#oof i gotta walk this off i feel like i just got stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neo-culture-mafia · 4 years

Text

Nct Dream Reaction to You Coloring Their Tattoos

Mark:

“You have got to be kidding me.” He deadpanned as he saw you walk towards him with a bucket of markers. “Nope. Now relax. I’m gonna make you pretty.” You booped his nose and sat next to him on the couch. His notebook laid on his lap as you picked what colors to use on the mean looking dragon that made its home on his forearm. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” “Making you pretty?”

He could only sigh. “They have very important meanings-” “I’m naming the dragon, Binguu.” He gave up on the matter and let you have your fun. He was praying to a higher being that he wasn’t called out on any important mission or meeting anytime soon. “Whatever you do. Don’t use pin-” He looked down to see you coloring in the dragon with hot-pink, “pink.” his voice trailed off.

You shrugged and continued your latest task.

Mark grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels of the TV silently. He would get lost in the feeling of the markers going across his skin.

“It’s pretty though.” “Yes, it is, honey. Very pretty.”

Renjun:

He should’ve seen it coming at some point. He told himself that he wasn’t going to let you do it and that he would put his foot down. They were important to him and sacred in his mind...but you were too...needless to say that his plan didn’t work out too well.

Renjun had helped you get through an anxiety attack and you were just trying to forget about it. So, in order to keep yourself busy, you pulled out your markers and paper. Yet, it got boring and the thoughts started to seep into your mind once again.

You started drawing a small flower on Renjun’s hand which was coloring his own page respectively. He froze and stared at the new blue-lopsided flower on his hand. He just looked at you to read your emotions. “What are you doing?” Was all he asked. No emotions. No tone. Just a simple question. “What? You don’t like it?” Your eyes began to get misty again and he couldn’t bear to see you cry anymore.

“No. I think it’s pretty. I just wanna know why you drew it on me.” He laughed lightly. “Pretty people deserve pretty things.” You shrugged and his heart twinged. “I totally agree.” He smiled as he continued to draw on his paper.

You carried on coloring the tattoos on his hands, making sure to not get the color on his rings. He put down his own pens and markers to just admire you color his tattoos and draw on his arm. He smiled as you drew little soldiers fighting the dragon on his forearm.

“How’d you draw that?”

[ a/n: he’s literally so adorable I don’t understandddddd]

Jeno:

Jeno didn’t mind, honestly. You were babysitting some children of the older members and decided coloring was how you would occupy the little ankle biters.

He was sitting at his desk doing work on his computer when he heard shuffling outside the door. He tuned his ears in and looked down to see multiple shadows under his door.

“Now we have to be quiet so Uncle Jeno doesn’t hear us.” He heard your voice say loudly enough for him to get the jist of what you were trying to do. He went back to what he was doing as he could see the door open in his peripheral vision. He saw you and the group of kids army crawl towards his desk with markers in hand.

He sighed once he knew what was coming.

He then felt the felt-tipped attack on his legs. ‘Shorts were a terrible choice’ was all he thought.

Jeno could hear the children’s giggles as his heart filled with joy. He saw you creep around the desk and sit next to him. You started coloring in the tattoos on his thigh as he flicked your forehead, “What are you doing?” He mouthed. “Helping. Now shh.” You motioned and he could only chuckle at your childishness.

A solid 20 minutes later you yawned and stood up. “Retreat! He saw us!” You yelled and all the children ran out screaming and yelling, marker-stained hands holding their weapons. You leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Back to work.” You rubbed his back before walking back out of his office door. He put his glasses on and stared at his monitor. Jeno put on his best shocked voice as his hands wrote down chemical formulas in his notebook.

“oH No wHAt hApPEnEd To mY LeGS?!”

[he’s so adorableeeee. ugh such a cutie-patootie]

Donghyuck:

He simply just laughed in your face when you asked. “No. Now go. The match is about to start.” He shoo’ed you away as he put his gaming headphones back on his head. You were pouty now. You just wanted to color his tattoos...not rob a bank with him.

“Lele please choose your player already.” Hyuck groaned and scrolled through his phone mindlessly until the countdown began. You were pissed now. It was his day off and he was ignoring you. “You're so annoying.” You pouted as you walked out of the bedroom.

This wasn’t going to end here. You were going to get the final say even if it killed you.

You could hear Hyuck shouting in his room at the monitor. You grabbed your markers, snacks, and one of your stuffed animals and then army crawled back in to the bedroom. You went undetected as you rolled close to the gaming chair and started silently searching. For what? a chord that could be used as a makeshift rope.

The PC wire would have to do as you strapped his ankles down to the chair. He went unbothered as you uncapped the first marker. It was as if he was completely zoned out of reality. Your markers made shapes and colored in the permanent images. A good half an hour went by of snacking and coloring.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow at training.” You heard your husband say goodbye to his friends and before you could stop him, he managed to push away from the table and was already staring at you.

You laid curled up under his gaming desk with markers and a snack in hand. He didn’t look the happiest as he slouched in his chair and leaned his head on his hand. His eyebrow stay raised as he only stared you down with no intention of speaking.

“Uh...want a cookie?” You asked with a sheepish smile. But he wasn’t laughing.

“5.” You looked down to your package of cookies and realized there were only a couple left. “I...I don’t have that-” “4.” You were confused as you stared at the 3 in the package. “3.” A dawn of realization overcame you as you scrambled to try and untie his legs. Your fear washed over you when he could easily pull on the chord and his feet were free.

“Gotta go-” “2.” You got up and started sprinting out of the door. You heard footsteps come behind you and then silence.

“I KNEW YOU WERE DOING IT BUT YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST TRIED HARDER.” His voice echoed down the hall as it chased your laughs. “I WONDER IF YOUR STUFFED ANIMALS WANT TATOOS ALSO.” Your laughing had stopped and you started sprinting back down the hall as the door slammed in your face.

You started banging on the door relentlessly. “YOU BETTER NOT TOUCH MR.BUBBLES! I WILL SACRIFICE YOU TO THE UNDERWORLD HYUCK I SWEAR ON MY LI-” The door opened suddenly and you fell into the arms of Donghyuck.

“I was just joking. Calm down, cutie.” He ruffled your hair as he held you in his arms for a moment.

“Not funny.” You pouted. “Awe look at you.” He pinched your cheek and you swatted his hand away. “Oh don’t be like that.” He held you tighter. “Come on let’s go cuddle and then I can help you finish coloring my tattoos.” He scooted over and slammed you both on the bed in a tangle of blankets and cuddles.

He started kissing all over your face just to see you annoyed and flustered with all the attention. His laugh was music to your ears as he ended up just laying comfortably on top of you.

“I’ll help you make them actually look nice.”

Jaemin:

“Hell would freeze over before I let you near my tats with any of those markers.” Jaemin called as you followed him down the hall to the shared bedroom. “Pretty please?” You asked one more time drawing out the last syllable. “No.” Was all he said as he dove onto the bed.

You came up with a devious plan. If he were to catch you, it would be the worst ending to this wish you had in your mind since first sight of his tattoos. They were a color page waiting to be filled in. The desire got too much. It was happening once and for all.

You went into Jae’s work bag to get rope and to see if he has handcuffs. Just rope and duct tape. This was going to have to be quick. “Jaemin!” You called from the kitchen in a panicked voice. You heard a thud and a curse before footsteps rushing towards where you were sat with the rope.

“What happened, prin-” Before he could get the last word out, you hopped on his back and pushed him down to the ground. Your hands guarded his head as he landed with an ‘oof’. “I thought I wouldn’t have to do this.” You said trying to grab his arms. You rethought your plan once again as it dawned on you what he did for a living. “Whoops.” Was all you got it before it registered.

Jaemin pushed himself up off the floor and throwing you off of his back just to pin you against the ground. His knee came up to squish your arms against your back as his hand pushed your head onto the floor.

“Why would you do that?!” He realized what he did a little too late and released some of his pressure on you. “I was gonna tie you up and color on you!” You wheezed as your face was still smooshed against the carpet. “You’re still on this?!” “I’ve been on this since I have seen them but now you’re on me and its getting hard to breathe. Get off!” You called and he immediately took his knee off your back and arms. He helped you up with a laugh at your disheveled state.

“If it’s this serious to you then it’s fine. I don’t mind.” He smoothed your hair out just to pinch your cheek softly.

“It’s been 3 hours can I get up now?” Jaemin groaned. “I still have rug burn on my face.” “You’ve been coloring on my back for too long.” He whined and you sighed getting off his back and sitting next to him. “Fine. I’m done.” You pouted. He got up and ran towards the closest mirror. He was actually pretty surprised on how much he liked it.

He could see his koi fish having new designs and more detail.

“...you did good-” “great.” “yeah whatever. don’t get a big head, princess. your crown won’t fit.”

Chenle:

Lele didn’t know you would go as far as you did.

“I don’t think that’s what they’re...” He could see how excited you were. You had walked up to him with a bucket of markers and an innocent smile. “I don’t think that’s what they’re for.” He laughed nervously.

You groaned and sat next to him. “You’re no fun.” You pouted and he could only shrug. “Oh well, y/n.” He pecked your cheek as you both watched the movie he had turned on.

2 hours later and Chenle was passed out. This was the most perfect time to get away with your master plan. You shimmied out of his grip and slipped down to the floor where you picked up your marker bucket and quietly searched for the perfect color. You found a crystal blue and knew it was destiny for you to color the dragon this cool blue. You uncapped the marker and moved closer to his sleeping body.

Yet, before you could even come 5 cm from his skin, his hand came to grip your wrist harshly. He was shocked he did that himself as he was trying to piece together the small puzzle. He saw you, the marker, and his clear skin and sighed as he knew that you hadn’t gotten away with it yet.

He groaned and laid down on his back where his arms were under his head. It was silent for only a moment before he slipped his arm out of his hoodie and letting it hang off the side of the couch.

“Please don’t make a mess, baby.” He whispered and you smiled as you uncapped your marker and started to color in the designs slowly and with grace. You didn’t notice how Lele looked at you lovingly as time passed slowly. His alertness slipped your mind as you got lost in your own little world until his voice made you jump.

“I would have used pink myself, but nice artistic choice.”

Jisung:

“ONLY...if I can help.” His one condition made your heart leap. “Of course!” You threw the markers at him and started to lay your color palette down on his arm. “Did you name any of them?” You asked and he looked at you only for a moment. “Name who- What?” You pointed to his arm to the fox and dragon. He chuckled but shook his head, ‘no’.

“Okay so I’m going to name them.” You started rambling on and he just watched in awe. “...I thought you were helping.” You said as you noticed him not helping like he said he would. “Oh. Uh. Yeah.” He picked up a random marker but you didn’t catch him after that.

At one point he had his free hand under his head as you worked on filling his arm with color. He didn't have a lot of tattoos but he still had a enough for you to keep busy for a couple hours.

“Did you get Jeno’s homework done yet?” He messed up your hair and you groaned. “Yeah. Did you?” “No. I couldn’t find the conversion charts.” You tsk’ed as you completed a drawing on his arm.

He laughed as he looked down to see ninjas swinging and flipping off of his fox and onto his dragon just to fall off and splat against his watch. “Clever.” he said but you weren’t done. You continued the task and he made small talk as you colored and drew more.

“Now this is important.” You pointed a finger at him as the marker worked quickly. “What’s important?” His eyebrow raised. “Don’t smear the red. It takes a little while to dry-” “Like this.” As he began to smear the red on your cheek. “Jisung no!” You groaned as you tried to wipe the dye off just for it to smear more.

“Ah you’re so adorable.” He pulled you to lay next to him as you retaliated with a bold red stripe on his cheek just for him to start rubbing his cheek on your’s. “This totally sucks.” You tried to push him away with no luck.

“No this feels pretty nice to me.”

1K notes · View notes

the-entire-cast-needs-therapy · 3 years

Text

Scorpia and Double Trouble have a chat in Scorpia’s room.

Nobody asked me to write this but I did it anyway and you all have to deal with the consequences of that descision.

“-and this room belongs to yours truly! Ah, it’s not much, but I like to think the crystals liven things up a little.” Scorpia smiled, chipper and welcoming as she’d been throughout the whole tour. Gotta make new arrivals feel at home, right?

She was pretty sure she liked Double Trouble, or at least what she’d seen of them so far. They were friendly enough, although the whole “wearing other people as costumes” thing was a bit off-putting at first. And the passionate dedication to acting, although that was less creepy and more just intense. Almost reminded her of when Entrapta would get excited about tech.

Oof. Okay, Scorpia, maybe don’t think about Entrapta right now. Or ever. It’s easier that way.

Double Trouble also seemed to like learning more about people, as it took precisely five seconds before they started examining random items in her room. She panicked a bit when they picked up her treasured stuffed scorpion- she technically wasn’t supposed to have that, since things like security blankets and creature comforts were considered a weakness in the Fright Zone, despite being almost a staple of childhood in other parts of Etheria. Also, it was embarassing. Or so Catra had said.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Mr.- er, uh. I mean... the stuffie that I totally did not name and that I only keep around for decoration and totally not because it makes me feel loved.” Nailed it, she thought, choosing to ignore the way Double Trouble let out a suspiciously forceful breath through their nose as they put down the stuffed animal.

“So, is there anywhere else you need to show me?” Double Trouble asked.

“Nah, I think that about covers it. Well, except the inside of Hordak’s sanctum, but that’s off-limits. Like, really off-limits. Don’t go in there, seriously.” Scorpia hoped the message got across. Hordak might be kind of a mess right now, but something told her that Catra was just about the only person who could get into that sanctum and walk out alive.

Scorpia was, of course, wrong, but she made a reasonable assumption.

“Well then, darling, just tell me where I need to be and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Wait!” Scorpia said before she could stop herself. “I mean... wait. Do you mind hanging out here for a little while? I mean, Catra doesn’t need you yet, right?”

She hoped she wasn’t coming on too strong, but she’d been a little lonely lately. With Catra so busy, the rest of the soldiers out on missions most of the time, and Entrapta... unavailable, she hadn’t had much quality time recently. With anyone. And besides... new coworkers should feel welcome... and what makes people feel more welcome than a friend at the office?

Double Trouble blinked in surprise, before smiling. “Well, no. Not yet.”

Scorpia sat down on the bed and gestured for them to join her, to which they complied.

Before she could strike up conversation (or attempt to, at least), they seemed to notice something in the blankets, and reached for it.

“What’s this?”

“Oh! Sorry, I should’ve tidied up more, wasn’t really planning on guests.” She said, before she got a better look and realized what the object was.

It was a notepad, one she recognized.

She often drew in it, things like “stick figures holding hands” (which was, incidentally, the nicest thing Catra had ever called her art).

Another personal, slightly embarrassing object in her new coworker’s/potential new friend’s hand. Double Trouble flipped the notepad open to a random page and almost immediately chuckled at whatever it was they found.

Scorpia somehow tensed up and wilted at the same time, which Double Trouble immediately picked up on.

“Oh no, no. I’m not laughing at you, darling. Just-” they snickered and turned the drawing towards Scorpia. “You really captured her.”

Scorpia’s mouth fell into an “o” shape. It was an old drawing of Catra. The little cartoon cat girl was making an intensely grumpy face at a piece of paper on the desk in front of her, and a scribbled stormcloud floated above her head.

“An exaggeration, to be sure, but it’s very Catra. Well done.” Double Trouble said.

Scorpia beamed. “Wow, thanks! I try.”

Double Trouble turned a few pages of the notepad. “These are adorable. But if I may ask, who’s this?” they said, pointing to a figure in the drawing they’d flipped to.

Scorpia saw the unmistakable floor-length pigtails and felt her heart sink a bit. “Oh, that’s... that’s Entrapta. She was our resident engineer. Super into tech and robots. She was even Hordak’s lab partner, so you know she was good. Hordak doesn’t like letting anyone in his Sanctum.” Scorpia said, hoping that would satisfy their curiosity.

“Will I be meeting her, or...” Double Trouble trailed off.

“No.” Scorpia swallowed before she forced out her next words. “She isn’t here anymore.”

Double Trouble looks to be choosing their next words very carefully. “If it isn’t too much of a sensitive subject... what happened to her?”

Scorpia swore she was planning on just telling the usual cover story, that Entrapta had betrayed them. But she felt overwhelemed with the desire to tell someone, anyone, what had really gone on. She couldn’t stand keeping the secret alone.

“She and Catra had a disagreement, and it got pretty bad. Catra sent her to Beast Island.”

If Scorpia had been paying more attention to Double Trouble and less attention to the floor, she’d have noticed a look of confusion cross their face.

Because that couldn’t be right. Hordak had spoke as though this “Entrapta” had been with the princesses, had betrayed them. This didn’t make sense, unless...

“Don’t talk to Catra about it, okay? She really doesn’t like being reminded.” Scorpia nearly whispered.

Clever girl, Double Trouble thought. That framing made it seem as though Catra just didn’t want to relive a climactic disagreement with a friend, when the real answer seemed clear as day.

Scorpia having been preoccupied with staring at the ground, hadn’t noticed the wheels turning in their head. All she could think was, well, so much for being welcoming. She could probably still salvage this, but it’d take all the cheerfulness she could muster and then some.

“But enough about that. Hey, I think I actually colored a few of these! Want to see them?” Scorpia said, gesturing at the notepad.

Double Trouble nodded.

Both of them soon had things on their mind besides the tech enthusiast and her fate, and neither of them ever spoke about that particular part of the conversation again.

Scorpia was relieved. After all, all she’d wanted was a little quality time with her new potential friend.

It may well have been the last time she was that genuinely happy in the Fright Zone.

#spop #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #scorpia #scorpia she ra #spop scorpia #double trouble #she ra double trouble #double trouble spop #i need more dt and scorpia content #and if i cannot find it #i will create it

64 notes · View notes

gutsygay · 4 years

Text

Stuffing Story: “Daniel Gets His Fill”

Hieee 👋presenting my first kink fiction story, just a couple college guys getting stuffed.

Features stuffing, overeating, tummy rumbles, burps, and tummy rubs.

SOOOO um hope y’all like it 👉👈🥺

“

“And that about wraps it up for today! Don’t forget chapter four homework due Monday.” the professor said, dismissing the class.

Daniel grinned, hopped from his seat and headed toward the lecture hall door. He was an active type, and hated to sit still for long periods. As he waited for the crowd of his classmates to shuffle through the door ahead of him, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the nearby glass bookcase. He was average height, with tan skin, broad shoulders and large thighs. He was muscular and lean, save for a bit of a belly protruding from the very bottom of his abdomen, which he could never quite seem to work off, or even to tuck away completely when he wanted to hide his pudge.

Daniel didn’t care though. His main passions were eating, and working it off with strenuous exercise. His energy seemed boundless, but none more than his appetite was bottomless. At the time he wanted nothing more than a full rack of ribs and some buffalo wings. But at the same time he already had energy to expend as well. He wavered about how he’d spend the afternoon when his friend Nick called to him from across the hall, settling his silent debate.

“Yo Danny! We hitting the gym or what?” Nick said with a toothy grin.

“Sure, bro.” Daniel replied. “Leg day today, right?”

“Think so.”

“Sweet. I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” Daniel said, and headed to his car.

He grabbed his athletic clothes. He smiled to himself in anticipation of the coming activity. Soon they’d squat, lunge, press and strain their legs until they were nearly too sore to walk. He turned his thigh to the mirror he’d mounted on the inside of his locker door. His quads were already looking huge - they were getting that chiseled teardrop shape as well. As he lifted his shirt for a better view, he felt a sudden rumbling from down below. It had been nearly four hours since lunch - which was never enough for Daniel in the first place - and he was filled with nearly child-like excitement for what was to come. He thought of his favorite part of lifting - gorging himself afterward. Such a strenuous, calorie-intensive session as leg day meant he could pack it in with no shame.

