#if it turns out that lys just has a bit more of an old fashioned mindset (esp since he already is more old fashioned) that would make sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gladiatorcunt · 7 months ago

Text

summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader

cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing.

Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face.

Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response.

“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail.

The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet.

“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face.

He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze.

You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you.

You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?”

You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth.

The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two.

“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."

You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.

As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.

"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.

He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.

You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.

He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."

You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.

"Don't move a muscle."

The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.

"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."

His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.

Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.

"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."

He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.

"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.

He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.

Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.

" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”

It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.

You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.

A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.

"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.

You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.

He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.

He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.

"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"

You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.

496 notes · View notes

bougiebutchbinch · 24 days ago

Note

okay as soon as i start thinking about them and i start with something sure, yeah, it's kinky, but then i can't stop and it immediately gets so severe, so. from the bottom of my heart. you're welcome?

anyway so. the first thought was haha it would be so cool and sexy if logan would leisurely, teasingly finger wade while otherwise ignoring him.

there's this one particular cover ft logan and nightcrawler where nightcrawler has his back to the frame and i think he's naked, but the important part is that logan is sitting at a table all manspread and observing him with Masculine NeutralityTM while smoking a cigar with one hand. so he's like that. maybe watching tv or on a video call or some shit, just because you KNOW if he didn't have anything else to keep his eyes on he would NOT be able to stay not paying proper attention to wade. and he's really not doing much, just enough to keep wade stimulated, only barely curling his fingers inside but not thrusting, etc. but wade is a guy whose pleasure is SO hugely and directly connected to how he feels mentally (he was a little bit like that before, but after the cancer and the chronic pain and the not infrequent dismemberment and all that, it's been magnified exponentially; he can get off and get off good to lich-er-al-ly ANYTHING if it's erotic in his mind), so he's still got his eyes rolled back about it, whining and squirming and desperate and making a big sloppy sticky dripping mess of himself, and maaaayyybe he might even actually come just from that, just because logan is playing with him.

normal. normal things that normal people do.

but then, as i was thinking about this normal thing. i was smitten by a very merry poolverine abnormal thing.

that thing being. logan. well maybe this has been going on for. probably not hours because despite being functionally immortal they both have the patience level of a ten year old and/or a white man in a sports car. but for what constitutes a very long while For Them. with logan starting with just one finger and making wade wait for waaaaayyy longer than necessary before finally graciously giving him the second finger and so on, and he's even pressing inside soooo slowly, and honestly wade is on the verge of tears already even with only two fingers in because it's not really edging but god does it feel like it. anyway so logan gets up to four fingers doing it like that the whole way. and like he's not going for a full fist, not really, but he's got enough of his hand inexorably pressing up inside wade that his knuckles are just barely tucked in past the rim.

and like maybe another time he would absolutely go for the fist. but it's a little bit too much work to do and he'd have to start actually paying attention, even if only for positioning reasons or whatever he'd at least have to turn to face wade and end the whole charade of him having literally one single better thing to do than punch a few orgasms out of him. so it's just not fit for the set up, it's not what they're doing right now. but at the same time, wade makes logan even more wild and insatiable than he already naturally is, and he just cannot STAND to not keep giving him more and more and more and more and m

but logan. logan is not normal is he. he has some extra body parts in the hand area doesn't he. and as previously stated, wade can get off on anything. anything.

so. in exactly the same glacially slow way that he inserted each finger, logan starts sloooooooowly slowly extending his claws. one by one. smooth and steady, but by fucking millimeters. so slowly, in fact, that for a few seconds - breathless, tense, throbbing seconds, for logan, watching him out of the corner of his eye, waiting - wade doesn't even feel it yet. you know, until he does. 😇

I WOKE UP AND ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK OUT OF SHEER DELIGHT

this is so good it almost put me back to sleep.... permanantly

just - wowza. WOWZA. Yes. Logan watching his Sportsball in true Manly Bro fashion. Bringing his cigar to his lips with his other hand. Eyes never leaving the screen. Fingers buried knuckle-deep in Wade's gooey, clenching cunt. Leisurely slipping in, out, in. Curling to scrape over every point where Wade's tender. Tuning out Wade's babble as it heightens in pitch and desperation, because dammit, his hockey team are about to score, and he ain't letting Wade distract him.

But his fingers shake on his cigar, just a little, with the amount of sheer fucking strength it's taking to restrain the snarling animal in his chest.

And he listens to Wade's running commentary ("Oh, c'mon, Loagie, please, it's like Niagara down here... Come on in, the water's fine....") lose any hint of coherence

As he slowly

slowly

extends his claws...

Feeling the little pop as they pierce through inner membranes and muscle

Hearing Wade's breathy little oh, oh, ohhh, as he squirms and gushes his way through another peak, eyes rolled back, body clutching Logan's fingers like it never wants to let him go

Smelling the iron thread of blood mingling in with the overwhelming wet heat of Wade's slick

#poolverine #deadclaws #peanutbub #wade wilson #logan howlett #deadpool #fic #nsft #lemon

90 notes · View notes

saruman-the-silly · 1 year ago

Note

Oh hello... I wanted to make a request, I wanted to know how the Papas would react to seeing that y/n is a little chubby. Because I was looking in the mirror and I was so sad about what I saw, and now I'm lying in bed scrolling through Tumblr thinking about making this request... You don't have to do it if you don't want to, It's just that I love the way you write that I kept thinking about it.

I very much want to, thank you very much :D there is nothing, and I repeat, nothing wrong with being a little chubby, or being a lot more chubby! Whatever size you are, you are beautiful, remember that <3

This also gives me a reason to finally write something for Primo and Secondo so thank you hehe

soooooo I present to you, headcanons about the papas with a chubby reader! (gender neutral ofc hehe)

(I wrote this kind of quickly so if there are horrible grammatical errors, I will try and fix them as I find them lol)

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

Headcanons: Papas with a chubby reader

Primo:

He's very old, and a bit old-fashioned, so he just instantly thought you were an angel when he saw you. Back in his days, the curvier you were, the more attractive you were.

When he got to know you as a person, he grew to love you very quickly.

All of your curves and imperfections were a work of art for him.

Primo is also such a gentle person, and would notice the instant you were feeling down/insecure. He doesn't pressure you to talk about it though, but he still makes sure you know that he's there for you.

If you wanna talk tho? He would listen really well, and after you had poured your insecurities out on the table, he would assure you that your curves just made you more, well, you. And you were his amore, the most beautiful thing in the world.

Secondo:

He's a serious guy who does not like to talk about emotions and stuff. (I don't think he even knows how but lmao anyway)

Secondo's usually serious and no-bullshit charade was quickly torn away by you and your delightful presence. (He was freaking out like crazy when he first met you, Terzo would not let him forget how he stumbled over his words when he was first introduced to you)

Also, fuck, he couldn't keep his eyes from you. Every time you are in a same room with him, his gaze almost involuntarily shifts back to you.

He loves you. So much. So when you came to him, telling how you didn't think you looked good, he was a little confused. How could you see yourself in such a light, when you had made such an impact on him?

He reassures you that yes, he wants to be with you and nobody else.

He doesn't really know say anything else. But he doesn't need to, his actions prove the endless love he harbours for you.

Terzo:

Ah, Terzo, our hopeless romantic.

Terzo has seen many different types of bodies up close and personal during his life, but not one of them could match your beauty.

Needless to say, when he first met you he fell. Hard. Like, head over heels. Out the door went his playboy days, he only had eyes for you.

He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You had trouble believing him, when he confessed his undying love for you. (Don't blame him he just likes to be theatrical but he really did mean it)

You confessed to Terzo about your insecurities, and he proved himself to be a great listener. After talking, he reassured you that yes, he meant what he said, yes, he wants to be with you.

He would then bring you in front of a mirror, and gently kiss and caress all the parts of your body you are insecure about.

Copia:

He would understand your struggles very well. Having a history with insecurities himself, Copia isn't a stranger to body dysmorphia.

Copia loves you. So much. You helped him get through a lot of his insecurities, so, now was his turn.

He let you vent, while making you a cup of tea, and wrapped you in a tight hug afterwards. You cried in his arms and he just held you and comforted you.

Copia is very direct about his feelings toward you. He lists all the things he loves about you, and tells you how you size just makes you all the more perfect. (the man loves thick thighs)

He would do his best to make you see yourself in the same light he sees you. Copia gently traces over your stretchmarks with his finger, then kisses them and whispers to you how beautiful you are.

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

Thanks for the request annnd enjoy :D

Remember, you are beautiful no matter your size <3

322 notes · View notes

clownhara · 6 months ago

Note

is there like a jester ocs 101 i do wanna learn about them

Putting these under a read more because this might get long

My family :)

Edward Roberts-Rosales: I made too many jokes about this bastard being my dad and now he's my dad. High key wants to fuck plants. Evades taxes like no ones business. Kind of a shit guy but it's funny to watch him mess up everything so we keep him alive for that alone Max Rosales: My better dad. Can really do so fucking much better than Edward but he settled </3. Is a plant man. Likes baking. Is the dad that actually loves me. Heron Rosales: I don't do to much with her but I'm trying to do more. Max's trans sister. Wants Edward dead and honestly, we don't blame her. Average chronic pain haver tbh please get her some Ibuprofen. Boaty McBoatface: My brother who is a boat. Edwards favorite son, despite being terrified of being on boats after he was the sole survivor of a ship wreck. I fuckinh hate this thing

Project Moon adjacent ones

Despise Domek (Or just Des): Local Enkphalin hooked rat. Goes by it/they but people close to it can call them she/her. There are two remaining people who can call them she/her. Steals things from people it likes to keep a piece of them, so don't invite them to your house. Things WILL go missing. Says the phrase "Well it didn't kill me so I'm fine" way to god damn often. Ambrose Domek: Not actually related to Des at all his parents just stole Des's parents last name. We heart religious fanaticism to the point of self harm!!!!!! Has two boyfriends and has convinced himself neither of them like him. Him and Des are besties :) Keith: Real Jester-heads remember Keith. I made this bastard before Ruina came out and he keeps fucking staying relevant to whatever game is out. How does he do it. Lobcorp him is Geb and Myo's adopted son, a Rabbit, and had a complex where he's gotta prove himself 24/7 and ends up getting his leg ripped off. Ruina him is trying to find Gebura again after the whole Library situation happened, and is wildly distraught after learning Myo's whole deal. Limbus Keith is content, much older, runs a weapons shop, and is gay married to Heathcliff. Jesus Christ I made him before the new translation of Lopcorp happened I think HOW LONG HAS HE EXISTED WHAT THE FUCK

Damien Domek: Also not related to Des, just took it's last name because he liked it. They are qprs though. Also is broke as shit but mostly stays out of the Rat lifestyle by just old fashioned robbing people. Loves lying to people for fun and profit, but he is honestly a pretty nice guy. Minus the lying

Randos

Arlo: Disgusting rancid cyborg scientist who needs to bathe and touch grass. I adore him though. Ellie: Arlos little sibling. She/they user. Kills people for money and feeds the bodies to the eldritch horror that follows her around Hector: The eldritch horror that follows Ellie around. usually just looks like a dilf tbh its easier for Ellie to explain. Can't actually speak so he usually just talks telepathically while making a bunch of hums, chirps, and clicks to mimic speaking.

Oleander: Local unethical scientist that unethicaled a bit too hard when trying to revive his even worse older brother and turned off most of his emotions manually to avoid coping with the mental toil. Sad! Many such cases. Can't feel any emotions other then joy now. Kinda sucks but he certainly doesn't seem to upset about it :)

Simon: Oleadners brother. Kinda. Moreso a robot piloting Oleanders brothers body. Fucking hates Oleander but after Oleander lobotomized himself Simon begrudgingly takes care of him now. Despite his complicated feelings, he's wildly overprotective.

Cybel: A robot Oleander made! They are meant to gather as much information as they possibly can in case some horrible event happens that kills off humanity. is quite literally indestructible. Likes ice cream.

