaments and some of the older ones were going out drinking, something Lloyd all but bullied his teammates into.

After that everything was a blank. Groaning, Kai sat up in his bed and he rubbed his sore head and tired eyes. He was never drinking alcohol again. As he opened his eyes, however, he made a disturbing discovery. This wasn't his dorm room. Looking around, he nearly screamed when he saw a strange man fast asleep in the same bed. The man had dark skin with shaggy, raven hair, bushy eyebrows and was snoring loudly. He was so muscular, that Kai thought he was in one of the sports teams that showed up last night.

That is until he saw a sweater from the uniform for the boarding school known as Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts.

Kai didn't care about that, however, as he quickly backed off the bed, falling to the floor with a heavy thud and taking the covers with him. It was then he saw that they were both completely naked, with their clothes scattered around the room. Kai also took note that everything below his waist was aching, but he hoped that that was just from him falling off the bed. Unfortunately, he wasn't stupid. He wasn't a virgin and had been with both men and women, so he knew what that pain was.

As he got to his feet, Kai looked around the room and found a student lanyard with a badge.

On the badge was a picture of the man, showing his soft green eyes and his name; Cole Brookstone. That was when everything came rushing back to Kai. He remembered going to the bar with Lloyd, Jay, and dozens of other students from other schools. He remembered meeting Cole when he left on his own and they started talking. He remembered Cole confessing all his problems at home, school, and with his widowed father to the young vampire as they both got drunker and drunker.

Thankfully, Kai wasn't drunk enough to tell Cole he was a vampire.

The brunette looked the human over again and blushed when he fully took in Cole's body and sized. When his eyes reached Cole's feet, he burst out laughing when he saw it. However, the sound caused Cole to groan and Kai panicked. His instincts suddenly kicked in, telling him to either bite the sleeping man before he woke up and alerted other humans, or hide and escape before he got discovered. Kai quickly dove under the bed, trying not to gag at the hills of dirty laundry and take-out boxes, and waited.

Luckily Cole didn't wake up and soon started snoring again.

Not that the human would probably believe him anyway. Once he was sure his one-night stand was still asleep, Kai carefully crawled out from under the messy bed and started getting dressed. As he collected his clothes from around the room, he found large dumbells, many types of vinyl of soft rock, and dozens of CDs scattered around a large boom box. He also found a few framed pictures of Cole with what Kai assumed to be his friends and father.

He wouldn't be shocked if Cole turned out to be sarcastic and possessed a strong passion for music and exercise.

What shocked the vampire was a picture that showed Cole outside a concert hall with Jay, his and Lloyd's roommate. Kai wondered if should ask Jay about this strange conscious, but he decided not to. It wasn't like he was ever going to see this Cole person after he left. Just as he grabbed his bag, Cole groaned again and started waking up. Kai considered making a break for it but thought against it. He was curious to see how much this Cole remembered and what he thought about Kai.

After a few minutes of waiting, Cole's eyes slowly blinked open, only to cry out and jump when he saw Kai standing in the doorway in all his Gothic glory.

It took a few seconds for the human to fully wake up and calm down, and Kai could hear his racing heart return to a normal pace.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were a ghost or something." Cole gulped as he stifled a yawn and sat up. It was clear to Kai now that Cole did indeed remember what happened between them last night, and that just made this more awkward to the vampire.

"You're sweet." He replied before adjusting his bag and turned to leave.

"Wait! You're taking off already?!" Cole shouted after him in confusion and hurt, causing Kai to stop and turn back to him.

"I didn't want to rouse you, you were resting in peace." He shrugged, figuring that if Cole wanted him to stay then he would creep the human out so much he would run for the hills, just like all the others.

"Yeah, sorry if those birds woke you up, they're like the worst." Cole chuckled lightly and glanced out the opened window as the birds continued to chirp. How anyone could sleep through that was beyond Kai. An awkward silence filled the bedroom until Cole cleared his throat. "Well, before you go, do you think I could get your, uh, get your number?" he asked with a nervous blush, catching Kai off guard.

"Why do you want my phone number?" He asked. Humans always either avoided him or mocked him, not ask for his phone number. The only ones who spoke to him on a near-daily basis were Jay and Lloyd, but that only because they shared a dorm room together.

"I don't know, so I could call you or something?" Cole replied in confusion.

"I don't really use a cell phone." Kai shrugged, not lying. When they found out he didn't have a phone, Lloyd got him one and had already put his and Jay's numbers in it, without the ginger teen's permission, saying that a phone was a necessity in a teenager's life. But Kai didn't believe that so he often left his phone at the dorm, just like he did last night.

"Cool, yeah, I don't want to be a prisoner to technology either... so that's awesome, I guess." Cole chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but it just made things more awkward. "So I take it that you're not online either?"