He arrived at the basement gym, which was open to all resident students, but was surprisingly empty at the time. Nick was already at the squat rack - he had already set them up with a soul-crushing 315 pound squat rack.

“Alright then.” Daniel said, pumped. “Let’s hit it.”

And so they did. They grunted their way through 5 sets of squats, followed by lunges and leg presses. Then Daniel did some calf raises in the squat rack, his belly jiggling every time he descended. Some of it slipped out from under his shirt occasionally, and glistened with sweat. Daniel just rolled his eyes and tucked it back in.

When they finished, Nick lifted his shirt to wipe his sweat, exposing his ab muscles. Nick looked at Daniel’s partially exposed abdominal region and smirked. “You can never seem to lose that chubby little gut, can you?” he said, poking Daniel’s flab, which was still beaded with sweat. “Nah, don’t have the willpower I guess. But I don’t care. Let’s go eat.” Daniel said.

“Sure, maybe just a salad, Danny? If you - “

Nick was cut off by a deep audible growl from Daniel’s belly. Daniel squeezed it with both hands and looked up at Nick.

“Uh, okay bro, how does Wendy’s sound?” Nick said, silenced by Daniel’s rumblings.

“I’m not feeling it. Let’s hit that new buffet instead.” Daniel said, already headed for the door. Nick followed, knowing his friend was now less of a freshman undergrad and more of a beast in search of prey.

They showered down, got back into school clothes and jumped into Daniel’s car. Daniel usually offered Nick a ride back to his apartment whenever he needed it after their afternoon lifting sessions. They headed a few blocks away from the main campus building, towards a new all-you-can-eat buffet. Daniel’s hungry stomach continued to growl louder, but he simply turned up the car stereo to drown it out.

After what seemed like an eternity, Daniel and Nick pulled into the buffet. They walked in and the greeter happily showed them a booth, but the restaurant owner behind her pursed his lips upon seeing Daniel and Nick, visibly ravenous. They had already twice visited the fairly-new establishment. This kid’s gonna drive me out of business, he thought to himself. That orifice must eat his weight in food once a week.

They claimed their booth seats, and beelined to the buffet area. Daniel grabbed a plate and loaded it with buffalo wings (honey barbecue AND blue cheese), meat loaf, a bacon cheeseburger, quesadillas and a pepperoni calzone. The plate must’ve weighed nearly a pound, and Daniel was practically drooling on the way back to the table.

“Jeez, got enough there, bro?” Nick asked as they sat down, but Daniel was already stuffing his face.

“Nnnf, mm!” Daniel forced a reply.

“Never, huh?” Nick asked.

He watched as Daniel tore into the bacon cheeseburger, engulfing nearly a third of it in one bite. In well under a minute he’d downed the whole thing. Daniel grinned wordlessly at Nick while chewing the last bite, and quickly swallowed before promptly moving on to the meat loaf, followed by the chicken wings.

Jeez, does he ever slow down to breathe? Nick thought to himself. And I feel like he’s just getting started. Nick ate a few bites of his ham slices, and mac and cheese on the side. When he looked back up, Daniel’s buffalo wings had been reduced to six picked-clean bones piled up on the plate, being drenched with grease dripping from Daniel’s calzone. Nick watched as Daniel’s eyes rolled back slightly and closed with pleasure every time he swallowed. He’s enjoying it. It’s like sex on a plate to him! he thought.

Daniel finished the 3 quesadilla slices, and pressed a napkin to his mouth. And then he burped. He tried to quiet it, but his hand and the napkin did little to muffle the rumbling gas that burbled up and out of him. It lasted nearly 5 seconds in all, and Nick could even feel the vibration through the table.

“You good, dude?” Nick asked.

“Uh, ‘scuse me, heh heh.” Daniel wiped his mouth and rolled his eyes, trying and failing to play off his prior eruption.

“Damn dude, you really put that shit away.” Nick gestured to the now empty plate before him.

“What can I say? I’m hungry as fuck.”

“You mean you were hungry as fuck.”

“I dunno man, that belch freed up some room.” Daniel said, patting his stomach. His belly had always been a little large, or at least proportionally big compared to the rest of his body, but now it was visibly distended. More? How could he possibly still be hungry? Nick wondered, and watched as he purposefully strolled back to the buffet line. He had just packed away more than 3000 calories as if it were nothing. Nick couldn’t help but feel intimidated, yet drawn to Daniel’s ability to consume like some kind of alpha male.

By the end of it, Daniel had downed a second plate. And a third. And a shish-kabob. And not one, but two bowls of ice cream for dessert.

Daniel polished off the second bowl, and released another burp, not even trying to muzzle it this time. Nick sat in awe. He himself had managed two plates and a scoop of ice cream, but his dishes were nowhere near as heavily packed as Daniel’s.

“Oof, I think I’m about ready to put a cork in it, bro.” Daniel said, fiddling with his pants belt.

He stood up, revealing his overstuffed abdomen. In the past hour it had taken them to eat, it had grown from a miniscule, doughy bump to a basketball-sized food baby. They headed out to the parking lot, and Daniel lifted his shirt to give his belly a little massage. Nick couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“So that’s where you put it all.” Nick said, blank-faced, and finding himself weirdly intrigued by this bodily transformation.

Daniel turned to face Nick. He burped again, managing to muffle it into a low hiss this time, and replied, “I’m not a bottomless pit after all, haha. It’s gotta go somewhere, y’know.” He looked down at Nick, grinning, and gently patted the underside of his bloat to make it jiggle.

“Uh, yeah, heh heh.” Nick replied, watching his friend’s flab bounce.

“Hey, you want to come over and hang for a while? That anime you like came out on Netflix.” Daniel offered.

“Yeah, sure! I’d love to let it hang out with you. Er, hang out with you.” Nick said. An unexplainable chill ran through him.

They hopped back in Daniel’s car and headed off to his apartment. Nick kept glancing over toward Daniel, still in disbelief at the size of his stomach. In the intermittent illumination from passing streetlamps, he saw it bulging and spilling out in between the seat belt straps. He also saw the physique of the rest of Daniel’s body - his arms and chest were defined, and his quads were still bulging from the prior workout. His left arm was fully extended, lazily gripping the top of the steering wheel, his other resting sandwiched between his thigh and his belly flab.

When they arrived at Daniel’s apartment, they went to his couch, turned on the TV, and waited for the streaming service to connect.

“Whoof!” Daniel exhaled, as he collapsed onto the couch. He reclined in the corner with the armrest and the back cushion, and extended one hand behind his head, the other poking his abdomen again. “Heh heh, maybe I overdid it.”

“Nahhh,” Nick said absentmindedly, staring at Daniel’s gut.

“Uh, don’t you think so?” Daniel grinned, raising an eyebrow.

Nick realized what he’d responded with, and simply blushed.

“Yo, I’m about to burst, jeez.” Daniel lifted his shirt further and fumbled with his belt. “I gotta undo this, I’m dying. You’re cool with that, right?” Daniel said, popping his belt buckle open.

Nick paused, still staring, and said, “D-Do what you gotta do, man.”

Daniel’s exposed belly shone in the soft light of the television. He gripped the button of his jeans, pulled with a grunt, “Unnnh!” and popped open the waist of his pants, sinking backward into the cushions as he did so, as if overcome with relief. He pulled down his zipper, and the lower part of his abdomen spilled out, and rested upon his thighs ever so slightly. Then he lifted his belly to grab the waistband of his underwear, and tuck it downward, so that his gut now hung out completely, unrestricted. His stomach gurgled audibly. Daniel put a hand on his chest and belched loudly. Good lord, he has no shame about this at all, he’s just sprawled out, digesting and not giving a fuck. Nick thought. He’d never experienced anything quite like this before.

“Damn, ‘scuse me, heh heh. Sorry about that.” Daniel said, his abdomen continuing to rumble periodically.

“Don’t be.” Nick said quickly, unsure of why he had received such a feeling of satisfaction from someone else’s burp.

Just then, the streaming service loaded, and Daniel leaned forward to pick up the TV remote, and let out a slight groan, the sides of his belly folding into rolls as he did so. Daniel gripped the remote with both hands and said, “This dumb thing doesn’t work right, I need to get it fixed. The show won’t play unless you hold the On-Demand and Play buttons at the same time, for the first few minutes.”

Daniel reclined again and held the two buttons, extending both hands toward the TV, further exposing his belly in his lap. The theme song of the aging anime started on the screen. The catchy, angelic tune emanated from the TV, but wasn’t enough to muffle further rumbling from Daniel’s stomach.

Daniel looked down at it between his arms. “Ugh, it’s sitting in me like a rock. I really gotta burp again.”

Nick was fixated on Daniel, not paying a moment of attention to the anime on the TV. “H-heh, bet you could use a belly rub right now.”

“Ugh, you know it, bro.” Daniel replied.

Nick paused for a long while, staring at Daniel’s plump gut, resting in his lap. “You know… I guess, maybe, if you wanted to, I could rub your belly for you.”

Daniel looked over at Nick, and let out a soft chuckle.

Nick stuttered, nervous he’d made things weird. “I-I mean, uh, since your hands are full, and like-”

“Sure, bro. Come on over.” Daniel said smiling.

“Uh, seriously? I mean, okay.” Nick said warily.

“Yeah man, what else are bros for? Also I’m dying over here, I’ve never been this bloated.” Daniel reassured him, as Nick slid toward his end of the couch. “If I could get a quick massage down there that would be great.” Daniel reclined, and turned his body toward Nick slightly.

Nick rubbed his hands together to warm them, and gazed upon Daniel’s rumbling, distended tummy. In the low light from the television, he could see that it had bulged from under his ribcage, giving the top an almost triangular shape, but became sublimely rounded closer to his navel, and at the underbelly, which spilled between the zipper of his jeans and onto his thighs. There was almost no hair on his tummy, save for a light sprinkling of peach fuzz surrounding his navel, and trailing downward towards his manhood. His belly button, which Nick had earlier seen to protrude slightly outward, had all but disappeared into the newly chubbier, squishy mass of belly.

Nick hesitated to take in the sight up close. “Y-you ready?” he looked up at Daniel.

“Go ahead, bro.” Daniel replied with a smile.

Gingerly, Nick placed a hand - starting with the fingertips - atop Daniel’s belly, and he could feel the warmth and softness of his exposed skin. He placed his other hand on it as well - the fingers wrapped around the side of his belly, while the thumb lightly gripped in Daniel’s sunken navel. He slowly pressed into the soft skin until it reached a point and became firmer, the bloat caused by all the food. Nick blushed and remembered that he was giving a massage, not just feeling his friend for pleasure.

Nick began to press more firmly and move his hands in a slow, rhythmic motion surrounding Daniel’s navel.

“Like this?”

“Almost.” Daniel replied, his eyes closing in bliss.

Nick continued, pressing firmer still, and re-orienting himself on the couch to press and knead from different angles. Nick could still feel Daniel’s stomach rumbling about, working away at the mass of food. Periodically Daniel would let out a small burp, and Nick could feel the vibrations starting deep within his friend’s body, and burbling up and out. Nick wondered what kind of relief he was bringing his friend, if Daniel’s tummy was faring any better due to the massages and release of gas.

“Move your right hand down a little.” Daniel instructed. Nick slid his hand down below the navel, closer to Daniel’s left leg.

“Unh, down more. And press.” Daniel said, sounding almost desperate.

Nick obeyed, his hand now brushing against the front of Daniel’s jeans, and the waist of his underwear. He pressed harder in this lower area, under the stomach, and felt something shift, as if he’d freed up some mass deep within Daniel’s swollen gut.

“Right there, that’s it -” Daniel started, before he was cut off by a sudden, intense rumble, followed by the loudest burp Nick had ever heard. Nick’s head was positioned right near the top of Daniel’s abdominal area, and he could hear the massive expulsion of gas, and feel the tummy deflating. The burp lasted nearly a full ten seconds, and Nick looked up at Daniel, chuckling.

“Man, you feel any better after that?” he asked.

Daniel hesitated to catch his breath, “Yes, oh my God, I needed that.” he said, groaning. Daniel set down the remote, as the show was playing properly now.

At this point Nick was in acceptance that he was aroused by all this, and continued softly massaging Daniel’s gut, which was finally settled, more or less. Nick prodded experimentally around Daniel’s belly button, curious if he could help his friend release additional pressure. Daniel rewarded his friend’s work with several more burps, each bringing him blissful relief as the pressure in his gut gradually decreased. Finally, Daniel’s stomach was settled, and Nick felt the mass beginning to move downward into the lower intestines.

“Thank you, bro. That felt amazing.” Daniel said, grinning as he looked down at Nick, whose hands were still feeling his belly.

“My pleasure!” Nick replied with a toothy grin. He realized that seeing his friend stuffed, and helping him through tummy trouble, made him feel a delight he’d never experienced before. He stayed still, save for his hands, waiting for Daniel to say he’d done enough. But it seemed to Nick that his friend was just letting him stay there, his hands on his tummy, for as long as he wanted.

Eventually Nick fell asleep, his head on Daniel’s lap, and he listened to the last remaining soft gurgles from deep within his friend’s tummy as he drifted off. Daniel soon found himself nodding off as well, in an irresistible food coma, his hand resting on Nick’s back. He fell asleep, happily dreaming of tomorrow’s breakfast.

“

And that’s that, hope y’all enjoyed 😅

#stuffing #overeating #gassy #gassy belly #tummy troubles #burp #tummy rub #tummy rumbles #gurgle #belly rubs #belch #gutsygay #original

114 notes · View notes

heychangbin · 4 years

Text

Ten Rounds, All Bullseyes

Wordcount: 1963

Warnings: None really.

A/N: so this was another writing exercise that kinda got away from me and thought was good enough to post.

Billy picked up the rifle, the pressure of the butt against his shoulder and the feel of his index finger of his right hand resting against the trigger guard felt effortless, second nature, like breathing or coming home from a long day and plopping down on his couch. He lowers his head, the slight tension he had felt dissipating as the apple of his cheek presses against the cool metal of the safety mechanism housing. He grips the forestock, elevating the barrel as he lines the sight at the end with his target.

He feels his military training kick in as his eyes zero in on the center of his target, his mind blocking out everything around him, the sound of blaring sirens, kids laughter, grown up chatter, and the hot sun hitting the back of his head and neck; nothing else exists in this moment, nothing but the bright red center at the end of his barrel.

He takes a breath, then another for good measure and takes his finger off the trigger guard, the edge of the thin metal scraping against the callous that never seems to completely fade as he slips his finger between the guard and trigger, then pulls.

His eyes darted to the next target and with practiced ease lockson and fires again. He could faintly make out a scream but the sound is too far away and there are more targets he needs to take out. With lighting speed he shifts and adjusts his stance, rising and lowering his aim before firing again. And again, and again.

Billy aims and fires until there aren’t any remaining targets and it's only then that he allows his senses to come back, the space around his erupt in a cacophony of sound, screaming children, too loud music, blaring sirens and vendors calling out prizes or taunts. The air once again has the scent of deep fried foods, butter, too sweet lemonade, burnt bread, boiled hot dogs, spilled beer and he could make out the acrid smell of vomit in the air, making him wince as he feels everything wash over him.

“That was some nice shootin’ there son,” says the man behind the low wooden bar, walking over to the back of the stall, gripping and rising the top of his black pants through his light blue t-shirt before reaching for one of the larger bears prizes he has hanging on the back corner of his game stall. “Hang aroun’ the shootin’ rage a lot?” he asks as he plops the bear down in front of him.

“Not really, no.” Billy says with a small chuckle as he gently lowers the rifle but the smile on Billy’s face disappears when he picks up his prize, the back of the bear is slightly faded on one side, the tails of the red ribbon around its neck fraying, and the black bead that serves as its left eye looks like it’s hanging on by a single thread.

He lifts his head and the glare he shoots at the vendor has nothing to do with the reflection of the sun on the small laminate IDing him as Jeff hanging around his neck.

“Pay for another round or take your prize and walk.” he says, crossing his arms as his eyes looking out at the crowd that's passing behind Billy

Is this guy really tryin’ ta …. Billy scans the prizes hanging around the small game stall, zeroing in on a pristine giant multi colored monstrosity that he would never give a second look at, let alone walk around a fair with for five minutes let alone the next two hours, but you, you might like it and that was enough for him.

“How much for that one?” he said, nodding in the direction of the giant prize.

The vendor looked in the direction that Billy’s eyes were trained on and chuckled, shaking his head before looking back at the passersby.

“That one there is ten rounds sonny, all pellets hittin’ the bullseye.”

Billy felt his nostrils flare,he knew the guy was trying to scam him, he had been to the fair with the Castles and won his fare share of prizes for Lisa, Frank Jr., Maria, and, on one memorable birthday weekend, for Frank to know the guy was pulling something. He tossed the bear on the low counter and reached for his wallet, taking out a few bills and slapping them on the counter, just out of the man's reach before picking up the rifle and positioning it loosely against the crook of his shoulder again.

Jeff looked at Billy for a moment before uncrossing his arms and walking over to where Billy was standing and picking up the money Billy had tossed on the low partition before fiddling with the chain that kept the rifle linked to the game stall.

“You gotta walk back the length of the chain.” he said before turning and walking to the side of the cut out wall that had the little targets.

Billy arched his right brow questioningly as they stared at each other for a beat before Jeff raised his hand and made a waving back motion.He grit his teeth and took a deep breath before taking a careful step back, then another and another. He was more than a couple feet away from where he was standing originally before the thin chain tensed and the guy nodded and flipped a hidden switch, starting the game back up.

Lights flashed and an annoying western type tune began playing making Billy pick up the rifle and press it against the crook of his shoulder, his senses focusing and zeroing in when his eye aligned with the sight at the end of the barrel,

As soon as the first target popped up, Billy took aim and shot it down, his eyes darting to the next bullseye, pulling the trigger and the target going down with a dainty clink, the next popping up almost instantly. Targets continued to pop up and Billy kept shooting, each going down with a clink that made Billy smile internally.

He was halfway through the third round when out of the corner of his eye he saw Jeff’s hand flip a switch making the targets pop out two at a time, he was expecting it and if he was being honest he had been expecting it sooner.

He quickly adjusted his speed, shooting the targets just as quickly as they were coming up, vaguely aware of the small crowd that was forming around him.

When the last clink sounded Billy couldn't help the self satisfied smile that spread across his lips when he saw the look of defeat cross Jeff’s face and a few people clapping behind him and commenting on his shooting skills as he lowered the rifle and strutted back to the edge of the bar, placing it on the bar and nodding in the direction of the giant prize he was going to be walking around with until he meet back up with the Castle brood.

Jeff scratched at his chin for a beat, staring at Billy the whole time but Billy just continued to smile and wait going as far as bouncing a few times on the balls of his feet.

“I can wait for my prize for as long as you want Jeff.”

It was then that Jeff moved and plucked the giant multi colored mess and handed it to Billy, it was heavier than he expected and the bright colored fur felt softer than it looked.He said a quick and polite thanks before wrestling the stuffed animal under his arm and started in the direction of the burger stall he knew he’d find the Castles and you.

He smiled at the thought of the look that would cross your face when you saw him walk up with this thing under his arm and hand it to you.

He spotted you and the Castles a few minutes later, gathered around a ring toss game, throwing the small red rings half haphazardly at the different colored glass bottles, the majority of them bouncing off the lip, others missing their mark completely.

He watched you from afar for a second more, wincing when one of your rings bounced off the single dark blue bottle at the very center of the table.