Octavius: I made this guy to be a danganrompa villain back in high school and I succeeded too well. I fucking hate this fake ass bitch

Tabb: This fucking guy. Trapped in a time loop but he doesn't know and its technically not a time loop. Met his (now) husband ages ago but died shortly after meeting him, so he revived Tabb, then the two got married, then Tabb died again so Halt (the husband) revived him again but he lost his memories then halt died and Tabb revived him the Tabb died again so Halt revived him but he lost all his memories so they dated again and got remarried then Tabb died again and you get the idea. Very nice guy, a bit anxious, perfectly normal minus the dying thing. If it wasn't for him losing all his memories and Halt tampering with shit so he was in love with him i uh. Don't think he'd actually like Halt all that much tbh

Halt: Just wants to be happy with his husband :(. Sad he unethicaled all over that science. Hey are you noticinga theme here. Also he's a cat boy but thats really not relevant to his depression issues

Urge: Halts kinda milfy twin sister. Really sick of all of this loop bullshit because she gets to watch her bestie Tabb die repeatedly, so she packed up her bags and left. Can't be in the same room as Halt without them getting into a fist fight. Do you see the themeing with their namesan d their ideals. Halt is kinda halted in place but Urge keeps pushing forward because she has the urgeto move on. Do you see it. It is almost 1 am

Russel: A kid that got roped into this whole mess because he walked in on a Tabb revival tube without permission. Sticks around Urge most of the time. Had a bad homelife to put it mildly, so Urge took him in.

Theres way more of these bastards but these are the most relevant ones. I am going to bed now. Goobnight

#asks #scp-168 #ocs #my ocs #I'll probs pop this in the queue like 90 times so it circulates for a while.

68 notes · View notes

gideonisms · 1 month ago

Text

okay because tumblr hates me it did not save my draft of a mini fic I wrote for a prompt but I'm posting it anyway. The prompt was:

the smut is DELICIOUS but my stupid romantic brain needs some fluff...so how about.....griddlehark sneaking into the library for some midnight reading? 👀

And I can't remember who sent this one, my apologies. Hope you see it, whoever you were! I promise this is fluff but I needed to write some original flavor Griddlehark so let's pretend this is what happened after avulsion ❤️

When Gideon crawls out from her nest of blankets, aware of her surroundings at last, Harrow is gone. Gideon should have expected this. If she’d thought volunteering to have her soul sucked out through her innards was enough to melt the heart of the lady of the Ninth, she would have been wrong. Even her hallucination of Harrow hadn’t stayed to comfort her.

Not that she needs comfort. After all, Gideon isn’t dead. She just feels like she is.

Groping around on the floor for her sword, the one lady who would never betray her, Gideon almost knocks over a cup of water. Harrow must have left this for her out of some misguided sense of pity after they’d stumbled back to their rooms.

Although it makes Gideon feel a little bit like a pet left on its own while its owner goes to town, she takes the water and drinks it in huge gulps, draining the whole thing. Afterwards, she feels almost like a person—if that person had been smashed to bits and then taped up wrong.

Now to find Harrow.

Gideon gets up, aching in every bone. She considers just lying back down, possibly forever. How much trouble could Harrow even get into on her own? She’s probably just passed out somewhere again and can wait there until Gideon comes to find her.

No, Gideon should check. After all, what good is she as a cavalier if she lets Harrow wander off and get eaten by a bone monster right after they’ve won another key? It would just be embarrassing.

So she checks Harrow’s room—empty, but she does find another glass of water in there, which she drinks hastily without bothering to question how long it’s been sitting on the nightstand. She rests for a minute on Harrow’s bed, clinging to her sword more for support than because she thinks she could swing it at something.

She leaves the room as silently as she can and closes the door behind her.

The corridors of the First House are empty and dark as she searches. She keeps thinking she sees movement out of the corners of her eyes, but after the fourth time she whirls around to find nothing, accepts that this too may be a side effect of the soul sucking.

She grasps her sword in both hands as she turns down a corridor she hasn’t taken before. At this point, she’s beginning to feel not only lost, but also dizzy, and is considering calling it quits and hoping Harrow hasn’t done anything too stupid.

But there, at the end of the hallway, is a closed door. And underneath the door, a light shines. Not the light of the old-fashioned florescent bulbs or even the warm, glowing lanterns she’s seen some of the priests carrying around. No, this light is a wan, flickering candlelight that only serves to make Gideon feel colder and more unwell. Gideon would recognize that light anywhere. It has to be Harrow’s.

As she creeps towards the light, she lowers her sword. When she reaches the doorway, she tries the brass handle—locked, of course. She knocks, and behind the door, she can hear the unmistakable sound of bones clattering.

“Harrow,” she tries to say, but it comes out as more of a croak. She hears a rustling opposite the door. She tries again. “It’s me, you numbskull. Let me in!”

She’s seriously not feeling good. Maybe this whole standing up thing was a mistake.

The door suddenly opens—Gideon sways forward.

“Gideon?” Harrow says. And then Gideon passes out.

When she comes to, she’s resting on a dusty couch, head pillowed by something soft and warm.

“Harrow?”

“Shut up, idiot.” Harrow sounds small and frightened. Gideon blinks her eyes open to see her adept looking down at her from quite close up, fingers hovering in midair as though she can’t decide whether to touch Gideon or not.

Gideon thinks deliriously that she might as well, since she’s already got Gideon’s head in her lap.

Gideon looks around. There are bones strewed on the floor—probably from Harrow’s efforts to get her to the couch. And they’re in some type of library—quite small, even by Ninth standards, but Gideon can tell that it once would have been cozy.

There’s a fireplace set into one wall with ancient chairs across from it. Everywhere books are piled up; this isn’t the tidy organization of someone who owns a library for the aesthetic, but the more familiar jumble of books and crumbling papers from a person who once loved their work.

She looks back to Harrow, whose face is once again painted, but hastily. The smudged circles of black underneath her eyes make her look tired and worried.

“Gideon?” she says again. “Are you all right?”

Although Gideon has looked her death in the eyes more than once this week, it’s the tone of panic in Harrow’s voice that makes her feel like she must truly be dead. She reaches up to pinch herself on the arm, but Harrow catches her wrist.

“Woah, hold it, that’s my move,” Gideon says.

But Harrow just checks her pulse. Her thumb sweeps over the place where Gideon can feel her heart beat hardest. Then she does touch Gideon’s face—fingers brushing her hair aside to feel at her forehead.

“No fever,” she mutters. “Probably dehydrated.”

“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you? You have a lot of experience, my sickly scion. Malnourished monarch.”

“This isn’t a joke! If you had collapsed somewhere out there, where I couldn’t find you in time—”

“Dehydration duchess.”

“You could have died! Did you even read my note?”

“What note?”

“You idiot,” Harrow says again, with feeling. “I left it beside the water cup.”

“So that was you. Thought it might have been the monster.”

“There is no—” Harrow breaks off and pinches the bridge of her nose, breathing in slowly. She smudges her paint when she does. There’s a little bit of skin poking through just at the top of her nose where it meets her forehead. Gideon almost reaches up to touch it without thinking.

“You will not leave the room without my permission in the future,” Harrow says.

“Like hell I won’t! You snuck off without me. What did you expect me to do?”

It’s just like Harrow to use this as an excuse to keep Gideon locked away somewhere. What else did Gideon expect?

But Harrow looks down at her with huge scared eyes, as deep and dark as the tomb itself, and Gideon can’t even be angry. Which sucks, because she’d planned to be angry with Harrow for the next few hours at least. But now that she’s with Harrow, now that she’s assured herself Harrow isn’t dead, just holed away in some obscure corner of the House reading as normal, a sense of calm steals over Gideon. She could almost go back to sleep here.

As though Harrow can read her mind, she says, “I expected you to still be asleep.”

“Tough luck. I’m as awake as I’ve ever been. I could fight off a billion bone monsters right now. Just give me my sword, and—wait, where’s my sword?”

Harrow gestures to the edge of the couch near Gideon’s feet, where to Gideon’s great relief she finds her sword propped up.

“I haven’t taken anything of yours,” Harrow says. “I only—I needed to do more research, and I thought you were safe in our rooms.”

Gideon looks around. Books are piled up on the reading stand next to the couch, right next to an ugly ninth house candle Harrow’s using in clear violation of every fire safety rule Gideon has ever learned. Harrow has of course littered the floor with books too. The candle smells waxy and unpleasant, but the familiar flickering of the feeble light makes something in Gideon’s chest unclench.

“And was it worth it? Did you find anything?”

Harrow shakes her head. “Nothing of note. This seems to be a room for the more…esoteric interests of the Lyctors. There are books here on almost everything—anatomy, various discredited magical practices, historical romances that seem improbable at best. But nothing that helps us. It’s all just…what they liked. It doesn’t tell me anything about how they achieved Lyctorhood.”

“Do they have any skin mags?” Gideon asks hopefully.

“No, you moron.”

“But how can you know if you haven’t checked for them?”

Harrow doesn’t dignify this with a response. Instead, she picks up a book from the table and starts idly thumbing through. She doesn’t dislodge Gideon from her lap. Gideon thinks about getting up, going back to her room. Maybe forcing Harrow to come with her. But the thought of leaving this couch sends a wave of nausea through her stomach, so she decides she can best do her duty as a cavalier by staying here and watching for threats.

It's seriously weird to be in Harrow’s lap, and it would normally disgust her to be so close to her adept.

From this close, Harrow smells of bloodsweat. It’s not a pleasant smell at the best of times, and it’s grown worse over the time they’ve been at Canaan House. But the warmth of her—better than the empty fireplace in the corner, anyway. Gideon’s eyes start to drift closed.

Then something occurs to her.

“If you aren’t finding anything useful, then why are you still here?”

Above her, pages turn slowly. Harrow is silent for a long moment.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says finally. “I needed a distraction.”

This might be the most honest thing Harrow has ever admitted to Gideon. Gideon has long suspected that Harrowhark spends so much time studying bone magic because she doesn’t have any other hobbies, aside from conjuring skeletons to trip Gideon while she’s going down the stairs. It’s nice to have that confirmed.

Maybe once Harrow has seen the appeal of books that aren’t dusty academic tomes, she’ll grow more lenient about Gideon’s preferred reading material.

Not that it will matter. As soon as Harrow becomes a Lyctor, Gideon will never have to see her again. Harrow will never again tell Gideon what she can and can’t read. She’ll never again feel Gideon’s pulse, checking for life.

She probably won’t even care if Gideon lives, once she’s a Lyctor.

Gideon squirms around. She hates to call it nestling, because it’s not. But she finds a more comfortable position on the couch. Harrow adjusts herself above Gideon too. She props her elbow on Gideon’s shoulder as she turns another page.

“Will you read to me?” Gideon says. She must be out of her mind with exhaustion.

“I don’t see why you would want that.”

“I need to stay awake. Protect us from threats and all. It’s not because I crave your dulcet tones, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. I know you hate me, Nav.”

Gideon almost agrees on instinct, but something stops her. Maybe it’s the quiet of the room, or maybe it’s the warmth of Harrow’s horrible little body, but she doesn’t have it in her to put up the usual fight.

Anyway, Harrow doesn’t seem to need a response. After a moment, she clears her throat and begins:

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.”

And although this intrigues Gideon, although under other conditions, Gideon would have loved to hear a story that wasn’t about how bad nuns go to hell and good nuns get to serve the King Undying, Gideon nevertheless finds herself drifting off into a comfortable doze.

She tries to keep her eyes open, but Harrow’s clear, calm voice reads on, and Gideon’s eyelids droop until she can no longer watch the flickering of the candle. At the very edges of her consciousness, she thinks she feels Harrow’s fingers brush lightly over her forehead again, smoothing back her hair.

“You can sleep,” dream Harrow says. “I’ll kill the light.”

#replies #tlt writing prompt night #and then nothing bad happened dw #oh citation ig: opening lines of moby dick #my fic

46 notes · View notes

sporesmoldsfungus · 2 years ago

Text

Safety Net | Egon Spengler x Reader

Hi Everyone! This is my first time writing for Egon and I would be lying If I said I did not thoroughly enjoy myself. Im still figuring out how to use Tumblr, so any tips would be well appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 3.1K

Side note: look how cute our man is in this gif, I cannot deal!!!

