#this might be peak boredom but i like talking about stuff so !

[clairenovaking]

sam/rowena wip ask game <3

I'm bored and thought I'd make an ask game out of the stuff in my sam/rowena WIP folder because why not! samwena saturday?? these are all unpublished fics in various stages of progression, some are meant to be multichapter, some just one-shots!

fic code: [HANDFAST] - in which the spell in 15.03 is actually a handfasting spell, and it doesn't break after rowena's death [ROCKSTAR] - rockstar!rowena x bodyguard!sam [PREDATOR] - predator x prey kink fic [STANFORD] - stanford era sugar mommy au [SPELLBOUND] - in which sam and rowena are trapped in a powerful spell, and must come to the realization that the reality they're in isn't real before their bodies in the real world wither to nothing. [DISCLOSURE] - in which sam sees rowena in hell for the first time and realizes there were consequences to their one dalliance while she was still alive [WITCHPIRE] - witchpire!rowena [BLOODTHIRSTY] - demon blood!sam x rowena [BUZZ] - sex pollen fic [AUSTRALIA] - anyone but you au [REVELATIONS] - secret relationship reveal fic [TOUCH] - a mutual masturbation / phone sex au set in s14

descriptor: [concept] - i'll delve into the concept of the fic / what inspired me / etc [snippet] - i'll post a snippet of the fic <3 [aesthetic] - i'll post the aesthetic i've made for the fic [title] - the meaning behind the title of the fic (if it has one already) [playlist] - i'll either share the playlist i've made for the fic, or make a mini playlist of three songs that i think fits the ~vibes of the fic :)

just send a fic code + a descriptor for anything you're maybe interested in learning more about :)

[satorusugurugurl]

The Headboard

Summary: when you find yourself in a compromising position, you’re lucky that you’re a hot neighbor who just so happens to be a firefighter, is just next door.

Pairing: firefighter!Toji Fushigurux AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,935

Warning: Language, smut, p-in-v, mentions of sex toys, degradation, name calling, unprotected smut.

A/N: A genuine fear I had often thought about when people tell me this is what they do. Plus, the DILF vibes were strong today.

Fushiguro Toji had no complaints about having you as a neighbor. You’re kind and quiet; you even watched Megumi for him if he needed a sitter. You would invite him and his son to your apartment for dinner, or he would do the same for you. The whole of being neighbors became friendship, and friendship turned into longing. Toji hated it when you would bring home someone who wasn’t good enough for you. He would spoil you rotten but didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Nothing would be worse than an interaction after an awkward one-night stand that ended with you both not talking to each other because he would be the first to admit that he liked having you over for dinner. He enjoyed it when you came over with cookies or watched a movie with him and his son. If things were to become awkward or standoffish with you, that might be one of the worst things to happen to them in a very long time.

So, he would wait a bit to see how things would progress with you. Maybe once the lingering glances and the accidental brushes of your hands would turn into a little bit more. Perhaps once he better understood you and how you might feel, consider telling you he wanted to be more than friends.

Those thoughts ran through his mind as he sprawled out on his couch, not paying any attention to the movie on the television. Megumi was at a sleepover with his best friend Yuuji. He was all alone, not being stuck at the firehouse on call, filling his quiet evening with boredom.

Maybe he should call and ask if you want to come over; you could both watch a movie to make the most of a boring night. Just as he reached for his phone to call you, your name and profile picture popped up on his phone. Toji answered the phone with a slight grin, holding it against his ear.

“Hey, I was just about to call you. Do you wanna come—”

“Toji, you’re a firefighter, right?”

Your voice sounded breathless, almost with a hint of timidness. “Yeah, you know that. Why did you start a grease fire next door? Do not try to put it out with water; smother it with some flour.” You laughed only to be cut off with a whine.

“Uhm, uh—no, not that.” you sighed, “Y-you've seen some weird stuff, right? Like helped people?”

“Yeah, despite the title firefighter, I’m also medically trained and have helped many people in different scenarios. Why, what happened?”