He saw you take the last of your rings, aim and toss, the ring bouncing off the lip of a yellow bottle and land around the neck of a clear one. He chuckled at your excited squeal at having won, you and the kids jumping as you pointed to your ring, your hands shooting up to catch the large dark sunglasses resting atop your head as they fell onto your face in your excitement.

He walked over just as you pointed at and claimed your prize, a small lion you handed to Lisa as soon as it was in your hands.

“Where’d you get that Bill?” asked Frank when he turned and saw Billy a few steps away, his face barely containing the teasing smirk that pulled at the corners of his lips as everyone turned in his direction, eyes going wide as they took in the stuffed animal he held.

“Won this bad boy doin’ what I do best Frankie.”

“Talkin’?” sassed Maria from beside Frank, making everyone chuckle

“Oh, ha ha.” he deadpanned back at her.

“Alright, come on guys, lets go get some lunch.” said Frank, tossing his arm around Marias shoulders, bringing her close to his side, turning them around and heading towards the carousel at the center of the fair that was in front of their favorite burger stall; Lisa and Frank Jr. looking at each other and saying a quick “race ya!” before going around them and breaking out into a run, leaving you and Billy behind to catch up.

Billy smiled as he took the few steps needed to stand in front of you, taking the stuffed animal from under his arm and held it out for you, you reached out your hands and took it from him, letting out a little “oof” when you felt the complete weight of it in your arms.

“More of a big boy than a bad boy.” you said, raising it enough so that its face was in front of yours, “how many games did you have to win to win this?”

He smiled as you brought the stuffed animal closer, hugging it close to your chest with a muttered so soft as you rocked your body from side to side.

“Not nearly enough,” he whispered as he looked at the smile that threatened to split your face in half. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans as the reality of his words sank in, there wasn’t anything Billy wouldn’t do or no amount of money he wouldn't pay to see your eyes light up with happiness.

“Thank you Billy, I love it.” you said, turning your body just enough so that the stuffed animal was out of the way, rose on the balls of your feet and pressed your lips to his for a quick kiss that ended sooner than he would have liked.

You lowered the heels of your feet to the ground, shifting the stuffed animal under your arm, freeing your right hand and holding it out to Billy.

“Come on Russo, we better catch up to Castle and the rest of them before Frankie eats all the fries they have. It’s the only thing the kid’s been talking about for the past hour.”

Billy smiled as he took your hand, his fingers slotting between yours as you walked in the direction of the burger stall.

Gen Taglist: @juguitos @something-tofightfor @suchatinyinfinity @the-blind-assassin-12 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @bts-smolarmy @elanor-of-imladris @pheedraws @obscurilicious @fific7

Billy Russo Taglist: @nananananananananananabatman @shinebrightlikeafanbase @emyyjemyy

#billy russo #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #the punisher #the punisher fanfic #ben barnes #billy russo deserved nice things #takes place before schoonover and rawlins

104 notes · View notes

tangledstarlight · 4 years

Text

hello. if you’ve followed me for more then a week you may have seen me talking abuot the alex 5+1 and how its been torturing me for months. well. it is finally done. i think i deserve a reward to myself.

but yes okay. it’s 5 times alex had just the right thing in his fanny pack +1 time that he didn’t.

anyway!! it’s another 5+1 that’s alex centric.

also on ao3 (link in replies!)

trigger warnings! death mentions (because they’re ghosts), mild swearing, mentions of blood and injuries but nothing graphic.

one.

On his tenth birthday his parents took him to the mall and told him he could pick out anything that he wanted from one store, courtesy of his grandparents. Which, for a ten year old, was a big decision to make. Because there were a lot of things that he wanted.

Alex had dragged them from shop to shop, looking through every piece of clothing, every accessory, every record and tape. There were a lot of things to choose from. He really hated having to make a decision.

It was pure luck when he finally found the thing he wanted. Tucked away behind backpacks and satchel bags and flimsy looking tote bags, Alex found the fanny pack. It was dark grey and made a funny sound when he scratched at the material with his nails. It was also the perfect size to fit his inhaler and a snack and a pen and, if he did it right, probably even a single drum stick.

(The brand new and shiny drum kit currently sitting in his garage at home was his main birthday present, and Alex was more than excited for Luke and Reggie and Bobby to come over later and see it, and now he could show them his new fannypack and they could fill it with all the essentials that ten year olds needed.)

Everyday he woke up and got dressed, the fanny pack would find its way buckled across his chest and he’d check it had everything he needed inside. Inhaler and tissues and crumpled up dollar bills and a pen and a snack, just in case. Because Reggie always got hungry and there were only so many times they could bother their parents before they got annoyed.

They’re sitting in tree house that Reggie’s dad had built – back when Reggie’s dad and mom didn’t spend so much time fighting and his older brother was still around and Reggie didn’t flinch at doors banging – scraps of paper and forgotten homework scattered on the wood.

They’re supposed to be doing homework. Like they do every Saturday morning before they all give in to Luke’s pouting and bike over to Bobby’s place to ‘rehearse’, (it’s more like, they’re all playing at the same time in different keys, but they’re eleven. A killer band isn’t created overnight.) but Luke hasn’t shown up yet and Reggie is on his third candy bar and Bobby gave up on maths homework in favour of his game boy. Alex would be more stressed about the turn of events if it didn’t happen every Saturday.

“Jump, jump, jump, dude! You gotta jump!”

“I know, you saying it over and over isn’t helping man,” Bobby grits out and Alex watches as Reggie hovers over his shoulder, eyes wide and practically hanging off his arm.

“Look out for – Oof. So close man. Shoulda jumped,” Reggie pats Bobby on the shoulder, just dodging as the other boy's elbow moves back to try and catch him in the ribs.

“I swear to god Reg –” Bobby starts and Alex is readying himself either to intervene or move out of the way when Luke’s head pops up through the hole on the floor, wide smile and messy hair and eyes gleaming with some kind of mischief.

“Guys!” They watch as he pulls himself up and into the tree house, they’re all knees bumping and elbows narrowly missing sides and Alex spends several long seconds worrying that this will be the day they no longer all fit. That they’ve finally outgrown the tree house. But then Luke shuffles back, dropping his backpack into the centre and Reggie bends one knee to rest his head on and Bobby drops his hands into his lap, game boy still beeping away.

“I had the best idea,” Luke starts, unzipping his bag and rummaging through it for something, “I was watching this film last night, right? I don’t know what it was, one of those weird ones that’s on at 2am. Not the point. Anyway so there was this group of friends right and they were all moving away and didn’t want to stop being friends so they did this blood pack? And Reggie,” he grunts as he pulls a textbook out of his bag and tosses it aside, Alex feels his brows pull together as he starts to follow Lukes train of thought, “The other day you said you were worried about us going up to middle school. So I thought why not do a blood pact?”

Luke still has his attention firmly on his bag, trying to find something, so he misses the alarmed look that Alex shoots at Bobby and the responding grin that graces Reggie’s face. He can see exactly how this will play out. Luke will make the first cut and Reggie will suddenly remember he doesn’t like the sight of blood and Bobby will go too deep and Alex will have to find a way to get the three of them down a tree without crying.

“Dude, we can’t do a blood pact!”

“Why not?” Reggie asks, lips sliding down in a frown.

“Yeah, why not?” Luke echoes and he’s got half of something pulled out of his bag that Alex can’t identify. But it doesn’t look like a knife, so that’s a little reassuring.

“Because,” he starts slowly pointing first at Reggie, “You don't like the sight of blood for starters.”

Alex watches as Reggie’s mouth forms a small ‘o’, his head bobbing up and down as if he’d forgotten that fact, but Luke rolls his eyes and finally pulls his hand out of his bag and with it comes a carton of something.

“I know that, I didn’t mean a real blood pact,” he shakes his head and Alex blinks, thoroughly confused, “The blood bits’ not the important part, it’s just the whole y’know, promising we’ll always be friends. But we still need to do something kinda gross to make it meaningful, so I went and bought tomato juice. It’s why I was late.”

The grin is back on Reggie’s face and even Bobby is nodding along now. Alex looks from the cartoon in Luke's hands to his friends faces before blowing out a sigh because well. It wasn't the worst idea Luke had had and it would be nice. For them to make a pact, to always be friends. For nothing to change between them.

“How do we do this then?” He asks and it's worth it, giving in, to see the bright smile take over Lukes face as he launches into his plan.

Alex should have expected something to go wrong, it was sort of his job in the group. To worry. But he’d gotten so caught up in the moment, in the sentiments and little speeches Luke said they each had to make, that he forgot to worry about the next stage.

It almost happens in slow motion, Bobby reaches for the carton to take his drink at the same moment that Reggie tries to pass it to him and their hands sort of collide mid pass and suddenly the carton is tipping to the side and red liquid is cascading to the floor. All over their still scattered homework.

“Crap!” In his haste to try and stop the still spilled drink Reggie drops the thing entirely, sending even more of it pouring over the wood and creeping towards them. Luke makes a grab for the juice, trying to scoop it up in his hands and if Alex’s mind wasn’t halfway to panic, he’d have probably burst out laughing. On autopilot Alex’s hands reach up for the fanny pack across his chest, pulling the zipper and digging through for the new pack of tissues that he’d stuffed in there that morning. Almost like he knew something was going to happen.

All their homework is ruined – Alex can’t wait to explain this one to their teacher on Monday – and when they all climb down the tree an hour later they all watch as a trail of red slides down the bark. Despite the mess it had caused, Alex has to give it to Luke, the tomato juice really did look like blood. And he feels closer to his three best friends, which he guesses is worth using his whole supply of tissues.

two.

“Fuck!”

It’s not really the first thing Alex wants to hear as he steps into their rehearsal space. Aka Luke’s parent’s basement that they’d reluctantly agreed to let them use until Bobby’s parents agreed to let them clear out their garage. It was so annoying, waiting for their parents to agree to simple things.

His eyes glance around the mostly empty space, jumping from the fold up chairs and second hand amps and his drums and Reggie’s abandoned bass before landing on Bobby who’s kneeling on the ground near the back wall, guitar leaning against the chipped concrete.

“You okay?” Alex says and flinches when Bobby flinches, turning around quickly to look at him. Either Bobby was too wrapped up in whatever was wrong and hadn’t heard him or Alex had finally perfected walking silently and could start sneaking downstairs at night for a snack.

“I just–” he breathes out a sigh, gesturing helplessly at his guitar and for the first time Alex notices the missing string, “It snapped and I can’t get the new one on.”

“Oh,” that doesn’t really seem worth the tense set of Bobby’s shoulders or the slight shaking of his fingers as he tries to get the new string out of the packet. With a small frown Alex kneels down next to his friend and carefully takes the packet out of his hands. “Want some help?”

As soon as the strings are out of his hands Bobby seems to collapse a little, shoulder against the wall and head dropping with a soft thud, eyes following as he opens the pack. Of them all, Bobby is the most closed off about his feelings, which Alex supposes, isn’t actually that weird for a thirteen year old. But when Luke –- who’s never been able to keep emotions off his face or out of his songs -- and Reggie -- who is never shy about laying his head on your shoulder and telling you he’s sad -- are your friends, it gets a little weird. Even Alex knows he’s crap at hiding how he feels about stuff.

They're three open books with a locked vault.

Because Bobby has a special skill of hiding his feelings behind a mask of indifference and jokes that he’s never offered to teach them. Which is normally fine, but sometimes things leak through and one of them notices that somethings wrong, like right now. Alex has watched him restring his guitar without issue so many times before, never once have his fingers shook.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Alex tries to decide if he should push or just wait it out or ask when the others are around so he can’t avoid the question. His last option makes him frown, because he’d hate it if they did that to him. Put him on the spot about something. And what if there wasn’t even anything wrong and Alex was just overthinking it? Maybe Bobby was just tired, or this string was just particularly tricky?

“Dude, I can practically hear you thinking.” Bobby says, huffing out a shallow laugh and Alex’s eyes widen a little as he looks up in time to see him shuffle around so his back is against the wall, legs stretching out in front of him.

“Sorry,” Alex starts, hands freezing in the air.

“Nah it’s--” he shakes his head, one shoulder shrugging as he frowns at nothing, “It’s fine.”

Alex thinks that’s the end of it, that Bobby isn’t going to say anything else and he’ll just have to wait it out and pretend that something isn’t clearly wrong. Putting the string down he pulls his fanny pack around so he can reach the little pocket hidden on the back (he’s pretty sure you’re meant to keep money in it, but well, he rarely has more than a few dollars on him) and pulls out the little multi-tool that his dad had gotten him for Christmas. Something about ‘being a man now’ and how ‘you can help a cute girl out’. So far all he’d used it for was clipping strings and once to unscrew a vent when Luke accidentally pushed his notebook through.

“I think my parents are getting a divorce.”

That almost makes him choke on his own spit, head whipping around to look at Bobby and all thoughts of his dad leaving his head.

“What?” he doesn’t mean to say it so loud, but judging by the way Bobby winces he must have practically shouted it. “Sorry, I just--” he doesn’t know what to say, mouth opening wordlessly. None of them have the best home lives, all their relationships with their parents have their issues.

But Bobby’s have always been -- well not the most reliable, but most consistent. Together, but distant. Together, but not home each weekend. Together, but happy? Alex feels a little like his world view has been tilted. Because if anyone's parents should be getting a divorce, shouldn’t it be Reggie’s? He bites at his lip at the thought, instantly regretting it.

“Pretty sure my mom caught my dad sleeping with his secretary,” he says with a small frown, wiping his cheek across his shoulder and Alex drops the multi-tool on top of the string and shuffles his way across the floor until he’s sitting next to Bobby, backs against the wall. “Which is pretty fucking cliche of him. But yeah. I caught them fighting about it last night.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say or do. This isn’t exactly a conversation he’d come prepared for or thought he’d ever have to have. Alex was still trying to remember his new school schedule, he didn’t have the time to prepare for possible emotional family conversations. He wishes Luke was here, or Reggie, so he didn’t feel so much pressure to say the right thing.

“That sucks man,” he blows out a breath, drawing his knees up so he can rest his hands on his things, fingers tapping across his jeans. “You wanna stay at mine tonight? We can rent Back to the Future and eat my sisters stash of popcorn?”

“Can we get the second one too?” There’s a slight smile tugging at Bobby’s lips and Alex returns it, fingers stilling as he feels some of the tension in his shoulders release.

“Course man, can’t just watch the first.”

three.

There was an unspoken knowledge in their friend group.

Luke had a tendency to get into fights he couldn’t win.

Sure, they were almost always in deference of Reggie or Bobby or him, but Alex really wished he’d stop getting into them. Or would at least start to win. Honestly, you’d think by now that Luke would know how to throw a better punch, or least know how to dodge one.

It was a little embarrassing, the amount of fights that Luke had lost -- not that Luke saw it that way. Any fight that resulted in him sporting a black eye or split lip, not his friends, was a win to him. Which was a nice sentiment, but Alex was fairly sure that his idiotic heroics were going to give him a heart attack one day.

Luke’s constant scrapes were why Alex had started to carry around band-aids and disinfectant and bandages in the first place. All stored carefully in his fanny pack along with his inhaler and extra guitar picks and a granola bar for Reggie.

It was also why Alex wasn’t all that surprised when Luke found him after school, holding his wrist carefully against his chest with one hand and trying to wipe a dribble of blood off his lip on his shoulder. A split lip, a scrap across his cheek, and once he got a better look, Alex was pretty sure he’d find split knuckles too.

“Have you got a band-aid or something?” Luke’s words come out a little mumbled as he tries not to reopen the cut on his lip and Alex just raises an eyebrow at him. A band-aid? Really?

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment Alex mentally counts to ten, reminds himself that his friend probably has a valid reason for looking like this.

Even though it’s only been twenty minutes since he last saw him. All he had to do was wait by their bikes while Alex went to talk to their history teacher about something. Twenty minutes alone and he’d found himself a fight.

“That’s –” he starts, then shakes his head, letting his shoulders drop as he breathes out a sigh and reopens his eyes, “Okay. Come on.”

Most of the school has cleared out as he leads them towards an empty bench, pushing Luke down onto it and pulling at the zip of his fanny pack to dig out the little homemade first aid kit he’d put together in a ziplock bag.

“Do I want to ask what happened?” He holds out a hand palm up for Luke to put his injured one in, biting his lip as he inspect the split skin and dried blood. It’s not as bad as he’d thought it would be, and it means Luke at least got one punch in this time.

“Some guys were laughing cause Bobby tripped getting on the bus and-” Luke hisses out a breath as Alex pours some water over his hand and starts gently dabbing at the cuts with a tissue, “Reggie dropped his bag when he tried to help him up. And I told ‘em it wasn’t funny and they said it was and I said it wasn’t and–- you get it.”

Luke shrugs up at him, starts trying to chew on his bottom lip before remembering it’s hurt and gives Alex a sheepish smile. Which is just annoying. Because Alex is the one trying to be annoyed here, trying to keep a stern look at his face even as locks of blonde hair fall in front of his eyes and he has to blow them away.

“You know you don’t have to start a fight every time someone’s mean to us, right?” He balls up the damp bloody tissue to put in the bin later and reaches for the cheap roll of bandages that he’d swiped from his mom's first aid kit at home. (All his medical knowledge comes from his mom, from watching her volunteer at church feats and garden parties as to who to go to when you got a little hurt. For someone with such a fully stocked box of medical tools, she sure did just pass out band-aids and suggest a glass of water a lot.)

“First, I didn’t actually start this fight. The one with the lip piercing threw the first punch,” Luke points his uninjured hand at him, like he’s just made a good argument before his lips pull down into a frown. “And I know I don’t have to. But I–- People are mean to you guys about stuff that doesn’t make sense. I don’t like that. Plus everyone knows that you guys would never do anything back, except maybe Bobby if it was really bad, and I just want them to know I think their assholes.”

It feels like there's more to it then that, Luke doesn't supply anymore insights into his thought process and Alex is too worried about their upcoming history text to push it today.

"You’re so-” Alex starts but stops himself, rolling his eyes as he ties off the bandage and shakes his head at Luke. “That’s a really stupid reason to get in all these fights, you do know that right?”

“Yup!” He inspects his hand, the off-white bandage wrapping around his knuckles and flexes his fingers to test how tight it’s tied, then his eyes drift to the ziplock bag and the band-aids, “You got any of those cool glow in the dark ones?”

Alex opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, but no words come out. It still surprises him, even after being friends for so long, how willing Luke is to get hurt for them. How he doesn’t seem to see any issue with it. He really hopes that one day he won’t feel the need to take a punch for any of them, that he won’t need to. But until then Alex supposes he doesn’t mind being a fourteen year old first responder. It’s kinda fun, sometimes. Like when he gets to dictate who gets which band-aid.

“You used the last glow in the dark one on Sunday. So you’re stuck with trucks.”

He’s still wearing the band-aid with little trucks on a dirt track across his cheek when he comes into school the next day and Alex really tries to stay annoyed at him. But it’s kinda hard when the only reason he’s got the cut is because he loves his friends. So Alex just rolls his eyes fondly and makes a mental note to ask his mom for glow in the dark band-aids when she next goes to the store.

four.

“You think Ron’s got the new Garth Brooks record?”

At least, that’s what Alex thinks Reggie asks, because it’s more like a mumbled group of sounds as the other boy stuffs a large forkful of pasta into his mouth. He glances at Luke, eyebrow raised to see if he’d understood the question right. And judging by the face Luke pulls, he thinks he did.

“I mean, probably. But we’ve been over this. No country in the van.”

