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jockbroski34 · 11 months ago

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New Blood (Chapter 2)

This is the second half of New Blood. If you haven't already, please read the first part here:

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--Braden POV--

It’s been two weeks since Jacob changed into a jock. I almost didn’t recognize him at first. He seemed pretty chill when I saw him first, but now he acted like a spitting image of Zach and even started to look the part too. I even heard rumors that they started dating, which was a surprise to me because Zach always came off as straight to me.

It was just like what happened with Bradley. They would start hanging out more and more with Zach, and then the next time you see them, they become freakishly huge and start playing football. I’ve seen it happen twice, but I am certain it has happened before. It wasn’t the first time I saw someone in my class walk in looking like they took steroids overnight, but it was uncommon enough for it to not be a noticeable problem.

Even worse, I know he’s still at it. I’ve seen Zach and “Jake” talking to a guy I know in my class, Charlie. If I had to guess, he’s their next victim, but knowing him, I’m sure he’d be begging to join them. He’s openly gay and he’s always thirsted over the guys on the football team, even preferring my brother “Brad” over me. Zach probably has him wrapped around his finger at this point. Honestly, I felt bad for him for being that desperate. I knew it would be impossible to convince someone that down bad.

One thing became clear to me after the past several months. Zach was obviously getting closer to people in order to convince them to join the football team and become jocks like him. I’ve seen it happen multiple times, and at this point, he’s gone too far. I could try to tell the school about what he has been doing, but without definitive proof, I would just look crazy. The school obviously wouldn’t care anyways because they would benefit from a better football team to put their school’s name on the board.

As far as I know, no one in the school really seems to notice or care about people changing before their very eyes. They are completely oblivious. They don’t even care that they could be the one chosen to be targeted next. I’m basically all on my own here. This has to have been happening for almost a year at this point and I have to do something. I have to stop Zach and the rest of the team from turning these students into meathead jocks.

I began to investigate Zach and the rest of the football team. I went down the roster and made a list of every person who I definitely knew had been turned into a jock. There were a few more than I had expected to be honest. About thirty percent, I believe. These people had all gone through the drastic changes involved with joining the team, including the increased body growth.

There was one person who I specifically wanted to find information on, Zach. I decided to browse his Instagram to find even a hint of any tangible evidence that I could use against him. He had a lot of photos, with most of the recent ones being him showing off his body or partying. I wouldn’t expect much else from a douchebag like him. Although my investigation did not bear much fruit, I did find something interesting. As I scrolled through his old photos, I saw a boy both similar, yet entirely different to the cocky, muscular quarterback I knew. Was he one of the ones that was changed too?

The photo, about two years ago, showed an entirely different Zach. He was certainly still tall for his age, and definitely still taller than I am now. He was more on the skinnier side, however, and his face had softer, more boyish features compared to his more chiseled self. He had a longer hairstyle which contrasted with the short style he was rocking now. He still had the same verdant green eyes, although they had a more innocent look compared to the confidence his current self was full of. If you had shown me this picture without any of the information I know, I would’ve thought this was his cute little brother.

The more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder. How did he do it? Him being one of the earlier guys to transform combined with him being the quarterback and the team captain led me to believe that he had to be one of the first, perhaps being the prototype.

I saw another photo of the old Zach from three years ago. It was him with two older men at a football game, each one of them adorning a jersey to match with the others in the crowded stadium. The man next to Zach bore enough similarities with him that I assumed that he was his father, but the other man’s identity was still a mystery. The face looked familiar however, but I figured it was just a coincidence. Maybe he was an uncle or an old family friend? Either way, I came to the conclusion that Zach was likely always into football even at a young age. I wouldn’t find it surprising that he would want to play football, but anyone with eyes could see that it would be impossible to achieve that kind of body in just two years even with nonstop training and a strict diet. I considered the possibility that steroids could have been involved, but how would he be able to even get his hands on them, let alone supply them to that many people?

I then tried to broaden my perspective a bit, and an interesting theory entered my mind. The football coach would obviously know of the changes, right? He couldn’t just turn a blind eye after some guys just randomly became jocks and wanted to join the team, right? In fact, he would have much to gain by turning his players into the ideal version of a high school football player. Stronger players mean more wins. More wins mean more success for the team and for the school. No wonder why the school doesn’t care. They are directly benefiting from this!

So I decided that I would dig deeper on the coach. Unsurprisingly, he was a former football player and coach, but decided to move to this town about three to four years ago. At the college he went to, he majored in psychology. I found the pair between football and psychology to be a strange fit, with very little overlap. But then I started to think. He obviously knows a lot about the human mind. Maybe that’s why the guys on the team like Bradley and Jacob came out acting like entirely different people. He had to have done something to them subconsciously, perhaps some form of hypnosis or brainwashing. Bradley would often mention things that obviously never happened, so I am sure his memories were tampered with. I would know. I’ve known him my entire life and he never cared about sports before now. Just as I had figured out a hypothesis on how they might have changed mentally, I still didn’t know how their bodies might have changed. I defaulted to my original idea, steroids, but I didn’t know how a high school coach would get steroids for his players. Surely he’s smart enough to want to avoid that scandal.

I remembered the coach’s face. I’ve definitely seen it before at least once at school, but it was also the other man in the photo with Zach! So it seems that the coach knew Zach before he became a jock. I’m guessing he and his father were close? If I’m on the right track, Zach could have been his guinea pig for his experiments, since he would have to be one of the first guys to undergo the jock transformation.

I wrote all of the important evidence I had into a document, but then I heard the front door open. Shit, Brad, no, Bradley came home early from football practice! I quickly saved the document onto my flash drive, and hid it in my pocket. We shared the same computer, so I couldn’t risk him finding it, even though he would probably just look up sports statistics or porn instead. Bradley was seemingly unaware by the time he entered our shared room.

“Hey bro,” Bradley said. “Doing homework already? You’re a much harder worker than me, bro.” The old Bradley would never say bro. And he was arguably a better student than me.

“Yeah,” I responded, sarcastically. I was honestly getting tired of him after all that has been going on. “Not that you would know anything about studying, you dumb brute.” I grabbed my things and left for the living room, not wanting to be anywhere near my changed brother, nor near his sweaty, unwashed clothes that he left on the floor.

“What’s wrong bro?” Bradley followed me, his large feet stomping on the floor with every step. “You not feeling alright? I’m going on a run in a little bit if you want to come with. It’ll help clear your head.” I was fuming at his ignorance. It was at this moment that I burst.

“You are what’s wrong ‘bro’! Ever since you started hanging out with Zach and joined the football team, you’ve been completely unrecognizable! You’re just another jock now!”

“So what? I like being on the team and I like hanging out with the guys.”

“Is that really you in there or is that Zach or Coach doing the talking for you? You were never like this before you met them. I know that they changed you!” I realized I may have said too much.

“I guess they did rub off on me a little, but I did this for me, bro,” I rolled my eyes at the idea that anyone would willingly agree to be transformed into a jock. “I know you and I have grown apart these past couple months, but I just want us to get along again like we used to, bro. No matter what.” He reached out for a hug, but I pushed him away. The man in front of me was not my brother. Besides, he’d probably break a bone or two.

“You are not my ‘bro’! If you want us to be brothers again, you can start by quitting the team. You’re never gonna get anywhere in life by throwing footballs and getting concussions.”

“You’ll never understand, little bro.” Bradley seemed disappointed, and left through the front door, likely going on another one of his runs. I felt a wave of anger and shame rush over me, not just at my foolish brother, but at myself for being unable to connect with him. The rest of the night went by as usual, only we were even more cold towards each other than we were earlier. Dinner was incredibly awkward, with our tension hanging over the dinner table. We avoided eye contact and didn’t even say a word to each other the whole night. As I tried to fall asleep, I knew that we couldn’t keep living like this. Something needed to change.

--Jake POV--

I woke up to the sound of an alarm in Zach’s warm embrace, his toned arms barely wrapped around my new, larger body. His thick legs tangled in between mine like a knot and his 9-inch serpent in his jockstrap pressed against my back. I had slept the night at his place again, but it was pretty common these days now that we were officially a couple. We saw each other almost every day, whether it was at school, practice, the gym, or watching football together on Sunday. The other bros grew a little jealous of us, but it’s a little hard not to be.

I thought about what happened the other day. Memories of the lessons prior were drowned out by the practice, and by me and Zach recruiting the newbie to the team. You see, Zach was not only the team captain and our star quarterback. He was also responsible for recruiting new members to the team and getting people interested in football, and he asked me to help him out, which I obviously agreed to.

Obviously I now know how the recruitment process actually works, seeing as he had done it to me weeks ago, but it is different watching it compared to seeing it happen to yourself. Unlike me, the new recruit took less time and was very eager to join the team. Charlie was a nerdy kid, and gay too, but he had a slight interest in football, but mainly for the hot guys who played it. I empathized with him, seeing as I was lusting over Zach just weeks ago. Naturally, me and Zach helped him realize that he could be one of those hot football jocks who he jerked off to, while also allowing him to appreciate the art of the game on more than a surface level. I watched Charlie transform and he was already in love with his new body and jock persona. He’s now one of the guys he’s thirsted for, and maybe if he’s lucky, he can get to suck off one of the bros. I don’t think any of them are gay, though, but if little bro tries to make a move on Zach though, I’ll beat the shit out of him. Maybe I’ll try to hook him up with another new gay recruit.

I heard a buzzing sound from the nightstand in front of me. I grabbed my phone, which lit up in the dark room. My new lock screen was a picture of me and Zach, our arms over each other’s shoulders, in our football uniforms after a hard-fought victory. Brad had messaged the group chat and it seemed like he had something important to share.

“hey bros my little bro braden is mad at me for joining the team and i think he knos about wat teh team is doin hes obv mizrabl and i want us to get along agan think zach and coach can turn him into a jock liek me?”

I remembered Braden and how antagonistic he acted towards me and the other members of the team. I still haven’t forgiven him for being so judgmental towards us. We just wanted to play football and be bros together. What was wrong with that? Judging from what Brad said, it is clear that he’s already gathering evidence on us just like he had said, as he knows about not just Zach, but Coach too. If the secrets of our program leaks, it could be very bad news. Because he was an enemy to the team, he was an enemy to me. However, I felt like I could forgive him if he joined us. Plus, I wanted him to see firsthand why we loved this lifestyle so much. I responded in the group chat.

“yea we shud do it b4 he trys telling any1 he knows about zach alredy and he knows i changed and tryd to warn me lets talk after practice”

Zach started to rise from his slumber, realizing that he had slept past his alarm and he gave me a kiss on the lips. I informed him of the situation with Braden and he agreed that this was probably the best option. I didn’t care if he would try to resist us, but he needed to know that we were not to be fucked with. Zach went downstairs to make breakfast for the two of us while I got ready for school.

I changed into one of Zach’s T-shirts that he let me wear and a pair of basketball shorts, and then I put on my hat, adorned with the team’s logo, and twisted the brim backward. Damn, I looked good. I got turned on by the man staring back at me in the mirror, with his toned body and cocky smirk that showed everyone that he was on top of the world. I could tell that my transformation was corrupting me, but in the best way possible. I loved it. This was everything I ever wanted.

On my plate were eggs, bacon, and peanut butter toast. Zach didn’t take his studies too seriously but at least he knew how to cook a good, protein-rich meal. It was a feast fit for muscular kings like ourselves. I chugged the protein shake that he made for me, rich with a chocolate flavor, before we got into my car and drove to school.

We arrived at school, sat through a bunch of boring lectures, and as soon as that was over, we went straight to practice. Earlier in the day, I bumped into Braden to show him who he was up against. He just glared back at me. It was an odd feeling knowing the power I had over others, but the idea of being stronger and better than everyone made me hard. While we waited for Coach to arrive, we discussed what to do about Braden. Charlie said that he had final period with him and that he looked at him funny. I found the coincidence that Charlie shared a class with him to be quite hilarious, and I imagined the irony of the situation to drive him insane. Brad said that his mom was going out of town for the week to visit family and his dad worked late hours, so he would have no one to pick him up.

With that information, I devised a plan. Since Brad would probably have to pick up Braden from school, we could use this opportunity in our favor and get him alone with us. Since we have practice tomorrow, he will have to stay until after we are finished, so as long as we can keep track of him, we should be able to take him to the locker room in order to be transformed. With the plan ready to go, we started practice. After that, me and Zach went to the gym and my biceps were swollen after a hard workout. I definitely reached a new high today, and I felt great. Zach decided to spend the night at my place as we tried to iron out any potential flaws in our plan. Zach seemed proud that I was taking an active role in the team.

“Hey bro, you’re doing a great job helping me to keep this team going. Whether it’s winning games, or helping out during practice, or giving new recruits the sweet taste of what it’s like to be a jock, you’re really awesome. When I first met you, I never imagined you would make this great of a jock.”

I blushed. No one had ever praised me that much. “What can I say bro? I learned from the best,” I responded as I kissed him. He wrapped his arms and body around me and spooned me like the night before. As I drifted to sleep, I reflected on Zach and the other guys on the team. They brought out the best in me. I fought for my life for them on the field just as they did for me. Off the field, they were like the brothers I never had. But Zach was the only person I felt truly understood me on a personal level. He made me who I am and he showed me how to make other guys as great as we are. And I eagerly awaited tomorrow when we would have yet another new recruit.

--Braden POV--

Looks like the jocks are at it again. Charlie was officially turned into yet another musclehead jock. We were kinda close, since we talked a bit during class, and I genuinely did get along with him despite his preference for jocks. To be honest, I thought he was kinda cute, but all he would talk about is how hot the football guys were which was a turn-off to me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he gave in to them. I’m sure he’ll have a great time taking dick in the locker room like he always dreamed of.

It was at this point that I finally developed a plan to put an end to the football team’s schemes. I learned the other day that my mom was going to visit family for the week, so I would be alone with “Brad” until my dad got home. Normally this would be a nightmare for me, since I’d have to stay at school until after his practice since he would be responsible for driving me home. I decided that while he and the other jocks were at practice, I would sneak into the locker room in order to find any evidence that these guys were turning into jocks. The more the better, but even just one piece of evidence would surely be enough to raise some suspicion against them. If I find any incriminating evidence, I’ll report it straight to the school and the police. It’s all up to me at this point.

After class, I went to the library to get some peace and quiet and to get a headstart on some homework before commencing with my operation. I found it hard to concentrate because I was so on edge. I figured I wouldn’t have any problems since practice was still over an hour long, but the anticipation was killing me. I was also distracted by heavy stomping outside. It was after school! Couldn’t they keep it down at least a little? And then, even though I should’ve been alone, I heard someone else enter the library.

It was Charlie! What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be at practice? He was still wearing his uniform too. I had to admit, his new look did suit him. I found myself staring at his nice round bubble butt. It was always on the larger side, but it had to look even bigger now. His football pants helped to emphasize his best features. What am I even saying? Even if he was objectively more handsome, any attraction I would have for him would vanish as soon as he opened his dumb mouth.

“Hey, Brady! I didn’t know you were still here,” Charlie greeted me with a stupid grin on his face. I hated that he was trying so hard to be friendly with me.

“Yeah, Bradley has to pick me up today,” I responded. Surely just putting up with him would get him off my back for a while. The last thing I wanted was for him to interfere with my plans. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at practice.”

“I forgot my book in class, so I went to go get it really quick. But then, I saw you. Brad did say that he would be picking you up today.” What an odd excuse. I couldn’t imagine the coach letting him leave practice early for a stupid reason like that.

“Couldn’t you just go after practice? Like don’t you have better things to do?”

“I told Coach I’d be quick. Plus, I wanted to see you!” He wrapped his meaty arm around my scrawny shoulder. I could smell a strong waft from his armpit, from the sweat of a hard workout. I would’ve pushed him off me, but there was little point fighting back against a man as strong as he is. It was a friendly gesture anyways.

“I’m kinda sad that we don’t talk much, bro. I know I spend a lot of time on the football team, but I would’ve liked to get to know you better. I think you should join the team so we can hang out more.”

“I’m not…” my annoyant tone was paused as Charlie pushed his face into mine. He was kissing me? I had to admit, he was a good kisser, both strong and passionate. I wasn’t sure if he was naturally like this or if his jock side made him a better kisser. As our lips parted, I felt my face turn beet red. I was overwhelmed, embarrassed, confused, furious, annoyed…No. I couldn’t find any one word to describe how I felt. I knew I wasn’t supposed to kiss him, but it did genuinely feel nice even if I couldn’t stand Charlie the jock. I had to get it together. He was obviously trying to mess with me, but my answer stayed the same. “I’m not joining the team.”

“Yes you are,” a voice said as a set of hands grabbed me from behind. Before I could call out for help, one of the firm hands covered my mouth, deafening my cries for help. Fuck, it was Jake! He must’ve snuck in while I was distracted and disoriented. He effortlessly picked me up and shoved me into a black gym bag. I was trapped. I couldn’t see a thing and no one could hear me either. It was a tight fit and I couldn’t fight back against the scent of old, sweaty gym clothes.

“Good work, little bro,” Jake said as he high-fived Charlie. “Now let’s take him to the locker room.” Shit, they were already one step ahead of me. I had to admit, these meathead jocks were smarter than I thought. I remembered Charlie’s words and I realized what they were going to do to me. They were planning to turn me into a jock! This cannot be happening. As I tried to think of a plan to get out of this situation, my mind became clouded by the intoxicating scent inside the bag. I hated the smell of sweat and musk, but for some reason, I started to feel a little hard. For some reason, I picked up one of the articles of clothing, a sweaty unwashed jockstrap, and out of curiosity, I found myself sniffing it. I became distracted by the pungent smell momentarily as I was carried to my destination.

When I finally saw light again, I was surrounded by a horde of members of the football team in the locker room. They all stood in a circle and they looked like predators, and I was their prey. I contemplated the idea of running, but I knew it was physically impossible to outrun even one of them with their superior athletic abilities. I thought about begging for mercy, but I knew they could not be reasoned with and because of my pride, I didn’t want me to come across as weak. Brad walked over to me, carrying an entire football uniform that seemed way too big for me.

“Put them on, bro,” he ordered. I obliged, seeing as I no longer had any say in the matter. I felt a sense of embarrassment because the clothes were way too big on me. It felt like I was a kid trying to wear his dad’s clothes.

“You’ll grow into it, trust me,” Jake said, his hand on Zach's shoulder, a proud smirk plastered on his face. My worst fears were realized. I didn’t know how but they were going to turn me into one of them, yet another jock.

“You’re probably wondering why we brought you here, little bro. Well, we know you’ve been trying to get in our way. You’re the only student in this school who knows or even cares what we do. You’re the minority, bro,” Brad explained. He reached into my backpack which he was holding and pulled out the flash drive that stored all my evidence. “I noticed that you were trying to hide this the other day when I came in. You might just think I’m a ‘dumb brute’ but even I couldn’t miss something that obvious. I wonder why you had to hide it, bro…” he teased as he inserted it into a laptop on one of the benches. It didn’t take long for him to find the document I used to share my findings.

“Well, well…” Zach teased. “Looks like someone did their research. I’m kinda impressed at how much you use your brain, bro. Too bad you won’t be needing it for much anymore.” He then proceeded to delete the file as my hard work was erased from the flash drive. I felt mortified as my hard work was all for nothing and I realized what was going to become my fate. I then heard footsteps coming in from outside.

“I believe this is our first time meeting,” a commanding voice stated. From the way he spoke, I felt any amount of defiance I still had in me turn into submissiveness, like a father catching his son sneaking out at night. “It seems you already know who I am, but I’m Coach Myers. I’m sure you’re full of questions, and don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time to answer every last one of them.”

I was looking at the man in charge, the mastermind behind all of the jocks who were transformed. I had so much I wanted to ask him, both out of curiosity and anger, that I didn’t know where to start.

“What caused you to turn these students into jocks?” I asked.