"No," Kai replied harshly. The thing he hated more than humans were their dependence on social media. There were too many disadvantages of social networking. It caused a lack of emotional connection, gave humans a license to be hurtful, decreased face-to-face communication skills, conveyed inauthentic expression of feelings, diminished understanding and thoughtfulness, and caused face-to-face interactions to feel disconnected. This response just made Cole even more uncomfortable, which is what Kai wanted.

"Oookay, um, so how can I get in contact with you?" The noirette asked.

"I have an email address; inmemoryofKaiSmith ." He replied, trying to hide a smirk as Cole process that.

"That makes it sound like you're dead." He laughed.

"I like to plan ahead." Kai shrugged, but to his annoyance, this only seemed to make Cole more eager.

"Alright, so I'll email you then." He smiled at the brunette.

"Do you really wanna see me again?" Kai asked, feeling an uncomfortable mixture of anger, frustration, and confusion as Cole's insistence.

"Yeah, Kai, of course! I mean, I like you." He admitted with a blush, and Kai was horrified when he felt his own cheeks heat up with his own blush. "You're not like other guys I've seen in Ninjago."

"That's accurate." He smiled weakly, but he still didn't like the fact this human wouldn't take a hint.

"D-Do you like me?" Cole suddenly asked, soundly slightly worried but hopeful, but Kai saw this as another chance to get rid of the teen.

"You're alive, aren't you?"

"Yes?"

"You're welcome," Kai smirked as Cole paled slightly. He could tell this human was different from all the others he had met and it might be fun to see him again. "I'll find you when I'm ready to see you." He added as he grabbed his bag again and made to leave once more.

"B-But you don't have any of my contact information!" Cole exclaimed.

"Don't worry, you won't be hard to track down."

"Let me at least walk you out." Cole offered as sat up some more to get up.

"I appreciate the gesture, but your chains don't reach that far." Kai grinned mischievously and started walking again. Cole frowned in confusion and he made to get up, only to freeze when he felt something on both his ankles. He ripped the covers away and gasped when he saw a pair of thick, metal shackles on them and chains connected to them to the bed. Cole looked up again to ask Kai what was going on, but the brunette was long gone.

Before Cole could think of what to do next, a bone-chilling banshee-like shriek filled the air outside the bedroom window, followed by the birds going crazy and a sickening crunch.

All was silent after that. There were no birds, no people, or cars driving past for a few seconds before they returned. All except the birds annoying chirping. He just shrugged it off as a cat or two attacking and scaring the birds away. Cole sat in his bed for a few minutes as shock, fear, and excitement filled him. He couldn't explain it, but something about Kai thrilled him and he couldn't wait to see the brunette again. If he ever got out of these chains, however.

With a heavy sigh, Cole grabbed his phone off the bedside table and called a locks smith.

This was going to be hard to explain...

[katsukikitten]

WARNING 18+ BIRB NOT BIRB SMUT! Band AU, harem collab. In which reader meets her favorite faceless singer. Little over 3k

Sweat trickles down your spine as your favorite song is blasted from the large speakers. Fog from the stage lingers just above your head as you feel as if you were in a dream. The setting is surreal especially since you actually managed to WIN those rare radio tickets to see a band in concert. And not just any band, your favorite fucking bad.  

TOKYO MOB

The band consisted of four people, Bakugou Katsuki, the drummer who was angrier than any person you'd ever seen wearing nothing but skinny black jeans and a perpetual frown. Jiro, so cool and sleek in anything she wore as she tore up her guitar as side vocals. Then there was Denki, funny, cute even, on the bass with his electric blonde hair and killer smile. Lastly there was "Dark Shadow", the lead vocalist. 

No one knew his real name or what he looked like, he chose to wear a headpiece in the shape of a raven or crow. You loved him, even without knowing his face. 

He was so fit, strong arms and deadly abs that could be seen from beneath his cut off band tee crop top, much like you were wearing now. His voice was soothing as a bird's song, whether he was screaming or singing. The sound so uniquely beautiful it brought tears to your eyes the first time you heard it. And standing here with nothing but a small barricade and stage separating the two of you was a dream made in heaven. 

He sings your favorite song, looking out into the crowd, body drenched in sweat from the high energy show as he jumps to the beat. He pauses to hit a long note and while the guitar riffs he looks into the VIP section. You swear you feel as if he is looking dead at you. The next few lyrics are packed full with emotion as he gets onto his knee, one hand holding the microphone while the other gently floats towards outstretched hands. 

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

But it's yours that his fingers brush, intertwining his fingers with yours as tears prick your eyes. 