Alex knows he’s trying to look stern and serious, Reggie knows it too. But Luke’s nose is scrunched up and his eyebrows are drawn together and his lower lip almost looks like it’s about to start quivering. Stern and serious isn’t the first thought that comes to mind. Cute, adorable, puppy like, sure. Stern or angry? Never.

“You’re just jealous,” Reggie starts, gulping as he swallows his mouthful and makes them both wait as he dramatically takes a sip of his soda too, “You wish you could do a country twang. It’s okay Luke-y, not everyone is musically gifted.”

He bites the end of his straw to keep from laughing at the look of annoyance that crosses Luke’s face, the desired reaction if Reggie’s widening grin is anything to go by.

“Dude you’ve done it now,” he mutters softly, but he can’t really find it in him to be too mad about the rant that Reggie has just triggered. Because it’s the first time in weeks that Reggie has smiled fully, and the bruise on his left cheekbone is now a faded purple and the arm he had been extra careful about touching is resting full length on the table as he taps the end of his fork on the wood.

Luke seems to know it too, if the gentle smile that briefly crosses his face when Reggie looks away for a moment is anything to go by. It had been to Luke's house that he’d run too, and Alex is honestly pretty proud of his friend for not leaping out his bedroom window to go fight Reggie’s dad the second he’d shown up. Alex was fairly confident that if Reggie asked to play nothing but country music for the next ten years Luke would agree if it meant they’d get to see his full blown smile without hints of sadness.

Sometimes, Alex wished he had half the confidence and determination that Luke had. Wished that when his fight or flight instincts were put to the test his reaction wasn’t flight. That he wasn’t always a little bit terrified of what would happen if he was honest with everyone, of what would happen if he threw a punch instead of trying to talk something out.

Probably just result in spending more money on band-aids and bandages.

Blinking the thoughts from his head, the blonde tunes back into the conversation. Pros and cons of having one country song on their demo.

“Come on! We’d all so rock a cowboy hat,” Reggie punctuated his point by stabbing his fork into the table, plastic progs snapping and flying into the air. “Fuck sake,” he mutters, a little mournfully as he pulls his arm back in to look at the one remaining bent prong and then down at his still half full container of pasta.

“I think the fork disagrees with the cowboy hats,” Luke grins, flicking one of the little plastic pieces at Reggie who just pouts for a moment longer.

And Alex can see where his brain goes, can practically track the thought process and the solution he comes up with as Reggie tosses his fork at Luke and starts to try and pick up the food with his fingers. But before he gets that far, Alex is pulling another fork out of his fanny pack, metal and wrapped in a napkin.

(Someone had once said to be prepared for all possible situations. Sixteen year old Alex had decided that meant he should start carrying extra cutlery around. Just in case. In case of what, he hadn’t known, but apparently it wasn’t a totally crazy idea, so screw you Bobby for laughing at it.)

“Here.”

Reggie accepts the fork, pout turning to a smile and sticking his tongue out at Luke who just rolls his eyes.

“Alex’ll do a country song with me, won’t you?” Both pairs of eyes are looking at him now and he doesn’t know if Reggie is being a 100% serious about a country song for their demo or wearing cowboy hats on stage, but he does know that either way it’ll make Luke do his cute angry face again and well. Alex can’t resist making him make that face.

“Oh yeah. We’d rock cowboy hats.”

five.

Being dead was -- not what Alex had expected. And it’s a little weird, because growing up he’d spent a lot of time thinking about what happened after you died. Where you went and what you could do and who would be there.

His parents were very insistent on ‘be a good person in life, don’t commit any sins and get into heaven’ so, when they’d died and ended up in a dark room, Alex had thought that was proof that being gay really was a sin and his parents had been right and now he’d dragged his best friends into hell with him. Luke might blame himself for them dying, and Reggie might blame himself for them being eternity linked, but Alex would always blame himself for that 25 year black room limbo.

Even if it wasn’t his fault. But he couldn’t convince the others that it wasn’t their fault, and they couldn’t convince him it wasn’t his fault and it was a loop they’d been stuck in for months now.

Julie called them all idiots for it. Fondly. With an eye roll. And a gentle smile when she’d pull them into a group hug.

Because they could do that now.

Hug her. So they did it a lot.

Group hugs and side hugs and high fives and piling onto her bed on a Sunday afternoon to watch one of the many Disney films they’d missed out on. They all latched onto her more than they already had.

Julie had pulled them out of the dark room -- hell -- and back into the light and then she’d saved them from zapping out of existence. Reggie might insist she was a witch and Luke would say a star, but Alex, who had a pretty rocky relationship with religion and God, was fairly confident in calling Julie an angel. (He was also willing to bet good money on in a fight, between a god, death and Julie, that Julie would win.)

And she didn’t seem to mind that they’d gotten a little...clingy over the last few months since the zapping had stopped. Which was nice, that they hadn’t annoyed her enough to send them packing yet. That she seemed just as attached to them as they were to her.

It’s with that thought in his mind that Alex knocks on her bedroom door. Julie loves them, Julie only invokes the boundaries rule when they snoop through her stuff, Julie isn’t about to tell them to leave because Alex is a little bored. At least he hopes she won’t.

“Come in.”

He almost misses her response, both because of his mildly spiralling thoughts and because her voice is soft, quite. Now his thoughts turn to worry as he pokes his head through the doors, eyes immediately landing on Julie tucked into her bed, surrounded by pillows and curtains closed. His brows pull together as he hesitantly steps through the door.

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to keep his voice as low as hers had been. Slowly she lifts her head from the pillow, brushing curls out of her eyes as she looks at him with a small smile.

“Oh Alex, hey. I-- yeah, I’m fine. Just--” she trails off, blinks a little blearily at him and for the first time he realises that he’s woken her up. Shit. “Not feeling too great. Was trying to nap.”

“Shit, sorry, I’ll go. I didn’t know you weren’t well, I’ll um yeah. I’ll go.” He’s got half his leg through the door when she calls his name, a slight laugh in her voice and looks at her over his shoulder.

“It’s okay, you can stay. I wasn’t really getting much rest anyway.”

He opens his mouth to ask if she’s sure, but Julie’s already shuffling around in her bed, moving pillows and lifting the duvet for him to climb in next to her. Alex hesitates for a moment, bites his cheek before turning around fully and walking over, kicking his shoes off before sliding under the cover and making himself comfy.

“Why do you have so many pillows?” He asks, fluffing one up behind his head and moving another one to fill the space between the edge of the bed and the little side table.

“Don’t know,” she shrugs, and he knows she’s watching him with amusement when he repositions the pillow next to her head so it’s straight. He frowns a little at her answer because, well, that’s not really an answer. How does one person have like, ten pillows on their bed and not know why or how?

“That's not-- okay,” he sighs, letting it go, because now that he’s next her, Alex can see she’s shivering a little and her cheeks look flushed and on instinct he reaches out his hand to lay it against her forehead. She lets out a small hiss and Alex moves to move away when her hand comes up, warm fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep his hand in place.

“Stay there, your hands are cold, they feel nice.” And well, they might make fun of Luke for not being able to say no to Julie, but so far he hasn’t been able to do it yet either. So he keeps his hand on her forehead and moves his other to gently cup her chin and part of her cheek until he’s basically holding her head up in his hands, he watches as her eyes flutter shut.

“Have you taken anything?” He tries to keep his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb her too much but her eyes open and she shakes her head, blowing out a sigh as she moves herself out of his hold, head hitting one of her many pillows.

“All we have is cough syrup and dad’s out and I didn’t want to bother Victoria.”

So she’d taken herself to bed and tried to tackle whatever illness she had alone? Alex frowns at her, lets out a small tut as he pulls his fanny pack across his chest, unzips it and roots around for the ziplock bag of first aid things before pulling out a half used pack of paracetamol, leaving the bag on the bed. He’s dead, and so are his most clumsy friends, they don’t really need band-aids anymore.

There’s a bottle of water on the table next to him which Alex grabs, pops out two of the little white tablets and passes them both to Julie, who raises her eyebrows at him, but accepts.

“You know you’ve got three ghosts who would have happily gone to a store to get you something if you’d asked, right?” He’s sort of teasing, but sort of not as he watches her sink back against the pillows, water bottle still in her grasp. Turning her head a little, just enough so she can see him she shoots him a small smile.

“Didn’t want to bother you guys. You're my friends, not my personal shoppers and yesterday Luke had to go to the store because we forgot milk. Don’t won’t you thinking I’m just using you for your ghostly teleportation,” she says it like a joke, but there’s a sad sort of look in her eyes. The kind of look he used to see in Reggie’s back when they were kids and he thought they’d get annoyed with him. It had never even occurred to Alex that Julie might think they’d get fed up with her.

“Jules, you let us live in your garage. For free. The least we can do is the occasional magical shop,” he shuffles down in the bed until his head is resting on a pillow and they’re eye to eye, “And anyway, you could never bother us. We kinda owe our whole existence to you and you’re family and if you need help it’s a no questions asked type situation.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She looks at him for a moment, eyes searching his face for something before she lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing and then she’s shuffling across the bed to lay her head on his shoulder, hair tickling his cheek but he doesn’t mind. Alex brings one arm up around her back and pulls her closer, tugging the duvet up to cover them a little more. They lie in silence for a while, Alex idly drumming his fingers on her upper arm and Julie tracing the letters on his hoodie. He doesn’t mean to pop the little peaceful bubble they’ve created but a thought shoves its way to the forefront of his mind and his fingers still.

“Hey uh, so do you think paracetamol goes out of date? Because that one I gave you is at least twenty-six years old.”

+one

Maybe, if Alex hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own head and trying to work through all of the sudden changes in his life, he would have noticed sooner.

At least, that’s what he’s going to tell himself and anyone else who might ask. He had a lot going on. He couldn’t possibly notice everything. Even something as big as this.

So yeah, he was going to blame all the crazy shit in his life for his sudden obliviousness.

The skate park was mostly empty when he got there – he forgot how long it could take to get somewhere when you couldn’t just poof into existence wherever you wanted. Being dead might have been bad, but he really missed the teleporting powers – which made sense, because the sun was starting to set and the air was growing colder. But he could hear the sound of wheels on concrete in the distance and followed it.

For a while, Alex just watched. He had never really cared all that much about skateboarding before (and honestly, he didn’t care all that much about it now, but he did like a certain skater an awful lot), but he had to admit it was fascinating to watch. The coordination and the skill and the lack of fear about falling.

Alex had always been scared about falling, physically and mentally and in love.

About hitting the ground and getting hurt and not being able to get back up. And he had fallen a lot. Out of a treehouse and down stairs. Had been pushed down. On concrete and on grass. Had been hurt. Luke and Reggie had always been there to help him back up though.

It didn’t mean it didn’t still scare him shitless. Falling.

Because what if one day he fell and there was no one to help him back up? What if one day he fell and everyone around him decided he was too much effort to help back up? What if one day he fell and staying down just seemed like the better option?

It was supposed to be one of the perks of coming back as a ghost. Of knowing that if he fell he couldn’t physically get hurt, and that Luke and Reggie would be there because they were always there and he was dead, falling in love shouldn’t have been a worry.

Of course, then he’d gone and got knocked off his feet, stinging palms and phantom bruises and hair flipping as the rest of the street blurred and all he could see was Willie.

And suddenly he was falling. Physically and mentally and in love.

Which was pretty fucking crazy. Who fell in love at first sight anyway? That wasn’t supposed to be a real thing. It was supposed to be something you read about or saw in silly cheesy rom-coms or from songs that people in love wrote.

So he’d met Willie, had fallen face first onto the ground, literally, and into like and then into love and then into life again.

It was a lot.

It was too much.

Too much change and more change and changing back and unanswered questions.

Was it really so hard to send a couple of ghost handbooks down?

So Alex had gone for a walk, to clear his head, to sort through his thoughts, to get a grip on the feeling of falling. He’d ended up at the skate park without really meaning too, not that he’d had any real destination in mind.

Sitting on a bench, he pressed two fingers to the pulse point on his wrist, counting the beats –- it’s been a few weeks and he’s still not used to having a beating heart, is always a little worried it’s all some big trick and he’ll wake up one day back as a ghost -– as he watches Willie go down a ramp and flip his board mid air.

Still being able to see with Willie was one of the many unanswered questions that he had.

(Maybe he should start making a list. Not that he thought he’d ever get any answers for them, but it might be nice. To have a list of all the questions about his death and his after life and his re-life. He could call it Tales of BHD (before hot-dog death). Julie might have some comments.)

Deep down Alex knew he shouldn’t question it. They’d been given a second chance, it was a miracle and magic and amazing. But he’d never done very well with questions without answers. He wished he could accept it as easily as Luke and Reggie and Julie had. That it was love or a gift or will power. It didn’t seem very likely, but he wasn’t about to argue it.

They’d been dead. Now they weren’t. It was a miracle.

He might have thought so if he could still hug Willie. But it was like when they’d first met Julie, he reached out to touch his shoulder, his hand, and passed right through him. Alex now knows how Luke felt and kind of feels bad for ever teasing him about. A re-lifer being in love with a ghost is kinda painful. And yet, he can’t seem to stop himself from seeking Willie out. No one’s ever called Alex the smart one.

There’s a sudden crashing sound, wood hitting concrete and Willie letting out a string of curse words and Alex immediately zeros in on him. On the ground. Without really stopping to think about it Alex is up off the bench and running the short distance until he’s next to him by the time Willie has pushed himself up onto his knees.

“Shit are you okay?” He reaches out a hand, to touch his shoulder, to help him up, he doesn’t know. But stops himself short. Because he can’t touch him, and every time that his hand phases through they both look away sadly.

“I’m– yeah I’m good. Had worse spills,” there’s a toothy smile on his face as he says it, but Willie’s eyes have caught on Alex’s still outstretched hand, a sadness flashes across his eyes quickly before vanishing.

Alex just stands there a little awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as he watches Willie stand up, wincing a little at some unknown injury – which okay, when he thinks back on it, that should have been his first sign.

“What ha–” Alex starts, but his eyes catch on Willie’s knees and the blood slowly spilling down his leg from a cut. “Shit you’re bleeding! You said you were fine!” He doesn’t mean to sound so accusational, but well, how can he help if no one tells him when they're hurt?

Willie looks at him in confusion before down at his legs, eyes widening at the blood and Alex starts to worry that the other boy might faint. Does he not like the sight of blood? Oh god, he should probably sit down before he gets more hurt.

“Sit down I should have something for it, hang on.” Without thinking, Alex puts his hand on Willie’s shoulder and guides him back down to the ground, to the lip off the end of one of the ramps and makes sure he’s sat before turning his attention to his fanny pack. His fingers catch on a drum stick, a lip balm, one of Julie’s scrunchies, his inhaler, but no ziplock bag of first aid. Shit. He’d left it in Julie’s room, months ago. Because he’d been dead. And hadn’t needed any of it. Fuck.

He looks back at Willie, mouth opening to tell him the bad news, but Willie is already looking at him with wide, scared eyes. He has one hand gripping the side of the ramp and his other is resting over his chest. Over his heart.

“Alex,” he starts and that’s when Alex realises that he doesn’t look scared. It's shock. There’s tears pooling in his eyes and, like a bus hitting him, Alex realises that his hand hadn’t phased through when he’d guided him to sit down.

“You– I– What?” Is all he gets out, which doesn’t make any sense but Willie seems to get it because he nods his head. And then Willie is standing up, hissing a little as he unbends his knee and dimly, Alex is aware that it’s started bleeding a little again, but all that is second to the feeling of Willie carefully, slowly, gently, reaching for his hand. And holding it. Fingers linking. Solid and real and warm. With his other hand Alex reaches for his neck, lays his fingers against soft skin and feels for a pulse. For the fluttering of a heartbeat and lets out a wet laugh when he finds it. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but it doesn’t matter.

Alex uses the hand that Willie is still holding to pull the other boy towards him, lets the fingers on his neck slip around until his arm is around his back, and is pulling him into a hug he’s been craving for a month.

“How?” It’s the first thing Willie says as he pulls away, not far, because Alex had let out a small whine as he’d tried to step away and wasn’t even ashamed of it.

“I have no idea,” he shrugs, because he doesn’t. He has no answers for any of this. But he’s willing to not question it, he decides, if he and the people he loves most in the world get a second chance at life. Together. “I’m starting to not question these things and just say thank you.”

Willie laughs then, a little watery, but still bright and kind and so full of life that no one would have ever known he’d been a ghost a short while ago.

“Fair enough,” they’re still stood close together, hands awkwardly intertwined between them and Alex’s fingers are tangled in his hair. But neither of them make any move to pull away. Willie pulls a face, lips twisting to the side and Alex raises an eyebrow at him, “Where the hell am I going to live now? Caleb already hated that I've been sleeping at the club, he's never gonna let me back in now."

Now it’s Alex’s turn to laugh, shaking his head a little at the question, because at least this one he has an answer too. He detangles his fingers from Willie’s hair carefully and takes a half step away, just enough for him to properly hold his hand, pulling him over to his abandoned skateboard.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to know the coolest girl with the coolest dad who likes to take in stray used to be ghosts.”

Willie picks up his skateboard and when Alex starts to walk, pulls them to a stop, a worried little crease between his brows as he looks at him.

“Are you sure Julie will be cool with me crashing with you all? I don’t want to like, intrude or get in the way.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d re-kill me if I didn’t bring you home with me,” Alex shakes his head, a little fondly and with a little exasperation. But this time, when he starts to walk, pulling Willie along with him, his boyfriend doesn’t stop them. And if this is what unanswered questions gets him, well Alex will learn to live with them.

#julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #willie #willie jatp #alex x willie #jatp #jatp fic #bobby wilson #trevor wilson #wait. what tag do you use for him fuck fgdhjs #rosie vs writing #*#still haven't sorted out a fic master list or a tag should really do that huh #*fics

67 notes · View notes

wormstacheangel · 4 years

Text

Almost: Ch8

Final chapter is finally here! The bonus one will be posted hopefully soon but this the ending. Think of it as 15x19 and the next chapter is 15x20 except it doesn’t make you feel stupid. Or I don’t know how you’ll feel about this actually lol

Summary: Dean and Cas finally use their words. And sometimes it's too late. Sometimes it's just the relief of just knowing that makes someone truly happy.

Read on AO3 link (maybe leave a nice little comment?)

Word Count: 2978 More Under The Cut

“Oh,” Sam quickly stands up and nudges Charlie to stand up with him. “Mick! You should come see Charlie’s café!”

Charlie was quick to pick up Sam’s plan - an obvious one - as they both stumbled over each other to push Cas inside the room and pull Mick away. Sam wrapped an arm around Mick’s shoulders, towering over him, while Charlie tugged at his arm.

“Um, I think I’ll just stay with Castiel.” Mick tried to pull away from them but Sam had already pushed him away from the office door.

“Don’t be silly! I have like thee best pies in town!”

Their voices slowly started to get further and further away. Mick trying to politely decline while Sam and Charlie talked his ear off. It would have been funny if Cas wasn’t standing right in front of him practically shaking like a damn leaf. His jaw was clenched as he kept his hands balled up in the dumb ugly trench coat again. He looked cute though. With nice fitting black jeans and a half-tucked in forest green sweater. Matching the fall weather perfectly.

Dean swallowed hard before taking a step towards him. “Are you okay?”

“No.” He answered quickly and firmly. Cas’s eyes were looking at him now. Ice piercing through him and chilling him through his bones. Making him stop where he was standing. Still a few steps away from Cas.

“I’m sorry.” Dean’s voice was low, shaky. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’ll behave!” Dean took another small step towards him. “I’ll do better just don’t-”

Cas looked away from him, shoulder’s stiff as he poked his tongue at his cheek. “I just came to let you know that we’re leaving tonight. We’re going to the airport after this.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. This was goodbye. This was another damn goodbye and it felt so familiar, heartbreak and all.