******

You grimace as you put your sleeve over your mouth, the smoke from the trap causing you to cough in reaction.

“I Don’t think I will ever get used to that smell” You murmur to Ray as you pass him the trap. You were both currently out of town on a job for an old opera house. The job required you to stay at a hotel last night so you could catch the ghost in question early that morning. The ghost busters usually didn’t accept jobs from out of town, but when the owner of the opera house mentioned a large check, Peter could not say no. Of course, he had no intention of doing the job himself, which was why you and Ray were in the current situation.

“Egon said it has something to do with the negative energy the ghost emit when captured” Ray explained, he also grimaced as he took the trap from you. He brought the trap over to Ecto-1 and threw it in the back before closing the door. “I cannot wait to get back and sleep in my own bed” He sighed.

“Yeah, me too. Those hotel beds were horrible” you agreed as you made your way towards the driver’s side of the car. Ray had drove you both to the location, you thought you would return the favour by driving home. “I’ll make sure the invoice for those rooms go to Venkman, he’s the reason we had to do this job in the first place” You joke.

“Always the same, even in college he always got the best side of the deal” Ray agreed as he got into his side of the car, immediately putting the heaters on after he sat down.”

“Oh please don’t remind me of Peter’s Sorority years, I’ve had enough pain today to last me at least a week” You grumble as you gently rubbed your neck. The ghost you had been hired to capture had a little bit of a nasty streak. Just as you were about to capture it, it had thrown you back into a wall, your neck and shoulder hadn’t felt right since.

Ray chuckled before asking in a concerned tone. “Are you alright to drive? I don’t mind switching”.

“I’ll be okay, an ice pack at home should do the trick” You smiled before turning the car on and starting your journey home. Ray’s selflessness was one of your favourite things about the scientist. No matter what the situation, Ray always offered to help.

******

You firstly met Ray, Egon and Peter around eight years ago at Columbia University. As you walked through the door to your first lecture on parapsychology, you had noticed there was only one seat left available to sit in. Next to the free seat, sat the dorkiest man you had ever set eyes on. He had large round glasses that were definitely a decade out of fashion, but you couldn’t picture him wearing any other style. His slightly curly hair was neatly kept, and you couldn’t help but wonder what routine he used to tame it. The more you stared, the more you admired how beautiful this man was. From the way he had dressed himself in a suit just for a lecture, to the way his forehead was slightly creased due to the front on his face as he read over a book.

You slowly made your way over to the empty seat, hesitating before sitting down. “Is this seat taken?” you asked softly, a small blush covered your cheeks and nose.

The man’s head rose to look up at you, his frown softening as he looked at you. It felt like he had been staring at you for an hour before he eventually cleared his throat. “uh, no this seat is free” he nodded before awkwardly going back to his book.

You gave a small smile and sat down on the stool. As you brought your textbooks from your bag, you caught a glimpse of what the man next to you was reading. “you’re a fan of Joseph Rhine?”.

“Uhh, just a little bit of light reading” he replied hesitantly, as if he didn’t realise you were talking to him at first.

You gave a small nod. “I’m more a fan of Arthur Doyle, myself”

“The sherlock Holmes author?” he asked sceptically.

You gave an enthusiastic nod “Yes, many people don’t know that he actually does research in telepathy and seances too”. Just like every time you talked about anything on the lines of parapsychology, you could feel yourself becoming excited. Your family did everything in attempt to get you to choose a more ‘normal’ degree like English or Biology, but nothing could have possibly changed your mind.

“interesting” he mumbled; his face looked as if it was deep in thought for a moment before he opened up a notebook, and scribbled down the author’s name.

“My name is Y/N, by the way” you stuck your hand towards the man, a gentle smile on your lips. You were trying your best to follow your mother’s advice she had given you on the phone this morning. ‘Any day, is a successful day, if you meet a new friend’.

The man returned a very small smile before gently taking your hand. “Egon Spengler”

“Lovely to meet you Egon”.

What you were unaware of that day, was why Egon had been sitting alone, when in fact his two best friends were sat directly behind him. Peter and Ray were well aware of Egon’s most important rule. ‘I forbid anybody to sit next to me in lectures, talking is a distraction of learning’. Almost every day he had turned people down who were looking for a spare seat, earning his friends to cringe away in embarrassment each time. However, when he had looked at you, something changed. He realised that he, for some reason, would not mind being distracted by you. Of course, he later went home and tried to conduct a full study on why he felt this way, but it took him four years before he later came up with a reasonable conclusion.

Later that day, you were introduced to Ray and Peter, through the expense of Egon being the centre of one of Peter’s jokes. After that day on, the four of you had been close friends ever since.

******

After complaining about New York traffic for at least thirty minutes, you finally drove into the firehouse, sighing with content as you parked the car. “Home, sweet, home”.

As you got out of the car, a floating green blob flew towards you, it’s stick like arms wrapping around your neck.

“Awhh, I missed you too slimer” You chuckled as you hugged the ghost back.

“How come he never slimes you; I swear he has full control of that stuff” Peter grumbled as he walked out his office and headed towards you.

“Oh Peter, are you jealous that slimer loves me more? I’m sure he’d love to come and give you a cuddle too” You joked as you let go of the ghost, a mischievous smirk on your face.

“Don’t you dare” He warned, his eyes narrowing as he spoke slowly.

“Fine, you win this time. However, me and Ray have decided you are getting invoiced for those hotel rooms, after all, it was your call to take”.

Peter struggled to find a reply for a moment before sighing in defeat. “Whatever, just give the papers to Janine, I’m too tired to debate this one out”.

“What’s the matter? You’re not sick are you” You asked genuinely. If needed, Peter normally had the social skills to sell ice to someone who lived in the North pole.

“No, I’m not sick. But considering I’m paying for the hotel rooms, I need to call in a favour from you too” He replied, leaning against the side of Ecto-1 as he spoke.

You stopped unloading the equipment from the back to give him your full attention. “I’m not taking the blame again for you not closing the containment unit correctly”

“You forgot to close the containment unit again!” Ray rushed from behind the car, his face frantic as he looked between you and Peter.

“No! The containment unit is fine! Gosh, what do you people take me for?” Peter replied quickly, finishing the sentence with a scoff. “I’m calling in a favour because Spengz hasn’t left the lab since you went on that call”. He finally explained.

Your heart sunk a little as Peter spoke. It was not unusually for Egon to spend hours at a time in the lab, but you and Ray had been gone for over twenty-four hours. Egon tended to go through stages where he become so fixated on science, his personal health was forgotten to him. He had the potential to go days without eating or sleeping, which often made him ill and even more stressed out for a few days. The boys did their best to encourage Egon to stop working, but it just resulting in them being thrown out of the lab. The boys sometimes called you their “secret weapon” which they would release when things got bad.

You gave a sad sigh and nodded in understanding to Peter. “I’ll try my best” you muttered as you took a bag from ecto-1’s side door. You and Ray had picked up some snacks on the way home from your call that you were going to attempt to use.

You headed downstairs and gently tapped on the lab door before entering. “Guess who’s back” you said cheerily, trying your best to act like you were unaware of Egon’s shenanigans. When you entered the lab, he was sat at his desk, microscope at hand.

“Hey Sweetheart” he said softly, although you could hear the tired undertone in his voice. “How did the call go?”.

“It was just a class three, nothing we could not deal with. Although, it did get a little aggressive at the end” You explained as you came up and hugged him from behind.

He gave a soft smile and rested one hand on your arms that were wrapped around him, his other hand continued to write down his notes from the microscope. “You must be tired from the drive home, why don’t you go and get some rest” He suggested.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps me and you could get something to eat first?” you tried at your first attempt of dragging him from the lab. “We could order from your favourite Thai place.” You bribed.

“That sounds great, but I really need to finish my work on this new slime sample.” Egon replied with a sigh as he continued to work with his microscope. “I really think I’m onto something with this sample, the electrochemical bond is unlike any other we’ve encountered”.

“Oh, okay” you gave a small nod, thinking how this was going to be harder than you thought. “Well, I bought some snack on the way home from the call, we could share them in the meantime?” You suggested as you walked over to grab the bag you had put on the counter.

“I would, but I really need to test the polarity of this sample” He abstained.

“Egon, you taking a five-minute break to eat sugary treats with me will not cause Gozer to raise from the dead.”

This time he finally looked up at you, a million thoughts seemed to be going through his head before he finally said. “Okay, but only a few minutes” He agreed, moving over to the other counter to sit next to you.

‘Result!’ you thought.

You gave him a bright smile and laid out the packets of food in front of you both.

“So, did Peter behave himself whilst I was away?” You joked as you opened as packet of crisps.

Egon hummed. “Peter behaved like Peter, if that answers your question.” He also opened a box of twinkies as he spoke. “I suppose it does” You agreed. “I also came up with a new theory” You announced.

“And what would that be?”

“Peter actually loves having slimer around. In fact, I think slimer is Peter’s favourite supernatural entity.”

Egon gave a low chuckle and you mentally ticked off another achievement box.

“Are you sure you’re not lacking sleep? That’s the most impossible theory you have conducted” Egon asked with a small smile.

“Oh, I’m exhausted, those hotel beds should be burnt, they were horrible!” You exclaimed. You moved your neck side to side in order to relieve some of the tension. As you did so, your hair moved to the side, giving a plain sight to the side of your neck.

Any humour that Egon had managed to gather instantly left his face at the sight of your neck. Right under your hairline, a purply black bruise began to form.

Your neck and shoulders had been aching ever since the ghost had thrown you back into the wall. You had gotten your fair number of beatings when being on calls, but you always managed to just walk them off. You thought this was just like other times, but you were unaware of how much your neck was bruising.

Egon slowly reached up and brushed the hair from the side of your neck, exposing more of the skin. You couldn’t help but wince a little from the pain.

“What did this to you?” He whispered; his voice barely auditable.

You hesitated a little. “The ghost I said that got a little aggressive, he had a thing for throwing people too” You replied with an award chuckle, trying your best to lighten the mood.

Egon clenched his jaw. “You need to ice this” he mumbled before going over to the lab freezer and pulling out an ice pack. Before he placed the ice pack on your neck, he very gently tied your hair back with the hair tie you conveniently had on your wrist. You tried your best not to wince which caused him to murmur a small “sorry”.

“I’m okay. Honestly, it doesn’t hurt that much” You reassured, taking his place of holding the icepack to the bruise.

He sat back down next to you and gently took your free hand. “Y/N, you should really go and rest.” He told you softly, but with an authoritative undertone. “An injury like this is only going to heal with rest.”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, really looked at him. The man before you looked exhausted. His eyes were dark but were still looking at you with pure love, His skin was slightly pale and his face had a slightly sad aura. Despite your friends attempts, nobody could persuade Egon to look after himself in the last twenty-four hours, but here he was, fully invested in your health and safety. Oh, the irony.

“Are you in any pain?” He asked sadly, his eyes frowning a little as he noticed your eyes starting to glass over a little with tears.

You slightly shook your head before leaning over and gently placing your lips to his. He seemed to relax at your touch, something that he had developed overtime. “I’ll make you a deal” You whispered as you pulled back to look at him, your face still quite close to his.

He gently rubbed the back of your hand he was still holding with his thumb. He remained quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“I will take a nap and rest my neck, but only if you come and keep me company” You bargained sweetly.

Egon let out a sigh, he looked over his should at the slime sample before looking back to you. “Alright” He agreed. “But you’re keeping the icepack on” He added as he stood up, his hand remaining around yours as he led you upstairs and up to the bedrooms. You and Janine had your own bedroom with two double beds. Meanings that Janine hardly stayed at the firehouse, you and Egon had partly claimed the room for yourselves.

“Now lovebirds, I don’t want to hear any noises coming from that room” Peter joked loudly as you and Egon got to the top floor.