The silence for a long moment told you to think that maybe, just maybe, the line disconnected before he heard him wince. “I-I need your help. But you have to promise you’ll never tell a soul about this.” A mixture of different emotions currently course through every nerve of his body. He’s concerned that you’re hurt, and his interest is peaked as to what you got yourself into this time.

“Of course, you have my word. I promise I won't say anything.”

“Good,” cloth rustles in the background, “you can come over right now. You still have my spare key. You still have my spare key.”

“Yeah, you gave it to me to water your plants that always die.”

“I don't have a green thumb sue me! Now please grab your medical bag and get your ass over here!”

The tone of your voice had him getting off the couch in a snap.” Alright, be there in a sec.” without you even having to ask, Toji grabbed his medical bag and your spare key.

You're nowhere to be found when he steps inside your apartment. “Hey?” He calls out, smirking slightly. “Fire department.” A squeak resonates from the bedroom.

“In here!” you call out, voice shaky, “b-but before you come in, I will emphasize that if you tell anyone! And I mean anyone about this, I will rip your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

Toji almost tells you not to threaten him with a good time, but he knows you from the whine that leaves the room. You were obviously in pain, and we’re taking this very seriously. Instead of making lighthearted jokes and conversation to push your buttons, he put on the best professional face before entering your room. The second he looks at your bed, his jaw drops to the floor in shock.

You’re naked from the waist down, your body bent forward, your ass pressed against the headboard. Your knee must’ve gotten stuck between the headboard and your mattress from how you're bent. Making it impossible for you to move in the predicament you found yourself in. Your cheeks are flushed as you averted your gaze, not daring to look at him. Toji was a smart guy; he was able to put two and two together.

Someone was having some alone time, and things had taken a terrible turn.

“What happened?” Toji clears his throat as he trots forward, opens his medical bag, and slips on some black latex-free gloves.

You want to crawl under your bed and cry out in embarrassment. How could you have put yourself in such an embarrassing situation? It was bad enough that you had gotten yourself stuck, and it was ten times worse now that the man you’ve had a crush on since you moved into the building was here helping you! But you would rather him find out what a size queen you were than call the fire department.

“I uhm, the uh—” you motion back to your headboard where your thrusting toy was stuck to your headboard. “It hit—my cervix hard, and I jumped, and my knee slipped between my mattress and my headboard.”

“Huh—okay, just try to relax a bit. I will look into getting that knee out first.” He gets on the bed behind you before gently grabbing your knee. As he does, the movement causes you to slide further down the toy, causing it to hit your cervix for a second time. The sharp, pleasurable pain can be felt from the tips of your toes to your head as you let out a pained moan. “Sorry.” Toji’s voice sounds more profound and more fierce. That you had never heard before; it was a voice that made every nerve in your body slowly awaken with lust.

“I-It’s okay—”

He gently moves your leg again, freeing it slightly. “So,” he goes with the questions when you were sure he was going to ask, “your boyfriend busy or something?” His question held no humor to it; instead, it was pure curiosity, and his voice made the nerves that reignited tingle with anticipation.

“What boyfriend? Who said I had a boyfriend?”

Toji glances at the curve of your ass, admiring the arch of your back, before he goes back to gently moving your leg. “Oh, I just assumed a pretty thing like you had one.” His hand gently grumps your ass as he maneuvers your leg a little bit more to the left, freeing it another inch.

“Do you honestly think if I had a boyfriend, I would’ve stuck a dildo to my headboard?”

“Hey, to each their own. So, no boyfriend?”

“Yep, single and ready to mingle. I let my friend convince me to try this position. She said it would liven up my solo sessions.” For as long as you can remember, the only way you masturbated was on your back. When you had mentioned this to your friends, they had been mortified, telling you there was more than one way to get yourself off. You so stupidly let them talk you into buying this stupid, expensive dildo and decided to give it a shot. That shot ended up with your knee stuck between your mattress and the wall and having to rely on your neighbor to help you.

“Hm,” Toji gave your ass a firm squeeze before gently pushing you forward off the toy a couple of inches, drawing out the sweetest sounds from your throat. “Would now be an inappropriate time to ask you out?”