"Mine. Forever miiinee~" 

The world stops, his silky voice smoothing over your skin before it erupts in goose flesh, he holds on to your hand as he sings the chorus again. The screaming people around you fade away as you hear nothing but his sultry voice. 

As if he were serenading you in the kitchen of your home. 

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

"Mine. Forever miiinee~"

He squeezes your hand as he finishes the note, releasing your hand slowly before starting to stand. The music begins to fade as he huffs, trying to catch his breath before looking over the band. He sees that ever might need just a second more to take in some water so he brings the mic close to his face as he shouts. 

"Are we having a good time tonight?!" 

The crowd erupts into a scream, so loud you can barely hear the one tearing up your throat. 

"I can't fucking hear you, extras!" Bakugou shouts into his own mic. The sold out stadium shakes rivaling the bass of the sound system as they all play off random notes and beats. When the deafening roar becomes a hushed, dull roar Bakugou sets the beat, Jiro and Denki join in as their most popular song begins to bump through the speakers. The song sets a heavy, hype beat that can get anyone to bang their head to. You start along with them, booze lighting up your system and causing you to ignore the charged air around you  

Some of the bystanders, some of the women especially were jealous of the fact that you were holding hands with none other than the DARK SHADOW. 

"Stupid bitch." They murmur amongst themselves, "Let's really fuck her up." 

One says before shoving her unsuspecting and overly excitable boyfriend into another guy while shouting. 

"MOSH PIT!" The crowd follows suit, putting you in the thick of it. Normally you could handle a little mosh, staying on the fringes to avoid too much damage but being in the center was beginning to spell trouble. The world spun as body after body began to slam into you, turning you this way and that before someone begins to take advantage of the situation. A sleazy guy you had hoped to avoid "falls" into you, rough palms grabbing a handful of your ass, beneath your skirt. A yelp lost to the crowd leaves your lips, tears burning in your eyes as this man set out to ruin what was possibly the highlight of your life. 

He was going to ruin it with his disgusting cigarette breath, lips sloppily kissing at your throat as he moved the two of you closer to the barricade. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading your cheeks as he shouts into your ear. 

"These fishnets for me slut?" He slurs, chuckling as he presses your back into the cool biting metal, "Love the crop top baby, do you got a bra on underneath?" 

A sob threatens to rack through your body as your elated high quickly turns into stomach churning nausea. Desperately you look up to the stage, anything to distract you from the fingers that try to venture between your thighs, while the other rips at your favorite top.

Tokoyami jumps, stopping to adjust his feet for steady ground to do the screaming part of the song, he glances down into the crowd, silently looking for you. The woman who made his heart flutter for the first time in years and when he sees your face tilted up towards him with fear and pain twisting your features he loses his cool. 

"Fucking stop!" He shouts, the lyrics gone for now as the music abruptly stops, the man holding you startles as the light follows Dark Shadow's accusing finger. He is illuminated by the stage light as bystanders rip him from you, he punches one guy and makes a run for it. 

 "Aye yo security. Get this asshole!" Dark Shadow shouts, leaning down for your now outstretched arms. Pulling you on stage with ease as his fingers flutter over your shoulders and sides for injuries.

"You okay my sparrow?" He coos softly and you nod, and he guides you towards the back of the stage, leaving the two front members to appease the excited crowd. He presses a cold water bottle to your hand before pulling up a chair a few feet from the drum kit. 

"Stay by Bakugou okay? He'll take care of you." He wipes some sweat from your face before squeezing the nape of your neck. Bakugou glares your way with mixed emotions before doing his show starting beat to get the crowd jumping. 

"Anyone else wanna act like a fucking douche?" Denki asks, walking up and down the front of the stage waiting for Tokoyami to return to the forefront. 

"NOOOOO!" The crowd shouts, Denki offers a cheeky smile before adding. 

"That's my good fans!" He blows a kiss to the crowd and the screams fly up an octave. 

"Alright let's start this shit from the top!" Jiro shouts, letting out some hypnotic notes before looking towards Tokoyami. 

"Actually, let's give them a sample of the new album. Let's give them a tease. Do you wanna be teased?" He asks the crowd aiming the mic towards them as if he needed to. 

"SHOW US! TEASE US!" The crowd chants before Tokoyami looks towards his band members. 

"I dunno do they deserve it?" Bakugou prodes and the audience lets out a dejected whine. 

"Promise to behave?" Jiro teases and the crowd collectively screams out desperately "YES!"

"Well keep your hands to yourself and listen up cause you're only gonna hear it this once til it drops!" Tokoyami shouts before Jiro starts playing that hypnotic sound, shortly after Denki joins in. Bakugou twisting his drumstick as he waits for his cue impatiently. Dark Shadow takes in a deep breath before singing the haunting first lines of their new song. 