“Oh slimer! Peter said he wants a cuddle!” You yelled loudly with a huge smirk. The distant yelling of peter could be heard as Egon closed the bedroom door.

“I love that little ghost” You beamed as you got a set of pyjamas for you and Egon from the wardrobe.

You both began to change into your pyjamas, Egon having to help you pull your t-shirt over your head due to the pain of your neck. As you got into bed, you gently took off Egon’s glasses and set them on the nightstand on your side of the bed, just in case he got any ideas about going back to the lab. You were a light sleeper and would wake up if he decided to slip out through the night.

Egon wrapped his arms around you as you cuddled up to him, doing his best to avoid your neck at all costs. Just as you were about to drop off to sleep, he mumbled “I’m sorry”. You gave a small frown and opened your eyes again. “You have nothing to be sorry for” you said almost instantly. You repositioned yourself so you were resting on his chest but looking up at him.

“I didn’t realise I was worrying people again” he said softly, looking down at you as he spoke. It had finally sunk in why you and his friends had been asking him to eat and rest a lot recently.

Your heart almost broke when you realised what he meant. “Oh Egon” You whispered sadly. You reached up and gently kissed his lips, his hand coming up to your cheek as you melted into each other’s grasp. “We all care about you so much” you told him sincerely.

He gave a small nod before softly kissing you again. “Get some rest” he mumbled as he pulled away. He gave the top of your head a small kiss as you repositioned yourself on his chest.

Egon acknowledging why people were worried was the winning streak in your eyes. He was not somebody who needed to be told something many times, as soon as he acknowledged an issue, he would do his best to change things.

“Goodnight, my love” “Goodnight, Sweetheart”

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler fanfiction #ghostbusters 1984 #ghostbusters #the real ghostbusters #ray stantz #peter venkman #winston zeddemore #slimmer #janine melnitz #ghostbusters ii #fanfiction #harold ramis #bill murray #dan ackroyd #y/n

701 notes · View notes

dalishious · 1 year ago

Text

The infamous roof scene... My favourite Sera scene in the game.

#LowElfEsteem is a series on Sera’s romance with an elf, discussing both the well and poorly done aspects of her writing, while also examining her character on a deeper level.

Sera invites the Inquisitor up onto the roof to eat cookies together. She then opens up a bit about her backstory, though in a typical Sera fashion, tells a lot by just focusing on one specific thing.

Sera: I got caught stealing when I was little, yeah? You get alienage or worse for that, but the "Lady Emmald" took me in.

Sera: She was sick and couldn't have children. I had no parents. It worked out.

Sera: Anyway, she gets a year sicker, so I ask her about cookies. Because moms make cookies. I can pass that down or something.

Sera: Turns out, she couldn’t cook. She missed that talk with her mom. The ones she "made" she bought, and pretended.

Sera: Aww, right? Well no, she was a bitch.

Sera: She hid buying them by keeping me away from the baker. She did that by lying that he didn’t like me; didn’t like elves.

Sera: She let me hate so she could protect her pride. I hated him so much, and I hated...

Sera: Well, she died. And I hate pride. Pride Cookies.

Sera: But this is great, you’re great, so I thought, maybe me and you could make some.

Sera: I don’t know, "Us Cookies."

Sera: Because then I could like them again. Aww, it’s stupid…

Inquisitor: I don’t understand, this Lady Emmald was just trying to be good to you.

Sera: She hurt people.

Inquisitor: It was just cookies.

Sera: It was not just cookies!

Sera: Lie to herself, fair play, only hurts her. But she made me think there was something wrong with me!

Sera: And the baker? I made his life shit! Why not? It seemed like he deserved it. I mean, if you don’t give a child a cookie because of appearances, you’re a monster. Stupid, pride-whore noble.

Let's get the obvious out of the way, first: When Sera says, "I hated him so much, and I hated..." trailing off, she means she hated herself. That much is obvious by Sera's further explanation, "she made me think there was something wrong with me!"

Why would Sera pick this moment of all things to talk about? Well, remember that Sera would have been less than 10 years old when this happened; the most formative years of growing up, and this incident clearly stuck with her. It taught her she couldn't trust someone she thought was looking out for her, all because Emmald cared more about maintaining appearances than her adopted child's self-esteem. She taught Sera that she would be hated for being an elf, but neglected to teach her that it wasn't Sera's fault.

Was Emmald racist herself? I'm not sure, but she certainly did use racism as a means of control. And maybe that's almost just as bad.

After this talk, the Inquisitor has the opportunity to ask Sera a bit more about herself, this time, Sera being honest. She talks about her history with the Red Jennies a bit, how she got the chance to learn how to use a bow, etc. But I want to highlight this bit of dialogue in particular:

Inquisitor: I think that, after our rooftop chat, I get why you're not like other elves.

Sera: Well, don't. How about we dig into what you are? Or what you're supposed to be?

Sera: Do you know wall about elfiness? What it takes to keep our ears all perky?

Sera: Because you could be more than just that. To me, anyway.

The romance dialogue response is "Whatever I am to you, Sera, that's all I need." And that's cute, but I want to complain about Sera's response if you answer with, "We should all be examples of our peoples, and understand how others will judge us."

Sera: Right, well, good on you. Have fun.

Sera: Don't forget to whine about the past. All elves do that.

Sera: Heard that once. From an "example".

Fucking yet again, Kristjanson can't resist the urge to have Sera denounce systemic racism as something you "whine" about, without any chance at rebuttal. We get it, buddy. You don't know how to write internalized racism in a way that's not just offensive.

If it were up to me, I'd give the Inquisitor the opportunity to challenge Sera with this, to teach her that everything she's regurgitating from what she's heard the humans say is wrong, and that hating her own people accomplishes nothing except doing half the work of her oppressors for them.

#sera #dragon age #low elf esteem #meta #bioware nemesis

288 notes · View notes

cherrygirlystuff · 3 months ago

Text

Dirty Chic: Embrace the Messy, Unpolished Style of the Indie Era

Hey babe! 🌸 If you’re all about that effortlessly cool, messy-but-in-the-best-way look, then you’re going to love what I’ve got for you today. Welcome to Dirty Chic, the ultimate blog dedicated to the unpolished, DIY fashion that defined the indie scene. We’re talking thrift store gems, DIY tutorials, and outfit inspo that’s equal parts chaotic and chic. So grab your scissors, dust off your favorite thrifted band tee, and let’s get into it! 🎧✨

The Dirty Chic Aesthetic: Embrace the Chaos, Rock the Unpolished Look 🌟

Let’s be real – fashion in the indie era wasn’t about perfection. It was about breaking the rules, mixing and matching, and creating looks that were as unique as you are. The dirty chic aesthetic is all about embracing that raw, unpolished vibe. Think ripped jeans, oversized band tees, scuffed-up boots, and a little bit of grunge magic. It’s messy, it’s bold, and it’s totally you.

This look isn’t about following trends; it’s about making your own. So if you’re ready to dive into the world of DIY fashion, thrift store treasures, and outfit inspiration that’s perfectly imperfect, you’re in the right place.

1. DIY Fashion Tutorials: Create Your Own Indie Masterpieces 🎨

One of the best things about dirty chic style is that it’s all about DIY. Why buy something new when you can create something totally unique with your own hands? Here are a few DIY fashion tutorials that’ll have you looking like an indie icon in no time:

Ripped and Distressed Jeans: There’s nothing more indie than a pair of perfectly distressed jeans. Grab an old pair from your closet (or a thrift store find) and get ready to unleash your inner artist. Use a razor blade or scissors to carefully create rips and holes in the knees, thighs, or wherever you want to add some edge. Then, take a piece of sandpaper and rough up the fabric around the edges for that lived-in look. The more you wear them, the better they’ll look – trust me.

Customized Band Tees: Take your favorite band tee and give it a little indie makeover. Whether it’s cutting off the sleeves for a rocker vibe, cropping it for a more fitted look, or adding some bleach splatters for that grunge effect, the options are endless. You can even try screen printing your own design or adding some safety pins for a little punk flair. The goal is to make it your own and wear it with pride.

Patchwork Jackets: If you’ve got an old denim or leather jacket lying around, why not turn it into a statement piece? Gather some patches, fabric scraps, and even old bandanas, and start sewing or gluing them onto your jacket. You can go for a cohesive look or just throw on whatever catches your eye – the more eclectic, the better. This is your chance to wear your personality on your sleeve (literally).

DIY Accessories: Don’t forget about the little details! Create your own chokers, bracelets, or earrings using materials you already have at home. Try braiding some old shoelaces into a necklace, or stringing together some beads for a boho vibe. You can even repurpose old jewelry into something totally new. Indie fashion is all about creativity, so don’t be afraid to experiment.

2. Thrift Store Finds: The Treasure Hunt of Indie Fashion 🕵️‍♀️

If there’s one thing indie fashion lovers know, it’s that thrift stores are pure goldmines. There’s something magical about sifting through racks of second-hand clothes and finding that perfect piece that no one else has. Here’s how to make the most of your thrift store adventures:

Look for Statement Pieces: When you’re thrifting, keep an eye out for items that stand out. Whether it’s a vintage band tee, a funky printed dress, or a pair of high-waisted jeans that fit like a dream, the key is to find pieces that you can build an outfit around. Don’t be afraid to think outside the box – sometimes the most unexpected items turn into your favorite wardrobe staples.

Mix and Match Eras: One of the best things about thrift shopping is that you can find pieces from all different eras. Don’t be afraid to mix and match – pair a ’70s boho blouse with ’90s grunge jeans, or throw on a ’60s mod jacket over a modern dress. The beauty of dirty chic style is that it’s all about creating something new from the old.

Accessories Are Everything: Thrift stores are full of hidden gems when it comes to accessories. Look for unique belts, vintage bags, and quirky jewelry that you can add to your outfits. A cool pair of sunglasses or a chunky belt can take your look from basic to badass in no time.

Don’t Forget the DIY Potential: Even if you find something that’s not quite perfect, remember that you can always DIY it into something amazing. Whether it’s hemming a skirt, adding some patches to a jacket, or transforming a dress into a top, the possibilities are endless. Thrift shopping is all about seeing the potential in what you find.

3. Outfit Inspirations: Rock the Dirty Chic Look Like an Indie Icon 👗

Need some inspo on how to pull it all together? Here are a few outfit ideas that capture the essence of dirty chic style:

Grunge Goddess: Start with a pair of ripped jeans and an oversized band tee (bonus points if you DIY’d it). Throw on a flannel shirt over the top, and finish the look with some scuffed-up combat boots. Accessorize with a choker, a beanie, and a messy bun, and you’re ready to take on the world.

Boho Rebel: Pair a flowy, floral dress with a leather jacket and some chunky boots. Add a wide-brimmed hat and some layered necklaces for that boho-meets-grunge vibe. The key is to keep the look a little rough around the edges – think tousled hair and minimal makeup.

Vintage Vibes: Go for a retro look with high-waisted jeans, a tucked-in graphic tee, and a vintage blazer. Finish the look with some classic Converse or Docs, and throw on a pair of round sunglasses for that perfect indie touch. This look is all about mixing old and new in a way that feels totally fresh.

Punk Princess: Start with a plaid skirt or skinny jeans, and pair it with a cropped tee and a denim jacket covered in patches. Add some fishnet tights, a studded belt, and chunky boots to complete the look. Top it off with a bold lip color and some smudgy eyeliner for that ultimate punk rock edge.

Final Thoughts, Gorgeous: Let’s Get Messy and Chic with Indie Style 🌟

There you have it – all the tips, tricks, and inspo you need to rock the dirty chic look like the indie icon you are. Whether you’re DIY-ing your own fashion masterpieces, hunting for treasures at your local thrift store, or just throwing together a perfectly imperfect outfit, remember that the key to dirty chic style is confidence. It’s about embracing the chaos, making your own rules, and never being afraid to stand out.

So go ahead, babe – get messy, get creative, and most importantly, have fun with your style. After all, fashion is supposed to be a little wild, a little unpredictable, and totally you.