“Don’t.” Dean walked towards Cas but stopped just an arm’s reach away. He hasn’t had enough time with him. And he knows - he fucking knows - that if Cas leaves that he would never see him again. Cas didn’t need money when Mick was perfectly well off. He would live comfortably with his dumb British fiance so there was no need for him to even come back. To come back to Dean.

No. Cas was saying goodbye for the last time.

Cas turned to look him over and his face scrunched up but that stubborn asshole won’t admit to his tears. Instead, he kept looking at Dean with a serious glare.

“I thought I’ll get more time to...to maybe-” Dean continued as his hand reached out to take Cas’s arm but Cas pulled away. And shit. That. That fucking hurt. Dean nodded in understanding as he sucked on his lower lip.

Don’t touch. Got it.

“Mick wants to go home early. He um, he doesn’t like it here.” Cas looks away again, looking down at their feet as his lips scrunched up. Nose wiggling as he let out a sniffle. “So it doesn’t look like we’ll ever come back to visit.”

“Is it,” Dean stuffed his hands in his pocket as he cleared his throat. “Is it cause of me? Did you get in trouble?”

Cas let out a loud hollow laugh and when he looked back at Dean he was smiling. It was so sad and broken before he wiped his tears away. “Of course it’s because of you! You fucking dumbass.”

“Okay, got it.” Dean nodded as he scratched at the back of his head. Should he reach for him again? He wanted to just pull him in for a hug but Cas doesn’t want that. “Maybe I can try to talk to Mick! Tell him that - no?”

Cas was shaking his head as he let out a shaky breath. His shoulders shook and finally, the stiffness was gone. “He doesn’t particularly like you anymore, Dean.”

“Yeah, I don’t really like myself right now either.” Dean shrugged before smiling at Cas. Cas’s shoulders fell as he let a soft chuckle before his face crumbled and he jumped into Dean’s arms.

Cas hugged - no he was gripping him - Dean for dear life. His face tucked into the crook of Dean’s neck as his whole body shook with a soft sob. Dean’s eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around Cas.

It was obvious now that Cas didn’t choose him. He was leaving with Mick and they’re never going to see each other again. Dean can’t even keep him in his life because he lacks basic self-control. All he wants is to hold Cas. To lean into Cas. To take his hand and walk down the sidewalk with him. To kiss him. To love him.

“Stay?” His brittle voice was barely a whisper but he knew Cas heard him as he nuzzled his face deeper into Dean’s skin. The only response was another shaky cry so Dean kept his hold on Cas, fingers gripping at the back of his coat with a hold that started to burn.

“I’ll do better. I promise I’ll do better.” He sounded like he was pleading with him now and Cas pulled away just enough to take Dean’s face in his hands. His thumbs wiped away tears as he looked at him with knitted eyebrows.

“It’s not you, Dean.” Cas reassures him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said...I promise it’s not you.”

“Then why-?”

“I want to kiss you right now.” Cas smiles, such a sad depressing excuse of a smile. “I want to kiss you more than I have ever wanted to kiss anyone.” Then he shrugs as his thumb traced over Dean’s lower lip. “But I can’t.”

“Why not?” Dean kissed his thumb.

Cas let out a shaky laugh while he rolled his eyes. “You know why.”

“Mick.” Of course. He didn’t even know why he asked such a dumb question when he already-

“No. Well, yes. Him too.”

“What else is there, Cas?”

Cas tilted his head at him and narrowed his eyes at him with that damn look. The one that was asking are-you-really-that-stupid-or-are-you-fucking-with-me? Dean just raised his eyebrows in response. Waiting for Cas to answer.

“Do you really think I’m so fucking stupid, Dean?” Cas pushed away from him and crossed his arms over his chest. His fist digging into his side. “Just because you don’t introduce me to them doesn’t mean I don’t know!”

“Them? What the hell are you talking about, man?”

“I know you’re married, Dean!” Cas ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “God! I feel so gross!” He started to pace the small office as he rambled on in frustration. “I thought because you were married that I could...that we could be friends! But I was dead wrong. Oh fuck I was so fucking wrong!”

Married? Married! Cas thought...Mick has said...shit! Dean can only watch him as he tried to connect wires in his head.

Cas stopped and pointed a finger at him. “You know how guilty I’ve been feeling since I fucking kissed you again? I knew you were married but you were just...fuck I missed you so much! And you were right in front of me again.” He took a deep breath as he shakingly glared harder at Dean. “I love my fiance! I do but fuck - Mick is right, Dean.” He was pacing again, wiping tears as he went. “Mick is so right. We need to leave now before me and you end up fucking up our lives just because we still love each other.”

Those words made Dean blink back at him. He sucked in an audible breath as the realization hit him.

Cas then stopped in front of him with a dramatic eye roll and tilt of the head. “Dean? Are you really just gonna stand there and not say - oof!”

Dean took Cas’s face in his hands and finally kissed him again. He chokes down a cry as he kisses Cas slowly and softly. Feeling Cas melt against him and grip at his sleeves while his breath tickled Dean’s lips.

When he pulled away Cas’s eyes fluttered open as his eyes started to round up and fill with tears.

“You love me?” Dean asked as he pulled Cas close and nuzzled their noses together. Cas nods a few times quickly before chasing after Dean’s lips.

Their lips brushed, delicate, smoothly, as their salty tears mixed in between them. Cas’s finger shakingly pressed against the base of Dean’s jaw to hold him. They kissed once. Twice. Three times. Until they were both left dizzy and breathless while they leaned against each other.

“Say it.” Dean’s voice was small but Cas smiled as he nuzzled their noses together.

“I love you, Dean.” Dean’s heart leaped in his chest and he couldn’t stop to think when he picked Cas up in his arms to sit him down on the open space in the desk. Cas laughed as he wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him back down for another kiss.

“Your turn,” Cas tells him as he starts to pepper small kisses on the side of Dean’s face. Starting with the small tear on Dean’s lower lip and on his bruised up cheek.

Dean laughs as he nuzzles his face into Cas’s throat, the giggle that Cas let out should be fucking illegal for how cute it fucking was. Kissing him and feeling so damn weightless and happy. He was just given a stupid amount of money but this - Cas in his arms - was the happiest he has felt in so long. He loves him! He loves me!

“I love you, Cas.” Dean pulls back so he can look at him while he says it. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Cas sucks in a shaky breath as he looks at him and fuck he looked so happy. So damn bright like Dean was handing him the whole fucking moon. Cas leaned forward again but they both froze with lips barely brushing as they heard Cas’s name being called from the garage.

“Shit! Mick.” Cas pushed Dean off as he jumped off the desk and started to straighten up his clothes and smooth down his hair. Dean didn’t even realize he pulled at Cas’s arm until Cas tugged at it, eyes wide and worried. “Dean, please, I gotta go.”

“Don’t. Don’t go, Cas.”

Cas sighed. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is. We both already have-”

“I’m not married, Cas!” That made Cas stop. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out so Dean continued. Pulling Cas close to him again. Gently cradling his face as he looks back at those wide confused eyes. “I’m not married. I don’t know where you even got that shit from but I’ve never been married. Shit, Cas, I haven’t even had a damn date in a fucking year.”

Cas’s eyes kept flickering on him as if trying to read him. “But I-I...I came back.”

“You what?”

“I came back, Dean.” Cas repeats himself as he puts a hand over Dean’s. “A few months after I left. I couldn’t handle your rejection…But one day I just missed you. I needed to hear your voice so I went through my old phone to listen to your voicemails. I went through your text and then your emails.” Cas leaned forward to press his forehead against Dean’s. “Fuck, I’m so sorry I left you like that. It was a few months after your Mom died and I knew how you would get so I saved up money to come back. To see you. To take care… but I was too late.”

Those few months were all a big blur and Dean pulled back to look at Cas’s tearful expression. “You came back?”

Cas nodded with a broken laugh mixed in with a sob. “Yeah. Dropped out of my first year and everything. Gabriel was pissed.” Cas wiped his tears with his sleeve. “But you were already with someone. I-I saw you with a baby and figured…”

“Dude, that’s not my kid. Lisa and I only dated for a while after Mom died. She was just...she was just there.”

“But Dad said you guys were planning your wedding.” He looked past Dean again, with the faraway look in his eyes. “I had to go back to him because I didn’t have enough money to go home and he told me all about you two. That you were happier than anyone has ever seen you.” Cas then blinked at him again. Focusing on Dean once more as his shoulders stiffened. He poked Dean’s shoulders as he glared at him. “He told me that you said I was dead to you. That you fucking hated me.”

Dean slapped his hand away. “Dude, stop poking me.”

“He said you hated me and wanted me dead, Dean!” Cas’s eyes were shaking now as he glared at him. “Do you hate me?”

“No! Shit, Cas! Course I don’t!” He grabbed Cas’s shoulders. “Is that what you thought this whole time?”

“Dad said-” His voice was low.

“You’re Dad hated your guts, Cas!” He watched Cas’s lost eyes slowly start to click things together. “Why would you believe him?”

“I was surprised when you said you missed me when we saw each other again.” Cas laughed, it was a little manic. “Fuck and then you said you loved me! And - And it was all too much.” Cas meets his eyes again.

“I wasn’t sure if you were messing with me. And I… And I-I-I couldn’t let you have so much control of my heart again. I just couldn’t, Dean.” Cas reaches over and cradles Dean’s face in his hands again. “Losing you - saying goodbye to you - was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”

Dean leans into the touch. “Then stop saying goodbye, Cas.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? I said yes to Mick already, Dean. I’m supposed to get married to him soon.”

“Do you love him?”

Cas nods slowly, a painful smile across his lips before he pressed their foreheads together. “But I love you more. I love you, Dean. It’s so fucking stupid how much I fucking love you.”

Dean took those words in. He swallowed them and tried to understand them before he did something he’ll regret. Cas loved him. He knows that now and he was so damn close. He was in his grasp and Dean knew that if he tilted his head forward and kissed him, that Cas would kiss him back. He knew. But it wasn’t enough.

Dean grabbed Cas’s hand as he pulled them off of him, kissing his palms, before letting them drop and taking a step back.

“I’m sorry, Cas, but I think it’s time for you to choose.” Cas reached for him but then dropped his arms to his side. “I love you and I wanna kiss you but I won’t. Not if you’re already spoken for and I’m just fucking things up for you.”

Cas nodded as he started to nervously play with his engagement ring.

Dean gave Cas his back. Not wanting to see him make the decision. Not wanting to see him walk away.

This is it. Isn't it? After this, he’ll have no choice but to move on. They will finally have closure to their story. It was just the wrong timing. It was just too messy and filled with too much miscommunication to move on from.

Cas already had a life. Had a home. Had someone he loved and loved him back. It was just Dean that couldn’t move on. Couldn’t stop thinking, what if? What if he never agreed on his date with Lisa? What if Dean caught Cas on time the first time he left? What if he pulls Cas into a kiss right now?

Then Dean flinched as he heard the door open.

And there was his answer.

Cas was gone. Once again picking Mick while Dean was left behind. Not good enough to love. To stay for.

He let his head fall into his hands as he took a deep shaky breath. No. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. Fuck. He won’t-

“Dean?”

Dean quickly spun around to face him.

“Um, I had to give the ring back.” Cas motioned as he closed the office door again. “We should probably stay here for a while. Mick is not taking the news so well.”

Dean was in front of him in a few long strides and held Cas from the back of the neck. Looking at him in disbelief. “You didn’t leave.”

Cas smiled back at him as he reached to wipe away tears from Dean’s face. “I didn’t leave.”

“Does that mean-?”

“It was an easy choice.” Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s middle and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I pick you, Dean. Every time. I mean I do feel bad for leaving Mick like that when he just paid for the plane tickets but may-”

Cas didn’t finish his sentence as he sunk against Dean’s lips. A small gasp let Dean finally deepen the kiss between them and he felt like he finally knew what it was like to love someone. What all those cheesy rom-com movies talk about when you kiss the right person. When the right person loves you back.

“I love you.” Dean says as he starts to pepper kisses around Cas’s jaw. Going down his throat until he can nuzzle his nose into the crook of his neck. “Fuck, Cas. I love you so much and I promise. I promise. I’ll make you happy.”

“You already do.” Cas sighed as he held him, his hands going up and down Dean’s back. To reassure him. To tell him that he was right there. Finally staying. Finally choosing him. “I love you.”

And finally loving him.

Tag List 1: (Ask to be added or removed! I’m chill about it I promise.)

@galaxycastiel @superduckbatrebel @slipper007 @ar-bi-trary @winchestcas

@imlivingliferightnow @bi-bi-marie @nguyenxtrang @dancerdovegirl

@chocolatecakecas @trasherasswood @celestialcastiel @castiel-is-a-cat

@readeroftheimmortalbooks @marichankitty @confusedisaster

@castiels-bitch @destiel-bitches @tearsofgrace @wigglebox

67 notes · View notes

rovewritesit · 4 years

Text

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 2) John Deacon x Reader Series

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, duh. Feelings of anxiety.

Chapter Notes: A wild Deacy appears! Reader was supposed to meet him in this chapter but it got a bit long. I may have awkwardly stuffed in some backstory as well, but I wanted to get through it before we start having more interactions with the members of Queen. I’m a hoe for Hot Space and Cool Cat is such a vibe so I had to throw it in here. If you haven’t heard the original demo with Bowie you should take a listen. The music video concept was sparked loosely by Mitski’s “Happy” video (it’s gory af, be forewarned). I’m aware that the MTV of the 80s definitely would’ve banned anything like that, but it’ll come back around in the plot later on.

Songs Mentioned:

Heart of the Night - Juice Newton

More Than A Feeling - Boston

My Best Friend’s Girl - The Cars

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute

- - - - - - -

February 1982 - Orpheum Theater, Boston

It’s noisy in the cramped green room backstage at the Orpheum Theater in Boston. Gone were the days of grand arenas while tagging along with Hall and Oates. Now only around 2,000 bodies lined the seats out in the house, but you still feel that familiar bubble of nerves as Dawn busies herself around your hair.

Dawn, your best friend from your two short years at NYU, had agreed to tag along for the short tour to help with your “look.” Not that you ever really had a problem with your usual jeans and t-shirts, but this rock type of glam proved to be a different beast, and Dawn certainly had an eye for style. Her voluminous hair always streaked blonde and crimped to perfection. She’d tried to convince you many times to do something chemical with yours but you held firm to your virgin hair, causing your pre-show routine to run well into an hour and a half to get the desired popular style. You smile up at her as she curls part of your bangs away from your face, truly grateful to have another woman around.

“Babes, please stop moving your head. I’ve had to do the same piece 3 times already.” She tuts at you. “And Eds, I’ve asked you how many times to watch your elbows, jesus christ.”

Eddie tries to cram in even tighter against the wall, keeping to the five tiny spots you’d all wrangled against the mirror. “Ay, I’m trying over here. It takes some effort to get all this together.” He smirks, running his fingers through his already perfectly coiffed hair. A shame really, that it would be utterly destroyed within 15 minutes of being on stage.

“Have we picked a city song for tonight yet? I want to go over it in my head a few times before we go on.” Lawrence calls out, trying to tug on a pair of pants that look a size or two too small for him.

The Limbs had taken to playing one song per show by a famous local artist from the city they were in. Since they only had the one album out, it was a chance to get the audience singing and moving together; to change up the pace. A modified tip from a certain mustached rock legend that the band had started to implement.

“I thought we decided on More Than A Feeling?” Eddie says as he tears his eyes away from his own reflection.

“That’ll be what they expect. I think Bun sounds better on My Best Friend’s Girl,” Rich says simply. He’s attempting some form of stretching routine in the back corner of the room, his extremities bumping up against the walls.

“So Y/N’s taking this one?” Steve asks, lounging across a small loveseat against the wall, his legs dangling off of it delicately. He looks up from whatever song he’s been working on.

“You heard what the label said. They want Y/N more center stage, so to speak, for marketing reasons.” Rich tries folding his body into some sort of pretzel shape. A light “oof,” escapes his lips as he falls backward slightly.

“Ah yes, we need to give the public what they want,” you huff, wanting to roll your eyes if not for Dawn covering your head in a cloud of Aqua Net.

Eddie starts pacing, or at least tries to, “I just don’t get why they’re trying to make her into some Debbie Harry.” He scoffs, “Like that’s ever gonna happen.”

Dawn glares at him. It was a bit of a low blow, but Eddie was still getting used to sharing the spotlight with you, with him singing lead on almost every other song.

You were still struggling to find your presence on stage and were more than happy to take a back seat to the boys for the most part. And while some of the band’s other singles were gaining traction, none were close to catching up to Heart of the Night, which was now getting steady airplay and record sales thanks to the absurd music video that hit TV screens everywhere a few weeks back.

“That’s true, Y/N’s much more of a Linda Ronstadt type if we’re throwing out names,” Lawrence grunts out. Finally able to close the button on his skin-tight pants.

A cold laugh erupts from Eddie. “Exactly. It’s the Eighties now if you haven’t noticed. It’s all about edgy sex appeal, and let’s be honest, even Steve has a better chance of-”

“Enough!” Dawn’s voice sliced through the air, the daggers thrown from her eyes flying towards him. She leans down to your level to examine her masterpiece. “You look as sexy as a goddamn playboy bunny, hun. No pun intended.” Her voice softens as she pinches your cheeks.

The room goes mostly quiet for the next few minutes as the local opening band starts to close out their set with their last two songs. Only Rich’s deep breathing, fitting in time to the beat.

You chew your cherry painted lips, mulling over Eddie’s words. You knew full well that you weren’t exactly the frontwoman the label or the public dreamed of. Hell, you weren’t even supposed to be a frontwoman at all. When you’d finally given in to Rich’s insistent pestering to come have some fun with the boys, you’d been at NYU for two years. You loved your film classes but felt the hole that was left from the absence of playing any type of music. In high school, you’d all show up to a party with a variety of instruments in your grasps. It almost always resulted in a crowd gathering around to listen, joining in with your voices, clicking their beer bottles in time with the beat. It was when you had felt most carefree, and you had ached for that feeling again.

But playing locally turned into recording an album, for which you wrote a song for some dream of a man that only existed in your thoughts. Next thing you knew you were scooped up by Columbia Records, missing classes to attend photoshoots or album release parties. People were listening to your voice, your song, and wanting more. You dropped out of college to the dismay of your parents but were immediately enveloped in your friends' glee, finally reaching the precipice of something they’d only dreamed of. You hated the thought of letting them down in any way but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a fluke, that you had nothing else to give. Destined to fade out as a one-hit-wonder and a disappointment to your best friends in the world. The weight hit your shoulders as you slumped in your seat.

None of this was supposed to happen, you tell yourself. It never happens like this.

You’re broken out of your daze when there’s a rap at the door and a muffled “5 minutes” from the stage manager behind it. You all stand, waiting for Rich to spread his wings and engulf you in your usual pre-show pow wow. You slide Dawn in next to you in the now group of 6, needing someone steady as an anchor.

“If you’d please, Reverend.” Steve probes, cheekily.

“We’re gathered here today” Rich begins and Dawn giggles. “To bring immense joy to those 2,000 idiots out there, who so willingly sold out our show for us. They deserve a performance played to 200,000, so that’s what we’re going to give them. In the name of our fathers, John, George, Paul, and Ringo. Let’s go give em’ hell.”

“Amen!” you all shout and disband.

As you follow the boys into the dingy hallway leading to the stage, Eddie catches your wrist. He looks at you through his long lashes with an uncharacteristically shy smile that almost never sees the light of day.