"What do you do, when it's stalking after yoouuu? What do you say when it's just a breath awaaay~? Coming closer and you can't seem to get awaaaaay?" 

"Always watching, always loooomming-" 

Bakugou slams his sticks down hard onto the kit, foot tapping the bass drum at an alarming speed as everything seems to be hitting a climax. 

"WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN ITS COMING FROM INSIDE OF YOU? WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN IT SHARES YOUR NAAAAME? 

WHEN YOU CAN'T HIDE THE DEMON THAT'S LURKING INSIDE!" 

The last line he screams and the crowd is overcome with emotion. The height of the music and the new song that the band pours their hearts into, sends the crowd into a frenzy. Sweat dripping from everyone as their black shirts dampen around their collars. 

The song the crowd wanted to last forever comes to an end and you find yourself standing to scream, tears in your eyes.

"That was amazing!" Curling your fingers into a fist, Dark Shadow turns back to see you, out of the millions of people there tonight, in that moment he could only hear you.  

"Well I think we gave them a good show huh?" Denki asks into the mic, Bakugou drums a heavy beat as he shouts. 

"FUCK YEA WE DID!" 

"HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!!" The band members shout in unison before waving and slowly backing off stage. Tokoyami rushes towards you, hand slipping around your natural waist as he guides you into the darkened stage towards his dressing room. Your heart is racing in your ears as the silence becomes deafening. Being this close to Dark Shadow you couldn't help but notice the little cushion that keeps his helmet from damaging his throat and the intoxicating smell that rolls off of him like a cool breeze. He smells like cedar and pine at twilight while the wind brings with it the threat of snow. 

You shiver despite the warmth of his touch. Swallowing the lump in your throat you force your tongue to cooperate as he steps in front of his door politely opening it for you. His small silver chains clink from the motion.

"You must be tired, are you sure you want...company?" If you could see his face you imagined he'd be smiling. Pressing his hand at the small of your back to urge you inside. 

"I'm sure." He walks in, waiting for you to follow before he slumps onto a worn leather arm chair. Your platform converse move on their own as you cross the threshold of the room, closing the door behind you. 

"Lock it, would you sparrow?" All you can do is nod as you turn the lock until you hear a soft click. He gestures for you to sit on the couch beside him before his broad hands go towards his helmet. 

The blood rushes from your face as a moment of honor and horror wage war in your gut, pulling your heart down towards your feet. 

"Wait!" You shout, startling both of you and you feel heat rise into your cheeks and throat, "I don't want you to feel obligated to take it off. We can just...talk." 

Nervously you fidget with the hem of your skirt, thinking he was going to kick you out for being so lame. 

Boring. 

He stands and you flinch before he sits beside you on the love seat. If you could see his eyes you wondered if they were sparkling. His winter woods smell tickles your nose and you smile. 

"I'd love to just talk. But first." He must notice your ripped shirt as he stands again. Rummaging through his suitcase to find the first edition band tee ever made for TOKYO MOB.

"I couldn't!" You half shout and then squeak, "I shouldn't" 

"I insist." He says softly placing it on your lap before giving you his toned back. The cropped tee he wears shows off the dimples in his lower back that has you thinking of what it would look like while those hips piston into you. Quickly you toss your ripped shirt aside and slip his over your head, relishing the present smell, heart stirring.

"It's safe." You say softly and he turns around taking the seat beside you again. 

After a small awkward silence the two of you begin to talk, the conversation coming easy as you gushed over his voice and where you went to college when he asked. Him wanting to know more about your life and the night ended up being about you instead of him for once and it was nice. 

Nice to not have someone prying or clawing at his neck to find out just who he was and what he looked like, suddenly heat rushes to his pants. His hand comes to rest on your knee just below the hem of your skirt, ringed fingers sliding beneath the black fabric. You swallow, looking into the face of the bird mask and softly speak. 

"How- how would we kiss?" It feels stupid, embarrassing that you would even think that. He kills the light by the love seat flooding the room in total darkness before he takes off his helmet with a clatter. 

"Like this." His lips are by your ear now sending ecstacy through your body in the form of a spine tingling shudder. He kisses at your lobe working his way down your throat and then up to your jaw, avoiding your lips as he tastes every inch of you he can. His damp hair tickles your nose as he moves you to him, hovering over you as he kisses the plane of your stomach beneath his lifted shirt. 