A choked sound of shock cut off the moan that had begun to rise in your throat. There was no way he had just asked you out on a date—your hot neighbor. The sexy firefighter next door asked you on a date. Was this a prank? Oh god, why did he have to ask you out now, of all times? Despite the searing embarrassment, you can’t help but giggle, turning to look back at the massive man.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I think you’re hot and good with my kid; plus, I can make you feel so much better than this stupid toy.”

Heat began to pool in your abdomen as you continued to watch him carefully. “Oh, is that so?” he pulls his hand away from the fat of your ass, only to bring it back down, slapping it, making you help in pleasure and surprise.

“It's a fucking promise.” The tip of his pink tongue runs over the scar on his lip. “So, dinner?”

You laugh breathlessly, throwing your head back as he massages the sting out of your ass. “Would you be opposed to me counteroffering that?” Toji hand on your leg gently moves another inch, freeing you from the abyss you had been stuck in.

“Well, that depends on what your counteroffer is?”

The muscles in your leg burn with relief as you stretch it out, getting the blood flowing to it. Toji watches with dark eyes as you slowly in yourself off of the 9-inch toy that’s coated in your slick arousal. The sight of the coral-colored silicone covered in your wetness has his throat so dry it hurts.

“My counteroffer is that we skip the first date, and you help me with my current problem. You are a firefighter. It’s your job to help people.”

“Oooh, are you asking me to fuck you right now?”

“Maybe~ if I were to ask you to do just that, what would you say?” When you turn your head to look at him, your face is quickly snatched in his hands. His hand grips your chin tightly towards his mouth.

“I would say it’s about fucking time.”

His lips slam against yours in a symphony of desperation and need. He quickly shifts behind you, pushing you towards the center of the bed and away from the cavern you had found yourself trapped in moments before. The entire time he moves you, his lips never leave yours. It’s a messy open-mouth kiss, with tongue and groping hands as he releases his grip on your face, panting heavily as a string of saliva connects your lips.

“Do you know how hard it’s been trying to control myself? I try so hard to be a good, friendly neighbor. One that doesn’t come off as a creep.” he positions himself behind you down his gray sweatpants, spraying his thick fat cock. “Let me tell you, it’s been fucking hard; you are so goddamn fucking beautiful. Smart, funny, a great cook.”

You grip the sheets underneath you as he continues his confession. He told you how much he admired your strength and beauty. The pure admiration and raw need that’s in his voice makes your pussy clench, your arousal seeping out of your twitching hole. God, you knew you liked him, but knowing he was so damn bad for you, made you want him even more.

“I need you to fuck me.” There’s no doubt in your words that's precisely what you wanted. The word ‘want’ isn’t even included in your sentence! You didn't like this, and you needed it on a physical level.

“Yeah~? Need me to fuck that tight slutty hole?” His hands connect with your ass again, so smacking it hard, leaving a faint hand print in its wake. “Is that what you need, baby~?”

“Yes!” you shake your ass in front of him, dropping down low, revealing your wet hole to him as if trying to convince him to hurry the fuck up.

“Mhmm, that's a good little slut; tell me exactly what she wants; no, wait, I’m sorry, what she needs.” he grabs his thick cock in one hand. Toji held his cock, smacking it over your pussy. “And she claims that she needs my cock.”

You rock your hips back, fingers digging into the sheets as your chest heaves in anticipation of being filled to the brim by human flesh and not cold silicon. “Yes, please.” Toji tsks behind you giving your pussy, another sharp slap with his cock, the tip snagging at your entrance before he rubs it over your clit.

“Nah, I think you could do better than that. Try again to tell me what it is that you want.”

“I need you!” you cry out loud this time, shutting your eyes and anticipation of him thrusting inside of you, just feeling the head of his cock snag over your clit for the second time. “Please, Toji! Please, please, please.”

Grabbing the base of his thick, heavy cock, he gently presses it over your entrance over your slick hole. “Please, what baby girl~? Use your words, big like pretty little slut you are.” this was an absolute tort. Having your kit in your pussy, teased with nothing but finger-like touches, have you jerking and writhing against the bed.

“Please fuck me, Toji!” you screamed, not having to worry about your next-door neighbor complaining about the noise.