“I’m sorry for being a prick, Bun. I shouldn’t have said all that,” he mutters as you continue to walk, not wanting to miss your cue.

“No worries, Eds. You were right though. I’m definitely no Debbie,” you force a chuckle at yourself while a roadie slips your guitar strap onto your shoulders.

“It’s not alright. And no, you’re not,” he says catching your downturned eyes. “You’re Y/N fucking L/N, and you’re just gettin’ started, baby. All you gotta do is take a little bit of the love we all have for you and give some to yourself once in a while, alright?” A grin forms, showing his adorably asymmetrical teeth as he reaches out a hand to ruffle your painstakingly perfected hair. “That’s better. Now let's get out there so you can show the world exactly what kind of frontwoman you are. And don’t be scared to show them a hint of Bunny while you’re at it.” You move your guitar out of the way to pull him in for a close hug. You hear Steve start banging his snare and pull Eddie on to the stage with you, feeling a bit lighter than you had been minutes ago.

You approach your mic and take a look out at the packed, hazy theater.

“Well hello, Bawston!’ Your accent rings out to the faceless figures before you. “Aren’t you all looking fuckin’ fabulous tonight!”

- - - - - - -

March 1982 - Musicland Studios, Munich

“No, I didn’t say it’s bad, just that it sounds tinny,” Brian argues, crossing his spidery arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe.

“And it’s as if you’ve shoehorned Bowie in there just to mumble in the background incoherently. A waste, really.” Roger tacks on from beside him.

John sighs and leans his head against the back of the couch in the studio. “Just because it’s not your precious red special or your own magic fingers at work, doesn’t mean it’s tinny,” he counters calmly. Trying his best to keep the annoyance from seeping into his voice, knowing that Brian already had anger stemming from John’s earlier composition for the album.

It was the first time this week that all four men were in the studio together. Finishing up Hot Space was proving to be a strain on all of them and the growing rift had caused the men to nearly finish their songs separately instead of in their usual group dynamic. John’s experimentation into different styles, such as funk and disco, had not been willingly received thus far.

“Well, I sound rather fabulous, if I do say so myself. I’m very proud of us, Deacy.” Freddie states, getting up from his own place on the couch and stretching.

“It’s not that, Fred. It just doesn’t sound like us.” Brian sighs, already sensing the escalation of a row coming along.

“Oh please. Not this again...” Freddie huffs.

“That’s because it’s not us. It’s me and Freddie.” John cuts in with a roll of his eyes, landing them on Mack, their producer, who just shrugs and trains his gaze back to the board.

“That’s for sure.” Roger murmurs out. Now it’s John’s turn to cross his arms as he levels their pointed gazes. He’d worked with Fred for days putting together “Cool Cat,” hoping that the additional vocals from David Bowie would be a selling point for the other two.

With a clap of his hands, Freddie moves about the room. “Why don’t we take a quick break and then give it another listen?” Roger groans. Freddie pats his shoulder as he makes his way over to a radio beside Mack.

John rubs his tired eyes before pushing himself off the couch, eager for a break from the energy in the stale room. “I’m grabbing a coffee,” not offering one to the others as he brushes past Brian on his way out, quickly retreating down the hallway as fast as his legs will carry him.

The remaining three startle a bit as Freddie flips on the radio, Lo & The Limbs hit single pours from it, louder than expected.

“Oh! Oh, yes! Simply marvelous,” he exclaims, jumping up and down lightly. Roger and Brian raise their eyebrows in silent questioning. “This is the band of rascals I was telling you about the other week. They must’ve just broken out here.”

“The yanks you met while in the States?” Roger questions, turning his attention to the song, eager to judge any brimming competition.

“Yes, yes, the wild young lady who swears like the devil and her band of merry giant trees.”

“We have one of those!” Rog nods in Brian’s direction, voice muffled by a cigarette now dangling from his lips.

“Hm, Brain’s more of a willowy spruce, if you will. These ones are giant redwoods. You know American’s. And they have these thick New York accents. I could barely understand a word they were saying at first. What a riot they were.” he remembers fondly.

“I feel as if I’ve heard this before, but I can’t place it.” Brian ponders, almost to himself.

John appears in the doorway, blowing lightly on a steaming mug.

“Probably from that shocking video of theirs, darling,” Freddie waves his hands about. “Oh, you must’ve seen it. They’re all dressed up like they're in Grease or something, and this square of a girl is pinning after the bad boy. But he’s with this slutty little thing. And oh, I can’t recall the details, but in the end, she ends up murdering the slut!” He slaps the table for effect. “But for some odd reason the boy is okay with it all and they run off into the night together, covered in blood.”

“Sounds… spooky?” Roger shrugs. John stifles a chuckle.

“It’s dramatic! And sexy. And obviously working for them.” The wheels already turning in his head.

John tunes out their chatter and trains his ears to said song, which is about halfway through. The instrumentals seem a bit basic for his taste. The soft strum of an acoustic guitar, a slightly heavier electric over it, with a simple bass line. A female voice flits in.

Cool city moon lays its touch on the room,

Your eyes reach to me

It has a rasp to it. Akin to Stevie Nicks, he thinks.

Two shadows fall saying nothing at all,

We know what we need

No, not quite. It’s entirely it's own if he’s being honest. He can feel the soul pulsating through words and the power that’s beneath it. One that could probably fit with any genre it should choose. His interest peaked.

In the release, two prisoners are free from the darkness

One more escape surviving the heartache and madness

The raw emotion erupting from the speakers and the lyrics start to paint a picture in his mind, scrambling to fill in the faceless voice.

In the heart of the night

The chorus starts and picks up steam quickly. Male voices begin to fill in on background vocals, blending together seamlessly.

We run like bandits

Two hungry hearts under the gun

Her voice cracks a bit, in a charming way. It must be radiant when heard live.

In the heart of the night

When we find each other

Were stealing love on the run

In the heart of the night,

Heart of the night

A small smile plays on John’s lips as the song fades out. They’re good, he muses to himself, a bit intrigued by the song and Fred’s colorful description of the accompanying video.

“A great voice indeed. They’ve got a strong sound going.” Brian chirps up.

“That’s her first swing at writing, too. Wish it had been that bloody easy for us.”

“Is she a looker, Fred?” Roger wags his brows.

“Oh please, they’re practically babies! Although that drummer of theirs is certainly something to write home about… Even with the head of hair he has. A bit like a mushroom. A cute one.” Freddie ponders, stroking his full mustache.

John reaches up and pats the tight curls atop his own head, wondering how it would look if he ceased from trimming his current short perm.

“I do hope they catch on here. What fun that would be.” John readily nods along without realizing it.

Freddie switches off the radio and turns back to the other three men. “Alright back to it then. Queue it up, Mac,” placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and raising his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

- - - - - - -

March 1982 - Columbia Records, New York City

“Why are the undersides of my knees sweaty? I’m not a back of the knee sweat kind of guy, alright?” Lawrence fidgets, adjusting his collar for the fourth time in two minutes.

You casually gulp down your third glass of water while staring at the wood-paneled walls of the office. Attempting to avoid the gazes of a number of gold discs lining the walls, the echoes of your musical idols. They seem to be laughing at you.

Steve partakes in his trademark bouncing routine, the chair underneath him squeaking in a violent rhythm. “Do you think it’s the video? It has to be the video or we wouldn’t be in this office. I knew we shouldn’t have taken that big of a risk right out of the gate.”

“You gotta be kidding me. You basically doused yourself in the blood when Eddie pitched it!” Rich cuts in, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be found.

“What! It was your idea for the--”

The door behind where the group is gathered swings open and in strides a stocky man with a full beard and tinted aviator sunglasses still covering his eyes.

“What are we all standing around for? Sit, sit, sit, c’mon.” His gruff Brooklyn accent ringing out as he moves to sit behind a large mahogany desk.

The Limbs scramble to fit on the couch across from him, with you ending up perched on the armrest, gripping Rich’s bicep for support.

The man, Walter Yetnikoff, CEO and Chairman of Columbia Records, grunts as he eases into a leather chair, finally removing his glasses, revealing surprisingly kind eyes, “Jeez louise, look at you kids. You look as if a nun just caught you all playing with each other’s junk. What’s with the faces?”

“Mr. Yetnikoff, we’d like to sincerely apologize for the backlash that has come from our video. We should’ve known better than that. We could’ve toned it down… a lot.” Eddie rushes out. He wipes his hand over his too-snug tailored pants, probably leftover from days of youth choir.

Walter barks out a laugh. “I’ll admit I was a little shocked to find out that’s what you needed a high school gym for, but relax a little, will ya? You’re not here to be scolded. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to get it airtime.”

The Limbs visibly relax- a tad, but their eyes all stay wide.

“Well aren’t ya gonna ask why you’re all here then?”

“W-why are we here?” Rich asks quietly. “Sir.” He adds.

“It seems that the slight PR crisis of a video you made has made its way across the pond,” Walter smirks.

“You mean…” Steve trails off in a voice two octaves higher than usual.

“You kids better like air travel because there’s gonna be a lot of it in your near future. The hit has broken into the London airwaves and they’re not as god fearing as viewers here seem to be. We’re sending you over there next week now that you’ve wrapped up the tour.”

“Holy shit!” Lawrence yells. You feel yourself falling back off your perch as your large friends all jump to their feet. Rich’s gangly arm luckily catches you and pulls you immediately into a suffocating hug. “You did this, Bunny!” He screams in your ear. “You did this!”

“Alright, alright, you can all go celebrate and drink your faces off in a second,” Walter calls out over the group who immediately shut their mouths. “We have a few details to iron out but I’m hoping to send you over there for a full press tour. Photoshoots, interviews, talk show appearances. The works, you got it.”

Steve lets out a squeal of delight, his voice not yet returning to its usual bass.

“You.” He points a stubby finger in your direction. “I’m waiting to hear back about a last-minute cancelation on some game show out there. We’re gonna try to get you in. You know your shit?”

“W-what kind of shit, sir?” You ask from the bear hug that Rich still holds you in.

He holds up his hands, gesturing to the gold discs that surround him. “Music, my dear.”

All you can do is nod, not wanting to think about what that even entails.

“That’s what I like to see. Now get outta here so you can all combust somewhere outside of my office. We’ll call you in a few days. Get those bags ready, you hear me?” He waves you all off.

Before you have a chance to say anything, the boys are sweeping you out of the room. And off to the start of whatever comes next, you guess.

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #deaky fic #deaky x reader #deacy fic #deacy x reader #angelofmydreams

41 notes · View notes

imastrangeone98 · 4 years

Text

Lies

(A/N: oof why do I do this?? Well at least no ones reading my bullshit... right???)

Warning: ... angst? I might make this a series depending on how this story plays out in my head, but then again I might not. Also he might be ooc here.... sorry XD

"...Carlos?"

He looked up from his open stuffed suitcase to see Emma watching him from the doorway. "Hey, babe, what's up?"

"Um..." she hesitated, picking at her fingernails. "What are you packing for?"

"Oh." He looked at the case. "Duty calls. I'm being asked to Colombia."

"Ah. For... work?"

"Yeah... My client has a business meeting there; says he hasn't been feeling safe lately." The lie itched in his throat; he hated lying to her, but UBCS was particular on its discretion. It was much easier to say that he worked as a freelance bodyguard; good thing he had the physique for one.

She looked away. "I... I was hoping we could spend some time together. You've been away for a while, after all." She met his eyes, soft brown orbs full of hope. "I got us a reservation at the ski resort. You always said you wanted to try snowboarding."

He gave her a sad smile. "Aw, babe, you shouldn't have." Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in her hair, breathing in her comforting smell. "I'm sorry, amor. But I gotta take this job."

What he couldn't tell her was that Umbrella had ordered his team to remove a local family from a biohazard situation. Typical business, but he knew that if he told her, she would worry.

But of course, he'd be lying if he said he didn't find her concern for him endearing.

"...You've been working a lot lately," she murmured, pulling away from his embrace. Her eyes had a suspicious glint to them. "You hardly take breaks."

Carlos sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair, glancing back at his suitcase. He could tell where this conversation was going. "Look, I promise that after this mission, I'll ask for some days off-"

"Mission?"

He froze. Shit. "I meant job. Job, not mission. Man, I'm getting everything mixed up today-"

"Ask for time off?" She stared at him. "You're freelance, aren't you? You make your own times..."

Oh no.

Her eyes narrowed. "What's your job, Carlos? Your actual job?"

"Emma-"

"Carlos." Her voice was dangerously calm. "Don't you dare lie to me."

"Fine!" he growled out, slamming the lid of his suitcase shut. "I work for the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service. UBCS. Okay? You happy now?"

Her hands clenched into fists. "You... work... for Umbrella?"

"You and Umbrella! Seriously! Are all you police officers this paranoid?! What did they do wrong?!"

"You should know very well what they do wrong!"

"No! I don't! They gave me a job! They gave me a home! They pay me money, which I use to buy stuff for you!"

"At the cost of human lives!" Her face was fire red from screaming. "They experiment on people! They hurt people! They transform them into..." Her voice trembled. "Something else. Monsters."

He stared at her. What sort of thoughts filled his girlfriend's imagination? "What are you talking about?"

"Please quit," she begged. "I'm asking you to trust me. Please."

Carlos nearly threw something. How the hell could he convince her that she was wrong? Umbrella clearly wasn't behind whatever nightmare she was talking about; they were a pharmaceutical and a private organization dedicated to helping others! And he was a part of it; he was making something out of his shitty life! Why couldn't she be proud of that?

Emma seemed to sense his inner turmoil, because she reached out to him, brushing his elbow. "Carlos... please believe in me."

The air was tense. Too tense.

"You're lying," he said, voice freezing as ice. "I need to leave."

"I'm lying? You lied to me too, Carlos! Do not blame it all on me!"

"Forget it! Okay?! Just forget it!" Angrily snatching up his suitcase, he stormed past her and towards the door, hungry for fresh air.

He needed to leave Raccoon for a while.

"So you're running away then?! Fine! Run off to Colombia! And don't ever come back here!" she screamed. He heard something break against the wall.

"Fine! I won't!" he spat back. "Not like I ever want to come back to this shithole! I never liked you anyway! You were nothing but a cheap fuck!"

"GET OUT!"

He slammed the door, and practically sprinted down the street. Away from the apartment. Away from the heartwrenching cries that seemed to follow him no matter how fast he walked.

His feet began to slow, until they stopped entirely. He stared at the large crack in the sidewalk.

"I never liked you anyway!"

The weight of his words began to sink in. His knees buckled.

The unbreakable Carlos Oliveira began to break.

"Dios mío," he sobbed, wrapping his arms around himself in a failed attempt to hold his crumbling heart together. "What have I done?"

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

A/N: I'll most likely write a sequel that has re3make events in it so... look forward to it I guess??

Edit: the sequel is out! It's called the ex! :F

#resident evil 3 #resident evil 3 remake #carlos oliveira #resident evil oc #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira x oc

102 notes · View notes

srsly-messed-up-fruitloop · 4 years

Text

Shielded Away (pt 1)

““Jeez Fenton, what the heck are you doing?”

Danny stopped. “Just practicing for mime school, you know...just in case the whole astronaut thing doesn’t work out.”

Wes squinted. “Wait a minute...the news said they placed your parents’ newest ghost shield around all of Amity…”

Danny groaned, for what felt like the hundredth time today. “Are you kidding me?” He prodded at the shield, only to get stung again.

At that, Wes began to chuckle, which turned into an actual laugh, eventually becoming full-blown cackling.

Danny scowled. Not calming down in the slightest, Wes continued to cackle as he walked off into the distance.”

Or, my take on this prompt posted by @danphanwritingprompts

Word Count: 5,183

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Danny glanced at himself in the mirror in the washroom. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to have doubled in size since he last saw them. Not that he cared. He was too exhausted to care. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, but he’s already fought seven ghosts today. A thin cool mist expelled from his lips. And here comes the eighth.

Outside in the halls, a familiar voice boomed, “BEWARE, I AM THE BOX GHOST!” Danny watched himself as his eyes became a vibrant green on instinct. Transforming once again, he flew out the washroom, sighting the box-loving spirit throwing cardboard boxes at students. He zoomed towards him, grabbing his ankle, forced them both intangible, and dragged him down to the school’s basement.

“Hey! Can’t you see I was in the middle of something?” the Box Ghost whined.

“Yeah? Attempting to traumatize people once again with boxes? How many times do I gotta tell you it’s really not scary?”

“IS TOO!” The Box Ghost angrily hurled a dusty box at Danny, who then fired an ectoblast at it to defend himself.

“You know, I could think of a hundr—oof!” Somehow Danny didn’t notice every single storage box in the basement hovering right above his head, before it was too late. Man, he really needs sleep.

He faintly heard the ghost laughing above him. Of all the places in the school, he had to lead the Box Ghost here. He’s gotta remember to use the roof next time. But this time, he knows he’d hidden a Fenton thermos somewhere around here…

In an instant, he turned intangible and phased through all the boxes he was buried under. His eyes searched wildly around the basement. Where was it?

“LOOKING FOR THIS?” Danny’s head shot up, finally seeing the thermos. Well, crap. “LET’S SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING STUCK IN THE CONFINES OF A CYLINDRICAL CONTAINER!” Hearing the beep of the thermos activating, Danny gasped as he was slowly sucked into it. Since when did the Box Ghost learn how to use it??

“HA HAH! HOW DOES IT FEEL NOW?” the ghost yelled into the container, painfully vibrating Danny’s condensed molecules. “Now if you will excuse me, I WILL HAVE MY CORRUGATED CARDBOARD VENGEANCE!” Next thing Danny knew, he felt a harsh CLUNK to his everything as the thermos fell to the hard floor.

Outsmarted by the Box Ghost, he really was having a bad day. Well, hopefully, Tucker and Sam will find him. Eventually. He could just imagine Sam berating him immediately after releasing him. “You should have called us first! Of all places, why would you bring the Box Ghost to the basement?” Tucker would be laughing his ass off. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame him.

Each minute in the thermos always felt like an eternity. His form was squished to the point where all he could really do is think. And he’s come to realize how much he actually depends on his friends. He doesn’t appreciate them enough.

Except, they should be here anytime now.

Anytime.

Any. Time.

Nothing.

Wait. There were footsteps. The next instant, he was being picked up. Finally, they found him. Come on now, press the button Tucker. What was taking him so long? A fair bit of fumbling continued until fingers found the right button and he was finally released. Danny groaned and stretched, feeling an ache from being compressed for so long.

“You’re lucky I found you Fenton.”

That. Wasn’t Tucker. Or Sam. His head shot up, seeing a red-haired pain in the ass holding a stupid grin, growing wider by the second. Wes.

“Were you stalking me again?”

“Just gathering evidence. You should be grateful, who knows how long you’d be stuck in there.”

Danny scowled. His friends would’ve eventually found him. “Fine, thanks. Now if you excuse me, I have a job to finish.” He flew up, phasing through the ceiling. Invisibly weaving through the corridors of his school, he noticed two things. One, his ghost sense seemed to be picking up nothing at all. Two, the hallways were deserted. He peeked into a random classroom, empty. Same for the one beside it. He zipped through the ceiling to the second floor, stopping in front of the English classroom he left behind. Empty. Save for his bag tucked under his chair. He really should stop doing that, the number of times he’d left class forgetting his bag was too embarrassing. Picking up his bag from the floor, he walked over to the window expecting a routine gathering for a ghost alarm. Nope, the fields were empty too. Weird. Maybe they’re at the front. He was just about to check, but something about the far off view of Amity’s city buildings struck him as odd. He pulled out his phone. Dead. Right, never got a chance to charge it last night.