"You look damn good in my shirt baby." He trails his tongue up your sternum causing you to moan, he smirks against the bone before sucking at the supple skin of your breast. Choosing them for his canvas to paint in blacks and blues that you would soon come to wish would last a life time. His free hand twists your nipple, pulling it as he scrapes his teeth against your other. Tongue flicking against the sensitive nub another moan escapes your lips as he plays with you for what feels like hours. He doesn't even go to touch your aching cunt until you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Begging for his hands to move lower as your vision spots in the dark from his sensual touch alone. Your own hands explore up his defined abs and torso occasionally catching the cool metal of his chains, this time you decide to pull him into a kiss. Your lips touching his for the first time all night and you feel like a live wire. Hungrily and aggressively trying to devour him as you feel music dancing through your blood, humming in your bones, he groans amplifying the feeling as his clothed hard on presses into your core. His tongue swipes over yours and the thought of not even knowing what he looks like arches your back into his touch. 

Finally he flips your skirt up, his fingers venturing between your thighs and when he finds no fabric and the satisfying sound of your slick he bucks his hips, biting at your breasts. 

"So wet sparrow…." His voice is soft breath and a little desperate causing your cunt to clench. He circles your clit until you're crying, his fingers occasionally checking for a stream of tears. When he feels the droplets on your face he chuckles shoving his fingers knuckle deep going agonizingly slow until you're fluttering around his thick curled digits. You cum hard and he whispers praises in your ear, several times as your body shakes and you think you won't be able to make it through the night. 

"Ready for my cock babe?" He asks gently swiping his thumb over your swollen and heavily abused clit. You perk right up, ready for the finale silently thanking the gods for a band members stamina. You notice him shaking as he leans down for a kiss, his stomach sweaty and sticking to yours. You fist his hair, pulling him back just a bit. 

"You'll be okay?" You can just make out the gleam of his teeth from his smirk before his voice comes out as pure sinful husk. 

"The question is, will you sweet sparrow?" 

Too stunned to answer he swallows your silence with a kiss before he sheaths himself inside you. Relishing the moan in his mouth and the fluttering of your velvet walls as they adjust to him. You were so wet, so ready for him as he slowly rocked his hips. Your half wish from earlier coming true as your hands fly to the dimples of his lower back, trying to urge him to quicken his pace but he keeps it languid, deadly. Each stroke hitting with purpose. The head of his cock hitting that cushy spot as his pelvis snapped against your clit. The sensation sends you into a never ending moan. Each gasp his stage name as he marks you as his, nails raking down your arms as he praises. 

"Such a nice pussy you have. Taking me so fucking well." He lingers by your ear, his tone the opposite of his lustful words. Your own nails claw down his back in viscous lines as he keeps you on the edge. The coil, steady and tight as you feel the pressure in your stomach growing. He can feel how tightly you're squeezing him and how your thighs are locked around his waist. He press his fingers into your stomach as his thumb swipes over your clit, his hips snapping faster and faster as he waits for what he hopes is coming. The pressure becomes too much he overstimulates your body, shaking as you cry out. 

"I can't, I can't…" 

"You can, just for me. Don't be shy, cum for me baby." His deep voice sends a chill through your body, you go rigid, quiet before your body jerks and releases a clear liquid onto his pelvis and cock. Shaking as he fucks your through it before his voice comes out strained as you milk him. 

"Imma cum baby, where do you want it?" 

"In me, I promise I have an IUD just fucking cum Dark Shadow!" You gasp and he obeys, adding to your pleasant after shocks, filling you to the brim with his hot seed with a husky grunt. He collapses onto you fixing your shirt before he gently withdraws, keeping his face to your chest as your fingers find his hair. You try not to let your thoughts wander and as if he could read your mind. 

"I promise you, you're the only one who's made me do that." He kisses your throat gently before his hand searches for your free one, interlacing his fingers with yours before he hums. Slowly singing you to sleep. You welcome the feeling as exhaustion blankets you in darkness.

"Uh miss." The voice comes as a shock as a large man tries to wake you from a distance. You startle, grabbing at blankets to cover yourself although you're fully clothed.  

"Hate to wake you miss but we're locking up. The venue is closed and the band is…" Although he looks a brute he clearly has some sort of heart. Unable to say what you know.  

"Gone." Tears burn your eyes as you think of how stupid you were. To ever think you were special enough to be anything more than a groupie. A note sits on the bedside table. 

"Should we cross paths again, Sparrow. I'll make you forever mine" 

The note blurs as you recognize the lyrics to the song. You look down at his band tee and wonder if your favorite song was more of a gimmick to pick up fans than some fated promise. 

And so life moves on.