“Good question. I was always interested in bringing out the best in one’s self, but I never knew where to start until recently. Me and Zach’s father were close friends in the NFL. As a result, Zach always looked up to me, but even though he wanted to be a football player like his father, he wasn’t able to cut it.”

I looked at Zach, who normally seemed very confident and arrogant, but for the first time since I’ve seen him, for just a split second, he felt humbled, reminded of his shortcomings. For once, I kinda felt bad for the guy even though I thought he was a total douche. Despite the sob story, I still realized that what he had done was too far.

“He approached me in tears one day. He wished he was stronger, wished he was more like the guys he looked up to at school. And that’s when I realized that maybe I could help him. And so we spent almost a year studying ways to transform his body and even his mind into the perfect football player. And eventually, we succeeded. Zach was exactly the person he dreamed of being.”

I now knew why and how it began. Zach was the first, the alpha. But why did he keep doing it? “You helped to make Zach who he is now, but why did you continue to do it to other students?” I asked.

“I’m glad you asked. Although changing Zach was my finest achievement, I realized that there were many kids his age who were just like him. Some felt inadequate, incomplete, inferior, and some just lacked any purpose in general. So I gave these boys that purpose, and I made them into the strong men that they always dreamed of being. And not just in this school. High schools and colleges all across America are doing the exact same thing we are doing, all thanks to my innovations.”

I was shocked by this revelation. This jock problem was happening at an even larger scale than I could’ve possibly imagined. Surely there had to have been hundreds of guys turned into jocks just like here at this school, perhaps even some of the ones that tried to oppose them like me. I realized how hopeless I felt.

“I know my research is unethical but I believe that what I am doing is right. But back to you, do you not feel at least a little envious of your brother?”

I looked over at Brad…why was I calling him Brad? I have to admit, I was always a little jealous of him. He always seemed to be the favorite child, and now that he’s been jocked and has joined the football team, he’s infinitely more popular than me. If I were just like him, then maybe…No. That’s what he wants me to think. But at the same time, I could imagine myself becoming as strong as him, becoming as popular as him.

And then I realized the futility of this decision. They were going to turn me into a jock anyways. But for some reason, I had warmed up to the idea, in a way that would’ve sickened me just an hour earlier. Maybe I was experiencing Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe I did feel envious of Brad this whole time just like how Coach Myers described.

“Coach can make you just like he made me. We’ll finally get along again, and we can bond better than we ever could before. What do you say bro?” Brad asked.

I looked at my brother, then around to the other jocks around me, then finally to Coach. If I said yes, then I would have a brother again. I’ll be more attractive and more popular and maybe I’ll even be happier this way. Maybe Charlie will want to go out with me. But that would mean erasing who I am to become yet another jock. That I would lose and all of this would be for nothing. Who am I kidding? I already lost. I was doomed to become a jock the moment I tried to intervene in their plans. But you know, maybe this isn’t so bad. I tried to imagine my jock life with a newfound sense of optimism.

“You’ll have to consent to joining the team before we can move forward,” Coach informed me.

“Enough with your monologue, I’ll do it,” I answered, with a sense of humiliation as I surrendered. However, there was a slight smirk on my face, either from embarrassment or from how absurd my situation really was.

“That took less time than I expected,” Coach responded. “The rest of you, resume practice drills. Braden, come with me.” I obliged, anticipating what the Coach had in store for me. I signed a form, put on some earbuds, and put the helmet on.

As the hypnotic video in front of me played, I slowly became entranced by the spiral that was sucking me into my new life as I felt parts of my mind become erased, including any part of me that still tried to resist this. “I wanted this,” I thought to myself as new thoughts and memories started to fill the gaps in my mind. It was like a computer deleting old files that weren’t important in order to make room for stuff that mattered way more. I always looked up to my brother Brad, as he was a year older than me. He was incredibly talented at football, so naturally, I followed in his footsteps. Being younger, I was less experienced than him, but he was a good role model and I aspired to match him as a player. He was like the touchdown in the endzone and I was at the 50 yard line to put it in better terms.

My body changed entirely. Every muscle in my body expanded, like I was being pumped full of air. My football uniform that was way too big at first, soon fit me like a glove. It was a little painful at first, but I soon felt a wave of euphoria rush over me as I became obsessed with my body, especially my new dick, which more than doubled in size to a massive 10 inches. I started to resemble the new Brad, with the same short buzzcut. Before we didn’t look much alike. Brad was always more on the chubby side and I was on the skinnier side. But now, we could almost pass as twins. You could still tell which one of us was the little brother though.

This is who I am. This is who I always was. I am a football jock. I started to love the idea of playing sports and working out, along with other things. Except I always did? Part of me remembered thinking the jocks were stupid, arrogant, and annoying brutes, but that’s wrong because all my friends are jocks and they are really cool, bro. Bro. Bro, bro, bro…I’m starting to like that word, dude. Eventually I woke up, without any knowledge of what had taken place today, reveling in my new changes.

“I take it you won’t be a problem anymore, kid?” Coach inquired.

“No Coach! I’m sorry for causing you trouble dude,” I answered. Part of me felt off, and I felt confused for a second. I wondered what got me in trouble, but I shrugged it off because I don’t think about that kind of stuff.

“I did keep some of your smarts, unlike the others, but you definitely won’t come off that way. Your grades were better than the rest and I figured it’d be a waste if they were to completely go away. How would you like to help me expand upon my research?”

“That’d be awesome, sir!” I answered. My new self couldn’t comprehend the irony that I would be directly helping Coach with the very schemes I was trying so hard to stop in the first place. But why would I ever want to put an end to the very thing that made me who I am now? I didn’t look or act the part, but I’m kinda smart I guess. I’m not a fucking nerd or a know-it-all though. Not that I really want to use my brain more than I have to except for counting calories and football plays. I was interested in turning more men into awesome jocks like me though. “Can I go back to practice?”

“Yeah, go meet up with the other boys. I’ll be out in a sec.”

I joined my fellow bros and we resumed practice. Playing football just felt natural to me. We held a party after the game on Friday to celebrate our win. We were on a huge winning streak. We hadn’t even lost once this season! At the party, Charlie asked me out, impressed with my masculine new look. Turns out he did like me back after all. He kissed me in the library after all, although I don’t remember why we were there in the first place. He was always kinda hot, so I said yes, and we quickly realized how much chemistry we had beyond being bros. We were soon the second couple on the team, the other being Jake and Zach, who were a year above us, who were just as cool. Nothing wrong with some bro on bro action after all.

Me and Brad had a bit of a fight a while ago, but we’re cool now. I’m even closer with my big bro than I had ever been before, especially now that we’re on the team together. I loved life with my bros and I knew my bros loved their lives too. After practice, I would stay after with Coach and Zach and we would look into ways to create more and even better jocks. I haven’t been filled in on the finer details yet, but I know that they have big plans not only for this school, but for other schools as well. I found this purpose along with playing football to be much more compelling to me than anything else. If there was a part of me that was upset about this life, it definitely wasn’t there anymore because I loved being a jock.

--Zach POV--

I spent the night at Jake’s place again. Today was a long day though. Between practice and all the stuff with Braden, I was exhausted. It did feel like everything was resolved though, and I felt satisfied knowing that our secrets were safe now. I laid in Jake’s bed and I talked with him.

“Another jock well done bro,” I said, as I wrapped my arms around and kissed my boyfriend.

“We were awesome today,” Jake responded. “I can tell that Braden is already loving his new jock body. Glad he could finally see the light, bro.”

“Can’t blame him. I have no regrets about anything though, even Braden. How about you bro?”

“Me neither. I love being a jock and I love making my bros into jocks too. I’m with you every step of the way, bro.”

“That’s my bro!” I rustled Jake’s hair before leaning in for a kiss. For the first time ever, I felt completely content with my life. I have Jake, Coach, and all my other bros to support me. I’m the captain and star quarterback of the football team and I carry us to victory every game. The jock life is perfect for me and for all my bros. If even Braden could see how awesome it was, I knew that anyone could if given the chance. I got hard as I imagined what it would be like if every guy at school was as strong and handsome as me. If everyone was a jock. With Jake on my side and everyone else, I knew we could take on anything, anyone. Maybe even the world. “We still have lots of work to do.”

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This is the end of this series for now, so thank you for reading it. I'm open to expanding upon it even more in the future if the demand is high enough and if I have ideas on where to take it. I also have a lot of other shorter transformation story ideas that I want to write eventually, so stay tuned.

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thrandilf · 5 months ago

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Hi everyone! I'm strangefake on AO3 and this is a little post of all of my sfw lmk stuff (so far!). Here's the list, only one was written after S5 came out (All the Small Things) and none of the others have spoilers, though some really fit the post S5 mood. I hope you enjoy if anything catches your eye! <3

General/Not Ship Focused:

What Kind of Memory Am I? MK POV. Sunburst Duo. MK and Wukong talk post S4. “In that scroll, in all of those memories, those lifetimes of mistakes- was I one of them?” MK was afraid of the answer. “One of your mistakes?”

Guilt "Complex?" I Find It Quite Simple Red Son POV. Inspired by Callum's "I need you to kill me" moment in TDP, MK panics about Monkey Form. The two people he calls up- Macaque and Red Son- are far from the sort one would associate with comfort and emotional intelligence, but they try their best. Hurt and comfort with heavy mental health/angst, but on par with S5.

Hair Bones Red Son POV. Traffic Light Trio has a sleepover at MK's house post S4 with a focus on comforting MK with a dash of goofiness. Background Dragonfruit.

Harmonize the Wild Energies Within Red Son POV. Past Red Son and Princess Iron Fan training in the earlier days of him mastering his powers hundreds of years ago.

(NEW!) Given, Not Earned Macaque POV. SoySauce Duo. To Macaque's surprise, MK requests a sleepover with him Post Season 5, saying he wants to learn a new power. Literal fluff and then typical MK angst. Minor Wukong appearances.

Shadowpeach:

All the Small Things Macaque POV. Takes place during S5 E1 if the episode had lasted longer, mostly fluff and island monkeys.

Kintsugi Wukong POV. Bittersweet Shadowpeach with a hopeful ending, written post S4 but emotionally works post S5 too. There was little use asking what specific memory was bothering Macaque. One, it was obvious, and two, it didn’t matter. Every thread that tied them together always looped back to encompass it all.

Break the Cycle Wukong POV. Post S4, Wukong and Macaque have a romantically charged fight while Wukong stays at Macaque's place. Rated T.

(NEW!) Intimidation Check: Natural 1 Wukong POV. Macaque gets the idea to try roleplaying in bed, but his theatrics combined with Wukong's personality means they don't get anywhere. Comedy fic.

(NEW!) Sun Poisoning Macaque POV. Technically a SixNine (Macaque/Xiangliu) fic with Shadowpeach angst too.

Freenoodles:

Infinite Noodle Glitch Tang POV. Just as it sounds, Tang hatches a plan to get as many noodles as possible. Established relationship.

Dragonfruit:

Complimentary Colors Red Son POV. Apollo dealt me a glancing hit with the dodgeball: Red Son calls Mei over after a mysterious fireproof dog breaks into his house to help handle it. Featuring dog sitting shenanigans and first kisses, this fic was the first LMK fic I ever wrote and has art by @imminent-danger-came

Down Bad Red Son POV. MK runs into Red Son at the mall and catches him buying a green dragon plushie- for himself? Red Son gets the courage up to confess his feelings to Mei- but there's a twist.

#lmk fanfic #lmk fic #shadowpeach #lego monkie kid #dragonfruit shipping #lmk mk #lmk red son #lmk wukong #lmk macaque #lmk shadowpeach #lmk dragonfruit #freenoodles #lmk freenoodles #lmk mei #fic list

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sturniololoco · 10 months ago

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Shy pt 2

pt 1 pt 3 pt 4

Sturniolo Little sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

SLS x Nathan Doe

Warnings: cussing, etc? Still fluff!

SLS/N’s POV

I was not going to sleep any time soon, especially after what just happens in the kitchen.

And what didn’t help, is that Nick knows.

Speaking of Nick, I hear a soft tap on my door, then it was being opened to reveal my older brother. He quickly shut the door behind him and scrambled to my bed and sat next to me.

He looked at me, a smirk on his lips and a mischievous look in his eye. My face was pink again.

“Damn sis, I don’t even know what to say…other than I fucking knew it!” He said, jumping up and down slightly.

I quickly shushed him with a punch to the arm.

“Fine. You were right. But you cannot tell a soul. It was probably nothing anyways, he’ll forget about it by morning.” I said, kinda feeling sad.

“Girl, I may not know a lot, but I do know that that was not nothing.” He told me, grabbing my hand.

I rolled my eyes and laughed sarcastically.

“I’m serious SLS/N! He drank out of your cup for fucks sake! He obsessed with you! He was staring at you the whole time we were golfing too!” He said, shaking me a little.

I sighed, not knowing what to do. Yes, I have always had a thing for Nate, but if Matt, or especially Chris, knew, they would flip out!

“But what if it really was nothing and I’m just overthinking everything?” I ask Nick, a few tears welling up in my eyes. I don’t know why I’m upset about something that was never even there.

“oh c’mere.” Nick said, pulling me to him and hugging me close. We stayed like this for a little while before he spoke again,

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll help you find out if Nate is really into you, how ‘bout that?” He said.

“Really?” I said, giving him a disbelieving look. He nodded and I hugged him again, knocking him back onto the bed.

he pulled the covers over us and shut off my bed side lamp, saying,

“Get some rest, in the morning, we’ve got work to do.”

Nate’s POV

“I felt bad about leaving SLS/N standing there in the kitchen like that, but I had to before Chris got suspicious and came out of his room.

I also felt bad about not telling Chris, my best friend since forever, about me liking her. But she’s his sister, and he’d probably hate me.

I walked into his room, and tossed him a Pepsi. He was layed back on his bed with his shirt off, phone in hand.

I thought about just telling him then and there, just being straight up with him. But I couldn’t bring my self to say the words.

Hey Chris, I think your sisters bad af and I really like her a lot, hope that’s okay-

“Nate, you good man?” He asked me, breaking me back out of my trance. “oh-yeah man I’m great!” I replied, pulling my shirt off and climbing into bed. I turned off the light and pulled out my own phone, and started scrolling.

Chris and I layed like that for about another hour, him casually showing me some tik toks he thought were funny. I would let out a forced laugh, not being able to stop thinking about what I just did in the kitchen.

With that, I rolled onto my side, put my phone down, and decided to get some sleep.

SLS/N’s POV

I woke up really early the next day to Chris, who scared the absolute shit out of me.

you see, Chris will usually run in and jump on my bed, forcing me awake, but this time was different.

This time, he crouched down next to my bed and shook me awake, softly calling my name.

My first thought was Oh shit he knows!

But no. Instead he asked me to help him make breakfast.

“I need your help making blueberry pancakes, there Nates favorite.” He said.

At this, I sighed in relief, standing up and heading to the bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth and hair before pulling on a hoodie, making sure I look somewhat presentable compared to yesterday morning.

Chris and I were the only people awake so far, and the pancake batter was finished. I began cooking them as Chris threw some bacon in the air fryer.

“Nick texted me this morning, said we were gunna do something fun today. You have any idea what it is?” Chris asked me, now helping me scoop batter into the pan.

My eyes widened at this, wondering what on earth Nick had in plan after last nights events. Before I could reply, someone walked into the kitchen.

“Something smells good in here!” Nate said, walking into the kitchen. He had no shirt on with plaid pajamas pants.

If my eyes could go any wider they would.

I looked down at his toned stomach before looking up at his face.

Eye contact.

I quickly looked down, back at what I was doing. Thankfully, my brother broke the silence.

“I had SLS/N wake up early ‘cause she makes them the best!” Chris said, ruffing my hair.

I swatted his hand away, my cheeks turning pink again.

Pretty soon after, Nick and Matt came down to the kitchen, Matt looking tired, Nick looking at me with devilish eyes. I glared right back at him.

I passed plates of pancakes and bacon out everyone, and we all sat at the table and began eating.

“So Nick, what do you have in store for us today?” Matt asked.

He must have gotten the same text as Chris. Nate looked up, intrigued at what we were doing today.

“I thought we could go over to the warehouse and go swimming.” Nick said nonchalantly stabbing at a piece of pancake in his plate.

Everyone nodded in agreement and got excited. I Nick look over at me, with a your welcome kind of look.

I gave him a satisfied smirk and ate the rest of my pancakes, thinking.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo sister #nathan doe #nathan doe x reader #nathan doe smut

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alltheirdamn · 5 months ago

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Chapter 1: Opening Day

Series summary: You've seen it all as the team's lead photographer. You're in the tunnel before the games, on the sidelines for each inning, and always around the players. When Frankie Morales is called up for the new season, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you can't quite explain. Chapter summary: It's opening day at Petco Park, and you finally meet the team's new star catcher. Rating: 18+ (Eventual smut) Word Count: 5k Tags: Triple Frontier AU, OFC! character described as having red hair and freckles, meet-cute, two big dummies bound to catch feelings, mutual pining, slow burn, future smut, duel pov, baseball terminology, etc. A/N: Hi!!! Well, welcome to the series! I'm really excited to share this lil story with you all. I've never really written an OC! before, so hopefully I don't totally butcher it. Anyway, I'm a bit nervous but please enjoy!

Masterlist | Baseball 101

Point. Click.

The camera shutter echoes through the stadium tunnel as you settle into your usual game-day routine. It’s your third year on the media team for the Padres, and you’re beyond eager for the new season to begin. Nothing beats the thrill of baseball season, and it definitely doesn’t suck when an endless array of beautiful men in tight polyester uniforms surrounds you.

Perched on the ground, you angle your camera down the tunnel to capture the boys as they arrive. Benny Miller, the team’s starting shortstop, waltzes through the hall after a few managers get their head start. He’s got on his usual athleisure wear, a workout bag slung over his back, and his blonde hair tousled in a way that’s both messy and intentional.

Point. Click.

“Welcome back, Benny,” you say, your camera angled a bit higher to adjust to his height.

“Hey to you too, Red,” he grins.

America’s heartthrob, you think.

Not far behind him is his brother, Will—or Ironhead, as they all call him. He’s been a vet on the team for nearly five years and is one of the top left-handed pitchers in the league. No doubt, with last season's standings, he’ll take them far this year. He’s got the best ERA out of any team in the National League, and his brotherly dynamic with Benny is unmatched. The only difference between Will and Benny, though, is their personalities. Where Benny is outgoing—and a bit flirtatious—Will is reserved and collected. He’s the voice of reason and the glue that holds the entire time together.

“Hey, Will!”

You snap a quick photo, all too aware of how much he hates the attention. He gives you a subtle nod and continues down the tunnel behind Benny.

Santiago Garcia is the next to make his entrance, his infectious smile perfect for a candid moment. Santi was the rookie outfielder last year, securing himself a spot in the All-Star Game with his defensive playing in center field against the stronger teams. You’ve never seen such an arm on someone, and the way he commands the field is wildly impressive. His gigantic ego and self-assurance are also quite impressive and sometimes a bit aggravating. But, you let it slide. He’s a sweet man through and through and has, thankfully, never hit on you.

Unlike the majority of the sports world.

Especially when it comes to women working in the media industry.

You’re convinced Santi has some sort of sixth sense for the camera because the moment you line up for the shot, he’s already sporting a wide grin directed straight at you.

“Hola, Red,” he says, waving in your direction.

“You know I have a real name, right?” You toss back.

“Whatever you say, Red.”

You roll your eyes as he walks past you, chuckling to yourself as you scroll through the photos logged into your camera. Making a mental note of which to select for the social media posts, you realign the camera back to eye level and squint through the lens.

The team's newest addition walks straight down the tunnel, with his head low and eyes covered by the visor of his ballcap. Francisco Morales had been called up from triple just a week before opening day. You hadn’t read up much on him or his stats, but you know he’s done quite the work as the catcher for the El Paso Chihuahuas. There had been talks of who they’d have replacing Tom Davis after his season-ending injury last year, and Francisco was their best prospect.