What’s your favorite thrift store find or DIY fashion project? Let’s chat in the comments and swap tips, tricks, and outfit inspo! 💕

#2014 grunge #2014 nostalgia #2014 tumblr #brat summer #2014 aesthetic #2014 revival #indie sleaze #indie pop #indie rock #indie music #indie #soft grunge #tumblr stuff #2014

16 notes · View notes

cousmemes · 10 months ago

Text

dialogue starters from DOCTOR WHO SEASON 8. feel free to edit for context / continues under the cut.

"I'll wager you've not seen anything like this before."

"Listen to me. You need to calm down."

"I'm not flirting, by the way."

"What have I done wrong?"

"Are you judging me?"

"Just because my pretty face has turned your head, do not assume that I am so easily distracted."

"Whatever it takes, I will keep you safe. You will be at home again."

"I'm cold. There's no point in us both being cold. Give me your coat."

"Are you cross with me?"

"You were talking about me?"

"What is happening right now to you and me is more important than your egomania."

"Nothing is more important than my egomania."

"You've redecorated. I don't like it."

"You can't see me, can you? You look at me, and you can't see me. Have you any idea what that's like?"

"I was being funny. I just do that."

"How long have you been there?"

"Are you going to look that terrified when you take me out for a drink?"

"You were smiling at nothing. I'd almost say you were in love."

"I need you."

"An anti-climax once in a while is good for my heart."

"We cannot waste this chance. It won't come again."

"Isn't the universe beautiful?"

"I think you're probably nice. Underneath it all, I think you're kind and you're definitely brave. I just wish you hadn't been a soldier."

"I don't know if you're a good man. But I think you try to be and I think that's probably the point."

"Old-fashioned heroes only exist in old-fashioned storybooks."

"Do people ever punch you in the face when you do that?"

"Well then, draw your sword and prove your words."

"People are so much better at sharing information if they think the other person has already got it."

"Right, you do that again and you'll regret that."

"We can't just let them kill him!"

"She should not have told you any of that."

"Perhaps others will be heroes in our name. Perhaps we will both be stories. And may those stories never end."

"I wasn't making assumptions about you."

"You just have to squeeze through."

"How did you get in?"

"You know, you should have more than one chair. What do you do when people come round?"

"The deep and lovely dark. We'd never see the stars without it."

"I mouth off when I'm nervous and I've got a mouth on me. Seriously, it's got a mind of its own."

"Tell me the truth - because I know when people are lying to me."

"I am not going to leave you in danger!"

"Sorry, who put you in charge?"

"However this goes, whatever happens, don't let me end up like that."

"They have no power over you now. You can do exactly what you want to do now. Exactly what you've always wanted to do."

"Go and enjoy yourself. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"There's no way out of this. We're going to die here."

"Why are you being nice?"

"Every time I see you, it's like you're in a rush."

"The next few days are all about you. I promise."

"Human beings have incredibly short life spans. Frankly, you should all be in a permanent state of panic."

"How can you think that I'm her dad when we both look exactly the same age?"

"He's my boyfriend. I thought you'd figured this out."

"Why wouldn't I be okay? I was fine till you blundered in."

"It's funny, you only really know what someone thinks of you when you know what lies they've told you."

"Please, tell me how I fix this."

"I'm bored. Let's go somewhere fun. What do you say?"

"I know men like him. I've served under them. They push you and make you stronger, till you're doing things you never thought you could."

"Is there some sort of fancy dress thing on this evening?"

"I am so sorry. I've had a wobble. It's a big wobble, but it's fine. Forget about it."

"Where are you and are you in trouble?"

"Lying is a vital survival skill. And a terrible habit."

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"We're in the bad news! I'm living the bad news!"

"Why can't you just say it? Why can't you just say I did good?"

"You are enjoying this just a little bit too much."

"Don't make me say it."

"I don't want to be the last of my kind."

"I don't want to see more things. I want to see the things in front of me more clearly."

"I just want to know the truth. I don't care what it is. I just want to know it."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up. I need to talk to you."

"Oh, everything is better when you're here."

"Please speak to me. This is - this is killing me.

"I love you. And you are the last person who's ever going to hear me say that."

"By now, I'm sure you've heard the rumours, and it is with great sadness that I must confirm them to be true."

"He was alive, and then he was dead and it was nothing."

"Don't. Be very, very careful with that."

"I know what you're doing. You're trying to take control."

"I am in control. Do as you are told."

"I was curious about how far you would go."

"You betrayed me. Betrayed my trust, you betrayed our friendship, you betrayed everything that I've ever stood for."

"Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?"

"Speak for me again, I'll detach something from you."

"This isn't possible. The dead don't come back."

"Be strong, even if it breaks your heart."

"Say something only you could say. Tell me something only you would know."

"Whatever it takes, I will be with you again, I swear."

"So you know who I am, right?"

"Look, are you going to help me? Because I can't do this alone."

"And didn't all of those beautiful speeches just disappear in the face of a tactical advantage?"

"I wasn't very good at it, but I did love you."

"There's something that I have to tell you and, er, it's not good news so just - just listen, okay?"

"Never trust a hug. It's just a way to hide your face."

"Thank you for making me feel special."

#sentence starters #ask meme #starter meme #rp prompt #sentence meme #*dw #*s8

47 notes · View notes

oneatlatime · 1 year ago

Text

Return to Omashu

Fire nation priorities. Yes, there's a war to win, but first! We must make our colonies aesthetically consistent. Couple of gates, some gold trim, and some spiky bits! Can't forget the gold spiky bits!

Fulfilling the beat up Sokka quota this episode is raw sewage.

That sewer trek must have been long. They went in during the day and it's night now.

I spoke too soon! The quota is in fact filled by tribbles.

"it's so awful I'm dying." I get the feeling that Sokka has been waiting years to use that line. I love how quickly everyone in the Gaang supports each others' spontaneous plans. It's a sign of a good team if you can ream off fake names without blinking and fake the plague without being asked. They all work so well together. Zuko could take some lessons from these guys on lying.

Well this episode's going to land differently post-Covid.

Looks like Zuko Jr.'s going to be in this episode. Bummer. Although tweedledee and tweedledum are intriguing. Who'd ever think to give a teenage girl villain a pair of eighty year old poetry twins? One of the great things so far about this show is how they consistently choose to go with the most out-there option and always make it work. In a show about defeating the firelord, they chose to kill the moon for the finale. And it worked. The plot point, not the killing.

So I'm thinking that orange and yellow must be an acknowledged fashion choice among the four nations outside of an airbending context, because of the number of times fire nation guards have looked right at Aang and not seen him. Also I think his tattoos must have selective invisibility.

It's a crying shame that Hot Topic doesn't exist in the Avatar universe, because this May girl just passed their employment interview with flying colours. I'm siding with what I'm guessing is her mom on this one. Just chill for a bit.

Ok maybe don't chill for a bit. Yeah my bad. This is not a good time to chill.

Reusing the same Naruto run shot literally two seconds later.

How many projectiles can you fit in one pair of sleeves? She's got a whole armoury up there.

Seriously I know she's bored and all but no teenage girl should have access to that many weapons. If I'd had access to an armoury when I was a teenager, people absolutely would have died.

So cute. I'll take 12 please.

Every sentence that Zuko Jr. is saying to this pink girl is some kind of veiled insult or threat. I'd adopt Pink Girl's wilful obliviousness too if I had to deal with that.

Smart Bumi. He knows his people and his element. We've seen more than enough times already that something about being an earthbender makes you too stubborn to quit and unable to change plans even when your original plan is obviously not working (looking at you, Fong). So, knowing that his people are unable to change course, he prevents them from entering on to that course in the first place.

And Aang picks up on this too! Actually, since Bumi knew Aang growing up, do you think he picked up the concept of strategic retreat from airbending?

Tribbles to the rescue! Given that these are sewer dwelling creatures, this fake plague might turn real.

I love how casual Sokka is about touching other people.

Every street in Omashu seems to have a couple of bundles of twigs propped up against a wall somewhere. It's probably an animation trick to fill up the background.

Love the one guy really committing to the bit who just flops on the ground.

"Pentapox! I'm pretty sure I've heard of that." Humans are so suggestible.

I love that Flopsy remembers him. Aang's propensity to make friends wherever he goes paying off again. Also, exactly how much metal to the fire nation have access to? They're doing the floor, walls, ceilings, of the whole city. There must be some crazy budget surpluses that need using up.

This baby has an absurd throwing arm.

Machine gun Momo!

This is what happens when you don't feed your lemur AANG.

I know cartoon physics is a thing, but can this baby secretly fly or something?

Poor Momo didn't ask for any of this. Guy just wanted some berries. Now he's getting his tail pulled and bitten (hopefully no teeth yet).

Add absurd grip strength to this baby's list of other superhuman characteristics.

Baby apparently weighs quite a bit too.

Flying lemur unintentionally kidnaps baby. Did not see that coming.

Tiny nitpick: the circus master introduces Zuko jr. as "the firelord's daughter" rather than as Princess Zuko jr. Does she not have a title?

Nope. He's calling her princess now. Maybe there are a bunch of princesses in the fire nation and he was just being specific?

Thus begins the bullying of pink girl. Imagine going to school with a bunch of fire nation noble girls? There must have been casualties.

I love Sokka so much. Expert hug administrator.

"everything so clever. So tricky." Actually the avatar forgot to feed his lemur and it kind of snowballed from there. Hands down one of my favourite tropes is when one side in a conflict assumes their enemies are master manipulators, then we learn that actually they're just failing upwards through shenanigans. Love that.

Poor pink girl. The only viable strategy, both for her own safety and the safety of the whole circus, is appeasement.

"The universe is giving me strong hints that it's time for a career change." No blame cast, no fingers pointed, but also not giving Zuko jr. credit for influencing her. That's some fancy talking.

And now they're reusing the campsite shot too?

Poor Momo. That's about the face I make around babies.

I spoke too soon again. This episode's beat up Sokka quota is actually fulfilled by Katara's backhand. Because apparently it's a cardinal sin to prevent a baby from chewing on a potentially bladed weapon? Priorities girl.

Well that accidental kidnapping had some unintended positive consequences. Don't you love it when problems fix themselves?

She even paints her nails black and wears fingerless gloves. Seriously. Hot Topic. STAT.

"Well, Asula called a little louder." Hell of a lot of information in that sentence.

How long is her neck?

Ego much?

Zhao was an asshole and unpleasant, but at least he had some good banter. Zuko jr. is just mean. I hope I see less of her going forward.

Bumi! Hi Bumi! I love Bumi.

Pink girl's loyalty was tested with burning nets and released beasts. Now May's loyalty is tested with her brother's life. Zuko jr. is so good to her friends.

Why is no one able to recognise Aang? He's dressed like an airbender. The only one of those left is the avatar. It's not that hard.

Pink girl is lucky that Sokka is quite prone to friction.

More wood bundles. I guess it's for scaffolding?

Gotta give it to Zuko jr., she has excellent balance.

May has leg knives as well as arm knives?

And shirt knives. How does she not stab herself every time she sits down? And if this place is so boring, why does she feel the need to carry 8 billion knives?

Love the Appa tail slap. Underrated and underused move.

So Bumi has no spine left.

Facebending. Neat.

Neutral Jing is a neat concept, but I'll be damned if any earthbender we've seen apart from Bumi ever bothers with it.

Suddenly the 100 year gap between Aang and Bumi can no longer be ignored. Bumi is still Aang's friend, but he's got a century of learning and a city to protect. This is kind of a sad moment.

Do May and Zuko have some history? Is that's what's being implied here?

Wouldn't expect any less. I wonder how these two are going to explain the return of their son without painting the resistance in a really good light.

Zuko jr. is spelled with a Z.

Final Thoughts

Zuko Jr. gets a girl squad, the Gaang gets a reason to spend a season gallivanting all over the Earth Kingdom, and the audience gets to see Superslide part 2. A weird mix of establishing groundwork and having fun this episode.