You can only tell that time has passed from the fading color of your bruises. Slowly they melt from a cold bluish black into cool greens and warm dotted yellows. You sigh, looking in the mirror before you head towards your room for clothes.  Finally mustering up the courage to wear that stupid band tee he gave you again. It still smells faintly of him, of the winter woods suspended in forever twilight. Of musk from your sweat and his. You fight back the tears as you remind yourself you just put on mascara, finally choosing to participate in a social life after having your heart broken for being a fool. You decided to get ready sooner rather than later, otherwise you would have backed out from the plans and mopped around the house. You figured some coffee would help kill the time as you lace up your converse thinking of your favorite shop. You head out and walk leisurely to the cafe off the beaten path of downtown.  The street is full but not overly so as people browse the shopping district of the huge city you call home. Everyone fades into the background until your eye catches against a handsome man, dressed in tastefully torn black jeans, and an onyx turtleneck. You would be concerned for his attire in this weather if he wasn't so damn handsome. You must catch his eye as well as his face instantly lights up when he makes eye contact. He beats you to the cafe door, holding it open for you with ringed fingers like a gentleman waiting for you to enter. The gesture feels familiar causing your heart to squeeze in your chest, feeling trapped beneath your too small rib cage. As you walk past him you think you smell something familiar. 

Like cedar and pine, dancing on a snowy wind as the sun sets the world on fire. 

Your world on fire as you grip at the front of Dark Shadow's shirt trying not to cry. You just wanted your fucking macchiato and to move on with your life. You had lived every fan's dream of sleeping with your favorite band member. Tasting Dark Shadow's blackberry mouth. Shouldn't that be enough? 

Your aching heart said otherwise. 

Suddenly warmth is behind you, radiating off of a thick body as the handsome man bends over to put his profile to your ear. Goose flesh prickles your skin in late August as he says with a voice that drapes you in sinful black silk.

"You look damn good in my shirt, sparrow." 

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

FP//The Midnight Club (part 4)

hey! thats right, after the long awaited return, its back!!! and because i feel so terrible about leaving it for so long, the rest of the series is written too (and edited!!!), it just needs posting. anyway, i hope you like it!! and i hope it was worth the wait. seriously, thank you for being so patient, i love you all. (part 3)

In movies, Saturday detention always looks fun. Sneaking around, pouring your heart out to people you see everyday but know next to nothing about and making new life long friends. In reality, its spent doing a whole load of nothing.

You rest your chin in your hand and stare at the blank board ahead. You were the second one here, after Penelope Blossom and as soon as you walked through the door she sent you a disapproving look.

You and Penelope get on almost as well as you and Alice. She’s an annoying teachers pet that likes to write you up when she catches you and FP so much as holding hands.

The seat you chose when you got hear was a good one, near the back and away from Penelope. But then the rest of the your classmates turned up and suddenly you found yourself sat between FP and Alice, both of which were trying to kill each other with just looks. 

“Leave me alone FP.” You whisper. It’s the third time he’s tried to talk to you since he got here, and every time you’ve told him to go away. It seems finally he gets the hint and huffs loudly before leaning back in his chair.

You glance behind you to see Alice already looking at you and you send her a small, unsure smile. She just scoffs and looks down at her gloved hands, leaving you to stare at the top of her head.

“Welcome...to Saturday Detention.” Principal Featherhead’s loud but tired voice draws your attention the front of the class again and you force yourself to try and listen to whatever’s he’s droning on about, but in the 2 seconds its taken for him to let out a breath, you’ve tuned out.

It’s weird when the closest thing you have to a friend is Alice Smith. The rest are just acquaintances...and FP, who right now could be dead for all you care. You’re still not over last night. 

There’s clearly something going on between him and Alice, the more you think of it, the more it makes sense. And you’ve thought about it a lot, all of last night in fact. 

Your boyfriend knocked up Alice Smith...and then you. It makes you wonder if anybody else is expecting, you could make a little football team at this rate. 

It’s bad enough having Saturday detention, but it’s even worse that he’s here, especially when you’re running on less than an hours sleep. 

It’s just one Saturday. Eight hours, seven people with nothing in common.

Well, almost nothing.

The bad girl

“Alice Smith?”

The rebelling Catholic

“Hermione Gomez?”

The teachers pet

“Penelope Blossom?”

The artist athlete

“Fred Andrews?”

The political animal

“Sierra Samuels?”

The good girl

“Y/n Y/ln?”

And the ladies man

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones, Jr?”

You piece together the reasons everyone’s here. Alice and Penelope are here for fighting, something Alice told you about in detail last night, despite you wanting to sit in silence and watch Winona and Johnny fall in love. But you will admit...she did deserve it. 

Sierra and Hermione are probably here because they were in the bathroom just before you left, so they got caught in a wrong place, one time thing like you. The friend that you’re covering for isn’t even here, instead she’s probably in bed, or at Pop’s while you’re sat here taking the fall for her. 

Fred and FP were caught streaking, which was funny at the time. Seeing FP and Fred run down the corridor with no clothes on was a sight, made even funnier by Principal Featherstone catching them. But now you just want to slap the smirk that seems to permanently reside on FP’s face off. You have never hoped he has a hangover more.