“Welcome to the team, Francisco!” You holler before snapping a photo.

He barely glances up, but you catch a rosy tint coloring the tanned skin of his face and a slight twitch in the corner of his lips. He’s dressed far differently than the other boys: loose khaki pants, a basic cotton shirt, and a suede bomber jacket. He doesn’t even carry a bag with him, just a plastic bottle of water gripped tightly in one very large hand.

You’ve been with the team long enough to know his personality is far more reserved than the rest, a bit sheepish and uncomfortable, even. Maybe that’s just the game-day jitters getting to him.

“Can I get one of you looking at the camera?” You ask before adding a polite please at the end.

He hesitates but ultimately obliges. Through the camera lens, you meet his eyes—the soft, warm brown of his irises boring into you so intensely it causes you to falter over the shutter button. Like any baseball player, he’s got that signature scruffy face, with a distinct mustache over his plush lips and a patchy beard covering his jaw. Despite his introverted demeanor, Francisco steals the air from your lungs just from a simple glance. It’s as if he’s giving you this one moment to capture who he is, and you take it without hesitation.

Point. Click.

“Thank you, Francisco. Good luck today!”

You’re acutely aware of how shaky your voice is, which is unusual given that he hasn’t even spoken to you.

“Frankie,” he offers as he walks past.

The raspy low pitch of his voice reverbs inside your head, and you only manage to nod in agreement to his wishes.

Frankie. You can do that.

“So, what are your predictions for game one?” Ryan asks, nudging you slightly.

You’re both crouched behind home plate shooting pre-game warmup photos, the volume in the stadium growing as more fans trickle in. You switch out your sim card and set up your camera for action shots, too focused on getting the right angle of the outfielders to respond.

Ryan has been your partner in crime on the media team since the start, and both of you got hired right out of college. While you focus more on the game-day action, Ryan usually tends to the off-day social media posts and team engagement with fans. It’s a fair trade-off, plus you’re far more invested in the sport than Ryan is ever willing to admit.

“Hellllooo?” He waves a hand in front of your camera lens.

“I don’t like giving predictions, Ryan. You know that,” you grumble.

“You and your weird superstitions, Red.”

“It’s not weird,” you counter. “Don’t you ever pay attention to the broadcasting curse? If I say something aloud, it’s bound to go the other way, and my hopes will be crushed.”

Ryan adjusts the focus on his lens, shrugging absently at your argument.

“It’s the first game. Even if they lose today, there’s still six months left in the season.”

“No one wants to lose their first game.”

“You care too much,” he says, but there’s a lightness in his tone.

He knows you care more than you let on. Baseball has been something ingrained in you since you were just a kid. Your dad spent the greater half of his life as the pitching coach for UCLA, dragging you to nearly every game of the season since before you could even walk. You were raised sitting in the dugout with a handful of sunflower seeds in your hand and a baseball cap covering your red hair. Being a part of a baseball team in some capacity had always been in your future, but after your dad passed away when you were just starting college, you centered your entire life around it. You threw yourself into photography, taking every chance at capturing moments that could give you just a second of nostalgia. The photos weren’t just for school, a baseball team, or a social media page… they were for you. It was your way of coping. The longer you could stay on the field, the longer you could live in that bubble of the past.

Your dad was gone, but you still had baseball. And you’d never give it up.

“Think Morales is gonna make his mark on the team?” Ryan asks, steering the subject in a different direction.

You tense up, locked on the memory of Frankie’s big brown eyes. There’s something about him that skyrockets your heart rate, and you aren’t sure if it’s in a good way. You search the field for those dark curls, looking at everybody on the field, trying to spot him during the warmup. Crestfallen, you give up your search and resume snapping photos.

“I think he’ll do just fine,” you say dismissively.

“His batting average in the minors was insane,” Ryan rambles. “Just hopes it sticks here in the big leagues. You know how it is sometimes.”

You did know. Too often, have you seen star minor league players appear on the big stage and choke. Something about Frankie Morales makes you believe he won’t end up like that. There was something in his eyes that told you otherwise, a seriousness that showed this game meant something to him.

You liked that.

“Where’s your station for the game?” Ryan asks.

“First base. I might have to step into the bullpen for some shots if they let me.”

“I’m sure the boys will love that,” he teases.

“Oh, fuck off. They’re harmless.”

“I don’t know, Red. I see the way they look at you.”

You deadpan, giving him an icy stare. None of the boys thought of you that way, and you didn’t think of them differently. This was a job. They played the game; you took the photos.

That was the end of it.

“I think you’re seeing things,” you argue.

“I mean, Benny is giving you fuck me eyes from across the field right now,” Ryan shrugs.

You steal a glance out to the in-field to find Ryan is, in fact, correct. With his free hand, Benny tosses you a flirtatious wave before throwing the ball back to Santi across the field.

“He flirts with everyone,” you say pointedly. “Did you see how many girls he brought back to his hotel rooms last season?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adding one more.”

You punch Ryan in the arm, clearly annoyed with his pushy behavior toward the subject. Grabbing your equipment bag from the ground, you toss him a quick finger and haul your stuff down to the media room under the stadium.

Frankie isn’t in the right mindset when the National Anthem concludes before the game. He’s not one to get nervous before playing, but something about seeing Petco Park sold out for opening day has him fidgeting. The only saving grace is having Santi playing alongside him.

He and Santi met back in college, playing together from Sophomore year until Senior year when they got drafted to different teams. Santi was selected in the third round by the Houston Astros and was traded a year later to the Padres. Frankie got drafted by the Padres right away in the fifth round. He spent the last four years in the minors, just waiting to get called up.

Now, the moment is here, and he’s terrified.

Frankie doesn’t like to admit it often, but he holds himself to a higher standard. He’s fucked up in life a few times, and it’s cost him his happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up now. Not when the entire world is watching.

“Estás bien?” Santi asks Frankie as they head into the dugout.

“I’m fine,” Frankie says, but his tone says otherwise.

There’s a haze over his mind, a fog he can’t shake. Santi claps him on the back, giving him a comforting smile.

“It’s just first-game nerves, Catfish. It’ll pass after the first at-bat.”

Frankie doesn’t respond. He’s got a lump in his throat, and he can’t quite swallow it. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint his closest friend—or the team. He can’t be a disappointment. He has to be good. He has to be the best.

He has to prove himself.

Frankie runs out onto the field, securing his catcher's mask over his face. The weight of his gear feels like a comforting anchor, leveraging him to keep his mind focused. There’s a roar from the crowd as he takes his place behind home base, and the applause and cheers only make things worse. He’s under the lights, he’s got thousands watching, and this is his one shot.

The first pitch comes fast, a sinker that falls perfectly into his glove. Strike one. Will is on the mound, his face stoic and focused on the batter standing to the right of Frankie. There’s still some trust to gain between them both, and Frankie hopes he proves himself today. Will throws a slider next, down low and right past the bat.

Strike two.

Like a well-rehearsed dance, Frankie and Will waltz between batters. An easy one, two, three, and they’re out of the top of the first. Frankie runs alongside Will as they head toward the dugout, the tension in his shoulders relaxing.

“Great job out there, Morales,” Will says. “Welcome to the show.”

“Thanks, Miller. You’re solid on the mound. Those sliders are insane,” Frankie commends.

“Gotta keep them on their toes. Now, get ready for the bottom of the inning. Show them what you can do out there.”

As Frankie steps into the dugout, he nearly collides with a body nestled into the corner of the steps. Her red hair is tousled into a ponytail, the bill of her Padres ball cap shielding her eyes from the setting sun.

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, stepping out of the way.

He recognizes her from earlier, the media girl in the tunnel. Frankie was so wrapped up in his thoughts earlier he hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was: bright eyes, a gentle smile, and a face covered in freckles.

“All good,” he huffs, too flustered to choke out any more words.

“You look good out there,” she smiles.

Frankie runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, no doubt looking a mess. He needs to focus—needs to move—but he can’t seem to make his way past her.

“Be careful with Akin’s pitches,” she adds. “He tends to throw his fastballs up in the corner of the zone.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nods. He’s surprised at how much she pays attention.

“Yo! Catfish!” Santi calls from down in the dugout. “Get your ass over here now.”

“I’m assuming you’re Catfish?” She asks.

“Unfortunately,” Frankie grumbles. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go see what he wants.”

“It’s all good. I’m moving down to first base, so I’ll be out of the way.”

She rises to her feet and gives Frankie one final smile before stepping onto the dirt. Frankie watches as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her with every step.

Focus.

Halfway through the batting order, you’re already onto your next sim card. You usually space out the amount of footage you take, but the game is electric. The Padres are up three to zero, thanks to a home run from Benny—obviously—and a few quick plays made by Santi and Chris Holmes.

With two outs in the sixth, Frankie is up to bat. His first plate appearance was abysmal, with a groundout to third base. You saw his shoulders slumped as he walked off the field; he didn’t take it lightly. It’s just the first game, you tell yourself. He’ll do just fine.

Akin throws the first pitch, a fastball, just as you expect. Frankie takes the strike and readjusts himself for the next pitch. It’s outside the zone, and he tracks it carefully. You hold your breath as he hits a full count, three balls, two strikes… and wait. Akin places a screwball down low, but Frankie manages to get a piece of it and sends it sailing into center field for a double. You startle yourself with how loud you cheer, watching his muscled body run past first and onto second base. You’re so caught up in watching him you forget to snap a photo.

You scold yourself for missing the opportunity to capture his first hit for the team. Why are you so fixated on him? None of the other guys have ever caused you to miss a shot; no one has ever tripped you up this badly. But Frankie… there’s just something about him. He’s not self-assured like the rest. He’s not cocky in the slightest. Honestly, he looked terrified when you ran into him after the top of the first inning. Before your mind starts wandering off, you check the settings on your camera and return to shooting footage.

The team wins five to zero. Fireworks sparkle through the night sky as the stadium begins to clear out, and you start to return to the dugout. Benny and Will are in a tight embrace as you step under the awning, your camera gear slung over your back.

“Great win, boys,” you say, giving them each a high five.

“Did you ever doubt us?” Benny teases, giving you a smug grin.

“Not for a minute.”

The Miller brothers make their way down into the clubhouse, leaving you standing alone in the dugout. You peel off your ballcap and remove your ponytail, letting your hair fall down your shoulders.

“Thanks for the advice on Akin.”

The voice startles you, and you search through the shadows to find Frankie sitting alone at the end of the bench. He’s got his glove resting beside him and his bat propped between his feet. He should be celebrating with the team down in the clubhouse, yet he’s here by himself under the stadium lights and swirling shadows.

“I’ve got plenty more if you ever need it,” you tell him.

Frankie doesn’t respond, but his eyes stay locked on yours. The stadium lights illuminate the rich chocolate inside his irises, making it nearly impossible to look anywhere else.

“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” You wonder. “I’m sure they’re all celebrating the first win of the season.”

“Just wanted some time alone, I guess. Soak it all in, you know?”

You walk toward him, cautious on whether or not to get any closer. You aren’t sure if he even wants company, but you can’t seem to steer yourself away.

“Was it everything you hoped for?” You ask.

“It could’ve been better.”

Frankie moves his glove into his lap, offering you a space beside him on the bench. Though you feel reluctant, something inside you forces your legs to move. You want to be nearer to him, to get close enough to see past this wall he’s built up. You’re used to some players being quiet and shy, like Will. At least with Will, though, he’s fun when there’s no stress on his shoulders. He relaxes a bit from time to time and lets his guard down. Something you’ve yet to see with Frankie.

Sliding onto the bench beside him, you adjust your camera into your lap and lay your ballcap over your knee. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Frankie’s head tilt slightly, his eyes trained on your legs. There’s still a healthy gap between you both, yet the warmth of his body swarms around you.

“Are you with the team full-time?” He asks.

You glance at him, studying the way his hair curls around his ears and at the base of his neck. There’s a tension in his jaw that flexes under his beard, a simple twitch that happens after every time he speaks. Despite the timid exterior, you can’t help but to notice the softness in his eyes when he looks at you.

“Mostly just for home games,” you explain. “I only really travel with the team if they invite me on the road. They like having extra media presence for the bigger series, and whatnot. If I could be at every game, I absolutely would. Sitting on the sidelines beats having to watch it on the TV or listening to the radio.”

Frankie nods along as you talk, his lips pursed as if he’s thinking of what to say. Avoiding any more awkward silence, you flick on your camera and scroll through the photos, presenting him with a few you’d taken during his first appearance at the plate. His arm brushes yours slightly as he leans in closer, staring at the photo far longer than you expect.

“I kind of fucked up and forgot to take a photo of you after that double in sixth,” you admit. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head. “I like this one.”

It’s a photo of him swinging at a curveball, his bat posed perfectly in the center of the box, and his muscular thighs flexed under his pinstripe uniform. You have to admit, it is a good shot—and he looks amazing mid-swing. Your eyes flick up to his, realizing he’s already looking at you. Thank God for the shadows inside the dugout, or else Frankie would see the way your face warms at his words. You don’t ever share your footage with the guys until it’s posted on the social media pages, but it feels different with Frankie. It strangely feels nice.

“I feel like an asshole, I don’t think I’ve even asked for your name,” he says.

“The guy’s normally just call me Red,” you shrug.

“But that’s not your name.”

You tell him your name, and listen to his gentle voice echo it back. It’s rare you hear your name nowadays. Everyone just refers to you as ‘Red’, like it’s who you are. It doesn’t bother you, necessarily, but finally hearing someone acknowledge you makes your stomach flip. Frankie’s eyes never leave yours, and you realize how close you both have gotten. His leg is pressed against yours, and you can still faintly smell the turf on his uniform. He must notice it, too, because he clears his throat and shifts his legs inward. Shutting your camera off, you let it rest in your lap between your hands. There’s a quiet buzz between your bodies, a comfortable cocoon of shared silence that seems to swell with each passing second.

“I, um, I should probably head down there with the guys,” Frankie says after a while.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I kept you too long.”

Frankie rises from the bench, his thick fingers wrapping around the neck of his bat. He offers you a hand, and you shrink under his height as you move to stand.

“I didn’t mind the company.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face, just an easy curve of his lips as he stares at you a moment longer. You should move. You should definitely move.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Frankie,” you say. “Great job out there tonight.”

“Thank you.” He says your name, again, emphasizing it as if to prove a point. A gentle reminder that you’re more than just a nickname.

“What took you so long, Catfish?” Santi yells from across the clubhouse.

He’s already showered and got on his casual clothes for the drive home, something Frankie should have been doing. Instead, he had been helplessly wasting time sitting next to the photographer he had seen around all day.

Frankie tears his baseball cap off his head, tossing it into his locker as he unbuttons his uniform. He’s still mentally picking apart the day—what he did wrong, what he could improve on—but in each thought, her shiny red hair and doe eyes make a reappearance. Shaking his head, he strips off his undershirt and searches through his stall for a fresh one.

“Got to chatting with the team photographer,” he says, shrugging the shirt over his chest.

Santi leans against the locker stall, his mouth quirked up in a teasing grin. Frankie already knows what he’s going to say, and he regrets ever mentioning it.

“Distracted by Red, huh?” Santi teases. “She’s got that affect.”

“She’s not distracting,” Frankie defends. “She just came down to show me some of the pictures she took, and we talked a bit. That’s all.”

He hopes his clipped words are enough to steer Santi away from the conversation, but Santi can see right through him.

“Red never shows anyone her photos. None of us ever see what she’s got on that camera until they’re online.”

For some reason, Frankie loves knowing he’s the exception. He saw the way she lit up as she scrolled through the footage, clearly proud of her work. Hell, he doesn’t even care she missed his big play. She spent that time in the dugout with him while his mind was a mess, and gave him a reprieve from the clouded thoughts that the game left him with. Was it awful that he was only looking forward to tomorrow’s game so he could see her again?

“Maybe she feels bad for me, I don’t know,” Frankie huffs.

He slips on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair before putting on his hat. Santi watches him suspiciously, tracking the tense movements Frankie makes as he gathers his stuff to leave.

“She’s a nice girl, you know, and she knows her shit, too. Hell, half the guys have tried to grab her attention the last few years, and she’s never been interested.”

“What makes you think she’s interested in me?”

“I don’t know,” Santi drawls out the words. “Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight.”

Frankie rolls his eyes, shoving past Santi and out of the clubhouse. He steers clear of the other guys as they walk together out to their cars. No one has said much to him yet, and he’s okay with it. Frankie knows he’s the new guy and it’ll take some time for everyone to warm up to him. The only person that seems to be welcoming so far, was Red. Maybe that’s just who she was, but Frankie found himself working Santi’s words over and over inside his head. Red never shows anyone her photos. What made Frankie so special, then? Was he right to think she felt bad for him? If she hadn’t been interested in anyone else, then why did she spend that time with him?

The apartment is pitch black when Frankie opens the door. Flicking on the lights, he takes in the empty space. Moving boxes scatter the hallway, leading into the renovated kitchen. Frankie barely got the keys to his new place in San Diego two days ago, leaving him little time to settle in before opening day. After this series he’ll be on the road for a week, without any time to get acclimated. Traveling never bothered him, but he wished he could just stop and breathe for one minute. You wanted this, he reminds himself. He’s worked too hard the last several years to let this opportunity pass. The boxes can wait, at least for now.

Tossing his jacket onto the back of the sofa, Frankie slumps against the cushions, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s been itching to look at his phone since he left the stadium, but he held off. Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight. Digging out his phone from his pocket, Frankie opens Instagram and refreshes the page. Sure enough, the media team already made a post-game slideshow…with Frankie’s at-bat being the first photo.

The same one he told her he liked the most.

His thumb hovers over the post as he debates whether or not to look at the rest. He’s already got his one photo, there wouldn’t be any need to give fans more. Yet, as he slides his thumb left over the screen, there’s another photo of himself—from the pre-game walk through the tunnel. Even though his eyes are staring directly into the camera, he knows that wasn’t what he was looking at. His entire focus had been on the girl behind the camera.

Frankie opens the team’s Instagram page and scrolls through the ‘following’ tab, searching for her name. It’s just innocent curiosity, that’s all it is, but as he finds her name down the list, he’s tempted to press the button. The blue Follow button taunts him, begging him to make the move. Her profile picture is a simple mirror shot, half her face covered by her camera. He wants to see more, like this odd desperation to know her past the lens she hides behind. Before he talks his way out of it, Frankie taps Follow, and sends his phone sailing across the room. It hits the carpet with a soft thud, and sits there silent on the ground. He tips his head back against the couch, pitching the bridge of his nose. God, he feels stupid.

A soft buzz resounds through the room. Frankie slides his eyes toward his phone, seeing the carpet illuminated by the screen. Just a coincidence, he thinks. Despite the denial he spews inside his mind, he moves from the couch to retrieve his phone.

Red has accepted your follow request.

Red started following you.

Frankie stares at the screen with a stupid grin on his face. He scrolls through her page, finding a surplus of photographs of the stadium, the beach, and a few cityscape shots from various cities. There isn’t a single photo of her, though. He studies each photo, wondering what she saw through the lens of the camera, wishing he could see just one of her face. As he makes his way down her page, a message notification pops onto the screen.

Red: I hope it’s okay I posted that photo of you.

Frankie: Absolutely.

Red: Ok, good. I liked it, too.

Frankie: Santi told me you don’t show anyone your photos.

Red: Of course he did. LOL. I’m just protective over my work. I like to keep things private.

Frankie: Why’d you show them to me?

Frankie watches as text bubbles appear and disappear over and over for at least a minute. He half considers turning his phone off for the night to avoid her response. He shouldn’t care why she showed him, but the thought of it would keep him up all night, wondering why he was deserving of it and not anyone else. His phone buzzes in his hands, and Frankie quickly opens the message.

Red: I don’t know. You’re the only person I really felt like sharing it with.

Frankie: I feel honored. Any time you want to share them, I’m always around.

Red: I’m holding you to that.