I totally buy that the fire nation guards and governor fell for the plague thing. Anyone remember "that lemur! He's earthbending!" These guys are not smart.

The plague thing did not bother me at all. I thought it would, since the anti-science idiots in the Fortuneteller really annoyed me. I think since the fake plague was treated as a joke the whole way through, and never actually endangered anyone, it didn't bring up Covid memories.

I think Flopsy's pupils are sideways hourglasses, which contributes nicely to his uncanniness.

I think the stuffy that the baby was throwing is the same animal as the beaver bear thing at the circus.

I love Momo the machine gun. I think those are the same berries as the ones Iroh was going to double poison himself with.

Sokka getting to plan the plague and getting to save the day with boomerang was fun. That's two episodes in a row where he's been the plan guy. Katara got to use some of her new and improved waterbending as well, but she was really pushed to the background otherwise.

I think pink Girl, whose name I still haven't caught, is quite good at reading people. I caught more than one 'shallow-on-the-surface-but-actually-way-deep' statement from her. Also she can Vulcan pinch people's bending? I'm guessing it's temporary or else Katara would be really freaking out.

May was just too much. Too overdone. Yes, there are teenage girls like that, but it felt a bit on the nose. Actually, way too much on the nose. I get that she can't show any emotion in front of Zuko jr. for her own safety, but "can I offer you an egg fireflakes in this trying time?" is not exactly an appropriate response to your little brother's disappearance.

I'm still not liking Zuko jr. But I'm someone who never likes the villain anyway, at least not when our heroes are this likeable.

This episode was not easy on Aang. It was an interesting mix of bringing home the reality of the war and the reality of the time passed. Even when he seemingly got to save his friend in the end, he actually didn't because things are more complicated now. He untied the damsel from the railroad track and she tied herself right back on.

Further evidence for my 'entire fire nation is colourblind' theory this episode. Aang was not disguised apart from a hat made from a very incriminating colour. He had a giant blue stripe down the back of his head! Come on!

No Zuko this episode. He was last seen stealing a perfectly nice lady's bird horse, and it'll be a while before I forgive him for that, so good call by the writers to not have him around.

Now that I think about it, there was a lot going on this episode. Sewer break & enter, assassination attempt, fake plague, hostage exchange, water v. knife fight, fire v. air fight, vulcan pinch v. bending fight, Boomerang & bison v. knife fight, earthbending philosophy, girl squad assembly, lemur harassment, and baby restoration. This episode felt long in a good way.

How about, instead of learning the elements, Aang learns pink girl's vulcan pinch and just does that to the fire lord?

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #return to omashu #avatar the last airbender

67 notes · View notes

lumosandnoxwriting · 10 months ago

Text

tis the damn season || Fred Weasley

Title: ‘tis the damn season Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: and the only heart I’m breaking is my own Warnings: NSFW - mentions of vaginal sex. A/N: a muggle AU b/c something like this isn’t really plausible with the whole apparition thing and i love this song too much to not write a song inspired by it. I started this over a year ago and have just recently gotten back to it to finish! It didn’t quite end up the way I imagined it but i kinda just let the words take me where they wanted to go. Hope you enjoy!

He can’t remember the last time he was back.

His old life always feels so far away down in London. Like his memories of growing up in Ottery belong to someone else, and Fred’s just watching them on film.

London is just so different. Busier in a way that Ottery never will be, with its barely populated town center and handful of businesses down Main Street. If you put the whole village together it would probably only span three blocks of London, including all the scant cottages that are just barely considered to be part of the village; the piece of land The Burrow is situated on included.

The joke shop and his friends and life in general barely give him enough time to give Mum and Dad a call, let alone pop down for the weekend to visit. Not to mention retirement is treating the Weasley parriarchal well, allowing them to split their time between all of their children and the various parts of the world life has taken them.

But it seems a grapple with nostalgia has led all of the Weasley children back to Ottery St. Catchpole this Christmas. Bill and Fleur took over the helm of hosting the family celebration years ago, when they decided traveling back to England with a baby was harder than hosting a slew of Weasleys at their cottage in the French countryside. So it caught Fred by surprise when his Mum called last month, letting him and George know not to bother booking a ticket to France, since they’d be doing Christmas the old fashioned way this year.

At Molly’s request they’ve all taken the next two weeks off from work and made the trek back home, for one more Christmas at The Burrow. Fred would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit disappointed in the change of plans this year. He spent so much of his life trying to find a way out of Ottery, so driving back up here has left him with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Which is why he left George at home as soon as they’d pulled in the driveway, needing to take a second for himself.

He doesn’t realize he’s been sitting on a bench in town square, staring into the abyss until a quiet voice calls out to him.

“Fred?”

Despite the time that’s gone by he’d recognize that voice anywhere. Y/N.

“Hey,” he greets casually, turning to look at her as he tries to pretend his heart hasn’t plummeted into his stomach. There’s a beanie pulled down tight over her hair and her cheeks are rosy from the cold, but she’s just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. It’d been right in this very place, he’d given her one last look through the rearview mirror as he and George left for good.

Back then her face had been red from the tears she’d shed as he said goodbye, her eyebrows drawn together in frustration. The look on her face today is indifferent, and Fred can’t tell if he should be upset or relieved at that.

“You’re home,” Y/N states, voice even.

“Yeah,” Fred replies simply.

Their words hang in the air around them, both of them just looking at each other while they try and find something to say.

“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess. Unless you’re just stopping through?” Y/N asks, the tone of her voice curious, with just the barest hint of hope.

Fred nods, gesturing down the road with his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’m in town for a bit. Staying at Mum and Dad’s for the holiday and all.”

“Ah, okay. Cool. Cool,” Y/N responds, rocking back and forth on her heels for a moment. “See you around, then.”

In the next second she’s gone, walking past Fred without a second glance back his way.

Once Y/N has disappeared Fred heads back towards The Burrow, unable to tell exactly why that funny feeling is still there in the pit of his stomach.

“Freddie, Georgie! Long time no see, Lads!”

The pub is loud, but somehow Dean’s voice overpowers it all and the boys easily find the table their old friends have commandeered for the evening. It’s tucked away in the corner, close enough to the bar that they’ll have no problem getting drink refills, but far enough away from the general rowdiness that they’ll be able to have a conversation without having to shout at each other.

All the lads stand up as Fred and George approach, each one taking a turn to pull them each into a hug - as if no time has passed at all. Fred’s embarrassed to admit how long it’s been since he texted one of his old hometown friends, let alone sat down to catch up with them. It had been easier when they first moved to London, they were all young and carefree and it was normal for Fred and George’s living room to be taken over by the lads every few weeks for a Boy’s weekend in the big city.

But as time went on Fred and George got busier, their dream had started to become a reality and investor meetings and paperwork became their priority. And it’s not like things only changed for them either. It seemed like one by one their friends started to find serious partners, and time with the boys started to take a backseat to time spent with their significant other. And now Fred and George are the only two of the group who aren’t married with a kid or two.

“Look at our big London boys, taking time out of their busy ol’ schedules to slum it here up north with the rest of us,” Lee teases, toasting his beer to the boys before he takes a long drag. “We’re honored you could fit in some time to see us, truly.”

“You’re all a bunch of prats who don’t deserve our time,” George shoots back, winking as he drinks from the beer Tom had pressed into his palm. “And truly the honor is ours, I know changing diapers and feeding babies is important work and we appreciate you sacrificing your time to sit here at the pub with us.”

“You can laugh all you want now, boys - but just be ready to get it back tenfold once you degenerates decide to finally settle down and become family men,” Dean chuckles.

Fred takes a long sip of his beer, letting the cool liquid run down his dry throat. Because sure there have been plenty of girls since Y/N. But they’ve all been short term, casual - some of them so brief he doesn’t remember their name or what they look like. There’s only one girl he’s ever imagined that kind of life with, and he’s sure that ship sailed the second he left town without her.

“You boys ready for another round yet?”

Fred swears he must have done something epic to piss off whatever cosmic being exists out there, because for the second time today he’s blindsided by Y/N’s sudden appearance. He keeps his eyes downcast, suddenly super thirsty as he takes another long drink in order to avoid interacting with her again.

“Do you even have to ask?” Lee answers with a hearty laugh.

“Some things never change,” she responds with a lighthearted eye roll, collecting the empties from the table. “I’ll be right back with those.”

Fred finally looks up, his eyes following Y/N as she disappears back into the crowd. He feels like he can breathe again, and he finally sets his empty beer bottle back on the table. Their interaction earlier is still fresh in his mind and despite how uneasy their short interaction left him - he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping he’d run into Y/N again. He just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.

“She teaches year one, over at the primary school.” Fred’s eyes meet Dean’s, his cheeks flushing at the realization he’d been caught. “All the kids love her. Daisy has her this year and I swear everyday when she gets home all she does is gush about Y/N. She works here on the weekends to help her Uncle out.”

Fred finds his eyes trailing back to where Y/N had disappeared to, hoping he might catch another glimpse of her. He’s happy to hear that she’s teaching, that him wrecking their plans of a future together didn’t deter her from following her other dreams. He looks back to Dean then, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Daisy’s already in first year? You’re a proper old git aren’t ya, mate?” he teases in an effort to move the conversation in a direction that doesn’t involve the feeling of regret that’s suddenly started to creep up his throat.

“Are you stalking me?”

Fred turns around at the sound of her voice, goosebumps shivering down his neck. He’d come down to the creek for some solitude, already getting tired of having his siblings and their families crammed into the Burrow after only three days. But of course, this had been their spot, so he’s not all too surprised that Y/N had found him here.

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” he teases, breath catching in his throat at the smile that takes over her face. “I was here first, and I was at the town square first the other day too. Seems to me like I’m the one being followed.”

Y/N shakes her head with a quiet laugh, taking a few steps down the embankment so she’s closer to Fred. “And what about the other night at the pub, hm? What about then?”

“Happy accident,” Fred answers with a shrug, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not like there’s other pubs in the village to hang out at.” He can tell he struck a nerve based on the way Y/N’s eye twitches, and silence grows between them as his brain scrambles to think of something else to say.

“All those years in London and Ottery is still too small for you?”

There isn’t any anger or resentment in her voice, and Fred takes that as a win. In the few months before Fred and George finally took the plunge and moved to London he and Y/N had been fighting more than ever, and like an idiot he forgot that most of those fights revolved around his need to get out of their hometown. While he found Ottery’s size suffocating, Y/N found it charming and more than once she’d made it clear to Fred that the only place she could ever imagine raising a family was the little village they’d grown up in.

So instead of making her choose between her own dreams and his, Fred decided to leave. It broke something in him that day, watching Y/N get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as they drove away. But he knew moving to London would have broken Y/N too, and he’d rather die than see her become someone she isn’t.

So, he left with no intentions of ever coming back.

And yet here they are again.

“What can I say, I’m a city boy now through and through.”

Y/N hums, giving Fred one last glance before she starts to walk along the creek, and it only takes a moment of hesitation before he follows. She’s walking slow enough that it only takes a few strides for Fred to catch up, and before he knows it they’re walking side by side, arms just barely brushing as they move.

“It’s everything you ever wanted then?” Y/N inquires after a few quiet minutes. Her eyes are downcast, and Fred is thankful that she can’t seem to look at him. He’s not sure he’d be able to handle it.

“It is, yeah,” Fred answers honestly, swallowing thickly. “The store is better than everything George and I ever dreamed of. And the friends we’ve made are amazing. It’s better than I ever imagined.”

“That’s good,” she responds, voice curt. “So you don’t regret leaving everything behind to start a new life?”

“Not everything,” Fred answers honestly again, his voice laden with remorse.

She stops in her tracks then, turning to finally face Fred. He stops too, barely able to bring his eyes to meet hers. He can tell by the way she exhales that she’s upset, but he can’t find himself feeling sorry for what he said. Because all of it is true.

He realized it the other night, after they got back from the pub and he couldn’t sleep. That weird feeling in the pit of his stomach was still there, and he couldn’t figure out why. He thought seeing his old friends would ease it, that he was nervous about seeing them again after so long and it wouldn’t feel the same as it used to. But the night couldn’t have gone better, they all picked right back up as if no time had passed at all.