“Everyone’s gone.” Wes suddenly spoke from the door, almost a tinge of fear in his voice. Funny, he’s never seen Wes scared before. This should be good.

“You sure?”

“I checked everywhere, even the teacher’s lounge.”

Huh. Danny glanced out the window again. “Parking lot’s completely empty.”

“The entire school couldn’t possibly abandon us—we were only down in the basement for an hour,”

“AN HOUR?”

“Yeah, I was busy collecting evidence.”

“Okay, first off, you need a new hobby. Second, why didn’t you let me go earlier if you were there the entire time?”

“Hey, be grateful. I was contemplating not letting you out at all.”

Wes could be such a...ugh. There were bigger things at hand. Like the disappearance of his entire school.

“Give me your phone.” Wes eyed him suspiciously. He stuffed his hand in his pocket and brought out a small device, slightly bigger than the palm of his hand. Danny approached closer. “Is that a freaking Nokia?”

“Can’t trust smartphones, government uses them to steal all your information.”

Of course. Danny grabbed the cell phone. It reminded him of a calculator. “Can you even text on this thing?”

“It’s not worth it. You can call though.”

Danny searched the deep recesses of his brain for his friends’ phone numbers. He dialed a number, half guessing the last four digits.

The dial tone rang...and rang, and rang once more…

A smooth automated female voice responded, “Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of—” then there was a moment of silence. The automated voice picked back up, “Please leave your name and message after the tone.” BEEP.

He just hung up then. Sam never bothers checking her voicemail anyways. Dang, if only he remembered Tucker’s number.

“...should we just leave? Maybe everyone got sent home?” Wes hesitantly asked.

Something still didn’t sit quite well with Danny, but the idea of using the rest of the day to catch up on some sleep was too good to resist. He tossed Wes’ brick phone back to him and muttered, “Alright, see you around, I guess.” He didn’t waste any time in turning intangible and flying through the classroom window, heading straight for home.

On his journey back, it was oddly peaceful. Usually every time he flew in broad daylight at least one person would sight him and yell anything along the lines of “Hey, look! It’s Danny Phantom!” or “Screw you ghost boy!” He was still a very controversial figure in the town, even though the news seems to be taking his side now.

And well, Danny has given up on trying to woo those who still dislike him. No matter what he does, all they see is a ghost. Apparently it isn’t clear that his only intentions are protecting the town. It sucks that his parents are part of that special group. Their narrow-minded point of view almost killed him on several occasions (well...metaphorically, he’s already kinda dead).

Which is why he transformed back into human form as soon as he landed on his front step. The lights for the Fenton Works sign were off. Odd. His parents were adamant on keeping them on 24/7, despite constant complaints from all their neighbours. He dug for his key in his backpack and unlocked the front door. Stepping inside, he slipped off his shoes and shrugged his backpack to the floor.

“Mom? Dad?”

Nothing. He strode over to the kitchen and checked the basement entrance. Locked. They must be out. Sweet, nothing to distract him from his well-deserved nap. He grabbed a cookie from a jar and made his way upstairs. As he was halfway through that cookie, he passed by Jazz’s room. He failed to notice the absence of Bearbert Einstein from her bed.

He brushed off the crumbs off his hands and opened his bedroom door. Flopping onto his bed, Danny was just about to pass out until he remembered. He groaned and blindly reached for the end of his charger on his nightstand. Ugh where was it? Reluctantly peeking one eye open, he saw lying aimlessly on the floor. Ugh. Stretching to the point where half his body was off the bed (it would’ve been much easier if he just sat up), he finally grabbed the charger and plugged in his phone. Victory. Now, he could relax. He’ll deal with whatever happened later.

BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING

No, he swore he just closed his eyes a second ago. Just a few more minutes.

BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING

Please.

BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING

The vibrating stopped. Hallelujah. Now back to h—

BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING

The obnoxious buzzing continued once more. Several rounds later, Danny slowly blinked open his groggy eyes. He had to suppress the urge to hurl his phone at the wall when he finally grabbed it. Declining the call, he was just about to return to his slumber until he noticed his screen was full of notifications. 9 missed calls from his mom, 5 from his dad, 11 from Jazz, 17 from Sam...his stomach sunk. Danny almost dropped his phone on his face when it started ringing once more, this time his dad again. He didn’t waste a moment in answering it.

“Hello?”

“Danno where are you? Did you get to evacuate with your school? Sam and Tucker say they haven’t seen you!”

“Wha—what? Evacu—”

“Hang on your mom’s here,”

“Danny sweetie, where are you? You’re not in the Casper High group.”

“Mom what did dad mean by eva—”

“And our tracker says you’re home, but you know we can never trust it since it sometimes locks onto that menace Phanto—”

“Wait a tracker?”

“Yes honey, we need to always know where you kids are, especially at times like these. Now, which evacuation group did you leave with?”

“Uhh...I’m actually home.”

The line went silent for a few moments. Danny heard his mom’s barely contained anxiety as she spoke her next words. “That’s...how did you...that’s alright sweetie. Can yo—was anyone else left behind?”

“Yeah, uhm, Wes Weston?”

“Okay...okay. Can you find him...and leave the town right away?”

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“Danny, please.”

“...okay.”

“Call us once you’re out, okay?”

“Okay mom.”

“Love you sweetie.”

“Yea you too.” He hung up then, his earlier grogginess completely forgotten now. Right, okay, he just has to find Wes no—

BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

A LOUD shrill noise accompanied the incessant buzzing on his phone. Danny’s stomach dropped even further.

“[11:00 AM] EMERGENCY ALERT: Due to the increasingly harmful and destructive occupation of extra-dimensional beings in the town of Amity Park, the state of Illinois in conjunction with the GiW has made the final decision to evacuate all residents. Please follow your nearest evacuation group and proceed to exit the town.”

It was 3:07 now. The entire town just left? While he was stuck in the thermos? And “increasingly harmful and destructive occupation of extra-dimensional beings”? Dammit he had it under control.

Just before Danny left the room, he made sure to grab his charger.

Grabbing his bag left on the floor by the front door, he nearly jumped when he saw Wes sitting on the living room couch.

“How did—”

“Chill Fenton, you left the door unlocked.”

“But wh...nevermind. Did you hear—”

“About the evacuation? Yeah let’s get outta here.”

He didn’t bother to look back to check if Wes was following. The annoying scruff of his sneakers on the sidewalk was enough to tell.

But twenty minutes later, he couldn’t help but wonder why Wes was left behind too. “So...why didn’t you leave?”

“You know nobody takes those ghost alarms seriously anymore, right? Oh wait, you do, cause you’re Ph—”

“What about the emergency alert?” Danny asked, cutting Wes off.

“What emergency alert?”

“You didn’t get it? On your phone?” Danny pulled out his phone and showed Wes the notification.

“Oh, heh, I don’t get those.”

“What do you mea—oh, right. Your dinosaur phone is too old to get them.”

“Hey, at least with my dinosaur phone, the government can’t spy on my every move. That seems like something you’d be interested in, Phantom.”

“If the government was spying on us, how did they manage to forget us when evacuating the town?”

“The government has bigger things they like to worry about.”

“Sure, like hiding Area 51 right?”

“Exactly!” Wes exclaimed enthusiastically. “Finally, someone gets me.”

“Dude, that was sarcasm.”

Wes deflated at that. “Screw you Fenton.”

“Yeah, I—” the next moment Danny slammed face-first into something that stung. Quickly backing up, he saw Wes walking, perfectly unperturbed. Hesitantly, he took his index finger and slowly pushed forward, until he was blocked again. Ghost shield, great.

Turning intangible, he disappeared into the ground and tried burrowing under the barrier, only to get blocked and stung again. Dammit, he shouldn’t have told his parents about ghosts being able to get past their old shields that way. Returning up, Danny began to feel his way around the shield, attempting to find a weak spot.

At some point, Wes stopped, noticing that Danny wasn’t tailing him anymore. “Jeez Fenton, what the heck are you doing?”

Danny stopped. “Just practicing for mime school, you know...just in case the whole astronaut thing doesn’t work out.”

Wes squinted. “Wait a minute...the news said they placed your parents’ newest ghost shield around all of Amity…”

Danny groaned, for what felt like the hundredth time today. “Are you kidding me?” He prodded at the shield, only to get stung again.

At that, Wes began to chuckle, which turned into an actual laugh, eventually becoming full-blown cackling.

Danny scowled. Not calming down in the slightest, Wes continued to cackle as he walked off into the distance.

Bastard.

After Danny could no longer see the flare of his annoying red-hair, he sighed and glanced upwards, turning around until he saw the tower at the centre of the town, blasting at full strength. His parents worked relentlessly for more than a year on that tower. After trial and error with various other ghost shields, they finally perfected the ultimate model. Danny tried his best to help too, ghost shields were becoming more vital to Team Phantom as the days passed on (mostly because it stopped people from complaining about property damage). Often that involved sneaking down to the basement while they were out purchasing supplies, testing it out, and subtly dropping recommendations during dinner time. With governmental aid on their side, they were able to expand it into a town-wide defense mechanism, resistant against all ectoplasmic entities, even halfas in their human form.

With all the good their work has done for Amity, they are no longer seen as the town’s local kooks. Jack and Maddie Fenton are now revered as the country’s leading scientists on ghosts. That tower was a stark symbol of his parents’ true dedication. Every time Danny saw that tower, he felt a swell of pride for his parents in his chest. Except for this time. Instead, he felt dread slowly trickling down into the pit of his stomach. Why must everything his parents invent come to bite him in the butt sooner or later?

Plunking down beside the shield, Danny laid down in the grass and pulled out his phone again. Ignoring the even bigger clusterfuck of notifications on his lock screen, he started up a video call with Tucker.

The instant the call picked up, Tucker shrilled into the speaker “DANNY, WHERE THE—” which was then combined with Sam exclaiming, “Is that Danny? You got him finall—WHAT THE HELL DANNY?”

Shit, he didn’t mean to make them so worried. “Hey guys, I-I’m fine,” he said, sheepishly looking away from the screen.

Sam’s expression quickly switched from angry to concerned. “We didn’t see you when the ghost alarm went off...” she trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“Figured you were taking care of it,” Tucker added. “We had no idea—”

“Tucker it’s okay.”

“Wait, really? You made it out?”

“Well...errr...”

Sam’s face took over the screen, expression serious. “Danny...are you still in Amity?”

“Uhh...yeah?”

A moment of silence passed, where Sam’s eyes widened and Tucker just walked off screen.

“B-but look, I’ll figure out a way out! I helped build the shield, I should be able to take it down, right?”

Tucker jumped back into the frame, “You were the one who helped make it indestructible, especially against yourself!”

“True but—” he was suddenly interrupted as his phone started buzzing again. “Shit, my parents are calling, what do I tell them?”

“Just say you’re on your way out?”

“But Wes already left!”

“Wes?”

“Yeah, Wes, no time to explain—what do I say??”

“Just answer it!”

“Um.”

“DANNY!” Tucker and Sam both yelled.

He jerked as he hung up and accepted his parents’ voice call. Hesitantly holding the phone to his ear, he stuttered out, “H-hello?”

His mom’s worried voice crackled through the speaker, “Sweetie, where are you now? Wesley just came out and told us you were coming…”

“Uh…” He had to think up something. NOW. “Uhh...ghost!”

“Danny wha—”

“Can’t talk now, ghost chasing me—bye!” He abruptly hung up and shut off his phone. Heart beating rapidly, he stared at the black screen. His parents are going to kill him for this.

Well, if not already for being Danny Phantom. Ha.

Lying back down on the grass (at what point did he start sitting up?), he registered just how quiet it was. No vehicles humming in the background, no people; just a soothing autumn breeze brushing against the leaves, accompanied by an occasional chirp from a bird nearby. A lone cloud floated off in the bright blue sky. With a bit of squinting, it looked like a hoagie. At that moment, his grumbling stomach decided to interrupt the serenity.

Searching his bag, he found the sandwich he packed for lunch, which was now disgustingly soggy. Ew. Did his parents leave any leftovers back in the fridge? Nah...wait. His eyes locked on a Nasty Burger in the distance. If people had to evacuate, then they must’ve left their orders behind, right? Yeah, he would be doing the world a service by not letting that greasy burger goodness go to waste. Tucker would back him up on this.

Five minutes later, he phased out of the fast food joint with a bag of untouched, barely warm Nasty burgers in one hand and a Nasty soda in the other.

Danny was going back home to figure out a way to get past the shield. Not at all because of his impending food coma. So what if he decided to take a quick power nap to regain his focus? He’d get nothing done anyways if he was too tired to think.

And so what if that quick nap turned into him knocking out for 13 hours?

Startling awake in his bed, he checked the clock. 8:00 AM. Shit! He’s late for school. Stumbling out his bed, he immediately tripped over his backpack, falling to the floor in a harsh thud.

“Ow.”

Rubbing his shoulder, everything came flooding back in his now clear mind. Fuck, how could he let the Box Ghost trap him in his own thermos?

Fuck, he has to get up. He has to find a way to get past that shield. Right now. His parents, his friends...they’re all waiting. Who knows what could be happening to them, they could be in danger, they’d need him. He has to before...before…

Before what?

Danny didn’t even realize he was doing his morning routine on autopilot until he was in the kitchen, halfway through a slice of toast. “Ergh!” he exclaimed as he spat out the almost cardboard-like excuse for breakfast onto his plate.

Why would they be in danger?

Glancing outside, he only saw a flock of living birds in the distance. Where did all the ghosts go?

Maybe because there’s no longer anyone to haunt. And as long as the shield remains, there’s no chance of even a blob ghost escaping.

Wait, there’s still Vlad in Wisconsin! No, he wouldn’t dare make a move while the Guys in White were watching. That’s one thing he knew for certain about the fruitloop.

So...what now? Danny leaned back in the kitchen chair as the realization slowly dawned on him. Everyone’s safe. A wave of relief came over him, washing away a suffocating feeling he didn’t even realize was always there. For the first time in months, he could breathe.

The next thing Danny does is turn his pathetic slices of toast into a triple decker PB & J sandwich. Another first in months.

Of course he had to be finding a way to get past the shield. His parents must be so worried. Jazz...he still hasn’t called her back. Staring at the black screen of his phone, he couldn’t bring himself to turn it on again. Talking to her would only worry her even more, right? Ancients forbid, if his parents called again...what could he even say this time?

Sam and Tucker could fill her in. They probably already did. He slid the inactive phone back in his pocket and got up to drop his empty plate in the sink.

Hours later, Danny was sticking his tongue out in concentration, trying to get past the Level 4 boss in Doomed. He honestly started up the old desktop in the basement fully intending to review his parents’ notes on the shield. After nearly nodding off on the eighth page, he decided that he deserved a little break.

Yet, that break was still going strong at 5:30am the next day. He was finally on the last level. So close...his bloodshot eyes locked on the final key, just within arm’s reach. Almost...there…

Except, a shot came out of nowhere, striking his player right in his chest, killing him instantly. And because he was on his last life, Danny stared in disbelief as the words “Game Over” appeared on the screen. He threw the computer mouse in frustration, unintentionally letting a bit of his ghostly strength through.

Well, crap. He needs a new mouse now.

Maybe he can stop by the store in the morning. Yawning heavily, his eyes wandered to the lab’s wall clock, widening as he read the time.

He...he should’ve been focusing on the shield! He groaned as he took another look at the broken mouse. There’s not even any store to stop by anymore! Screw this, he needs sleep. He’ll deal with this later.

Apparently later meant a week from then. He honestly doesn’t know how he got so distracted. He just knew the majority of the last week was spent binge-watching classic horror movies and emptying out his dad’s secret hidden stash of snacks. Jazz probably would be able to offer him some textbook explanation for this.

At some point, he’d managed to convince himself that everyone’s eventually coming back. Why else would he still have electricity? And his family left pretty much everything behind, except for a few ecto-weapons and the GAV. There’s no way this can be permanent. And why should it be? He still couldn’t find the true reason for the evacuation, news reports from earlier that week just cite the “increasingly harmful and destructive occupation of extra-dimensional beings.” Sure, Danny’s been busting his ass more recently, but it wasn’t like the town was about to be captured by Pariah Dark again. With that in mind, why should he expend any extra effort figuring out how to get past the shield? The shield he made sure worked against his very own biology?

Plus, he was happy to have a break from everything. At least that’s what he tells himself. He tries to ignore that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, telling him that he should turn his phone back on.

Anyways, his dad’s snacks have run out. Which is why he was standing right in front of the supermarket, currently in his ghost form. He’s just going to phase in, grab what he needs, and phase right back out. Easy. It’s fine, even if he sets off any security alarms, no one’s even here to stop him. Besides, a lot of that food’s probably gonna go bad anyways.

The first thing he noticed was all the flies. They seemed to be having a party in the (slightly smelly) produce section. Luckily for Danny, eating his veggies wasn’t really a top priority (sorry Sam). He grabbed a basket, floated over to the bread area, and tossed in a loaf. One of his greatest accomplishments in the last week was learning how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. That and the snacks are what have fueled him in the last week.

It seemed like the owners still left everything on after abandoning the store. The meat section was thankfully cool and fly-free. Danny eyed his options, recalling all the times Tucker shared his favourite methods of cooking each meat. Guess that knowledge is finally being put to good use. Bacon? Yes. Steak? Yup. Drumsticks? Of course. Sausages? Can’t say no to that.

Danny floated further along, grabbing various other items, including a couple boxes of frozen dinners and plenty of snacks.

He almost forgot about the mouse. Luckily, he passed by the electronics store on the way home.

After packing away the groceries, Danny thought he deserved a nap. After, he’ll probably try making the sausages for dinner. And maybe give reading those shield notes another shot since he had the mouse now.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Instead, he finally beat Doomed. Holy shit. He instinctively reached for his phone to text Tucker. They’ve been playing that game since they were nine! He…

Faced with his still powered-off phone, Danny suddenly realized that it’s been a week since he last spoke to Tucker. And Sam.

He really should talk to them. He’s been an awful friend, he’s gotta at least reassure them that he’s alright. Yet Danny couldn’t bring himself to turn his phone back on.

Eventually, an imaginary light bulb lit up above his head, and he logged into his email on the computer. However, the moment he saw his inbox cluttered with emails from his parents, he logged the fuck outta there. Nope.

While watching The Birds later that night and seeing Melanie lock herself in a phone booth to protect herself from the violent seagulls, Danny suddenly got another idea.

It was a clear night, with the moon shining in all its glory, softly illuminating the dark sky. You couldn’t even tell that the shield was there. Almost would’ve been perfect for stargazing if it weren't for the useless city lights that were still on.

A family of raccoons was crossing the road a few blocks away. And a crow cawed from above on a lamp post. Otherwise, the street in front of his house was completely deserted.

He floated up until he had a view of the entire town. During his nightly patrols, it’d never been this quiet. It felt like he was almost intruding on something, being out here now.

Using his powers to enhance his vision in the dark, he searched around for a payphone. Yes, he’s seen them before, although he can’t say he’d ever used one. It's gotta be somewhere.

He passed by an electronics store with a TV playing the news in the display. He immediately halted and did a double-take. His face was splayed across the screen, with the headline underneath, “RESIDENT GHOST HUNTERS’ SON MISSING AFTER EVACUATION”.

Before he could fully process that, he was knocked to the ground. Panicking, he struggled to get back up, but was pinned under something. Hold on, this seems famili—

“What have you done with our son, ghost?” Maddie Fenton demanded, pure hostility lacing her words.

Danny stared wide-eyed at his mother through the net, standing over him and holding an ecto-gun to his forehead.

“I…uh...”

“Speak now. Otherwise, you’ll find out just how quickly a blast from this will obliterate your vile form,” she threatened, pressing the gun right to his head now.