Frankie thinks of a million things to reply with, but his fingers don’t move; all he can think about is seeing her again tomorrow.

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier au #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #baseball!frankie #frankie morales x ofc #baseball!frankie x ofc!red #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales fic

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teenagedirt · 1 year ago

Text

Your not funny

Johnnie guilbert x reader

WARNING!: SELF HARM JOKE! TALK OF SELF HARM!

note: it doesn't go into detail or anything, there is just a joke made, and mention of scars. (I also don't know how to tell if you need to use effect or affect....)

Your pov.

I sit in a chair while me and johnnie are filming, he had the idea to go through each other's instagram dms from fans, some from haters. So far it hasn't been so bad, alot of support and love from fans for both of us.

Until johnnie starts to read a reply to one of my stories. He started to read it out loud before stopping and showing it to me. It definitely got to me a bit, the ones about my scars always do. I've learned to not let them make me cry, it seems to give them power, knowing they have an affect on me. "Y/n do you want me just to block them, or reply?" He asks, holding my phone screen so can see it.

"It's fine I get them all the time." I reply and shrug my shoulders "just read it to the viewers I'll put a trigger warning or something." I say, still scrolling through his dms, trying to find one's that aren't just saying that he's emo or that they love him.

"You sure want me to read it to the camera" his face shows how unsure he is. I nod and he does. "Alright. Uhm. It is a reply to a picture of y/n that they posted on their story. And I shows some of their old scars. It says, 'damn, you really be looking like a zebra with all those stripes.' They added a laughing emoji" he says. I roll my eyes.

"They are running out of jokes I swear" I say and laugh under my breath.

"They aren't even funny. I know how insecure you are about your scars. You've even talked about that before. It's fucked up. So user.6893 your not fucking funny either" he continues to flip off the camera.

"Hey babe it's not that big of a deal. I get dms like that daily" I say and set his phone down.

He sighs and shakes his head.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Once again based off a prompt. I NEEEED requests

#x reader #fanfic #stories #fluff #fanfiction #johnnie guilbert #gender nuetral reader #gender neutral terms #gender neutral y/n #emo boy

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circus4apsycho8 · 2 years ago

Note

Getting brain rot from this shit rn. Ok so basically it’s Lloyd x reader with Both povs: reader is absolutely SMITTEN with Lloyd. I’m talking like staring at him with heart eyes in math class type shit. Unfortunately, he is not aware she even exits. HOWEVER, she does have a collection of love letters addressed to him, that she has not sent due to embarrassment. Her friends find out about it, and however do not approve of Lloyd, are like “whatever makes you happy” and urge her to start putting them in his locker, one/ a day as his secret admirer. Lloyd gets them, but is skeptical at first, because he thinks it’s just another form of bullying/public embarrassment. After a few days of getting them though, he shows the rest of the gang to see what they think. They are *very supportive* of him, and encourage him to find out who it is. And after a while of running around with no lead, he finds reader at lunch, writing one of those beloved pink letters. You can go from there!

Fem reader, school au thingy

Reader is described as smart, flustered easily, basically an awkward Highschool kid

TYSM FOR WRITING THIS

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚑𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊; 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

secret someone. | lloyd x reader

This isn’t like you at all.

A quiet sigh escapes you as your fingers fidget with your pen, desperately trying to tune into the lecture. It isn’t exactly difficult material; you understand it quite well. It’s just the fact that the teacher only teaches using a monotonous PowerPoint, voice droning on and on and on. In short, your goblin brain has been focused on something else entirely. Something with far more visual appeal:

Lloyd Garmadon.

Yes, the blond-haired, emerald-eyed son of an Oni warlord had become the subject of your schoolgirl infatuation as of late. For a few weeks now – almost a month – you've had him on your mind. You’re not entirely sure what triggered it, but you’d caught yourself staring at him one day. It all got worse from there.

Hell, you haven’t even really talked to him. Sure, he’s in a few of your classes, but you never were able to build up the courage to actually initiate conversation. Something about him was warmly inviting but also deeply intimidating, and you can’t quite put your finger on what that could be.

It could be the rumors – whispers shared in the hallway while the “Garmadork Squad” passed, about how Lloyd would eventually share the same fate as his father and drag his friends down with him. But you highly doubt that. From what you’ve seen of him, he’s super sweet to others no matter how badly they may treat him. You’d always found that admirable considering how the majority of the school is against him.

You’re snapped out of your haze when the bell rings, relief coursing through you. Thank the stars it’s the end of the day. You quickly gather all of your belongings before stuffing everything into your backpack, hauling it up on your desk so that you can zip it up. With that, you’re ready to go.

…

“Hey! Sorry I’m late!” you yell, spying all of your friends already seated at the café. “You know how busy the school gets when it lets out.”

“No worries,” one of them replies as you set your backpack on one of the empty chairs. You unzip it, grabbing your wallet before going to order a drink.

While you’re waiting for it to be made, you hear a little bit of commotion at your table.

You turn to see two of your friends crowded around the table, both looking down at something. Not thinking anything of it, you turn back around, idly scrolling through your phone as you wait.

Once the barista hands it over to you, you thank her. Then, you make your way back to your table.

Upon arriving, you find two of your friends fussing over a mess made on the floor.

“What happened?” you question, peering through them.

“I tripped and knocked some of our stuff over,” the first one replies, kneeling down to clean up the mess.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize that some of the contents of your bag have spilled, including one of your personal binders.

“Wait!” you squeak, pushing past them to gather all of the pink papers up. You shove them back into the binder, a blush adorning your cheeks as you pray none of them got the chance to read one.

To your dismay, though, one of your friends has already grabbed one, eyes scanning over the contents.

“Hey!” you say a little louder than you meant. “That’s...um...”

“What is it?” another girl questions.

“Aww...sorry, I didn’t realize this was so personal. Curiosity just kinda took over, I guess,” replies the girl that had been reading your letter. You grab it back from her, sighing heavily as you try not to be embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, re-packing your bag and making sure it’s completely zipped. “Did...anyone else see it?”

“I kind of...told them. I’m sorry.”

You groan. “I guess it would have come out at some point anyway.”

“So...Lloyd?”

You sigh, burying your face in your hands. You should have just left your letters at home. “Yeah.”

“But he’s-”

“Don’t say it. I know. I get it. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“Are you going to tell him?” another girl asks.

“I haven’t even talked to him yet! I just...think he’s cute,” you mumble. “It’s probably just a temporary thing anyway. Besides, not one of us has even talked to him! Don’t you think people treat him a little unfairly?”

“I guess you have a point,” she replies.

“Why don’t you just put those letters into his locker? Like, you could put one in there per day or something?” another friend suggests.

You take a sip of your drink, taking a moment to ponder the idea. Hm...

“Yeah, you could be his secret admirer! That’d be cute!” someone else adds.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, fidgeting nervously. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“Come on! It’s worth a shot,” another encourages. “Just give it a try and see what happens!”

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt? You’re not sure. But maybe she’s right – it could be worth a try. And perhaps it would make you feel better in the process.

You nod. “Okay. I’ll put one in tomorrow, then.”

“You got this! Good luck!”

…

“Man, our math test is going to suck today,” Jay comments, groaning slightly.

“Wait, what test?” Kai questions, turning to face the redhead with a puzzled expression.

“You’re hopeless,” Nya comments, rolling her eyes as the group enters the school.

Lloyd chuckles, attempting to match the high energy of his teammates. He can’t really bring himself to join in on the banter, though. Instead, he finds himself nervous to face the day.

“Anyways, see you guys at lunch!” Nya yells, following Jay and Zane down one hall.

Kai pats Lloyd on the shoulder before he and Cole go to their lockers. “Later, sis.”

Lloyd approaches his locker, fingers going to spin the lock around until it pops open. He pulls the door open, getting out what he needs when a pop of color catches his eye.

“Huh?” Lloyd mutters, spotting a red envelope resting on top of his belongings. He definitely didn’t put that in there. Someone must have slipped it in.

He picks it up, reading the writing on the front.

Lloyd

“Probably another prank,” he mumbles, deciding to open it anyways.

Inside is a neatly folded piece of paper. It’s a vibrant shade of pink, with cutesy doodles lining the right side and a paragraph of unfamiliar handwriting on the left.

Dear Lloyd,

Hm…how do I start this? To be honest…I guess you can call me a secret admirer of yours? I hope I’m not coming off as creepy!! But I’m too nervous to actually come up and talk to you…

So, for now, I’ll write about my feelings in the form of these letters!

To make a long story short, I saw you standing underneath the sunlight about a month ago for the first time. And it just made me realize how handsome you are. You and sunshine go hand-in-hand; the way it casts your blond hair in a warm glow, complimenting your pretty green eyes…I wish I could see them up close. They’re such an encapsulating shade of green!

Anyways, I won’t ramble for too long. I hope you have a good weekend! ^_^

Sincerely,

Your Secret Someone! ♥

Lloyd stares at the letter for a few seconds before reading it again to ensure that he was reading it right.

No…there’s no way he’d have a “secret someone”. This has to be another cruel prank, right? Yeah, that’s it. The bullies are just trying to get to him. The thought of it potentially being real crosses his mind, but he quickly shakes the possibility off.

He sighs, stuffing the paper into his bag and getting the other items he needs before slamming his locker and zipping his bag. That’s a new low, even for the jerks.

Letter forgotten, he makes his way to class for the time being.

…

You make your way through the locker area to see if Lloyd has arrived. Sure enough, you spot him opening his locker. You grow more nervous by the minute. Would he be uncomfortable? Creeped out?

The anxiety has quite a chokehold on you, but at the very least you wanted to give it a shot. Soon enough, he starts reading it. Oh stars…

You slow down slightly, watching as his face contorts into something of a conflicted expression. Uh-oh, that doesn’t look good!

He shoves it in his bag before he leaves, not sparing the letter a second glance. You feel your heart drop slightly, making your way to class.

You pull your phone out, sending a quick text to your friend:

He didn’t seem happy about it

Idk he looks kind of conflicted??

You shut your phone off as you begin your walk to class, hoping you didn’t make him uncomfortable.

Relax, hes probably wary of stuff like that bc of the bullying

And he might be shy too? So keep trying. If hes still not into it after a while then you can stop

But I don’t think a few more will hurt

You sigh, reading through the message before replying:

Okay, fine...

…

Lloyd thought the letters were going to stop after that.

But he was wrong – they kept on coming. One after another, and he wasn’t sure how to feel. Would the bullies even go this far for a prank?

He sighs, tuning out his teacher, who’s rambling on about something boring. Once more, he reads the latest letter:

Dear Lloyd,

I’ve seen the way that people treat you around here. I don’t think it’s fair at all. And despite their treatment towards you, you still are kind to them. I think that’s admirable.

People shouldn’t treat you differently because of your bloodline. I wish there was more that I could do to help, but almost everyone is in on it. I’m sorry I can’t do more about it.

I think you’re inspiring. Despite being subjected to their negativity, you still face them with a smile.

You’re so strong. I like that about you too. Don’t let them get you down.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Someone! ♥

Lloyd pushes the paper to the side, wishing his stupid blush would go away. At this point, he’s not sure of what he should do. Part of him remains hopeful that maybe, for once, someone outside of his friend group is behind this. And, even better, doing it with genuine intention.

The question lingers on his mind until lunch, where he finds himself squished between Kai and Cole at the group’s usual table.

“What’s on your mind, greenie? You’ve been pretty contemplative today,” Cole questions as he destroys an unsuspecting bottle of chocolate milk.

“Uh…” Lloyd trails off, debating on whether he should tell them. But then again…what else would he do? “It’s just…I’ve been getting these letters in my locker every day for almost two weeks now. And I don’t really know how to feel...”

He shuffles through his bag before pulling the stack of letters out. Kai immediately snatches them, shuffling through the pile and reading them.

“Damn, Lloyd. Looks like you have a secret admirer!” Kai notes, chuckling.

“Awww!” Nya coos. Lloyd blushes, averting his gaze.

“But, don’t you think it could be some sort of trick? Or another prank?” Lloyd asks, watching as Kai hands the stack to Cole.

“You said this has been going on for two weeks, yes?” Zane questions.

“Yeah…”

Cole hands the stack to Zane, who immediately scans the papers discreetly. “I find the likelihood of this being a prank very low. This handwriting does not match any of the bullies.”

“How do you know that?” Kai wonders, staring at Zane with mild intrigue.

“Because of the papers they have thrown at us in the past,” replies the nindroid. “All handwriting that I come across is automatically stored in my memory.”

“Ah,” Kai mumbles. “Well, there you go, Lloyd. You should find out who it is!”

“But how?” Lloyd wonders as Kai hands the papers back. He stares down at the pink papers, taking a moment to trace the handwriting with the tips of his fingers. Who could it possibly be? He wouldn’t even know where to start...

“Well, when do the letters usually appear?” Nya questions.

“When I get to school, usually it’s already inside,” Lloyd admits, studying the pink papers curiously.

“Maybe we could try and arrive earlier?” Jay suggests. “That way, we can weed potential suspects out by seeing who gets here early.”

Cole nods in responds, shifting his focus to a helpless pudding cup. “That sounds doable.”

“Then let’s do it,” Kai encourages. “Let the hunt begin!”

…

Day after day, Lloyd and the others arrive earlier to school, but to no avail. Whoever is behind this is better than Lloyd initially suspected.

Even so, the group keeps their eyes peeled throughout the coming days. As the week ends, Lloyd finds himself losing hope despite his friends’ encouragement.

Friday approaches, with Lloyd tucking the latest letter in one of his notebooks before heading to lunch with Jay.

“Any luck?” Jay wonders.

“No,” Lloyd answers. “I’m starting to think this person is a ghost!”

“Aw, come on, greenie. You’ve got to have a little more faith! I’m sure we just missed something,” Jay responds.

“I don’t know, Jay,” Lloyd mumbles as the two enter the lunchroom. “Maybe we should-”

He’s interrupted by Nya rushing in front of him, yanking Lloyd by the bicep and pulling him towards the table.

“Nya?! What is it?” Lloyd wonders, eyes wide as Nya hushes him.

“Look over there,” she whispers, gesturing towards one of the nearby lunch tables. Lloyd frowns, narrowing his stare as he slowly turns around.

At first, nothing seems out of place. The area is just filled with a few tables of students milling about, eating lunch and chatting.

It’s then Lloyd notices one group of girls in particular, one of which is writing. Upon closer inspection, though, he finds that she’s writing on…

“Pink paper!” Lloyd exclaims quietly.

“And there’s a red envelope next to her too!” Nya adds, pulling both Jay and Lloyd to their usual table. “So it has to be her!”

“Isn’t she in some of your classes?” Jay questions as the three sit down with the rest of the group.

“Yeah, she is,” Lloyd says. Wow. It’s you? He never would have guessed…

He hadn’t really spoken to you, but from what he saw within the classroom, you tended to keep to yourself.

“Lloyd, did you see her?” Cole questions.

“Yeah, I did.”

“She’s in my science class, and she’s really smart,” Cole notes, as the group eats together.

“Pretty, too,” Kai adds. “So, what are you going to do?”

Lloyd thinks for a moment before coming up with an idea. “I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

��

You sigh, your worries beginning to get the best of you as you head towards your locker at the end of the day. Maybe you should just stop? You’re starting to feel a bit silly.

Momentarily you debate on texting your friends how you’re feeling, but decide to hold off. Well...you only have one letter left. Might as well finish them off before you make a decision.

As per usual, you slip the envelope into Lloyd’s locker for what you believe to be the last time. With that done, you go to your own locker in order to get what you need.

Sighing softly, you open your locker, about to exchange items when a flurry of motion captures your attention.

Your gaze drifts down to find a red envelope on the floor.

“What?” you mumble, frowning as you go to pick it up. Had you missed an old letter? That would make sense – perhaps one simply fell out of your binder?

But, when you flip it over, you find that the handwriting is not yours. Instead, your name is scrawled across the front in childishly messy handwriting.

Wait...no...this can’t...there’s no way...?

You anxiously gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you tear the envelope open, pulling out the pink piece of paper inside:

Following an addressal to you, it reads:

Well...it took me a while, but I finally figured out who you are. You’re pretty sneaky, you know that? I thought it would be simpler to find you.

But I figured it out at lunch yesterday – I happened to see you writing on a piece of pink paper when you were sitting with your friends. And...well, I was wondering how to answer all of the letters, and then I just thought: “Why not turn the tables?”.

First of all, I just want to say that, while I was a little skeptical at first (I thought that it might have been a prank), I really appreciate you taking the time to write these and put them into my locker every morning. These past few weeks have been tough – you know, bullying, plus tests and stuff – but your letters have helped me face the day. I started to look forward to them, all while wondering who you were...

...and now that I know, it’s made me realize that I want to get to know you.

We have a few classes together. I know you’re really smart and kind. And pretty. But I don’t know much else.

So, let’s change that.

Look behind you!

Sincerely,

Lloyd

Your eyes widen, cheeks burning as you swivel around to face none other than Lloyd himself.

You squeak, somewhat startled as you clutch the letter to your chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I, um...I didn’t mean to scare you,” he notes, rubbing the back of his neck as he averts his gaze.

“No, it’s o-okay!” you stutter. “I’m just...well, kind of flustered, I guess. I never thought that this would actually happen.”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy,” Lloyd jokes, chuckling as he rubs the back of his neck. “So...want to go get coffee sometime? I mean, only if you’re able! And, if you want to...”

“I would love to,” you mumble, smiling softly as your heart races.

“Can you come now? I know there’s a cafe nearby,” Lloyd invites.

“Sure! Just let me get my bag.”

With that, the two of you head towards the café together, not knowing that this is the start of something wonderful.

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚒'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗; 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘!

#ninjagoxreader #ninjago x reader #lloydxreader #lloyd garmadon x reader

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jinkoh · 9 months ago

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lip gloss

younghoon x fem!reader

summary: younghoon really likes your lip gloss. what he doesn't like is the silly bet his friends made about you...

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, secret relationship (kinda), fluff, a little jealousy, alternating povs, clothes sharing (v briefly), SFW

wordcount: ~4,8k

a/n: who would have thought i'm coming back after a writer's block with a completely new group--certainly not me lol �� i have accidentally developed an obsession with the lip gloss mv and spent an ungodly amount of time watching it

this is my first time writing for tbz (and i also don't know them that well yet) so pls be kind 👉🏻👈🏻

also this fic is entirely to be blamed on @blizzardfluffykpop bc we came up with the idea together. thanks for brainrotting with me, kate ❤️

Masterlist

Younghoon liked his friends, he really did. It was just that at times he had to remind himself of the fact. Like now, when they were making yet another stupid bet among themselves, fueled as so often by the never ending quarrel between the beach volleyball players and the surfers. Younghoon wasn’t a surfer but neither did he play beach volleyball, except for the rare occasions when they were missing a man, so he usually got out of these antics fine without picking a side. Still, this time the guys were being too much. Younghoon had already turned to Sangyeon in hopes of ending this nonsense, but to his utter disappointment even Sangyeon was in on this, confidently nodding along that his team would win.

It wasn’t that Younghoon didn’t understand the temptation—who wouldn’t want an excuse to talk to you? You’d caught his attention too when he’d come to the beach a few days ago. It was starting to get hot, spring slowly turning into summer, and the owner of the little beach bar had decided it was time to kick off the season. Instead of him though, someone else was manning the bar. You had an arm propped up on the counter and mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Younghoon couldn’t blame you, the bar wasn’t usually busy until later so it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. Without paying it any mind, he jogged down the beach to the volleyball net where he knew to find the others, the girl from the bar quickly forgotten over a very imbalanced game. In fact he didn’t think of you again until he walked back to the bar to get some soda for everyone. There still weren’t any customers around, but instead of doom scrolling you’d taken out some lip gloss, using your phone’s camera as a mirror as you swiftly applied it to your lower lip. He felt he shouldn’t be watching this, but he also couldn’t look away. There was something so captivating about this scene. Just when you were smacking your lips together (twice) you seemed to have noticed his gaze. You looked up with surprise in your eyes before giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. What can I get you?” The gloss made your lips look shiny. Maybe he had already been a goner then.