“While you’re here today you will not talk.” Featherhead starts while making his way around the desks, handing out paper as he goes and you have to hold in a sigh. “You will not play” He says and snatches Fred’s drumsticks away, making the boy huff quietly and sit up straighter. “You will not move. I don’t even want you to breathe.”

“Charming.” Alice mutters and you stifle a laugh. Sierra clears her throat and everyone looks at her.

“Yes?”

“What if we have to pee?” She asks.

“You hold it, Miss Samuels. And at the end of the day, you will deliver a 1000-word essay as to why you’re here today.” He replies and you all let out a collective groan. “I will be right down the hall, in my office, all day long...cause I have nothing better to do.”

The clock reads 11am, meaning you’ve only been here for two hours and they’ve been the longest two hours of your life. Staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of you for so long has made your vision go weird so you  focus on the clock instead. You know why you’re here, ‘caught smoking’ is what you’ll have to write, despite the fact you were just holding it. But how are you supposed to stretch that into 1000 words?

A scratching behind you distracts you from your thoughts making you look behind you. Alice sits on the windowsill with a knife in her hand as she scratches against the wood.

“Dude, can you not?” Fred asks annoyed and she stops abruptly.

“Dude? Can you bite me?” She retorts. Fred rolls his eyes before turning back around.

“Oh, my God. Shh.” Penelope says loudly and now its your turn to roll your eyes.

“Psst. Sierra.” A different voice is a welcome distraction for all of you and everyone looks at the door, hoping and praying that its something exciting.

Tom Keller peeks his head round the door, a smile growing on his face when he spots Sierra and she quickly stands up, making her way towards him.

“Sit down. We’ll get in trouble.” Penelope scolds but Sierra ignores her.

“Tommy.” She smiles and the two of them kiss. Your eyes widen at the sight and you hear a few muffled gasps from the other students.

“Brought you some sustenance.” He says and waves a paper bag at her. She smiles again and grabs the bag from him, holding it close to her chest.

“Thank you.”

“I love you. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods and kisses him again before he leaves as quickly as he came.

“Sierra?” Fred is the first to break the stunned silence. “You and Tom Keller?” She nods and he lets out a short laugh. “Guys we’ve been going to the same school since kindergarten. How do we not know anything about each other?”

“We’re not friends. Cliques don’t cross pollinate.” Penelope replies. “Haven’t you seen Heathers?”

“Well, we’ve got six or more hours to kill, and no one to impress. How about a round of Secrets and Sins?” Sierra says, a small twinkle in her eyes as she looks at each you.

You gulp and share a look with the rest of the group, yours and Alice’s lingering for a little longer than the rest.

Sierra is the first to sit down, an excited smile on her face as she watches the rest of you reluctantly sit. Fred’s next, and then Hermione who sits beside him. Penelope sits on the other side of Sierra, FP sits next to Fred and you sit beside him, making sure to put a good amount of distance in between you. Alice is the last to sit, doing it as dramatically as she can and earning an eye roll from Sierra and FP.

“I’ll start!” Sierra says. “Tommy and I have been secretly dating for a few months now.” She admits.  

“Why secretly?” Hermione asks.

“Our parents don’t want their children dating someone so...different. To use their euphemism of choice.” She replies, the previous happy smile is long gone. It’s replaced by sadness and she looks at the old, faded carpet, trying hard not to think too much of it. 

“My mom’s all up in my relationships, too.” Hermione adds. “You know Hiram Lodge?”

“Uh, yes.” Fred replies and a few of you giggle at his response. “Dude is ripped.”

“And a petty criminal.” Penelope mutters.

“He’s a self starter who provides for his family.” She defends. “But to my mom, he’s a scrub. ‘Thats the way to to the American Dream, mija.’ But what dream? She cleans hotel rooms in that stupid Five Seasons, 16 hours a day. Hiram’s got the right idea. Get out of Riverdale. No matter what you have to do.”

“Yeah.” Fred starts. “Except...Riverdale’s not the problem. Me? I wanna stay here my whole life.” He says making Sierra laugh and you shake your head. You can’t think of anything worse. 

Although now, you just might be stuck here. You’re destined to live in a crappy trailer, barely keeping it together and watching your friends move on with their lives. Oh god, the thought alone makes you want to cry and throw up all at the same time and you let out a shaky breath. Your hand automatically moves to your stomach as you try to slow your breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Fred asks and you force yourself to look at him, faking a smile and quickly dropping your hand to your thigh.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod. FP moves to hold your hand but you quickly pull it away, sending him a scowl and he quickly retracts his hand back. Fred notices of course, but decides to stay out of it, instead looking at the old carpet. Alice rolls her eyes at the two of you and looks straight at Fred. 