“N-nothing I s-swear! He l-left, with everyone else,” Danny sputtered.

“Lies. You attacked him right before he was going to leave.”

Crap. In retrospect that wasn’t really a good choice for an excuse. “That wasn’t me!” he exclaimed.

In that moment Danny realized his father was also there, standing a few feet behind Maddie. “Scanner’s telling me that you’re the only ecto-entity in Amity Park. So, ‘fess up ghost boy,” Jack said, glaring at his son.

Danny looked between them. His heart dropped when he registered how stressed they both looked. His dad’s face was patchy in places, obviously left unshaven for days. The bags under his eyes only accentuated how bloodshot they were. Danny couldn’t see much of his mom due to her goggles, but she was visibly trembling. This was all because of him. That same nagging feeling he’d ignored for far too long was now threatening to boil over and strangle him. Choosing his next words carefully, he choked out, “Alright yeah, but he left. I swear.”

“No…” Maddie whispered.

“Maddie, maybe the tracker’s malfunctioning again,” Jack suggested.

She looked back at her husband for a few moments. Then, she lowered the gun. Danny didn’t even realize he was holding his breath.

“But...we’ve searched all the groups, and none of the nearby towns are reporting him. Where else can he be?” she pleaded.

“We just have to keep looking Mads,” Jack answered dejectedly.

As soon as his parents started up the GAV and turned at the block, Danny made an instantaneous decision. He transformed to human form, broke through his parents’ net, and ran after them, forgoing all consequences. The guilt was too much to bear. He ran as fast as his “barely passing P.E.” legs could take him. He passed several blocks, adrenaline fueling him to keep going. When he slammed into the shield once again, he looked up to see the GAV stopped far in the distance, with Maddie outside, sobbing into Jack’s shoulder while he held her. They were too far for his screams to reach.

#danny phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #i did it #the longest fic i've written #so far #i’ve finally graduated from writing ficlets #:')#ao3 #oneshot #grooveactuallywrites

33 notes · View notes

nautiscarader · 4 years

Note

kim/ron 20

Smutember day 20 - Adrenaline rush

Kim/Ron, E 2.1k

(Ao3)

If you liked my story, here’s a Ko-fi link if you’d be so kind ❤️.

==================

Just a moment ago, everything was okay. Kim laughed at Ron's joke, keeping her eyes at the horizon and hands on the yoke. And then, she was falling through the air, with Ron next to her.

In the last minute of their doomed flight she tried to see why all of the controls of the small private plane went haywire, and when she realised there was no way she would be able to land, she told him they have to jump.

She was holding her boyfriend's hand as she felt air blowing through their hair, like they've done a hundred times and then, and just when she wanted to pull her cord, she heard a scream, and saw Ron's arms flailing in the air, pulling his cord for nothing.

If she had pulled her parachute open, he would be falling away from her at nearly full terminal velocity, with no chance of catching him even with her grappling hook. Kim spread her arms, and looking only at him, she manoeuvred her position to let the wind steer her towards him.

She would not dare to look down. She knew they were getting to the ground faster and faster, fifty meters every second.

Ron reached his hand, and the second she felt his fingertips she pulled him towards her, and only when his arms tightened around hers, she pulled the cord, praying they were high enough.

They didn't collide with the ground. They were alive. She saw her boyfriend's face through tears, and only then she looked down at the green treetops of the Amazon, approaching them with significantly slower speed.

- I got you. - she whispered, her voice breaking. - I know, KP. I know.

Another reassuring noise came from Rufus, sticking his head from the pocket in Ron's jacket.

For the first time in a long, long minute, Kim breathed in the air whooshing around them and exhaled it with a sigh of relief.

- We're off course, though - she noted, looking around - We might have to land on that plateau. - I trust, you Kim. Also, try not to flinch around... Now.

Kim tightened her grip just when she heard a distant explosion when their plane with the rest of their equipment collided with the ground.

The two looked at each other, exchanging wordless thoughts.

- Ron, Rufus, brace yourselves, this might be hard landing.

Shielding him from the impact, she let her body take the majority of force, hoping the leaves of the bush she was aiming at would do the rest. A second stretched into infinity again, as she waited for Ron's voice, and when he finally spoke, she did something she wanted to do for a long time.

- Kim, I'm fine, are you-

His voice drowned in her mouth when she pulled him into a salty kiss, as tears began overflowing her eyes. At least for now they were safe.

- Uh, Kim, we're no longer falling to our deaths, you can let go now. - Never. - she spoke through tears - I'm not letting you go ever again.

============================

With all their limbs intact, the two started thinking of a plan how to get back onto their track. They were, after all in the middle of a jungle, one of the densest in he world. Kim's heart sank when she tried contacting Wade, as it would seem her Kimmunicator took one for the team.

The two spent the first hour walking around the rocky plateau, hoping to find some place of shelter there. The sun was setting down, and if they could find a place to set up a camp above the treetops, instead of on the ground, they would at least be shielded from wild animals.

An optimist would call it a cave; a realist, a slightly deeper hole in the rocky wall they were encircling. But at least it gave them the shelter, and a place to rest and ascertain their situation. Kim sat on her folded parachutes, doubling as beddings, trying to gather her thoughts, still racing through her mind.

- Okay, so, our equipment is gone, and we have no way of contacting rest of the world. We know where north is, shame we don't have a map... - We do! - No, Ron, I told you, the GPS isn't working, so- - No, a map!

Ron waved a thick, pocket-sized, battered book at her, and watched as her face brightened.

- Admittedly, it still has Czechoslovakia in it, and Germany is divided into three pieces, instead of two, so I don't think it-

Once again his voice died down when Kim's lips crashed with his as she nearly toppled him to the ground, peppering his face with kisses.

- Ron, you saved ut! Did you manage to bring anything else? - Er, I have some snacks. - he smiled, much to her surprise - The vending machine was dirt cheap... - Ron, you are always so considerate... - she cooed and toyed with his hair. - Well, I knew we might need it here, I mean, I gotta balance the diet of the fruits here with something slightly less healthy...

Kim smiled at him, and the two burst into laughter, listening to the soft crackling of the campfire. Her hands coiled around him, feeling the soft material of Ron's parachute underneath them, and as she pressed her body against his, something clicked in her brain, and she broke their kiss so she could undo her shirt.

- Ki-Kim?! - Ron stuttered, unable to trust his eyes - No-Now? Here?! - Ron, I-I can't wait... - Kim spoke in low, breathless voice, one she herself couldn't fully recognise, as her hands dug into his shirt - I-I have to know if you're alive...

In the corner of her eye, she saw Rufus giving them a contemptuous looks before he stuffed his earplugs in, and ran towards their only remaining backpack to give the two a bit of privacy. He will get over it, Kim thought. He always does.

She concentrated back on her boyfriend, and let out a gasp when she felt his hands doing a bit of work on her cargo pants, though with the heat growing between her loins, she knew she would do it much, much faster than him. She stood up and in one fell swoop she disrobed herself, before doing the same to her baffled lover, finally letting their naked bodies collide.

- Kim, I don't- - No talk, Ron. - she shushed him. - Later.

She straddled him, and as their lips met once more, she finally felt her lover between her legs, and that he was as much into her spontaneous, wild plan as she was. For a split of a second, she thought of his mouth on her sex, of the long and delicate foreplay Ron was spoiling her with almost every night; the sight of his blonde hair above her tiny red bush and her fingers in them...

And then she impaled herself onto his cock, bypassing all of that. Her loud, primal cry echoed around them, and Ron could swear that it made a group of birds fly away from a nearby tree, though he couldn't be sure, as all he could concentrate on was his radiant girlfriend bouncing up and down on his cock with a mad gleam in her eye he didn't expect to see, especially here.

Kim didn't want his tenderness and gentlemanly behaviour. She wanted ruthless, rabid rutting she knew he was capable of, though from the wide-eyed stare he was giving her, she had to jump-start him into that mood. Her hips and legs worked overtime, coating his manhood with more of her juices that in turn only allowed her to speed up her frantic bounces.

Their lips met in quick, aggressive kisses, short enough for the to let them breathe in their shared musk and heat with much needed air they were expelling, though Kim was doing it to a much bigger degree, fully justifying Rufus' earplugs. For a short moment Ron was glad, as her carnal moans and wails, cried into the night would surely repel any animals.

But as their spontaneous love-making continued, his voice slowly began rivalling hers, as his cries and grunts raised and harmonised with hers. His grip on her thighs tightened, fulfilling Kim's deepest desire to be as close to her lover as possible. Though the two never looked away from each other, in a split of second before the bliss consumed them, they saw the familiar sparks in their eyes, and as Ron pulled her against her, and onto his cock, Kim came, dragging him with her. But her initial cry was nothing compared to the series of high-pitched moans in quivering voice that reverberated against the rocky walls with each portion of his warmth Ron spilled inside her.

The two rocked their bodies together, as if competing against each other in some invisible race, fuelling their carnal desires.

A solid minute later, when Kim has calmed down, Ron massaged her backside, still shivering from the waves of orgasm, as well as the gentle breeze of chill air that was quickly combated by the heat from their love-making. Their lips met again, in a much longer, languorous, sensual kiss in which Kim explained in lengthy, silent details how much she needed him.

- So, do you think I'm alive? - Ron asked with a slightly croaked voice, trying to sound composed and cool. - Mhm I don't know. - Kim smiled - I think I need some more pro-OOF!

She yelped when her lover toppled her to her back, making sure that her head would land on his open palm first, as he slid the other, useless parachute for her comfort. Before Kim knew, her legs were on his shoulders, and the same man, who was surprised by the sight of her naked breasts a few long moments ago was now happily pounding her with a smirk on his face.

Kim let out a loud, unabashed "YES!" and let their bodies mingle once more. And as he exerted his dominance over her, first by mate-pressing her, and then taking her doggy-style, Kim had a sudden epiphany. This is exactly how they should have been doing it.

How it should be done at all...

Sure, delicate bedsheets were nice and all, but doing it in the wild, underneath a starry sky, has awoken a very primal part of her mind. True, they have done it in the park during jogging one time, and there was that incident in the changing booth in the mall, but those couldn't compare to this... Before she would let Ron climax again, though, she swiftly rolled to her back, temporarily losing the precious connection with him she regain at once when she closed her legs behind his back, locking him inside her again.

Their eyes met, and another, loud scream filled the air around them when they reached their shared peaks. And as Ron's seed continued to flood her womb for the third time, their moans and cries joined the sounds of the mating season around them, as the night was still very young for them.

==================

A long while later, they cuddled against each other, wrapped in their parachutes working as blankets. Ron was peppering Kim's shoulders, watching as she did the rudimentary math with Ron's pencil (he always carried one). She giggled when his mouth reached a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and turned towards him to give him another kiss.

- You want more? - Nah, I think I am all done for tonight. And for entire week, honestly.

Kim giggled.

- Well, we have to gather some strength through the night. We have a full day of trekking until we reach Manaus. - That's nothing for us.

He smiled and coiled his arms behind her back in a tight, loving embrace.

- Kim, I was gonna say earlier... - I know, Ron, don't worry. - she interrupted him - You brought the map, pencil, and snacks, those were more important than condoms. We will think of something once we reach the town. But even if not...

Kim paused and cupped his face, feeling his body tremble slightly underneath her touch.

- As I've said, I'm never letting go of you ever again either way.

She looked into his loving, brown eyes and watched as the uncertainty in them disappear with her reassuring words.

- Want something to eat, KP? I'm kinda famished after... after all that. - As long as Rufus hasn't eaten everything.

She laughed and gently moved their only backpack to see if they still had some food supplies left.

#kimron #kim/ron #lemon #nautiscaraderfics #Anonymous #kimxron #kim possible #ron stoppable #smutember #day 20

14 notes · View notes

bookworm-blogs · 4 years

Text

The Dream

Spoilers for Chapter +253 of My Hero Academia!

///

Shouta’s legs move as if on autopilot, and he looks around the halls of UA for any sign of life. The hallway is brighter than he’s ever seen it before and the world beyond the glass planes of the high school’s walls is nothing but a blinding white. As far as he can tell, nobody else is in this wing of the school or anywhere else for that matter; it’s just pure and absolute silence. He can’t even hear his own footsteps.

“Hizashi! Kayama!” Shouta tries calling out. Surely the boisterous blond and perverted heroine are somewhere around here. In fact, Hizashi’s class should be just up ahead.

Shouta walks up to the familiar classroom and pulls the door open, but instead of seeing his friend sitting at his desk listening to radio or drinking coffee, all that greets him is black. Not darkness, not shadows, but an inexplicable, harrowing empitness, as if he’s gazing into an abyss. Shouta freezes up and icy cold talons grip his chest.

“Hizashi?” Shouta calls into the dark, but nobody calls back. He hesitates then closes the door.

“Hahaha! It’s a nice day today, eh?” An achingly familiar voice cheers, and the familiarity of it seizes his heart and squeezes it. Slowly, he turns to look down the hallway, and as if from a mile away, he sees him. It’s not Hizashi, nor is it Kayama, but it’s someone he hasn’t properly seen in over a decade. Someone with wavy light blue hair that seems to float around his head like a cloud, someone with a lopsided grin and bright azure eyes that seem to light up the world in joy.

Shirakumo Oboro is standing at the end of the hallway, dressed in his school uniform and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looks exactly like how he did fifteen years ago before the incident, when he was seventeen. When he was alive. The moment Shouta’s eyes make contact with his friend’s azure ones, Oboro’s smile broadens and he races down one of the adjacent hallways.

“Oi, wait! Oboro!” Shouta shrieks and reaches out his hand without thinking, his own eyes widening further as he finally notices he’s dressed in his own old school uniform. His hands fly up to his face and feel for his skin and chin, but his skin is clear from any facial hair and is impossibly smooth for someone his age. Somehow, he’s a teenager again.

I can’t let him get away, Shouta thinks and sprints after the taller boy. His lungs fill with ice and his legs burn, but Shouta ignores it as he forces himself to follow in hot pursuit. I still haven’t told him all I need to tell him. I haven’t thanked him yet, not for a single damn thing he’s done for me! I can’t let him leave us, not again… Falling debris fills his vision, and suddenly the hallways around him shifts and he’s standing in the middle of rainy streets. Shouta blinks and the image fades away.

“Oboro!” Shouta screams, more desperately this time. Slowly yet surely, he’s catching up with the older boy until there’s no more than a few feet between them. Oboro doesn’t look back, though, and honestly Shouta isn’t even sure if he sees him.

Oboro turns up the flight of stairs leading to the roof and goes up three steps at a time, and with a mighty heave, the metal doors fly open at the top. The blinding white flashes in Shouta’s eyes and he flinches back so hard that his knees buckle beneath him and he falls to his knees with a cry.

“Ohh boy! Ain’t nothin’ better than a game of chase, eh, Shou?” Oboro’s voice cackles. Something rustles beside him and a large hand falls on his head. “C’mon, dude. It’s bright out, I know, but you gotta give your eyes time to adjust.”

“Oboro…?” Shouta grits out and finally manages to pry his eyes open. The world beyond is so bright, but after a few seconds of rapid blinking, he can finally see ahead of him. He lifts his head and meets Oboro’s eyes, which crinkle at the edges as he flashes the ravenette a flashy grin.

“‘Course it’s me, who else would it be?” he asks, and Shouta’s lips wobble as tears punch him in the throat. Without thinking, he lunges forward and wraps his arms tightly around Oboro’s shoulders and crushes him in a hug. Oboro lets out a muffled “oof” but his hands hug him back easily. “Haha! I mean, I know I’m a pleasure to have around, but I never expected a hug from you, Shouta!”

“You stupid fucker,” Shouta sobs into Oboro’s shoulders. “Why do you have to be so goddamn selfless all the time? If you had just thought about yourself for once in your life then I… we…”

Oboro pulls him closer. “It’s an occupational hazard of being a hero, Shou. But ya know what? I can’t say I regret it. Lives were on the line and I had to do something about it, ya know?”

Shouta shakes his head vigorously. “You- you could have made a cloud to protect yourself and those kids at the same time! But you didn’t because you’re a goddamn moron! A moron above morons with no sense of self preservation! Did you think at all about how we felt!? How we feel!?” he snaps back, his voice gaining friction with each choked word.

“I’m sorry.”

Shouta has so many more things to say, but the tears strangling him make it hard enough for him to breathe without sputtering in a pathetic mess. Oboro’s firm, strong arms hold him, and Shouta just wants to melt into them. Fifteen years is a long time, but the memory of these arms grabbing him around the shoulders and dragging him towards the future is something he’ll never forget. Since they first met with Oboro pretending to jump out of the window on the first day of school, Shouta has seen this boy as a brother. A friend he can rely on for anything, except for, of course, taking care of his own health.

“Mann, I must’ve missed out on a lot,” Oboro finally says. “I dunno why, but it feels like I’ve been here forever.”

“What did it feel like?” Shouta grits out, and Oboro shrugs.

“It hurt like hell for a split second, and then there was nothing. That’s the only silver lining to this, I guess. I didn’t go out suffering or anything,” he says, then lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Of course, there’s also you taking down that big ass villain on your own. It was pretty cool, you know that? Seeing you take down that fucker with nothing but your wit and quirk. I knew you had it in you, Shouta.”

No I don’t, a darker part of Shouta’s mind hisses. I didn’t. I still don’t. I don’t think I can ever take that type of pain ever again. Never.

“I’m sorry,” Shouta finally blurts out. “I’m sorry for being such a lame friend, for not being faster to help you out. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I dragged you back for so long. I’m sorry I--”

“Enough, Shouta,” Oboro says firmly and pulls away so that his blue eyes could peirce into Shouta’s dark ones. “It’s not your fault, you hear? There was absolutely nothing you could have done to help me without risking your own life. And that’s okay. You became a damn fine hero without me, and I can’t be more proud of you. You made it. You did it, Shouta.”

Shouta shakes his head. “If I was faster-- if I was better--” he stammers.

Oboro gives Shouta’s shoulders a firm shake. “You’re good enough,” Oboro tells him. “You hear me, Shouta? You’re good enough.”

Shouta shakes off Oboro’s hands and scoots back several inches. “How could you say that?! I let you die! It’s because of me that All For One got you, and it’s because of me that you became a nomu!” he shrieks.

Oboro shakes his head. “Neither of those things are your fault, Shouta. You need to accept that,” he tells him. “Besides, it’s not all bad. You brought me back.”

Shouta scoffs. “Why on Earth would you say that? Your face popped up for a few seconds in Tartarus before you short-circuited like a computer,” he says.

“I mean, you’re right about that, but you still managed to wake up that part of me. I’ve been trapped here for so long, and then for a few moments, I was able to see again,” Oboro tells him, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “Who knows? Maybe in the future, when all of this has settled, we’ll be able to hang out again.”

Shouta shakes his head, chuckling bitterly. “I hope we can,” though I’m not sure if it’s possible.

“Sure it’s possible,” Oboro says, surprising him. He blinks and his azure blue eyes are suddenly a bright yellow that glows like fire, and dark purple mist seems to seep out from his pores and rush up and around his body, completely consuming him within an instant. Shouta watches the scene in horror as the clothes covering Oboro’s body warp into an elegant olive green suit, white under shirt, and black tie coupled with black dress pants and slacks. A silver collar appears from under the smoke and wraps itself around Kurogiri’s neck, and the yellow eyes squint.

“After all,” Kurogiri continues, “how can you be so sure that I was ever gone?”

#Shirakumo Oboro #Oboro Shirakumo #Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa Shouta #Kurogiri #Chapter 253 spoilers #manga #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my writing #original

45 notes · View notes