So, it really wasn't that he didn't understand. But betting on who’d get your number first seemed a bit much and, frankly, kind of rude too. There was no stopping them though, but perhaps he could at least give you a little warning?

He got up from where everyone was sitting on the sand, just far enough from the shore to not get wet, and jogged back to the wooden path that led further up the beach and to the bar.

“Where are you going?” Eric yelled behind him. “Not getting a head start, are you?”

Younghoon huffed a laugh. “What makes you think I’d join a silly bet like that?”

Eric grinned. “Scared of even trying, huh?”

“Mhm, sure.”

With a shake of his head he walked the last few meters to the bar, where he sat down on one of the stools at the counter. Once more, it was empty despite being late at night, but he supposed not everyone had the freedom to come out here this late on a weekday.

“So,” you turned to him with a mischievous grin, before he could even say anything. “What kind of bet were you talking about?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “You heard that?”

“Was hard not to.”

“I’m not sure you really want to know.”

“I don’t care either way. But you guys have been stealing glances at the bar this whole time—you better not do anything that will get me in trouble with the boss.”

“They wouldn’t,” Younghoon didn’t hesitate to reply. Sure, they were silly and stupid at times, but they wouldn’t put someone’s job on the line for funsies. “But they also weren’t exactly looking at the bar.”

“They weren’t, huh?” You grinned and Younghoon couldn’t help but notice the shimmer of your lip gloss.

“It’s your number,” he said, tearing his eyes away from your lips. “They want your number.”

You nodded slowly, looking more amused than offended. There was a challenging glint in your eyes. “So, you think getting my number is silly?”

The question caught him off guard so his reply came out a little too slow to be smooth. “No, that’s far from silly. Just betting on it is.”

“Hmm, how do I know you’re not secretly in on it though?”

“Why would I butcher my chances by telling you about the bet then?”

You leaned over the counter a bit, propping up your head with your closed hand. “Maybe this is your strategy to appear upright and honest?”

He stifled a laugh. “Well, I’m honest. I don’t know about the rest.”

“Fair enough.”

Younghoon didn’t get your number that night, but neither did anyone else and that gave him a little satisfaction. He’d offered to try and talk them out of it again, but you’d declined. “No,” you’d said with a grin. “I wanna see them try. It sounds fun.”

He thought he possibly liked more about you than just your lip gloss.

The guys went all out. Some attempts didn’t seem too bad while others gave him a strong sense of secondhand embarrassment. But you seemed to be having fun with it, so who was he to intervene? And maybe, just maybe, he liked the way you’d throw him knowing glances from time to time, sharing a secret only for the two of you to know.

Yet, he wondered if maybe one of them would manage to sway your heart—he’d seen Kevin steal you away during your break earlier, to take you to the wooden jump tower near the cliffs. He liked to boast about his diving, and from the way Younghoon could hear you laughing from afar you seemed to be having fun. He stalled for a moment, watching how you were sitting on the pier, your feet dangling in the water. When Kevin pushed himself up with his arms to get onto the pier next to you, you playfully shoved him back, making him go under with a splash. He was laughing when he came back up, and so were you. That was a good thing, right? You were having fun. You already knew the thing with the bet too, so if you liked Kevin in spite of that then who was Younghoon to interfere? Kevin was a good guy anyway, and bet or not he seemed genuinely interested. No, there shouldn’t be any problem.

And yet, Younghoon felt bitter about it, a greedy part of him wishing he could have that laugh all to himself.

“So, can I have your number? In case I need a buddy to go diving with again sometime?” Kevin grinned up at you from the water, brushing back his wet hair. It reminded you of Younghoon, the way he’d run his hand through his hair every few minutes, pushing it out of his forehead just for it to fall right back into place. Maybe you should buy him some bobby pins—probably not. After all, you liked when he did that.

“Is that smile a yes?” Kevin pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Ah, sorry, left my phone at the bar,” you both knew it was just an excuse, but Kevin didn’t seem particularly offended. He swam over to the pier, resting his arms on the wooden board and propping up his chin.

“What has you so happy then?”

“Nothing much. Just a friend.”

“I can be a friend too,” he replied playfully.

“Sure, friend,” you easily agreed, ignoring the flirty undertone that defeated the meaning of his words. Friends you could do.

To be honest, your expectations for this summer had been low. You didn't know anyone in this small town aside from your uncle and even though you had a good relationship with him, you could picture better ways to spend the hot season than helping out at his bar. To your surprise though, you were slowly starting to enjoy your time here. When you’d first heard of the bet it hadn’t left the best impression, but seeing them try so hard to impress you was a little cute and despite everything they seemed like sweet, genuine guys. And the fact that you knew about the bet made it pretty fun to watch the spectacle, even more so since you had someone to share mischievous smiles about it with. It felt like you were partners in crime, a secret friendship blooming between the two of you that had no real reason to be secret aside from the thrill of it all.

You weren’t the fondest of riding the bicycle. In fact, back at home you didn’t even own one. You lived in the next bigger town and you got around just fine using public transport. That seemed unthinkable here though, with two buses running a day—one in the morning and one at night. So, if you didn’t want to walk everywhere, you had to make do with your cousin’s old bicycle that he’d used before he’d moved out for college. It was a little rattly but it was holding up pretty well—or at least that had been the case until today. You weren’t sure what exactly happened, but suddenly the counter pressure when pedaling had disappeared, and you’d almost fallen forward over the bicycle’s handlebars. Now you were standing at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, not even half way back to your uncle’s place with no reception and a chain that was just loosely hanging off the gears. It being night didn’t really help you to feel better about it all. While you knew it was probably safer here than in some street downtown that was bustling with drunk people, it still felt scarier, the tall trees along the road looming over you. Begrudgingly you pushed the bicycle forward, the lamp flickering weakly and barely doing anything to lighten up the path ahead.

In the distance, you heard the sound of an engine approaching, and the thought of coming across someone on this deserted street made your stomach churn with dread. A brief glance behind you told you it was a motorcycle, the headlight almost a little blinding in the darkness. Just before it went past you, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would go by fast. You wanted to let out a relieved breath once it did, but then you heard the motor stopping only a few meters ahead. Your eyes snapped open, panic rushing through your veins as you watched the driver get off. Your grip around the handle bars tightened, making your knuckles turn white. You made a point of not looking at the guy, even when he came closer, but then you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/n? You good?”

You raised your gaze in time to see him take off his helmet. He shook out his black hair before pushing it out of his forehead the way he always did.

“Younghoon.” Relief washed over you.

“Sorry, did I frighten you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So, what happened?” He took an examining look at your bicycle. “Chain came off?”

You shrugged helplessly. “Whatever you say.”

He nodded slowly, running his hand through his hair once more. “I can fix that for you.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty simple. But maybe something for daylight. Let me give you a ride home and we’ll come back for it tomorrow?”

You glanced over to the motorcycle that was waiting a little ahead and then back to Younghoon. Your expression must have been weary because he grinned. “Don’t worry I have a spare helmet. And I’m a safe driver too.”

“I wasn’t doubting you.”

“It’s fine if you were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Mhm, sure,” he stepped a little closer, putting the helmet on for you and closing the fastener under your chin. Your breath caught when his fingers brushed against your skin, the feeling lingering despite the fleetingness of the touch. “Ready to go?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, trying to get a grip of yourself. “Just a—let me just—,” instead of finishing your sentence you just gestured towards your bicycle instead. He huffed a laugh and watched as you pushed it further to the side and leaned it against a tree in safe distance to the road. Once you’d locked it, you turned back around to Younghoon who was still looking at you.

“Ready,” you croaked.

He smiled, and despite the darkness of the night you could see the small crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. “Good.”

You walked the few meters to his bike in silence and you thought there was an odd tension there. Or maybe you were just nervous about the ride, you reasoned with yourself. He got out his spare helmet, pushing his hair out of his forehead once more before putting it on. With ease he swung his leg over the machine before patting the leather of the seat behind him. You got on too, certainly looking a lot less dignified than he did and shuffled back as far as you could to bring some distance between the two of you. Before starting the motor, he looked back at you once more. “Hold on tight.” Unsure what exactly to hold onto, you clung to the edges of the seat, your nails digging into the leather.

He didn’t drive too fast, surely out of consideration for you, but you still couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. When he hit a small bump in the road, you let out a shriek, your arms instinctively letting go of the seat to wrap around his waist instead. You held on tight, the distance you’d made sure of before completely forgotten. Once you’d recovered from the brief shock though, you wondered if this was okay or if you’d overstepped. But Younghoon didn’t say anything about it and you didn’t want to let go again, not when you felt so safe with your arms wrapped around him.

The ride was over way too quickly, and you almost wished you’d given him wrong directions when he stopped in front of your uncle’s house. Chances of him catching on would have probably been high though, considering he was from here while you were just here for the summer.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Younghoon said, after he’d taken off his helmet, looking at the house questioningly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just didn’t know you were related to the owner.”

“He’s my uncle,” you explained matter of factly. “But how do you know he lives here?”

Younghoon chuckled. “This is a pretty small town, you know?”

“Right,” you nodded. You took your helmet off too, awkwardly holding it out for him to take. “So, uh, thanks for the ride.”

He tore his gaze away from the house to meet yours. “Was my pleasure.” There was that sweet smile again, making your heart melt. You smacked your lips together, the way you did when applying lipstick—a nervous habit of yours. His gaze flickered to the movement before wandering back up to your eyes. There was something there. He took a small step towards you, just a few inches but it felt like he was suddenly way up in your personal space. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't move. Instead he just kept looking at you with an unreadable expression.

Unable to hold eye contact, you lowered your head, staring at your feet instead. “I should go inside then.”

“Mhm, you should. I’ll pick you up tomorrow? Is around noon good?”

“Pick me up?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Your bicycle, remember?”

“Oh, of course. Noon is good. Should I give you my number? Maybe you can text me fifteen minutes or so before you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Not worried that this is all just part of my scheme to win the bet?” His voice was quiet and yet there was a cockiness to it that made your heart race.

"Shut up." It was a weak comeback, but it put a grin on Younghoon's face. His gaze dropped to your lips once more before coming back up.

"Make me."

Your eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by the bold implication of his words. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, your whole body was thrumming with nerves. Your gaze flickered to his lips. You inched closer. That's what he'd meant right? You wouldn't be overstepping if you kissed him now, right? You looked up into his eyes, just to be sure that you weren't misunderstanding things. But right when you did, he cupped your jaw with his hand, pulling you in until his lips crashed into yours.

Kissing him felt so natural, it was as if all your secret smiles and shared grins had naturally led up to this moment. You kissed him until you felt breathless and even then you were reluctant to pull away. When you finally did, he didn't let you go too far, his thumb drawing patterns on your cheek and his eyes taking in every inch of your face.

"I think I should really go now," you eventually broke the silence when you couldn't endure it anymore.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Okay," you repeated. "I'll see you around noon."

Younghoon couldn’t stop himself from smiling on the whole ride home. You'd forgotten to give him your number, but he felt that it didn't really matter anymore. He could just ask you again tomorrow. After all, he'd gotten something way better tonight. He recalled the way your arms had held onto him tightly on the ride and your tousled hair after you’d taken off the helmet. Mostly, he recalled how warm your lips had felt against his. He couldn’t wait to see you again.

The chain was back on in a matter of seconds. Younghoon looked as if he’d done it a zillion times before.

“And you couldn’t have done that last night?” You asked from where you were standing next to him, watching as he wiped his fingers on a cloth. Nothing had happened since he'd picked you up and you'd driven back to your bicycle together. You almost wondered if it was all an odd fever dream and he didn’t actually kiss you.

“I did say it was easy," He admitted simply, "But it’s always better to check everything with proper lighting rather than letting you ride home on a potentially broken bicycle. Can’t risk you getting hurt, can we?"

It was just common decency but somehow the way he said it, looking up at you with a cheeky grin, made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks flush. You avoided his gaze, your focus falling onto his jaw instead. “You have a little—” you motioned to your own face, trying to mirror where he’d stained his skin with grease just below the jaw line. He tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand, his grin traded for something more innocent. “There?”

The scene captivated you a little too much, thoughts of touching that jaw, of pulling him into a kiss circling your mind. In your daze, it took you a second to snap out of it. “Yeah,” you mumbled, not really paying attention. "There."

Younghoon thoroughly made sure the bicycle was safe to ride and only then started to pack up his tools. You watched as he diligently put them away.

“How come you know how to do this?” you eventually broke the silence.

“What, putting a chain back on?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” he shrugged. “I like fixing things. And it comes in handy too, doesn’t it?” He said the last bit with a smile that you couldn’t help but return.

“Yeah, it does. Thanks again.”

He got up and dusted off his pants. “It’s nothing. Call me if something happens again.”

“I will.” Your gaze followed him as he walked back to his bike, getting his helmet from where it hung off the handle bars. He didn't put it on just yet, taking a quick glance at the wing mirror first.

“You lied!” He complained in mocked offense, before turning back around to you. He wore a pout, his finger pointing at the grease stain that was still right there below his jaw line.

You giggled. “What can I say, I’m neither upright nor honest.”

Younghoon grinned and walked back over to you, his helmet still in his hand. "Is that so?" He asked as he stepped back into your personal space. You took a tiny step towards him too, closely watching his reaction. That grin was still there. With a racing heart you tugged the cloth out from where he had messily shoved it into his pocket. Then you reached up to his jaw, slowly wiping at the grease stain until it was gone. The whole time, Younghoon was watching you intently, your eyes, your nose your lips—

You lowered your hand when you were done, but he caught your wrist to stop you from going too far.

"Thanks." His voice was barely a whisper. Your eyes flickered to his mouth.

"You're welcome," you replied just as quietly, inching just the tiniest bit closer. You felt his breath on your skin and then his lips on yours, again and again and again.

Things between the two of you felt exciting and new and good—but there was also this looming uncertainty. Younghoon knew what it meant to him. But what about you? What was all this to you? Even though he didn't want to delude himself, he couldn't help hoping that this, that he was special to you. The secret smiles you exchanged started to feel a little different, like there was a little more. And there was: the two of you were texting a lot now that you'd exchanged numbers and you often came down to the beach earlier to hang out with him on the old lighthouse before your shift. You weren’t doing that for the other guys. Your gaze also didn't linger on them the way it did on him, no matter how much they pestered you. And of course you weren't kissing them either. That was, as far as he knew, reserved for him alone. That made it easy to endure when you were laughing and joking around with the guys. Except at times, you'd glance over to him with a cocky grin. Almost as if you wanted to make sure he was watching, as if you wanted to purposely rile him up. It made him want to walk over and kiss you right there in front of them, but you hadn't talked about these things yet and you seemed to enjoy the thrill of hide and seek. So, kissing was only allowed for when you were alone with no one to see.

Consequently he was keeping a low profile, sitting in the sand with some of the others and pretending not to watch from afar how Changmin and Juyeon were leaning on the counter, competing for your attention. Eventually he tore his gaze away to focus on the conversation in front of him instead, which only got interrupted when Jacob remarked that Changmin and Juyeon must have been unsuccessful, as they were coming back down to the beach. You on the other hand were not behind the bar anymore, a small sign indicating that it was closed for now. A feeling of worry started to spread in his guts. Did something happen? Did they make you feel uncomfortable? He knew his friends were good guys and wouldn’t ever intentionally do that, but just because it wasn't their intention didn't mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe it was nothing, but he just needed to make sure you were okay.

Without thinking further he got up from the sand, jogging past Changmin and Juyeon who looked at him in confusion, and up to the bar. You weren't anywhere to be found though, the little door locked and the space behind the counter empty. The other only place he could come up with was the lighthouse, so he made his way there, hurrying up the spiral staircase until he got to you, sitting in the middle of the steps and munching on a sandwich. You looked up at him in surprise as he stood before you, breathing a little heavy, but a smile spreading on his lips. He chuckled. He should have known he was worrying for nothing.

"You're on break?"

"Mhm," you nodded and scooted over a bit, making space for you to sit with him. "What's the hurry for?"

There was a little sauce on your upper lip. He reached out to wipe it away and you simply let him.

"I don't know, I was wondering if you're fine."

"Why wouldn't I be?'

He shrugged. He didn't know either, after all you'd never been uncomfortable with the boys' advances. Maybe he was the only one who felt that way.

You leaned in a little closer, bumping your shoulder against his with a cheeky grin. "Or were you maybe jealous?"

With a huffed laugh he met your gaze. "What if I was?"

He thought he saw your cheeks flush when you focused back on your sandwich. "Maybe I'd like that."

It was late, around midnight, and you listened to the sound of the waves as you sat side by side in the sand. The bar was still open, but your uncle had taken on the night shift, giving you the freedom to spend your time out here, away from people. You hear the music and laughter from afar and if you turned around you'd see the colorful string lights too, but you much preferred the view of the ocean in front of you. At least for now.

Younghoon was sitting close to you, his hand just barely touching yours. You wondered if he was cold in his white tee while you were all wrapped up in his cozy hoodie. You inched closer, intertwining your fingers and pulling his hand into your lap. Maybe you could at least keep his arm warm. He turned to look at you with a smile, before running his free hand through his hair.

"The boys would hate this," he said with a chuckle.

"Would they really?" Your voice sounded more serious than intended. You knew it was just an offhand comment, but it made you wonder if that could be a dealbreaker for him. You knew he treasured his friends.

He considered for a moment. "Only if I'm not serious. They care about you, you know."

"So, are you? Serious?"

"Yeah." He didn't shy away from your gaze. "I'm serious."

You squeezed his hand in yours and he squeezed right back and even though it was such a small gesture it gave you butterflies. He was serious about you, about this. With flushed cheeks and a smile tugging at your lips, you leaned your head against his shoulder. You sat like that for a while, back to listening to the waves.

"Maybe we should end their bet," you eventually mumbled. "Since they already lost." You could imagine the surprise on their face if you were to tell them.

"Mhm, we should," he rested his head against yours, "but not now. Let's stay here a little longer."

"Yeah, let's."

"That actually makes so much sense," Eric exclaimed dramatically, after you'd told them a few days later. "How else would you have resisted my charm?"

Changmin huffed a laugh. "Right, because you're so irresistible."

"Hey–"

"Anyway," Sangyeon interrupted, "that means the bet is off."

Sunwoo looked at him with a raised eyebrow, casually resting his arm on Younghoon's shoulder. "You're only saying that because you've lost. Younghoon is clearly on team beach volleyball. He just joined in on a game the other day."

Eric shook his head and formed an X with his arms. "Nope, no, he clearly said he wasn't joining."

Younghoon rolled his eyes at their antics, wondering if he should say something to make them shut up. But then he met your amused gaze and decided to leave it be.

"What was the wager anyway?" You asked him quietly.

Younghoon shrugged as he intertwined his fingers with yours. "I have no idea."

You giggled. He liked the sound of it and the happy glint in your eyes. He also liked the shimmer of your lip gloss.

no tbz masterlist (edit: nvmnd here it is) but feel free to check out my other works if you liked this or leave a follow to keep up with future works~

#younghoon x reader #younghoon x fem!reader #younghoon fluff #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #kpop scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #kebbis.writing

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hypequeenves · 8 months ago

Text

NEW TO THE BLOG? READ ME!

Enchantée, my loves! Welcome to the blog! <3

Just to let you know that this is a story based blog, with an alternative style of story telling. The plot is revealed mostly through the lens of different types of technology. From Sinstagram posts to security camera footage, this Hellaverse AU centres around my OC Vesper:

Vesper is a popular popstar and sinner operating within the Pride Ring. She is soul contracted to Vox, and was designed around the idea of a 'hypeman' for the Vees. Her outfit is loosely based around a cheerleader, and her abilities are based off a Siren.