And yet the feeling had only gotten worse.

When he fluffed his pillow for the hundredth time his fingers brushed against something under it, and when he pulled it out his stomach dipped even further. It was a picture from high school that George took of Fred and Y/N. She was wrapped up in his arms as she smiled for the camera, but Fred had been looking at her. He’s looking at Y/N with so much love you’d think she’d hung the moon and the stars and in that moment Fred realizes that she did. She was the universe, and Fred was a mere mortal lucky enough to be caught in her orbit.

And it’s in that moment that he finally realizes what that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach is.

Regret.

“Fuck you, Fred,” Y/N finally responds, voice full of anger. “I stood there in the middle of town square crying as I begged you not to leave. As I begged you not to leave me behind like everything we had meant nothing to you. And now all these years later you have the audacity to stand here and tell me that you’re only regret in life is leaving me behind.”

She turns on her heel and storms away, and Fred immediately follows. “Will you just let me explain?” he calls as he catches up. He grab’s Y/N’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks so he can pull her back towards him.

Suddenly her body is pressed up against his, and Fred’s heart feels like it might beat right out of his chest. He can’t remember the last time they were this close and he instinctively reaches up to cup her cheek. “Please,” he begs. “Don’t run away from me.”

Snow has started to softly fall around them, and Fred feels like he can’t breathe as her eyes finally rise to meet his. “Please,” he whispers, afraid that if he speaks too loud it’ll break whatever trance they’ve fallen into.

A softly murmured Fred is Y/N’s only response, and before he can second guess himself Fred leans down and kisses Y/N slowly - finally feeling like he’s home.

“This is still your go to hiding place I see.”

Y/N doesn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice, as if she was expecting him to find her here. Which wouldn’t surprise Fred in the slightest. They used to be so in sync it was as if they shared a brain - and he’s happy to find that time and distance hasn’t changed that one bit.

When she does nothing to acknowledge his presence Fred heaves a sigh, taking a step closer to where Y/N sits. “Ignoring me isn’t going to make me go away. It only fuels me to stick around to annoy you further.”

That earns him a glare, and he can’t help but smile. “There’s my girl,” he teases.

“Oh fuck off Fred,” Y/N responds, but there’s no malice in her voice.

Fred takes that as an invitation to come closer, and he sits down on the empty swing next to her. His mind has been racing since Y/N took off after their kiss a few hours earlier, and now that he’s here with her it’s finally starting to quiet down. He’s not really sure what possessed him to kiss her, and even now that he can think straight his brain has yet to come up with something decent to say to her.

They just sit there staring straight ahead for who knows how long, feet just barely pushing against the ground so they can slowly swing back and forth. Wind curls around them as it blows, but Fred hardly feels the chill as he thinks about the girl sitting beside him. He hasn’t thought about her for years, and all it’s taken is three days and a few brief interactions for his thoughts to be consumed with Y/N once again.

“I can’t do it again.”

It’s Y/N that finally breaks the silence, and Fred turns so he can look at her. She doesn’t meet his gaze, but Fred can see the way her lip trembles and he has to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her.

“When you left,” she continues, taking a deep breath. “When you left before it broke me, Fred. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. It took months for my life to get back on track and over a year for me to start to finally feel normal again. I got my degree and started teaching, started dating again-“ she pauses as Fred flinches at those words. “Point is I moved on from you, and I can’t do it all over again. I can’t let you back in just for you to leave again.”

Y/N finally turns to look at him, and when Fred opens his mouth to respond she puts her hand up to stop him.

“But I also can’t ignore the way that kiss made me feel. Because nothing I’ve done in the years since you left has ever made me feel like that and I can’t go around just pretending that you have no effect over me. Not if I’m going to survive seeing you around over the next few weeks.”

“So what are you saying?” Fred asks after a moment. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what Y/N is saying - but he needs to hear it come from her.

“I’m saying that as long as we can agree that whatever is going on between us is just for this time that you’re back in town - then I’m in. No real feelings, no talking about our future. Just me and you and the next two weeks. Do you agree?”

Fred knows that he should walk away. That he should say no, stand up and walk away from Y/N and just avoid her for the rest of this trip. But Fred is selfish, and the only thing he wants in this moment is Y/N and whatever parts of herself she’ll allow him to have - even if just for a short period of time.

So instead of walking away, Fred nods - forcing a grin on his face. “I do.”

“How the fuck is your cunt still so tight,” Fred groans as he buries his face in Y/N’s neck.

She’s sinking down onto his cock for the third time today, and the way she squeezes around him is making his head spin. They hadn’t wasted any time after their talk in the park. As soon as the words left Fred’s mouth they were on each other, Fred pressed her against the swing set as they kissed and he’d been tempted to fuck her right there in the middle of the park. But ever the responsible one, Y/N had managed to hold Fred off long enough for her to drag them down the block to her place.

He took her for the first time against her front door, both of them still fully dressed with their pants pulled down just enough for Fred to slide his cock into her cunt. It had been frantic and uncoordinated but still perfect and over embarrassingly too quickly. Which is why Fred took Y/N for the second time on her couch a few steps away. He managed to get them both undressed as they stumbled into the living room, and he spent so much time on his knees kissing and licking at her pussy that he’s sure to have rug burn in the morning.

For the third time they finally managed to make it into bed. After she came in his mouth and around his cock Fred finally felt satisfied enough to take his time. He kissed Y/N slowly as they made their way down the hall, stopping periodically to press her up against the wall. When they fell into bed she’d crawled right on top, whispering into his mouth about how it was her turn to take control.

Which is how they got here, with Fred’s mouth pressing kisses from her neck to her collarbone, her hips moving against him as she rides his cock at an achingly slow pace. It feels too perfect and too much like home for Fred to handle, so he grips her hips and kisses Y/N hard to avoid saying the things that are running on a loop in his mind. His thumb finds her clit as Y/N words herself on his cock, rubbing circles in time with her movement to push her closer and closer to another climax.

“Fred, fuck,” Y/N moans breathily as his lips trail back down her neck, toes curling as that familiar feeling pools in the pit of her stomach for what feels like the dozenth time tonight. Fred knows her body even better than she does, and it's embarrassing how quickly Fred has already brought her to the edge of another orgasm. Sex has never felt like this with anyone but Fred, and Y/N already regrets agreeing to a temporary fling.

Because being here with Fred already feels too much like coming home.

All it takes is one more final whispered, “That’s my girl, come for me,” from Fred to push Y/N over the edge. Pleasure washes over her in waves, electric shocks radiating from the tips of her toes to the top of her head as her cunt clenches around Fred’s cock, bringing him over the edge with her.

As they both come down Fred gently rolls over, resting so that they’re both on their sides facing each other, his cock still buried deep inside. He knows he should pull out before they both get too uncomfortable, but some primal urge keeps him from moving an inch.

Neither one says anything, chests heaving to catch their breath as they look into each other’s eyes. Fred figures he should say something to break the heaviness in the air that has settled around them, but Y/N is so warm against him and her bed is so soft that he can’t find the energy to do much besides pull her in even closer so that their bodies are practically one as they drift off to sleep.

Fred spends the days leading up to Christmas at home with his siblings, taking the time to reminisce about their childhood while always finding new ways to create mischief with his plethora of nieces and nephews. For as much as he was dreading coming back to Ottery, Fred actually finds himself having a lot of fun, and he finds that he doesn’t miss London as much as he thought he would.

And he’s sure that spending his nights in Y/N’s bed has played a role in that as well.

Once everyone heads to bed at night he sneaks back out, taking the short walk into town to meet Y/N. Sometimes she’s closing up her Uncle’s pub, and Fred sits at the bar and harasses her as she completes all of her closing tasks before walking her back to her place. Other times she’s waiting for him in the town square after coming from her parents or running an errand, and Fred kisses her right there to try and erase the thoughts of him watching her get smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror.

But most nights she’s already in bed waiting, the porch light on and the door unlocked so he can slip inside. Those nights are his favorite because it’s easy to pretend that this is their life. That Fred’s coming home to his favorite girl and their warm bed after working late or hanging out at the pub with his friends - instead of him coming over for a quick fuck and a few hours of sleep before he has to sneak back into his parent’s house.

Christmas Eve comes upon them quicker than Fred would like, and they agree not to see each other until Boxing Day - neither one wanting their family to catch them in the act. Fred barely gets any sleep that night, tossing and turning so much George throws a pillow at him in warning. Less than a week he’s been sleeping beside Y/N and Fred already is having trouble sleeping on his own.

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that in one more week he’ll be back to sleeping alone.

The kids wake everyone up far too early on Christmas morning, and as Fred trudges down the stairs the only thing on his mind is how he might be able to sneak away to see Y/N for a few minutes. After presents are opened and breakfast is eaten, Fred is just about ready to implement his plan to see Y/N under the guise of an after meal walk when his parents drop the news.

“I’m just so happy you all took the time to come spend the holidays with us here back home this year. It really warms my old heart to see all my babies back under my roof,” his mother starts, hand pressed against her heart.

“But your Father and I have been talking a lot this year about what our future looks like and well,” she pauses, looking over her shoulder at Arthur.”

“We’ve decided to sell The Burrow,” he announces, resting a comforting hand on Molly’s shoulder. Ginny stands in protest, and Arthur puts a hand up to stop her. “It’s far too big of an undertaking for just your mother and I, and between all the traveling we do to visit you all we only spend a few days a month here. That’s why we decided to hold the holidays here just one last time, so we could fill this place with love and laughter one more time before we give another family the opportunity to make their own memories here.”

Bill, acting in his big brother duty, is the first to speak up.

“I know this decision must not have been easy for the two of you to make, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that while it is going to be hard to wrap our minds around the fact that The Burrow won’t be ours anymore - we respect your decision and are happy that you guys are following your dreams.”

“Yeah, we love this place,” Ginny starts, getting up to hug Molly and Arthur. “But we love you more, and we support you in any way that you need.”

They all murmur similar sentiments as they join Ginny and their parents in a group hug, but Fred finds himself not really meaning any of the words coming out of his mouth. He was just starting to find the joy in coming home to Ottery, and now there won’t really be a home to come back to. The thought of making some excuse to come up and visit Mum and Dad in the new year was the only thing that made the thought of leaving Y/N next week tolerable - and now he doesn’t even have that to hold on to.

“You alright?” George asks as they separate from the hug, nudging Fred’s shoulder with his own.

He nods, putting the best smile he can manage on his face. “Yeah, just busting at the seams from all that food. Think I’m going to take a walk - make some room for Christmas dinner.”

George gives him a look that screams he knows Fred is up to something, but he just gives his brother a nod in acknowledgement. “Alright, mate. See you in a bit.”

The second he grabs his coat Fred is slipping out the front door, phone already in hand to convince Y/N to sneak away to meet him.

“You’re not going to try and fuck me out here, are you? Because getting arrested for public indecency is definitely not how I want to spend my Christmas,” Y/N jokes as she approaches. But as soon as she sees the look on Fred’s face the smile drops from her own, and she takes the swing next to him. “What happened? Did someone die?”

“Just my childhood,” he responds dryly.

“Elaborate, please.”

Fred heaves a sigh. “Mum and Dad are selling the burrow, they announced it after breakfast.”

“Oh,” Y/N exhales, taken by surprise. “I’m sorry.”

Except her tone sounds more confused than comforting, and Fred gives her a questioning look. “You don’t sound sorry.”

“Sorry it’s just, you confuse the fuck out of me Fred. You haven’t been home in years, in fact you ran the hell out of here like your ass was on fire and never even looked back. And now you’re acting as if your life is over because your parents are selling their house when in reality it’s not going to have any effect on you or your life.”

Fred scoffs, pushing off of the swing so he can slowly pace back and forth. “I just, I don’t know. Always thought that they’d be there to come home to if I ever needed it. And recent events have made me think that maybe coming home every once in a while isn’t such a bad idea.”