“That's a good girl.” Toji slapped your ass with a snarl, gripping the skin and spreading your cheeks. “I always knew you were a good girl. Always so sweet and friendly, the perfect innocent neighbor next door. but who would’ve thought that you would be fucking a toy against your headboard.” He spits his words before suddenly burying his cock fully into you.

You screamed out loud as his cocked stretched you like you'd never been stretched red d before, sending your eyes rolling back. "Nnngh~! Mmph~ Toji!"

“Fuck-Ngh.” Toji moaned, feeling your walls convulse around him. "You feel so good, baby. Fuck—baby, baby! Shit—being inside of you was so worth the wait!”

“Oooh fuck~!” Toji’s hands press into the middle of your back, pushing your shoulders down further into the mattress, allowing your back to be pushed down, beautifully showing the curves of your body for him. “Just like that, Toji, fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

“Oh, I’m not stopping until you’re crying. Your in need a good dicking down since you weren’t able to finish, I’m assuming.”

“Y-Yes!” You cry out, gripping the sheets tighter as you rock your hips back into his. “Yes, I want to cum so bad~!”

“Oh, I know you do, baby,” Toji smirked as he pushed you by your shoulders down into the bed, thrusting deep and hard.

His cock continues to hit your g-spot and your cervix, but his warm hot tip is nothing compared to the silicone. You had been using it earlier. So your eyes roll back. "Oh fuck! ~!" At this rate, you weren't going to last very long.

“Hoooly fuck.” Toji moaned, feeling your walls flutter around him as your legs started to tremble. "Fuck-Ngh. You’re about to cum. Fuck—baby, baby! Shit--I’m going to fucking fill you up. Is that okay?” he didn’t give you much time to answer as he angled his hips, thrusting precisely against that sponge spot inside of you. The one that had you seeing stars as your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You whimpered loudly, turning to desperately kiss Toji as you squirted all over cock. "Ah~! Nnngh!!" your eyes rolled back as your body convulsed with the waves of your orgasm.

"Fuck! Fuckfuck—M’ cumming, I—Ahhh ahah—nngh!" Toji doubled over, his forehead pressing into your back as he kept cumming, releasing the months of pent-up desire into you.

He collapsed on top of you quickly, putting his arms out on either side of your smaller frame, bracing his weight upon them in an attempt not to crush you. You painted happily, grinning as you turned your head to stare up at the flushed, sweat-coated man who had fucked you thoroughly. He smirked, his scar stretching as his lips curled up.

His smirk, however, is short-lived as you push back against him, causing him to slip out of you as his back lands against your mattress. As he blankly waters, it allows you to straddle his hips, dribble, drop combined cum, and rub all over his dick as you so lewdly rub your pussy up and down on him. “I hope you have more where that came from because I’m far from being done with you, sir.”

“Hey,” he smirked, putting both his hands behind his head as he watched your position, his cock at your entrance. “Im a firefighter have pretty good fucking stamina. Let’s see what you got.” Little did he know you were a fire that could not so easily be put out. Not that he was complaining.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

[superstar-nan]

Fight Tooth and Nail

Night 1 Part 1

Summary: You wait until after hours to investigate your best friend's disappearance. It's kinda spooky at night, but good thing that old rotten Bonnie animatronic is there to keep you company.

Words: 3,425

Fun stuff: Moderate swearing, Michael makes his first appearance that goon, Springtrap's bad bad monster man but also doesn't talk, and as always gender neutral reader.

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You really underestimated how much it would suck to stay hidden in a vent for hours. 

First, you were freezing ; the vent kept blowing cold air on you every fifteen minutes. You ended up tucking your arms and legs under your chest when the air was turned on. If you were going to come back a second night, next time you’d bring a jacket. Second, it was extremely uncomfortable and your legs, no matter which way you tried to relax, were growing achy against the hard metal. Third, the boredom was numbing. 

Nobody wanted to go anywhere near the rotted Bonnie animatronic, so your peace of mind led you to scrolling on your phone to pass the time, but even that grew tiresome after a while. If you weren’t so uncomfortable, you might’ve been able to fall asleep. But you were uncomfortable, and that led you to listening to music in one ear with your head down against the vent’s metallic floor.