The story is told through a bunch of different mediums - mostly images, but I do have some audio files on here along with some music! I did not expect to be writing music for this, but here we are! So if you'd like to stick around, I'd scroll right to the bottom of the blog and explore the story! SPOILERS BELOW - If you haven't looked through the posts thus far and don't want to be spoiled, come back after!

THE PLOT THUS FAR:

(I didn't just wanna write the plot point blank, so I wrote it like POV: Your at a movie night and your best friend is telling you the plot to the prequel movie so you have *context*)

We're diving into the wild world of Vanessa LaBlanc, this mega-popstar who goes by the stage name Vesper in the Pride Ring. But here's the kicker: her climb to stardom? It's only been about seven years! Insane, right?

So, her smash hit 'The Devil You Know' rockets to the top of 'Hell's Hottest Hits'. It's like her big breakout moment, and suddenly, everyone's got their eyes on her.

But here's where it gets interesting: turns out, she's been hanging out at the Hazbin Hotel, but not just for kicks. Nope, she's on this super-secret spy mission, keeping tabs on things. And her deal with Vox? Let's just say their whole working relationship is one big question mark.

Then there's this whole issue about her being under some soul contract with Vox, so it's not all rainbows and sunshine. But Charlie, being the sweetheart she is, rallies everyone to support Vesper at this major award ceremony, and guess what? She totally wins and takes home the prize!

But after that, Vesper goes MIA, ghosting everyone's texts and calls. Finally, when she resurfaces, it's because she's been tied up shooting some ad campaign. Turns out, her and Vox had this major fallout over the ad's ethics.

And get this: the product of the ad? Love Potions! Vesper's kinda backed into a corner she doesn't think its right - but Vox makes her do it anyway! You can see the strain it puts on her and Vox's relationship. It's messy, to say the least.

Then there's this whole backstory between Vesper and Angel Dust, like they used to hate each other and Valentino admits to being the reason behind it. But now that she's staying at the Hotel, they seem to have made up! Val's flipping out, convinced Vesper's up to something, but Vox is tells Val to calm down, because 'it's not like before' that she's 'under contract now'.

Things really hit the fan when Vesper and Vox have this big blow up over some news article about her going public with staying at the Hazbin Hotel. But in the middle of all the drama, you can see there's this genuine care between them, buried beneath all the chaos.

And then there's the bombshell about Vesper's new album, 'Absolution', which Vox drops on her out of nowhere. She's not thrilled, especially when she finds out the album cover's shot in Val's flooded studio, and she has a deep-rooted fear of water.

Things get tense between Vesper and Angel, too. He's worried sick about her, but she's not having any of it. And then after the album shoot, her relationship with Vox starts unravelling big time.

And that's pretty much it thus far!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hellaverse #oc #hazbin hotel fanart #the vees #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel fandom

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itsclydebitches · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: Tarina, a new apprentice at Sorcerous Sundries, becomes intrigued by a wizard and his oddly colored raven.

Pairing: Gale/Astarion, outsider PoV

Word Count: 3,427

Part of the Little by Little, Step by Step collection

Inspired by @cake-apostate post <3

Tarina had never seen a white raven before.

It sat tall on the wizard’s shoulder, surveying Sorcerous Sundries with what she wanted to say was a haughty air. That was ridiculous though... right? Plenty who passed through the store could summon up a familiar, but this creature lacked the same aura of magic those conjured beasts wore. It might have been a druid showing off their impressive Wild Shape, but Brenan had given her that You’re An Idiot Apprentice look when she’d asked, reiterating that every druid’s shape was identical to another’s. It was built into the spell. You’d have better chance spotting a Wild Shaped druid not by its behavior, but by how conspicuously brown it was.

She supposed it might have been a normal bird bound to the wizard, even trained, but Tarina had never seen plumage of that coloring. The raven was pure white, from the tip of its beak all the way down, the only color on its body stemming from piercing, blood-red eyes. Sometimes Tarina caught the bird watching her and shivered, feeling hunted. Which again, ridiculous. She might have only just started her training, but even she could best a two-pound corvid.

The wizard must not have found what he was looking for because Tarina watched as he shook his head, gesturing angrily at their collection of scrolls. As he did, the movement dislodged the raven, nearly sending it to the floor.

It proceeded to bite the wizard’s neck in retaliation.

Then it gagged.

“—don’t know how many times I need to say it!” the wizard was yelling as he left the shop, one hand on the small wound and the other trying to grab the raven by the scruff of its neck.

They got all types in Sundries, but this was odd even by their standards. Tarina didn’t know what was up with those two but she was damn well going to figure it out.

Besides, mysteries were better than doing inventory any day.

***

“Excuse me, um—Master Rolan?”

Tarina had tried to present herself as respectfully and unobtrusively as possible, going so far as to give a little curtsy as she approached (which probably looked stupid in breeches). For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her—or worse, was ignoring her—but then Master Rolan sighed and raised a hand to his eyes, squeezing them shut.

“Please don’t call me that.”

Tarina blinked. Being corrected probably wasn’t a good thing, but he didn’t sound mad. She decided to risk shuffling a little closer, standing beside him as he looked out over the store’s upper railing. “Why...?”

“Would you like to know what I’ve learned about others, myself, or my true motivation?”

Okay, maybe wizard dude and his raven weren’t that weird, not if this was the guy running things. Tarina was trying to figure out if this was some kind of test when Rolan turned, his lips twisting into a self-deprecating smile.

“Lorroakan was this tower’s previous master,” he said, “and I have no intention of following in his depraved footsteps. Beyond that, however, I still have a great deal to learn about the arcane arts and have not yet earned the title of ‘Master’ even if I wanted to take it. Mystra knows my folly has endangered enough of us already. But really...” Rolan leaned closer, a spark of... something lighting up his eyes. “My sister Lia will never let me hear the end of it if she catches you calling me that, so save me the trouble and I won’t have to fire you without recommendation. Alright?”

“Right!” Oh, this had been a bad idea. Tarina couldn’t tell if Rolan was joking, but she really wasn’t inclined to find out. She couldn’t afford it. Literally, given the weight of her coin purse. She mumbled a nonsense apology to her feet and started backing away when Rolan raised a hand, halting her.

“Where are you going? Didn’t you need something?”

...right.

“It’s nothing much Ma—uh, Rolan. I was just wondering if you knew this customer?” Tarina started gesturing a little wildly and willed herself to stop. Her hands didn’t listen. “Wizard type. Shoulder-length brown hair. Beard. Wears a weave earring and seems to have a preference for purple?”

Rolan was staring at her, long enough and hard enough that Tarina because to sweat. She could see a muscle ticking in his jaw and wondered if she was about to be blasted off the balcony.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I know him.”

“Do you... know what’s up with his raven?”

All at once the tension left Rolan and he snorted, a sound of dry amusement. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, Attention seeking idiots but Tarina couldn’t be sure. When he spoke though it was with such deliberate seriousness that she was instantly suspicious:

“Would you believe me if I said that raven is his husband?”

“...No.”

“Well then. I suppose there’s nothing left but for you to get back to work.”

Tarina went, wondering halfheartedly if Arcane Atheneum was hiring. Without recommendations.

***

Two months since she’s started working and training at Sorcerous Sundries. A month since she’d first seen the raven. A week of making her list.

It was, unfortunately, a rather unhelpful list.

Things The Raven Does (That Maybe Aren’t Very Raven-y?)

Likes to sunbathe on the Southside bookshelves while the wizard browses

Seems to enjoy annoying whoever is in his vicinity. Master Rolan is a favorite target

(Raven is a “he.” Heard wizard use pronoun after kissing his beak. Husband???)

(Look up legal precedent of human/animal relationships in Faerûn)

Preens at compliments but won’t let anyone else hold him

Update. Exceptions: white-haired cleric, githyanki (!!!), two druids, adventurer of undetermined race/gender, and Minsc. Fucking Minsc was in our shop

Update for the update: raven tried to hunt Misc’s hamster. It didn’t end well

Snatched a bracelet off a woman’s wrist and tried to fly off with it. Wizard summoned ice wall that Raven slammed into. Woman distraught. Raven pissed (sounds like a tea-kettle crossed with an un-oiled hinge). Rolan threw fireballs until wizard cleaned up the water from his melting wall (this did more damage to the books than anything else, but I was too scared to point that out)

Possible successful second attempt: man’s gold-plated quill went missing during checkout. Raven nearby. Can only describe his behavior as ‘too innocent’. Looks like he would have whistled if he could

Tends to bite. Has a preference for necks (kinky??)

Is generally an asshole. Like, even more than the average bird

Tarina started down at the notes, hoping that something would jump out at her and make it all make sense.

Nothing did. If anything, her already messy scrawl grew incomprehensible as her eyes watered. Tarina let out a massive yawn, tipping her head back to suck in more oxygen. Maybe Rolan would let her pop out for a coffee before next shift?

When she opened her eyes again the wizard was standing before her.

“Hello there,” he said, giving a wave.

Tarina made a sound approaching ‘Ulp’ and ‘Gah’ if they’d had an unholy baby together.

“Quite,” the wizard replied. “Now, I don’t suppose you have any tomes on the magical co-efficient found in cherry wood carved staffs, do you? While I wouldn’t go so far as to describe this as an emergency per se, your expedience in the matter would be greatly appreciated.”

The raven sat on his shoulder once more, staring at Tarina with an unnatural focus. Without taking his red eyes off her he croaked something towards the wizard’s ear.

“Well yes, but I would prefer to know how much magic I’m getting before I destroy the staff.”

Croak. Croak croak.

“Halsin gave me that! Just because you keep losing to him in lanceboard—”

A loooong croak.

“I do not get grumpy when I need to eat!”

Tarina stared.

Now that she knew what to look for, the wizard did seem a little peaky. He was paler than anyone should have been on a hot day like this, even if they were reclusive scholars. There was a thin, sickly sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hand, when it went to give the raven a solid flick, trembled slightly. Frankly, he looked like shit.

There were so many things to address here that Tarina’s brain felt like a Melf’s acid arrow hurtling at full speed. Who was doing research that esoteric and specific? Who wanted to? Was the wizard using a Speak to Animals spell? He must have been, otherwise Tarina should probably find Brenan and alert them that a crazy was on the loose. Someone crazier than the average wizard, that is. The man just looked tired though, a little sick, which made Tarina wonder if it was contagious, if she should find a healer, if she was even conceivably paid enough to be dealing with any of this.

“I’ve got crackers,” she blurted, wincing slightly when their combined attention turned her way. “In my satchel. In the back. Crackers for... eating? If you’re hungry, I mean.”

The smile the wizard gave her was kind, but the noise the raven made sounded like laughter.

“Thank you,” he said, “but a book will serve me just fine. If you would?” and he waved an imperious hand that clearly said, Get on with it.

Okay, so he was a little bit of an asshole too. He and the raven were meant for each other.

Still, Tarina flew to the back, pulled up their catalogue, and found every reference to staffs, cheery wood, and magical coefficients that an Elixir of Hill Giant Strength would let her carry. It wasn’t her job to question why their patrons wanted the information, only to supply it.

The wizard spent a while pursuing the volumes she’s brought out, seemingly content to let the other patrons wait than take his load to one of the nearby tables. Tarina shot them an apologetic smile, nodding towards other employees who could help them out. The angle at which she visually negotiated with an ancient, terrifying woman put her in the perfect position to spot the necklace on the raven’s neck.

Tarina blinked, trying to get a closer look without it being obvious that she was doing just that. The necklace—amulet?—was expensive, that much was obvious. A pure gold chain tapered down into a disgustingly massive purple gem. A garnet? Amethyst maybe? Tarina might have known a little more about precious stones if she’d ever been in a position to purchase one. Or even see one up close before now. There were smaller gems too of a similar color and though the raven’s feathers covered many of them, there was no hiding the overall size of the jewelry, nor the contrast against that unnaturally white plumage. Tarina was staring now, caution be damned, because how had she missed that?

Magic, Dum-Dum, her mind supplied. Something simple to deter attention, but not true invisibility. Once you do notice it, it’s obvious what's there. But until you do...

She wasn’t the only one noticing things. With a jerk, Tarina looked up to find the raven staring at her. Hard.

Shit.

“Utterly useless,” the wizard was muttering, flipping through two books at once. His body swayed with the motion and the raven swayed with him, perfectly balanced, its sharp gaze never once leaving Tarina’s face. “Well, I suppose that’s not the worst thing considering I really didn’t want to part with the staff—your feelings on the matter notwithstanding—but that does still leave me in a bit of a predicament. Do you think Tav has anything on hand? I do hate to bother them with this, though I suppose in the grand scheme of things they’d much less rather the city be demolished so soon after saving it...”

Before Tarina could unpack that statement, the raven gave a squawk of what was undoubtedly self-satisfaction. Lifting one foot he extended his leg out from beneath the mound of snowy feathers, revealing a gold bracelet with runes etched down one side.

“Where did you get that?”

What followed was the strangest display of tenderness and fury she'd ever seen, with the wizard swatting at the raven one moment and pressing kisses to his head the next. He bore both with the same, haughty attitude. There were shouts of theft, and gratitude, and more than one muttered, “You insufferable rogue.” The wizard left the small mountain of books in disarray with only the swiftest ‘Thank you’s as he left the shop. However, before the door slammed shut behind him Tarina caught a strange purple light emanating from his chest.

“Honestly!” the old woman said. Tarina agreed wholeheartedly.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Snatching her list, Tarina began scribbling madly, trying to recreate the amulet before anyone else had need of her.

She really should have gotten that coffee.

***

The Corvid Token.

It took a while, but Tarina hadn’t been hired on pity alone. She found mention of the amulet buried in the appendix of an otherwise boring tome on artifacts that manipulated jump distance. Why anyone would want to influence that was beyond her, but now she was glad people cared about such things.

Prized for its beauty as well as its power, the Corvid Token is an amulet of legend. Said to have first belonged to a favored follower of the Raven Queen, it allegedly gifts the wearer with jump distance, flying speed, and Feather Fall while Polymorphed or in Wild Shape. However, these abilities alone would not be enough to earn the amulet its coveted status. Records show that wearers are able to take on a unique Polymorph while in possession of this token: the Dire Raven. This transformation, far from simply providing the ability to fly and blind opponents, circumvents the usual limitations of a Polymorph, allowing wearers to take on all physical aspects of the raven while simultaneously maintaining their faculties. This transformation also lacks the usual time limit. One diary details a father who gave the amulet to his ill daughter, allowing her to physically circumvent the illness while maintaining her mind and personality. She would remove the amulet once a year on her birthday and otherwise lived a long and purportedly happy life as the town’s beloved corvid.

Slowly, Tarina shut the book and breathed out a giant, full-body sigh. Though Sorcerous Sundries was open through the night, it only took a skeleton crew to keep it running during the late hours. She’d offered to take this shift precisely so she could do a bit of research without anyone looking over her shoulder, but now...

“Is he sick?” she wondered aloud, idly toying with one of the pages. The raven? The peaky wizard? Customer service was boring; an apprenticeship even more-so until you got to the casting bit of things. Tarina could admit that she’d been using the raven as a distraction, just something fun and mysterious to pass the time. But now that this was on the table, the possibility that the two people she’d been obsessing over for weeks on end—two strangers who didn’t feel much like strangers anymore— might be going through something like that... well, it shouldn’t have come as a shock, but it did. Suddenly, the mystery didn’t feel like a game anymore.

Tarina shut the book with a snap, pasting on an insincere simile when the bell over their door rang. The man who stepped through wore a hooded cloak with his head dipped low—not an uncommon practice in these parts—and she did her best to toe the line between false interest and respect for his privacy when she asked if he was looking for anything in particular.

“Nothing much, darling. Just a story tonight. My handsome, high maintenance husband has a weakness for books and he’s been particularly excitable tonight—though not in any way I’d prefer.” The last was muttered into the hem of his hood as it dropped down, revealing a shock of unnaturally white hair.

Sorcerous Sundries did have a fiction section. It was small, outdated, and very rarely browsed, but they prided themselves on providing their customers with anything and everything the magical community might need, which sometimes translated into a much-needed break. Tarina should have pointed him towards the alcove in the back and returned to quietly chastising herself for treating real people like toys. Instead, something about that hair had her blurting,

“How about a love story?” Once the words were out Tarina couldn’t keep the rest quiet and what followed was a rushed outpouring half-swallowed by a laugh. “I’ve got one about a wizard who hunts down a rare amulet that turns his love into a raven, all to save him from the fatal illness that plagues them both. Or something.”

Tarina winced. The customer was staring at her. Of course he was. She should have been embarrassed at the very least. Or worse: worrying that he’d issue a complaint to Rolan and get her fired. But his appearance had rooted her in place. There was something familiar about that white hair and those piercing, mischievous red eyes.

...and the purple amulet, just peeking out from beneath his cloak.

The man laughed suddenly, revealing fangs that glinted in the candlelight. He sauntered over, placed his elbows on the counter, and gave her a look that was nothing short of gleefully dangerous.

“Oh yes, this encounter will do very nicely. Gale’s going to have kittens! How about a trade, my dear shopkeeper? Your funny little assumption for a far superior version of the story.” He took her hand, stopping just short of kissing it. “I’m Astarion, by the way. We’ve met. Though I’m afraid my far less handsome visage didn’t catch your name…?”

“Tarina.” She couldn’t breathe, could barely think. A vampire. Tarina wasn’t sure if she should be pulling out the snacks, or running for the hills.

“Tarina,” Astarion echoed, flicking his cloak out as he settled in. “Well, Tarina, would you like to hear the real tale? About how the wizard hunted down a rare amulet… to allow his vampire love to walk in the sun? Or fly, rather, if we’re being precise. It's quite disgustingly sweet. ”

Oh. Hells, that was so much better—and suddenly Tarina remembered where she’d stashed the extra wine after their last shop party.

“There’s lots of adventure in it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“But of course.”

“Danger?”

“As only a rogue and his fool can attract.”

“Embarrassing anecdotes about Rolan?”

Astarion paused, then grinned. That was a true smile. Tarina could tell the difference now that she’d seen both and it felt like she’d unexpectedly passed some kind of test.

“Not in this particular story, darling, but I can make time for a few more.”

“There’s no one else coming in tonight,” she said with the certainty of someone who would be announcing the store’s unexpected closure if anyone did show up. “I’ll get the wine and you tell your husband you’ll be back late?

“Early,” Astarion corrected, “but yes. Tara can entertain him for a few hours. The Gods know that tressym owes me.”

Tarina hadn’t a clue who Tara was, but she hoped to find out soon. As she started taking the stairs two at a time, she caught the unmistakable sound of wings in the store’s silence before the bell on the door rang again.

She smiled to herself. Alright. Working here wasn’t all bad. Two months down. One mystery solved.

One friend gained.

#BG3 #Bloodweave #Astarion #Gale #Gale/Astarion #BG3 fic #outsider pov

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cyberarcadecowboy · 5 months ago

Text

The Green Ninja’s Lee Mood

This takes place after Crystallized and before the Merge and the characters here are also connected to my other book on Wattpad

It was a peaceful morning in the monastery, Master Wu had left to go somewhere, Kai was lying down on the couch, exhausted from his scouting mission, Nya, was also sitting on the couch and her lap was apparently Kai's head rest since his head was on her lap and Nya was just scrolling on her phone. Cole was hanging out with Jay, Omar, Zion and Exalt, Acidicus and Arctic were training and talking in the courtyard and Zane was cooking lunch, Lloyd on the other hand stayed in his room because he was in a lee mood! And was afraid to tell anyone about it, he tried to tell Kai early in the morning before he left for the scout but Lloyd couldn't get the words out and since Kai was in a rush he told Lloyd they would talk about it later.

Lloyd was feeling very ticklish shocks and tried not to laugh, before his mind could wander anywhere else the door opened making the green ninja jump.