“Is that how longs its gonna take you to decide between music or baseball?” She asks and Fred flips her off.

“Our minor league is solid. And we’re close enough to the city to play music gigs. This towns got it all. Could even see myself running for mayor one day.” He says, and he’s the only person in this room that you believe could actually do that.

Fred Andrews is something different. He’s friendly to everyone, no matter where they come from or what they are. He’s somebody you wish you could be more like, and you can see him changing the world someday.

“Ugh. Nightmare job.” Sierra huffs. “Why not shoot for something bigger? You can do all those things in a real metropolis.”

“Yeah. Except look after my dad. He’s sick. Real sick. And he took care of me my whole life, so, now it’s my turn.” He replies, his expression saddening and a frown appears on your own face. Tears well behind your eyes and one rolls down your cheek. It lands on your hand and your curse your hormones for making you cry.

FP reaches out again but you just shuffle further away from him, wiping your tears as you go and he lets out an annoyed sigh.

Hermione places a comforting hand on Fred’s knee and he looks at it for a few seconds, seemingly getting lost in his thoughts for a while before quickly changing the subject.

“Alice, you’re up. What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”

The tension in the room shifts. Penelope, Sierra and Hermione share a look and you watch as FP and Alice glance at each other.  

“Um...”

“Lets skip her.” You interrupt and she sends you a glare.

“I don’t need your pity Y/n.”

“Alice just tell them about the time you lit a dumpster on fire on the southside” FP says bored.

“Wait, that was you?” You ask, earning a few confused looks from the rest of the group. You remember that fire, it caused quite the rage on the Southside because the serpents thought it was a rival gang seeing as though it was right outside of the Wyrm. “...FP told me.” You add quietly.

“Why don’t you tell them that you actually live in Sunnyside Trailer Park?” She replies and for a second you freeze, thinking she’s talking about you.

“I thought you lived on Elm Street.” Penelope says shocked and you realize she was actually talking to FP.

“Yeah, of course. Because it’s what Forsythe wants you to believe. You parade around the school in your varsity jacket like a Northsider. You even got yourself a northside girlfriend to help you fit in.” She says and looks at you. “But don’t kid yourself. You’ll never escape the Southside. You’re gonna end up just like your dad.”

“Alice.” You warn. He may have pissed you off, gotten you and some other girl pregnant, but he is not his father. He never will be and you feel yourself jumping to his defense quicker than you probably would have liked.

“Downing six-packs in your double-wide.” She continues, staring straight at him.

“Maybe, but I’m not gonna hit my kid. Not like my old man hits me.” He replies and looks at you, his eyes glancing at your stomach for a split second before looking back at her. The group goes silent, no one daring to look at each other and even you avoid eye contact with him.

“Oh really? Which one?” She laughs and you quickly look up. Everyone looks up surprised, but before they can question anything Alice storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Its quiet for a few minutes, before FP takes a deep breath and continues his story.

“I told him I didn’t wanna join his gang. That I wanted to be the first Jones to go to college. He didn’t like that.” He holds up his broken wrist. He hates the way they’re looking at him, like he’s broken, like he’s a victim. But he feels better when he feels your hand resting on top of his. “I guess he sort of got what he wanted. It looks like I won’t be going anyway.” He whispers the last part, turning his hand over and holding yours as best as he can.

“Okay. I guess I’m next.” Penelope interrupts the moment you’re having but you don’t let go. Instead you shuffle closer to him, you’re still pissed, beyond pissed even, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a hug. “Fair is fair. The Blossoms. They’re...terrible people.”

“But, Penelope, you’re a Blossom.” Hermione replies confused.

“No, I’m not. Not really. I grew up at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy orphanage.”

“Oh, my God, Penelope. That place has like, violated every humanitarian code.” Sierra says.

“When I was eight, the Blossom’s came and asked to see all the red-headed children. The next thing I knew, I was leaving with them. I was so excited. I very quickly realized this was not an altruistic adoption. I was being groomed. To first be Clifford’s sister. Then, eventually, his life companion. Every second away from that house, even today, is a relief.”

“Why are you still living there?” You ask, genuinely curious as to why she would stay there.

“They’re my family.” She replies.

“That’s not family. It’s basically incest. It’s disgusting.” Hermione adds.

“At least I’m not cleaning other people’s toilets like your mom.” Penelope argues and Hermione stares at her annoyed, trying to think of an insult.

“Well, at least she has class. She’s not stealing child brides out of orphanages.” She spits and Penelope gasps.

The two of them start fighting and you hear Fred and Sierra complain before moving to separate them. FP stands and helps you up, quickly moving you out of the way and you end up backing into something much worse that an accidental punch. 

“Congratulations. You all just upped your sentence from Saturday detention...to four.”