Hour by hour passed and the commotion of people working started to die down. Talking diminished, busy rushing turned into casual walking, and groups of five or six were reduced to one or two. You turned off your music as the time approached eleven, trying to listen closely for people leaving.

Closer to 11:45 (much later than what you hoped), the busy attraction had diminished to dead-silence. At the sound and shake of a pair of footsteps, you peaked through the slim openings of the vent grate, light painting your face in thin lines.

A voice gradually became comprehensible, “...na be here in about ten to fifteen... Yeah-yeah, I know...” For a brief moment, you saw someone in a security uniform pass the area you were in. “I’ll just lock the front and be headed towar...” The voice began to fade out of understanding. He must’ve been talking on the phone.

The attraction was still. The silence was overwhelming.

Unable to take the vent any longer, you pushed the vent’s cover open and stumbled out. If there was another security guard, they definitely would have heard it, but you were too sick of the vent to care at that moment.

Your legs felt both great and awful stretching them. You groaned as you stretched your arms, popping your back and neck in a few places. You put the vent grate back. 

The building’s lighting was dimmed now that it was night, and if you didn’t crack some great conspiracy before the place opened, you think it would’ve been smart to keep the lighting at that dim setting when the place opened. It was much more terrifying when the fake grunge and artificial grime was obscured in shadow. Much more haunting.

Much much more haunting...

You suppressed a shiver. The rotted Bonnie hadn’t moved, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what the man who showed you around said—that nobody had seen the thing move, but it would appear in different places at times. What did he say those suits were attracted to? Children's sounds? You held onto that thought with an iron grip.

Nothing moved to arrest or murder you, so you pulled a flashlight out of your bag and turned it on. “Looks like it’s just me and you tonight, Bonnie.” You said absently, and the conversation with the admittedly terrifying animatronic did seem to ease your anxiety. “At least until the guard shows up.”

You only had about five to ten minutes to search the office or anything else you might need before the night guard showed up. Maybe you could make something up about being a dayshift worker and talk to the guard about the night shift, but you would have to cross that bridge when you get there. 

Your quickly paced steps pitter-pattered in an echo throughout the empty halls. The retro arcade games flickered with an unnatural light, too blue for the sickly green luminosity of the rest of the building. The tiled floor and walls gave you the impression of being trapped, and the loose wires and lighting structures hanging down from above you on the ceiling put a stone in your throat. Your flashlight illuminated a disassembled Bonnie torso, one that was corny with company but now held a lifeless eeriness to it. 

You shook away your apprehension, tempering your fear with determination. You were here with a purpose, and the crafted horror of the place wouldn’t stall you.

When you slipped into the office, passing the flickering red light of the large EXIT sign, you started looking for the overhead light only to realize it was already on, just dulled like the rest of the building. 

You began shuffling through the trash and papers scattered in the desk, knocking over a tiny toy Chica. You opened the big drawers of the desk, revealing unorganized files and toy-animatronic shells. Skimming the files showed them to be useless and even unnecessary for the company. You slammed the desk door shut before turning to the camera. You stared at it intently, your eyes scanning for any signs of abnormality, but everything just looked like it did when you explored it that day.

You let out a frustrated huff. You don’t know what you expected to find. A clue maybe. Proof of foul play. Evidence of your best friend not clocking out, but the attractions records were so disorganized you were surprised they knew enough to pay their employees. Anything.

You kicked the desk in your frustration. 

THUNK.

You peered over the desk. Something just fell from behind the furniture. You circled around it, before placing your hands on the desk and pushing it with more than a little effort.

KA THUNK.

A phone, completely shattered and dead—but also completely familiar, clacked onto the floor. You picked it up. It was your best friend's phone.

Your mind reeled with possibilities. Was this where they disappeared? Was this where they called you? Were you the last person they ever called? You couldn’t fathom them just leaving their phone behind the desk, even if it was shattered. They would have grabbed it. Unless something happened to make them leave it behind. 

White noise brought your attention to the security monitor. You pocketed the phone and leaned close to the screen. It was on CAM 10, the camera on the exit farthest from you, you were sure. Did something flash across it? You couldn’t tell, it could’ve been more static... Or it could’ve been something shiny reflecting light. 