"Lloyd, Zane said lunch's ready" Kai said

"Ok, I'll be there soon" Lloyd said

"I'll tell the others" Kai said

Just as Kai was about to leave Lloyd's giggle that he'd been holding in slipped out, causing Lloyd to cover his mouth and Kai turned around and stared at Lloyd confusingly.

"What was that?" Kai asked

"N-nothing" Lloyd said

"Riiiiiiiiiiight" Kai said

Kai left the room, like he didn't know anything but Lloyd could've sworn he saw Kai smirk before he left. Lloyd went to the table and sat down, Kai stared at him again before eating and Lloyd was trying not to be suspicious by any of his fellow teammates.

Time Skip

Lloyd went back to his room and laid down on his back on the bed, he heard a knock on the door, Lloyd hesitated but answered anyway.

"Come in" Lloyd said

Behind the door was Kai! Seeing Kai made Lloyd feel uneasy especially since Kai suspected something a while ago. Lloyd sat up

"Hey kiddo," Kai said

"Hey," Lloyd said

"...you said you needed to talk to me about something earlier, what was it Lloyd?" Kai said

"Oh, i-it was n-nothing" Lloyd stuttered

"Oh come on! You can tell me." Kai insisted

Lloyd hesitated and he didn't want to tell Kai about his lee mood so he made up a lie.

"I just... wanted to know if I could... join you! Yeah." Lloyd said

But Kai's face showed he wasn't buying it.

Kai's POV

I knew Lloyd was lying to me, his voice was higher pitched than normal and he took his time to say all of that. I knew Lloyd like how I knew Nya, I know when something's up, and I think our green ninja's in a lee mood... but I wanna have a little fun to find out.

"Lloyd." I said "I know when your lying"

Lloyd inhaled deeply "fine, I'm just sortofinaleemood" Lloyd said mumbling the last part quickly

I knew exactly what Lloyd said but I'm gonna have a little fun.

"What was that?" I asked

"I-I am in a l-lee mood" Lloyd said

"Ok, and what did you want me to do about it?" I asked

Lloyd looked at me surprised and confused.

"You know what!" Lloyd said

A smirk was tugging on my lips but I managed to keep a straight face.

"Sorry Lloyd, but you have to use words, I cannot read minds.” I said

Silence…

“Cmon Kai! You know what!” Lloyd said

“No I do not Lloyd” I said

Lloyd buried his face in his hands, probably embarrassed.

“P-please tickle m-me Kai” Lloyd whispered

“What was that?” I asked

Ok, now I know I was going too far but it was already done, nothing I can do about it.

“Please t-tickle me Kai!” Lloyd said a bit louder

I smiled and pushed him on the bed so he was lying down on his back, and I straddled his waist.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” I said

I started spidering my fingers on Lloyd’s tummy, he squeaked then giggled afterwards.

“Yehehehes it wahahahas” Lloyd said

I let the smirk show now as I scribbled up to Lloyd’s ribs, my eyebrows shot up as Lloyd squealed.

“Huh, you really are in a lee mood” I said

“Yohohohou thihihihink?” Lloyd said

I don’t know why, but I was feeling a bit mean today, I mean, the more it tickles the faster your lee mood will go, right? I started to use lighter tickles, poking, prodding at Lloyd’s sides. I heard Lloyd grunt in displeasure, once I saw him lost in his thoughts I lowered my hands down to Lloyd’s hips then without warning, I squeezed them.

“AHAHAHAAH NOHOHOHO!” Lloyd squealed

Oh that’s right! Lloyd’s ticklish here. I can’t believe I forgot that, maybe I am getting old, I started squeezing at Lloyd’s sides and smirked as he squealed, I continued til my fingers started digging into Lloyd’s ribs, getting another reaction.

“HAHAHAHAAHHHA NAHAHO KAHAHAHAHAI!” Lloyd shrieked

Now I am quite surprised that the others weren’t drawn into the room.

“What is it Lloyd? You asked to be tickled, and being the good big brother I am, I helped out.” I said

Lloyd continued laughing hardly and I just chuckled and moved my hands to vibrate on his tummy, and Lloyd squeaked and giggled hysterically.

“HahaHAHhaha KahahaHAhai ihihiHIT Reheheally tihihiHIHIckles” Lloyd gasped, his voice cracking

Lloyd almost bucked me off, but I stayed on.

“Stop squirming so much, I can’t tickle you effectively like this.” I teased

I wiggled my fingers into the hollows of Lloyd’s armpits, Lloyd near shrieked, his laughter and octave higher. I continued tickling there til I thought he had enough, then I went back to scribbling over Lloyd’s stomach,

“Awww, does little Lloyd like the tickles?” I teased “The oh-so powerful green ninja huh? Tickle tickle little ninja.”I whispered in Lloyd’s ear

That made him giggle harder, “Stahahap teheheheasing” Lloyd said

I chuckled and wiggled my fingers to Lloyd’s ribs, making sure to get in between the bones where it’s sensitive. Lloyd went ballistic.

“AHAHAHAHAHAH NOHOHOHO KAHAHAI, OHOHOHOKAY KAHAHAHAI STAHAHAHAP!” Lloyd shrieked

I chuckled and gave his hips one last squeeze which made Lloyd squeal, before letting him up.

“Did that solve your problem?” I asked playfully

Lloyd glared at me playfully “Yeah, no thanks to you.” Lloyd said in undertone but I heard it.

“Is that so?” I asked wiggling my fingers at him

“Wahahait! I was just kidding!” Lloyd said hurriedly

I chuckled and ruffled his hair before leaving the room but before I closed the door I decided something.

“Hey guy! Guess what just happened!” I said not loud enough for anyone to hear

But loud enough for Lloyd to squeak

“Kai, no!” Lloyd said

I chuckled and closed the door. I know one thing, Lloyd loved tickles but he just never told anyone but me, I don’t know why, but the others probably already figured but never said anything.

Lloyd’s POV

Well that was torture, but at the same time. I kinda liked it. Also I wonder why Kai called me kiddo, oh well!

#lee!lloyd #ler!kai #ninjago tickles #tickly ninja #ninjago tickl

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thecampjuicebox · 1 year ago

Note

If I might make a request: Give us the Gale epilogue that we never got. Gale cooking dinner for Tav and Tara. Given the fact that Tara hisses at Tav on their first meeting, I feel like she'd really interrogate them, and Gale would be oblivious to the tension.

Oh my GODS I adore this idea. Okay okay. Here we go, I hope you enjoy!!

Third Degree

Pairing: Tav (f) x Gale (m) x Tara (f tressym)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Warnings: Tara being an overall nuisance, angst, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, game spoilers

You clasp your hands for a moment, squeezing the trembling appendages together to attempt to soothe your anxiety. A bottle of perfectly aged wine nestled between your forearm and breasts. Questioning your sudden bout of anxiety, you shake your head. It was just Gale, after all. You've shared many a meal with the wizard, shoulders touching next to the camp fire. You've shared many a night with him as well. Tangled in the weave. Your mouth waters at the memory, a familiar tingling in your core. No, what worries you now is Tara. Gale's tressym and most trusted friend. Gale spoke about her regularly. You'd met her once in Baldur's Gate, the encounter going less than well. You still remember the way she hissed at you, fangs bared in a hostile fashion. Gale didn't even seem to notice, his excitement purely on seeing the tressym so far from Waterdeep. Shaking your head, you ascend the stairs to the front door of his tower. Waterdeep is comfortably warm this time of year, a gentle breeze sweeping the soft fabric of your skirts. You scoff at yourself, peering down at the outfit you spent entirely too long at Figaro's trying to pick out. You settled on a emerald green velvet dress, adorned with gold filigree that sparkles in even the faintest of candlelight. It hugs your supple curves in all of the right ways, accentuating the roundness of your hips. Figaro gushed about how it perfectly complimented your complexion, the rest of the shop's clientele dropping what they were doing to gawk at you like you were a fine piece of art in a grand foyer.

Your pale white hair is plaited neatly, 2 thick braids hanging over your tired shoulders, a few loose strands hanging about your flushed cheeks. Gale has always loved the white shade of your hair, often comparing it to starlight. He reveled at your ancient elven roots on a regular basis, often finding comfort and pure joy in listening to your story telling, bouncing tales back and forth with Halsin at camp. You miss the comradery that traveling had to offer. Always someone to talk to. To confide in. Now, you spend your days simply reminiscing on what once was. Baldur's Gate, while bustling with life now after the city has begun to rebuild, still feels so.. desolate. Lonely. You're startled by the sudden swinging open of the front door, the brown haired Wizard leaning against the door frame, blue robes covered by a some-what messy apron. He grins in your direction, eyes scanning your frame before settling on the bottle of wine. You notice his stare, eyes narrowing and you grasp the bottle by the neck to hand it over to his eager hands.

"An Athkatlan Clarry? Impressive. Come come come, dinner is almost ready. And my gods, you look stunning."

You blush and nod once, lifting the end of your dress to move onto the final step, crossing the threshold. Taking a moment to gather your bearings, you scan the room. Books and scrolls are scattered on every open table top, not messily, but definitely in no form of organization. A few pillar candles are lit to create ambiance, the scent of whatever Gale was cooking filling the room with a delicious cloud and you tilt your head up to better inhale. You mumble a soft "mmm.." to yourself. A gentle hand rests against the small of your back and Gale gazes down at you, thumb rubbing back and forth against the velvet of your dress. You sink into his frame and drink in his familiar warmth. Gods, you've missed him. His scent. His strong chest and toned arms. His embrace. He sets the bottle of wine down on the nearest table and wraps both arms around your short body, snaking underneath your arms so you're forced to place them on his shoulders. He places the softest kiss between your eyes, making your lashes flutter at the sudden skin to skin contact, earning a comfortable sigh from you.

"I've missed you, my little piece of starlight."

You giggle quietly, tilting your head up slightly to bump your nose against his. He wiggles his nose back against yours, head turning side to side to make the tips brush ever so slightly past each other.

"Ahem."

Gale's head turns quickly towards the sound and his eyes meet with Tara's, her small wings fluttering in annoyance. He smiles up at her as she descends the spiral staircase, whiskers twitching at the new smells. You take a step away from Gale. He looks at you with confusion before Tara stops in front of you, small pink nose wiggling from side to side, assessing you. Her green eyes pierce a whole right into your skull, seemingly picking your entire being apart with a single stare. You smile nervously, raising a hand to gesture a simple wave at her. Her eyes flick to Gale and she turns around, tail swishing behind her as she walks towards the doorway of the kitchen, looking back over her shoulder to assure that Gale is going to follow her. He does. The wizard intertwines his fingers with yours and gently pulls you along with him, scooping the bottle of wine from the table he originally sat it down on.

The kitchen is swirling with the most delectable scents you've ever experienced, a mixture of herbs you can't quite pinpoint. Your palette was so used to the random assortment of foods you could find while traveling, so this was truly gourmet in your eyes. Hells, a simple lamb shank would sent your salivary glands into overdrive, had you the opportunity to obtain one. Gale saunters over to a grand brick fireplace, carefully lifting the lid of the cauldron hanging above the crackling fire and giving its contents a look. He wafts the smell up into his nose, steam swirling in translucent white tendrils into the air, his eyes nearly rolling all the way back into his skull. He places the lid back on the cauldron and mumbles an incantation, extinguishing the once roaring fire beneath the cast iron. Tara rests comfortably on a stool at the large oak table on the far side of the room, her eyes fixed on you. You tuck a piece of hair behind your pointed ear and make your way to Gale, who is now fetching plates and cutlery from the cupboard, hands carefully gripping the silver as to not smudge its shiny surface.

"Need some help, my sweet?"

Your voice trickles out like honey, making the wizard's hairs stand on end and he smiles at you, eyes twinkling.

"Gods, no. Make yourself comfortable in any seat you'd prefer. I'm sure Tara would love to get to know you better. She does love stories."

He nods his head to the side, pointing in Tara's direction and you huff quietly. With calculated steps, you find a stool across the table from Tara, eyes watching her just as she watches you. Gale turns his back to the two of you and continues on his mission to fetch the nicest dishes he can find, pulling a silver chalice from the top shelf of the cupboard and giving it a gentle shine with the corner of his apron. He hums quietly to himself. Your hands fall to your lap and you lower your gaze, picking at your fingernails.

"So.."

"Hm. So?"

Tara's tone of voice is stern, but also hushed as to not alert Gale of her intentions to absolutely interrogate you. You're not stranger to interrogations, having persuaded your way in and out of some of the most dangerous situations. This, however. This felt more difficult than any of that. Tara raises a paw to her lips, her eyes still not leaving you and she licks long, gentle strokes along the back of her paw, claws extended slightly as a warning. You clear your throat and rub your fingers over your knuckles, fidgeting with the thin gold ring Gale had given to you after the fight with the Nether Brain. You smile down at the piece of jewelry, eyes flicking to the side to watch gale from your peripherals. He continues his preparations, now filling the plates with the food he's perfected, steam clouding his little area of the kitchen now. Carefully, Gale walks to the table, setting a plate filled with assorted vegetables and a large piece of what looks to be goose down in front of you. Your nostrils perk up at the smell, saliva pooling in the back of your throat. You swallow harshly and smile up at him, ready to absolutely tear into the food, and potentially Gale for dessert. You giggle at the thought, covering your mouth with the back of your index finger to stifle the noise.

"Thank you, my love. It looks delicious."

Gale beams at your compliment. You love the way his eyes light up when anyone compliments him, for literally anything. Back at camp, you relished telling him how nice his hair looked, or how neatly he had trimmed his beard, or how his ideas were good ones, even then they absolutely weren't. You'd do just about anything to see that man smile. Tara tuts and waits patiently for her plate to be set down in front of her, sparing the niceties before leaning down to take a bite of the perfectly crispy goose flesh. She purrs happily. Gale leaves the table momentarily and you sit, hands in your lap, waiting for him to return before even considering taking a bite of your food. It was a habit your mother instilled in you at a very young age. Returning with a chalice full of the wine you brought, he gently presses a kiss atop your head, making your cheeks flush at the simple gesture of love. He sits on the stool beside you and claps his hands once in excitement, rubbing them together quickly before lifting his fork and digging in. You do the same, lifting the silver utensil carefully, stabbing the prongs of the fork into the impossibly tender piece of goose breast. You earn a small piece and quickly lift it to your mouth, the flavor setting your taste buds ablaze. You close your eyes and chew slowly, a quiet "mm.." rumbling in your chest and you swallow.

"Gale this is.. incredible. Truly."

His cheeks flush and he nods, working through chewing the too-large bite of potato he shoved into his mouth. Tara silently laps at the remnants of goose on her plate, already finished since she didn't have the decency to wait for Gale to join the table. Gale points his fork in Tara's direction, mouth still full of food and he speaks in jumbled words.

"So, I assume the two of you have gotten acquainted, yes?"

Tara and you exchange glances, you breaking eye contact first to set your fork down beside your plate, lifting the chalice to quickly take a nervous swig of whine, the alcohol deliciously burning the back of your throat once you swallow.

"Hm, I suppose so, yes. Tav seems.. Lovely."

Her last word stings a bit and you know full well she doesn't mean it. Gale nods happily, shoving a baby carrot into his cheek. You set your chalice down and reach a hand under the table, placing it on Gale's happily bouncing thigh. The bouncing stops abruptly, his facial expression not changing, but he's painfully aware of your hand, leaning in to your touch. You rub soothing circles over top of his trousers, humming quietly to yourself.

"So, hm, Tav. Gale has gone on and on and on about the two of you being engaged. You must be so excited. Will you be staying in Baldur's Gate after the wedding, since out tower is just.. Oh so cramped already. I'm sure you plan to spend so much gold on this wedding, hm? Gale is nothing short of extravagant. You should hold the ceremony in Mystra's temple."

Gale shoots Tara a perplexed look, chuckling to himself after he swallows his thoroughly chewed bite of food. Tara blinks innocently, flashing a single fang at you and she places a paw on the table, claws extended. You grit your teeth at the mention of Mystra, blinking down at your lap.

"Tara, my dear. Tav will be living with us. She will be my wife, after all. There's plenty of room in my bed, just for her. And we will speak about wedding plans when Tav is ready. Lots of preparations are to be made."

He reaches down to the hand resting on his thigh, giving it a loving squeeze. You grin and tilt your head sideways, resting it against his bicep for a moment before pulling your hand away to resume eating. You take small bites of food, chewing each one with ease before swallowing, little happy groans following at the taste. You chase the final bite of food with more wine. Tara straightens up, wings fluttering against her back at the new position and her tail swishes a few times before settling beside her on the stool.

"And.. Children? I assume you'll be having children? How many, do you think? It's obvious you can't keep your hands off of each other anyways, it's only a matter of time. Gods, I do wonder what they'll be like. Hopefully they all look like Gale, him having the superior genes and all."

You cough, covering your mouth carefully with your hand. Gale's eyes widen and he raises his hands quickly.

"Now now, let's not be hasty. Children will come in due time, yes. Much.. Much further down the road. Entirely too much to do and experience now."

Tara smirks at you, clearly sensing how uncomfortable you are. You squirm in your seat and reach for the chalice to finish off your wine, a warm buzz traveling up your spine and into the back of your neck, your chest turning a light crimson. The tressym hops down from her stool, a small yawn followed by a "mew" leaving her mouth. She rubs her side against your leg, covering you in her scent and some of her fur. She takes a seat on the floor beside Gale and purrs quietly, waiting for him to reach down and pet her head. He obliges, scratching behind her small ears. With a flick of her tail, Tara turns and leaves the room. You sigh in relief, placing your elbows on the table and your face in your hands. Gale lifts his chalice and takes a sip, savoring the sweet taste of the wine before smiling at you, absolutely clueless of what just unfolding directly in front of him at dinner.

"She seems to be really fond of you!"

#gale dekarios #gale fluff #gale fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #tara the tressym

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sickvictorianangel · 1 year ago

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☽ Dangerous Elysium ☾

A fanfic about Dutch Van Der Linde, Arthur Morgan and John Marston's relationship with fem! reader.

Summary: Your whole life changes after a traumatic night. Lost and alone, you find yourself being saved by three outlaws. As you try to adapt to this new life full of danger and drama, you start to develop feelings for Dutch, Arthur and John.

Masterlist

Author’s Notes:

So, ya girl finally decided to post the 1st chapter of the story! Guys, I really hope you like it, and if you don't just keep scrolling and don't be rude 🥺 Any constructive criticism is good and please, if you like and reblog I will really appreciate it! ♡

TW: 18+ content, eventual smut, slow burn, maybe gore, mentions of death. Minors DNI!

The story is narrated through the reader's pov. The () are the reader's thoughts.

Tag List: @photo1030 @roamingtigress @margofiore

*I will tag anyone that wants to be alerted anytime I release a chapter from this story.

♡ Dividers by Saradika ♡

♡ Dividers (DNI) by CafeKitsune ♡

Prologue:

It was late at night, darkness had consumed everything around me. The only thing I could see was a sky full of stars, shining bright like diamonds. My face was wet from all the tears I’ve cried, the gunpowder smell still lingered on my nose. My hair was disheveled, I was a picture of pity and misery. My nightgown was the only thing shielding me from the cold air around me. I lost everything that night. My house, my belongings, all my most prized possessions. And most importantly, him...

It was a normal day, I was working in the house while my husband was taking care of the farm animals. When the sky was a mix of orange and gray,we both retired for the night. That’s when a group of men knocked on my door. The night was silent, the only noise was the crickets and wind that swayed the trees. The knock sounded rushed, impatient. When my beautiful Henry opened the door, the last thing he saw was the bullet coming out of the cold pistol. I remember seeing him on the ground, his empty eyes staring at nothing, lifeless. No trace of the man I once loved so dearly.

The filthy bastards invaded my home and completely destroyed me and everything I once loved.

I still remember their cold eyes staring at the depth of my soul, the only thing I could see was pure evil, no regrets, no fear… I knew that would be my demise, and to be fair, death wouldn’t be so bad right now, the chance to be with my love again, to see my parents once more and to finally be at peace.