“Don’t,” Y/N states firmly, standing up as well. “Before we started this you agreed that it was a one time only thing. No talking about the future, no real feelings. Just us fucking around until you run back off to London in the New Year.”

“Well I’ve changed my mind,” he announces. “I want to talk about the future and have real feelings. Because this past week has been the best week I’ve had in years. Seeing the lads, running around the burrow with everyone, spending time with you. This is the life I’ve been missing out on and I don’t want to miss anymore.”

“Fuck you,” Y/N spits. “Where was this revelation ten years ago when you left me crying by the side of the road while you went off to start a new life without me? I’m sorry that you regret your decisions in life Fred, but it’s too little too late. I can’t trust you anymore. We talked about starting a life here and then you fucked off to London and now you want to come back here and expect me to just jump back in where we left off? Who’s to say you won’t regret this decision in ten more years and you’ll abandon me here with kids and a house and a whole fucking life you just decide to throw away? I’ve spent enough of my life picking up the pieces that you broke and I’m done.”

Fred’s crying silently as she storms away from him, and it’s far too familiar to the scene he left behind all those years ago. Except Fred had turned back to give Y/N one last glance, but she keeps her head forward as she leaves him behind.

They leave to go back to London on New Year's Day. Christmas is usually their biggest time of year, and both Fred and George want to get back so that the employees who covered for them can get some much deserved time off. Fred had texted Y/N to let her know when they planned on leaving in case she wanted to say goodbye, and despite not getting a response he remains hopeful until the moment they start the car up to leave.

Fred keeps his eyes forward as they drive away from the burrow, steadily ignoring the way his twin looks at him from the passenger seat. He knows he’s been acting weird since Y/N left him standing alone in the park, hoping that his behavior can be attributed to the fact that their parents are selling their childhood home and not the fact that he somehow managed to break his own heart.

“You alright?” George asks as they drive through Ottery one last time.

“No,” Fred answers honestly, looking over at his brother from the corner of his eye. That ache that settled in his bones when they first arrived two weeks ago is back with a vengeance, and it only hurts more knowing he’s the reason why it’s there. “I’ll feel better once we’re home.”

“Yeah, I guess London really is our home now.”

Fred just hums in acknowledgement, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for one last look at Ottery as they leave for good.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fread weasley fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fw #golden

51 notes · View notes

jebewonmorelike · 1 year ago

Text

The Shirt (Happy Birthday Ricky!)

wc: 1.5k warnings: fluff, angst/ricky getting scared but its silly, some swearing, ricky admiring jiwoong, and a dash (heap) of crack summary: zb1 decides to pull a good old-fashioned hidden camera prank on ricky for his birthday... things go horribly wrong. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ inspired by this tweet that accompanied the pap photo above^^ could not stop laughing about it. this started as a hidden camera prank idea (and it still is sort of) that i pitched to lex (bp-zb1fics) but as i kept writing it... it got sillier and sillier i'm so sorry. but yujin being like one of the twins from the shining to ricky is so hilarious. HAPPY RICKY DAY!! WE LOVE YOU SM ALREADY KING. WISHING NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS AND SUCCESS AND A HUG FROM JIWOONG FOR OUR CHARISMA BOSS LOVELICKY. hope y'all in joy this lil comedy piece lol.

Ricky smiles at himself in his dressing room mirror. Sure, he was working on his birthday, but at least he had the best job in the world. Having already had his hair styled and his makeup applied for ZB1's photoshoot today, he admires his specially curated appearance.

I wonder what our outfits will be like for today's shoot, Ricky thinks.

Just then, the door to his dressing room opens.

"Ricky," Jiwoong calls, walking over to where the blonde boy is sitting in front of the large vanity mirror. "Did you have that lint roller with you?"

"Oh, sure," Ricky says with a small, blushing smile; walking over to his bag and pulling out the lint remover. Just as he's about to hand the roller to Jiwoong, Ricky is stopped in his tracks when he notices something very peculiar about his hyung's outfit.

“Jiwoong hyung,” Ricky says, eyes wide with surprise as he takes in the sight of the oldest’s shirt. “Why are you wearing a t-shirt with my face on it…?”

“Oh, am I?" Jiwoong replies, brows furrowed curiously as he turns to view himself in the mirror. After a moment, he simply shrugs. "Huh, I guess I am."

Ricky stares at his oldest hyung confusedly, a million thoughts racing through his mind. Where had Jiwoong gotten that shirt? How had it found its way onto his body?

Was this Jiwoong's way of finally confessing his reciprocated feelings for him?

Before the thought spiral can continue, another member walks into his dressing room. Ricky turns around to see who it is, his eyes bulging in shock once more.

"Hey, have you guys seen one of my sun earrings lying around?" Gunwook asks, standing in the middle of Ricky and Jiwoong as he looks into the large vanity mirror. He turns his head from side to side, checking his hair from the different angles.

"Why--," Ricky falters, unable to believe his eyes as the image of his own face on Gunwook's black t-shirt stares back at him-- matching Jiwoong's exactly. "Why... Why are you both wearing shirts with my face on them!?"

"Oh, are we?” Gunwook responds with a frown. He takes the bottom of the t-shirt and stretches it out a bit so he can look down and examine it. "You think it looks like you? I think it's actually an old picture of Jiwoong hyung..."

"What!? It's not Jiwoong hyung!" Ricky exclaims, pointing to the image of his own face on the younger boy's t-shirt. Tapping his finger against the delicate, black neck tattoo that is clearly visible in the picture. "See, that's my tattoo!"

Gunwook squints. "Huh."

"It does kind of look like me now that you mention it," Jiwoong says suddenly, nodding in thought.

"You're not serious are you!? It's clearly me and no one has answered my question yet as to why you're--."

Ricky is steadily growing closer to losing his temper when another knock at the dressing room door cuts him off. In walk Hao and Matthew and, much to Ricky's relief, neither of the boys are wearing shirts with his face plastered on them.

"Hey, did you--," Matthew starts to ask before his eyes land on Gunwook and Jiwoong's t-shirts. He frowns, a little pout forming on his lips as he stares at them in confusion before asking, "Why are you guys wearing shirts with Jiwoon hyung's face on them?"

"OH COME ON!" Ricky shouts, hands flying wildly about as he gestures to the t-shirts. "It's my face!!"

Hao walks up to Jiwoong, examining the shirt for himself up close. After a few moments, he nods back at Ricky, "Yeah, I could see why you might think it's your face.”

"IT IS--," Ricky starts to yell before taking a deep breath to calm himself. "It is my face. Look, I can even show you where the picture is from."

Pulling out his phone and scrolling through his photos quickly, Ricky finds the paparazzi photo of himself that has been blown up on Gunwook and Jiwoong's t-shirts. Turning his phone towards the other boys, he waits eagerly with wide eyes for them to finally agree with him.

After several moments of silence, Gunwook says with a smirk, "You have paparazzi photos of yourself saved on your phone?"

"UGH!" Ricky huffs, marching towards the door and flinging it open in a fit of annoyance. He steps out into the hallway, ready to decompress for a long minute before finding a staff member and (politely) demanding some answers as to what was going on.

But Ricky's plans are foiled almost immediately as he turns the corner to find Taerae and Gyuvin sitting in folding chairs next to each other...

Wearing the shirt.

"NO!" Ricky shouts, causing the two boys to look up at him concernedly.

"Hey, Ricky," Taerae says with a broad smile. "What's up?"

"Why aren't you wearing your outfit yet?" Gyuvin asks, one eyebrow cocked curiously. "Wasn't it in your dressing room?"

"You should put it on."

A small voice suddenly rings out behind Ricky, who spins around as quickly as humanly possible to find Yujin staring back at him ominously from down the hallway... adorned in the shirt.

"Holy shit," Ricky whispers, darting off down the hallway in the opposite direction of the youngest member (whom he is now deathly afraid of).

Ricky runs through the hallways of the photoshoot location, finally ending up back at his original dressing room. Opening the door, he races inside only to be met by seven ZB1 members staring back at him: all now wearing the shirt.

"OH MY GOD!" Ricky yells as the door to the dressing room opens again.

"Ricky!" Hanbin calls, a dimpled smile lighting up his face.

"Thank god, Hanbin hyung," Ricky cries, sighing with relief. "Please, you have to help me, they're all wearing shirts with my face on them and I have no idea why and I'm so scared of Yujin now and--..."

Ricky's voice trails off as Hanbin unzips his jacket to reveal the shirt underneath. "HYUNG... YOU'RE ONE OF THEM!"

"How come you aren't wearing your Ricky shirt, Ricky?" Hao asks, holding out another identical shirt for the blonde boy to take. "It's the concept for our photoshoot!"

"The concept for the photoshoot..." Ricky repeats slowly, eyes glued open with panic and confusion. "Is this t-shirt with my face on it?"

All of the boys nod excitedly.

"But--... but... Why!?"

Hanbin tsks disapprovingly. "Our stylists worked hard to make these for us! Are you really going to insult them by questioning their vision?"

Ricky looks around at all of the boys around him, who are smiling back at him robotically. It sends a chill down his spine. "No... No of course not... But..."

"Then put on the shirt, Ricky," Gyuvin says, gesturing to the shirt.

"Yeah," Jiwoong repeats. "Put on the shirt, Ricky."

All of the boys now begin chanting in a monotone: "Put on the shirt, Ricky." They surround the tall, blonde boy, slowly closing in on him as Hao continues to push the shirt towards him.

Ricky starts to turn around, ready to bolt from his friends who have obviously been possessed by some demon with really good taste in men, but--.

"Put on the shirt, Ricky."

Yujin's blank, haunted smile stops the boy in his tracks and renders him immobile. Ricky falls to the ground, curling up into a ball on the floor as he attempts to make the members of ZB1 disappear by burying his head into his hands. He stays this way for awhile, paralyzed with his newfound fear of the boys he was supposed to conquer the world of K-Pop with.

"Has he really not caught on yet?" Ricky hears a voice he recognizes to be Matthew's after a few moments.

"I think we might've underestimated how dumb Ricky is," Hao says with a sigh. "Like, I knew he was dumb, but I didn't think he was 'believe our company would make us wear shirts with his face on them for an official photoshoot' dumb."

"I think the oversight might actually have been his vanity," Gunwook counters with a laugh. "He didn't even question that a shirt with his face on it existed. He just wanted to know why we were wearing them."

Ricky sits up now, staring untrustingly at his friends with wide eyes. "What... What's going on?"

Hanbin grimaces. "We were trying to play a prank on you where we pretended that our stylists had made these shirts with your face on them for our photoshoot, but... I think we let it go too far."

Ricky looks back and forth between his members, watching as they all smile awkwardly at him.

"Sorry," Taerae says first, prompting the rest of them to begin to mumble their apologies.

"We just wanted to do a fun prank for your birthday!" Gyuvin says, pulling a Go-Pro camera out from behind his back. "Say hi to the camera..."

Ricky frowns into the lens; unamused. "You guys suck."

"Well, if it makes a difference..." Matthew says with a sheepish smile. "We've got cake!"

"CAKE!" Gunwook, Taerae and Gyuvin exclaim, bouncing up and down together excitedly.

"The staff is setting it up in the hallway right now," Hanbin says as the three most energetic members run out of the room to devour their weight in cake. Hanbin, Hao and Matthew follow them out, leaving Ricky and Jiwoong alone in the dressing room.

"I'm sorry, Ricky," the oldest boy says, a lopsided smile on his face as he apologizes. He walks over to Ricky, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "If it makes you feel any better, I actually really like this shirt. I think I'm gonna keep it."

Ricky's oldest hyung winks as he, too, exits the dressing room.

A huge grin spreads across the boy's face. He might have just spent the last ten minutes fearing for his life, but the compliment from his hyung had made it all worth it to Ricky.

He sighs happily, fixing his hair in the mirror absentmindedly as he prepares to join the rest of his members for his impromptu birthday celebration but…

Suddenly, Yujin pops out from behind Ricky-- smiling at him through the mirror.

"Put on the shirt, Ricky."

65 notes · View notes