That’s when shots rang from everywhere.

Three men, on top of their horses were shouting and shooting at the bastards. Their green scarves, now stained with red. Bullets flying everywhere, a picture of chaos. I could swear those were the three knights of the apocalypse, ready to take the lives of those who stood on their way. My head went blank, as the tall and broad man, with a black hat stared at me. I saw his mouth moving but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Suddenly, my feet began to move, I didn’t have control over my body. I stared at Henry for the last time and ran, as far as I could.

Now, I am here, alone and lost. With nowhere to go. To be fair, I know I can’t survive the night. For all I know, I can be the next meal to a hungry animal or the victim to a man’s greed. I would prefer being the dinner to a hungry puma than to suffer the latter. What I can’t understand is why the three outlaws allowed me to escape… For all I know, they could’ve killed me there or done even worse.

And talking about them…

The silence of the night was cut by the sounds of horse hooves, rushed, like they were on a mission. It was getting closer and closer and again, I couldn’t move. Apparently my flight or fight instinct doesn’t work. As my body shuts down, I hear their voices. The man on the white horse looked imposing. His presence alone made me understand that he was the leader. I couldn’t make out much about how he looked because everything was pitch black. Only thing I could see was the gold details on his outfit shining under the starlight. As I stared blankly at him, looking like a hopeless deer, ready to be shot, he got down his horse and approached me.

Dutch: “Ma’am, it’s okay. We are not gonna hurt you. We followed you after we dealt with the damn O’Driscolls. They are savages and I am so sorry they did such brutality to you and your…” He said with concern on his face.

Y/N: “Husband…”

(O’Driscolls… What is he talking about? The monsters that killed my Henry?)

Dutch: “You see lady…”

Y/N: “ Y/N… Y/N Y/L/N “

Dutch: “Mrs. Y/L/N, I’m really sorry you had to go through that. Sadly, you are not the first widow they made. But let me ask you dear, do you have anyone or anywhere to go?”

I don’t understand why he cares at all. I’m just another victim to these damn O’Driscolls, as he said. So why does he want to help me? What could he gain with that? I know I shouldn’t trust someone I don’t know, especially if they are outlaws, but something about the way he talks and presents himself gives me a sense of safety… And if he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it by now.

Y/N: “I don’t have anywhere to go and I don’t have anyone. It was me and my husband, and that house and everything inside it was all I had.” I could feel the tears filling up my eyes again…

Dutch: “I see…” He took a moment to think, by his expression, it was something of great importance. And then he proceeded with a sudden question that I didn’t know how to answer. "Would you like to join us, Mrs? You see, these two (as he pointed to the two other men, the one with the black hat being the only one I can fully remember. The other, I could only discern the long hair and maybe some dark features) are not the only family I have. We are part of a big group, we even have women and a child. So you have nothing to worry about. We only want to help you.”

(A big group of men, and I suppose all armed as well…? And what could these women possibly do in a group like that?)

Thing is, I don’t have a choice. And, again, if they wanted to kill me, they would do so. I literally have nothing else to lose but my own life.

Y/N: “I would like to join you, Mister…?”

Dutch: “Van Der Linde. Dutch Van Der Linde, honey. And these two are Arthur Morgan and John Marston.”

The other two men just tipped their hats, not fully giving me their attention.

Y/N: “If there is no problem, I will accept joining your group… I just don’t want to cause any trouble. That’s all.”

Dutch: “Don’t worry, darling! (He said while opening his arms in a welcoming manner). No way you can be any bother. Now, let me help you, you will ride with me. We can make it to the camp before the sun starts to shine again. And of course, welcome to the family, dear.”

John: “Welcome, Mrs. I’m sure you will like the others. Maybe not all of them, but at least the women are alright!”

Arthur: “Shut up, Marston! Don’t go scaring the lady before she even gets to know everyone!”

Dutch: “Okay, you two. Enough! Let’s go, we shouldn’t be mingling at these hours in the middle of nowhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if more of the damn bastards showed up. Now, Mrs, are you ready?”

As I nodded, Dutch lifted me effortlessly and put me on top of his horse. We rode through the night, peacefully. He kept his horse on a slow gallop, afraid I would fall. I could feel the cold wind on my face, drying my tears as they fell freely on my face. I knew nothing would be the same again. The life I’ve lived was long gone and I would never be the same woman. I held tightly to his waist, and as I was starting to fall asleep, I heard someone shouting. From the distance, I could see the sparkle of lights and some people talking, others singing…

“Who’s there?!” (A male voice shouted from afar)

Arthur: “It is us, Charles!”

Charles: “Oh, welcome back! Eventful evening?” He said as he nodded his head in my direction.

Dutch: “Oh, you have no idea, friend! Damn O’Driscolls boys made poor Mrs. Y/N a widow.”

I couldn’t do anything but stare at Charles. He was a tall man, and looked like a nice feller. I could definitely see a glimpse of pity in his eyes as he stared directly at mine.

Charles: “I’m sorry, Mrs. They are a nasty bunch…”

John: “Yeah… But she is with us now, I’m sure we can keep her safe. At least we will try.”

(Why did he say that with a smile on his face…?)

Arthur: “Marston, don’t ya think before ya talk?!”

Y/N: “Hey, it is okay. I know he is probably joking. I’m just not in a very funny mood right now… I’m sorry.”

As I said that, trying to hold a weak smile, Mr. Van Der Linde finally spoke.

Dutch: “None of us would be, darling. After something traumatic like that, we don’t expect you to. Now, let me introduce you to Ms. Grimshaw. I know you are in a dire need of some rest, so I will trust you in her capable hands. We can talk tomorrow about how you can contribute to the gang. She is always needing some help around.”

(Miss Grimshaw was an older and also imposing woman. She was dressed in nice clothes, hair styled perfectly and classy. A woman I wouldn’t dare to mess with. But, did he say…)

Gang… So now I am part of a gang of outlaws.

( I mean, better than dying alone or being used by some sick bastard. Right now, the only thing I need is to try and get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’m curious as to what will hold.)

♡ …I hope everything will be okay. ♡

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde #john marston #arthur x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction

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evan4ever · 2 years ago

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Vegas, baby

Part 4 — part 3 here

Warnings: pregnancy, social media

a/n: I tried researching and maybe I’m just not a pro at it but couldn’t find any of Evans personal friends names (feel like it’s that way for a reason or maybe I am just dumb 🤣 so I made up Joe 🤪 and just figured Sarah would be perfect for this situation 🥰) Also, please let me know if I missed any tags and let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! I’m still learning how to do tumblr so I appreciate the patience and the support 🤍

—

Evan’s POV

His phone was blowing up more than normal, but nothing that caused him to feel the need to look. He didn’t have any social media platforms but he still managed to get notifications regarding things on social media. Mostly texts. He simply checked them and would reply when he had time and lately he’d been very busy so in this particular time, he didn’t.

Evans life seemed so much more unproblematic since ridding himself of social media and that’s what he liked. He was already in so much spotlight that he felt he had no personal time for himself, and that everyone knew everything about him. Sometimes he felt like his life was not his own. It wasn’t that way so much anymore and he planned for it to stay like so.

He had gotten dressed this morning and was drinking a large cup of coffee, sugar and butter added, and he was sat at the large island in his home reading through his mail he’d received that morning. Mostly bills and such that he’d be able to pay from his phone. The outside world was currently dimmed through his ears not paying attention to anything, not even the constant buzzing of his phone, as odd as it was. He was in his own world.

“Peters” Joe walked in. He was a buddy of Evan’s who was visiting and staying with him. Evans eyes flickered up to him and shot him a smile.

“Coffee on the counter if you want some.” Evan stated then got back to reading. Joe stared at him for a moment, Evan hadn’t taken note of Joes shocked face and this only made Joe more nervous. He had read articles that came out this morning, obviously Evan hadn’t considering it was regarding him and some really big allegations. Though Evan caught on to Joe’s lack of movement and looked back up to him. This time he could see the torn look on Joe’s face causing Evan to lower the mail and sit himself upright in his spot.

“You good, buddy?” Evan chucked awkwardly at Joe’s behavior, raising his eyebrows to encourage him to say something.

“Um, yeah.. have you read any news this morning?” Joe questioned curiously, silently hoping Evan already read it and was coping calmly. But seeing Evan shake his head slowly, curiously, Joe sighed and silently cursed himself for being the one to drop this on him. He pulled his phone from his pocket and brought up his twitter feed, scrolling only a second before landing on the trending news article and opening it. He hesitated a moment silently preparing himself for Evan’s reaction, then swiftly handed the phone to Evan all while avoiding Evan’s curious and bit concerned eyes.

Evan slowly took the phone, his eyes still watching Joe before looking down to his screen and reading the name of the article:

‘ Does Evan Peter’s have a child he doesn’t know about? ‘

Evan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at just the headline, quickly looking up at Joe who still wasn’t looking at him though could sense his eyes on him, “just read it man”.

Evans eyes held themselves on Joe for a moment, then hesitantly lowered back to the article and he began reading it. All he thought the entire time was how could someone take something like this this far? He’s no stranger to fake and false stories airing but this one was too much. Claiming a pregnancy and it making the literal news? That was insanity. He wanted to throw the phone and break a few things, nearly shaking in anger at the lies he was reading. He didn’t recognize any names brought up, even yours. All he knew was that a fan was going above and beyond to get to him and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

Until his eyes landed on the video linked on the bottom of the article. He still didn’t recognize the name of the Tik Tok-er, but he clicked on the video to watch what was said that blew up this much. And that’s when his stomach dropped.

He saw you, the center of attention in the video, your stomach painfully obviously pregnant. He remembered you. And he remembered what the two of you did almost 9 months ago in Vegas. And that’s when everything made sense to him.

He rewatched the video a few times as if rewatching it would change the circumstances, make you not pregnant, make you someone he didn’t know so he could claim that it was in fact a lie. But each time rewatching it just confirmed everything the article had said.

He was about to have a child that he didn’t even know had been conceived.

Evan swallowed hard and finally shakily handed the phone back over to Joe who now was watching him. He was calm, it seemed. The opposite of what Joe had expected, though concerned more at his reaction. “You gotta tell me what’s going on, Peters.”

Evan shook his head at Joes words, his head dropping into his hands that rubbed over his face and rested in them while he nearly silently had a panic attack. He finally stood from the stool roughly, grabbing his phone and pushing past Joe who followed. He had to clear this up. Maybe you slept with someone else after him? Surely he wasn’t the only one. Even though he knew the possibility was real considering he had t slept with anyone since you. But you guys were supposed to keep it at just sex. You both made it very clear you were too busy for a relationship, let alone a fucking baby. He didn’t have time for this.

“Evan, man, what is up? Is it true? Where are you going?” Joe questioned as he followed behind Evan who made it to the front door before turning and looking at Joe to say something but no words coming out. Instead, Evan shook his head and swung his door open only to be met by Sarah (Paulson).

Evan was taken back by her standing in front of him giving her a confused look while she only held one that spoke of sincerity and concern. She was, concerned for her friend. She had read the article and she needed to talk to him herself.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were working.” Evan stated, avoiding the obvious answer that he knew. She only smiled softly to him.

“Can I come in?”

Evan sighed and stepped out of the way allowing her to enter, closing the door and turning half scared to face his reality when she’d get him to admit it. Sarah watched him for a moment, his eyes looking to hers then away, then back before down to the floor. She knew the allegations were true, he just confirmed it for her. Instead of scolding him like he’d been expecting, he was met with her arms pulling him into her into a gentle and sympathetic hug. He blinked a few times before he wrapped his arms around her and broke down.

Sarah rubbed his back as he sobbed into her, soothing her dear friend. It was a hard pill to swallow, she knew that. And he didn’t need a lecture, he needed a friend, a support system, he needed help.

Meanwhile Joe stood aside, confused at what was happening. Did this mean everything he read this morning was true?

“Joe?” Sarah spoke breaking him if his thoughts and looking to her, “would you be a doll and make some tea? Earl grey, add some honey.” She smiled and Joe nodded, turning and leaving them alone.

Finally Sarah pulled back enough to see Evan while he brought himself up and wiped the tears that fell. He felt like a baby, crying in front of his friend. But she understood and he knew he needed to let himself feel this. “Tell me what happened, Evan.”

Sarah’s soft and kind voice reassured Evan and after collecting himself, he sighed loudly. “I met her in Vegas earlier this year. January. She was… I mean come on. She was hot.” He groaned again, violently cursing himself now for not being smarter. “We were drunk. I wasn’t expecting to have sex and one thing led to another. We didn’t have any protection but I… you know.. I pulled out.” He cleared his throat awkwardly at talking about this with Sarah. But he needed to tell someone and he preferred it be her than anyone else. She only nodded and allowed him to continue. “We agreed it meant nothing. Just some drunk fun sex. We didn’t exchange numbers. I didn’t even get her last name, barely remembered her first. I didn’t think she’d get pregnant.”

“Do you know if she’s tried to reach you at all?” Sarah asked and Evan looked down trying to remember if he’d seen anything with her name, but not recalling anything.

“I mean if she did, she was pretty limited in ways to do it.” He realized that must be why he never knew. You quite literally would’ve had no ways to get ahold of him. And that made his heart ache a bit, for you. You’ve been doing this alone. You were probably so angry at him, hence the video and what must be your friends words. They were like an echo in his ear. He made it impossible for anyone who didn’t know him personally to be able to reach him and that made it impossible for you too, and this was important.

Sarah could see the realization in his expression and she knew it was hurting him. But he didn’t know it would happen, he had to protect his mental health and his privacy. He was doing what any celebrity would do by making it hard to reach them. It was the hardest part of the job. The fame and fortune was great, sure, but the amount of people who would go so far to try to get to celebrities was rough. Evan did what he needed.

“It’s okay, Evan. You didn’t know. That’s all there is to it.” Sarah took a deep breath and nodded, “but now you have to face it okay? I’d say probably in person.” She chuckled lightly, rubbing his arms as he stood with them by his side thinking about her words. She was right. But where did you live? That wasn’t exchanged either.

“I have to find her first.” He nodded and she smiled.

“I can help. Come on.” She held her hand on his back and he allowed her to lead them to the kitchen where Joe was still attempting to make tea like Sarah had asked. She shooed him away while he apologized only to be met with a “thank you for trying” and Sarah finishing it while Joe took a seat next to Evan.

“I did a little searching on her myself when I first read the article this morning. I found her Instagram. It’s y/instagram/name. Here.” She handed Evan her phone and allowed him to look you up, finding your profile and clicking on it.

There you were. He studied the images you had shared, so many baby bump pictures. He clicked and scrolled through reading each caption and scrolling more stopping on a selfie. He sighed and smiled lightly at the picture of you. You were so pretty. He was so mad at himself for not just getting over his busy schedule and getting your number. He could’ve made time for you. Especially had he known he got you pregnant. He didn’t mean to neglect what was partially his responsibility. And god, he hoped you’d forgive him.

“Have you messaged her?” He looked up to Sarah who shook her head no, looking back down and sighing. Would you believe it was him if he messaged you from Sarah’s account? Was that the smart thing to do? Or does he fly to wherever you were and come to you? “I don’t know how to go about this.” He sighed again, dropping her phone in the counter and resting his head in his hands again, something he tended to do when he was stressed.

“Would you like me to message her? I can talk to her, figure out how she prefers to? Girl to girl.” Sarah smiled and shrugged, Evan liking the idea. He slid her phone back to her and she picked it up and went straight to your DM, letting her fingers type out what her mind said was best to say.

‘ Hello, y/n. I’m sure this may come as a surprise to you, but I assure you I’m reaching out as a friend. Evan has no social media, as I’m sure you know by now. He’s allowing me to come to you first. We would like to know how you would feel about coming to you. This sort of news is pretty big and it would be best to talk in person. I hope you would agree. Please call me at this number — when you have a chance. I look forward to talking to you! Sarah ‘

Sarah handed the phone back to Evan to allow him to read it and once he approved, she sent the message your way.

“It’ll be good to remember that her phone is probably going crazy right now too, so give it some time. If she doesn’t respond by this afternoon, we’ll have your management reach her. We’ll get ahold of her one way or another, okay?” Evan sighed at the thought of his manager having to reach her. That always seems to make matters worse, seeming more angry on what is his part and he didn’t want it to turn that way for either of you. He wasn’t angry, he was sad and annoyed at the entire situation for sure, but never angry. He wanted to make this as smooth as possible for everyone. But, of course, he wanted to be in his child’s life, and he hoped you would too.

—

Your POV

You could barely keep up with your notifications and your phone ringing like crazy. You were at your wits end, ready to throw your phone in the garbage and take it out. But Shay had come over and helped you through it. It was barely early afternoon and your face was all over social media and it caused your insecurities to grow. It didn’t help that the angry and bitter people were calling you names and pointing out your every flaw. It was overwhelming, to say the least. You couldn’t fight back the tears that finally managed to escape.

“Hey, stop that. Everything will be fine!” Shayla frowned when she saw your state, your head in your hands and the tears dropping from your cheeks. You shook your head not believing a word she was saying.

“This is exactly what I wanted to avoid!” You couldn’t help the glare that you sent her way. You knew she never intended for this to happen but it was her fault and you were angry about it. Shayla quickly looked down at her hands feeling your wrath towards her.

“I know.. I’m really sorry y/n. You know I never wanted to make things go wrong.” She picked at the skin around her nails avoiding your eyes that quickly closed as you took a breath and gathered yourself. Screaming at her would get you nowhere, you knew that much.

“I just don’t know what to do. Like..” you shook your head at your spinning mind, “like nothing feels right, you know? Nothing I say or do will make this right. I should’ve tried harder to reach him. I should’ve never even slept with him.” You chucked your phone with the last sentence, letting your anger get the best of you. You needed to throw something, you needed to be angry. Your phone clashed into your dresser with a loud thud and you groaned at the sound as if it hurt your ears. “I should’ve never slept with him.”

It was silent for a minute while Shayla let you have your moment of anger before walking over cautiously and picking up your phone that was now cracked. She looked at all the notifications, texts and missed calls and scrolled through them. You heard a gasp from her and looked up, seeing her hand over her mouth as she stood wide-eyed at your phone screen.

“God, what now? Another pissed of text? I’ve read them all.” You shook your head and rolled your eyes, letting yourself lay back in your bed as you rubbed your temples waiting for her reply that came quickly.

“Sarah Paulson.” Was all she said. You furrowed your eyebrows and shrugged.

“What about her? Did she post about me?” You scoffed at the thought but didn’t bother looking back to Shayla instead letting your head lay back down on your white comforter.

“No. No not at all!” The excitement in Shay’s voice made you curious, but still remained in your spot. “No y/n here! You have to read this! Seriously. She messaged you!”

“What did she say?” You couldn’t lie, you were worried that it was going to be a nasty message. You weren’t dumb, you knew she and Evan were friends. Why wouldn’t she defend her friend.

“Hereeee! Read it” she shoved the phone to you and stood in front of you at your bedside. You grabbed the phone and groaned, letting your eyes find the beginning and read over each word carefully, and it was honestly a weight that lifted off your chest. You felt like you could breathe again.

“Oh, thank you God” you closed your eyes in relief, hugging your cracked phone to your chest and letting your breathing even itself out. She wants to talk, she wants to meet up. “Wait,” you shot up and looked at Shayla, “what if she just being nice? What if she is helping Evan find a way to take my baby? They can’t do that right?”

“I… I don’t know. Look just, you just have to do it okay? I don’t know Evan but I would hope he’s not that kind of guy. You have to walk in there believing that. But you have to take her up on the help. I think it’s the only.” She nodded, rubbing your arm reassuringly. Your heart was pounding so hard and so fast, terrified at the thoughts that returned. You also hoped Evan wasn’t like that but how could you be sure? You had to be guarded, but you knew Shayla was right. With one last glance at Shayla, you pressed the number she sent in the message and your phone began ringing and you waited nervously for the woman to pick up.

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