You flicked through the cameras one at a time. Everything seemed normal, nothing new to the place and nothing out of place. You flicked through them again once more, just to be sure, until you came to a realization. A horrible horrible realization.

Where was the rotted Bonnie animatronic?

Your throat went dry. You quickly swapped through the cameras, looking for it. Was it ever on the footage in the first place? The animatronic was off your mind, but if you had seen it on camera you were sure you would’ve noticed it. Did it move, or was it out of sight of the cameras before? You didn’t think so, but you couldn’t be sure.

You tried to reassure yourself by looking at the situation logically. Even if it did move, it probably just marched to its coding to where a birthday party might be or to one of the other animatronic shells. If it was near you, you’d be able to hear it by its heavy footsteps or at least be able to recognize its smell. Its smell you were somewhat used to.

You grabbed your flashlight. You didn’t have much time left anyway before the night shift guard showed up, maybe now was the time to leave. You would have to consider talking to the guard another night, a night after you charge your best friend's phone to see if there were any calls or clues that could tell you about the night they disappeared. 

You pushed against the door with the big red EXIT sign. It didn’t budge. 

You hammered your shoulder against it just in case. It still didn’t budge.

Did the day shift guard say they locked the front entrance or the back? You didn’t know, you couldn’t remember right. 

You slowed your breathing. It wasn’t a big deal. You had already done it by daylight, there was nothing different about walking through the attraction at night. The place was made to scare people, what you were feeling was reasonable and sound, but there was nothing to be afraid of. 

There’s nothing to be afraid of, you repeated to yourself in your mind as you marched forward through the building’s halls. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

There’s nothing to be afraid of . You passed the hall where stars dangled from the ceiling.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. You ignored the flickering buzz of the arcade games.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. You willed yourself not to look where the rotted Bonnie should’ve been.

There’s nothing to be —

Just as you extended a hand toward the door to the entrance—the red light a beacon from heaven and twice as relieving—you stopped. You hadn’t looked at the entrance too closely when you were investigating. You knelt down and picked up a torn wristband. Even in the ambient red lighting, you recognized this design.

It was your best friend’s wristwatch. 

A putrid smell, invasive and wrong, awoke you from your stupor. You knew that smell.

Your head shot up. You went rigid as stone.

The rotted Bonnie animatronic stood at the end of the hall. 

Your core went cold. Your breath grew erratic. You willed yourself not to make a sound. You’d been told it reacted to noises, but something was terribly wrong. More wrong than an animatronic’s faulty code. You knew it deep in your core. You knew it in those robotic eyes trained on you. You knew it in your racing heart, its pumping louder than the fluorescent lights.

It tilted its head. Your breath hitched. Nobody had seen it move before. Nobody who wasn’t missing.

It took a step forward. You took a step back. It took another step. So did you.

Your hand grazed the exit’s handle. The animatronic’s eyes looked at your hand and then back to you. It, in a motion that was too sentient, nodded to the door. Daring you to try it. In a lapse of judgment, you did.

You slammed your full weight on the door, ramming against the metal bar, and you swore when it didn’t budge. In a flash, you dove to the floor just as the monster lunged for you. You scrambled to your feet and into a sprint. You wouldn’t dare look behind you. 

Your shoes pounded against the tiled floor, decorations and boxes passing you in a blur. You stumbled over a pile of gifts, but you forced yourself forward in your fall. You braced yourself with your forearms, before throwing a glance behind you. It hadn’t reached you yet. You quickly scanned the room, looking for any place you could hide. There were more boxes, the arcade games, and another hallway. You wedged yourself behind one of the arcade games and placed your hand over your mouth.

You tried to quiet your breathing. Adrenaline raced through your veins.

KA-CHNKK. KA-CHNKK. KA-CHNKK.

Its footsteps were slow. Loud. Deliberate.

Your brow furrowed as you came to a realization. It wanted you to hear it coming. It wanted you scared. How could that be possible? How was any of this nightmare possible? 

You winced as a shrill screech, the sound of metal scratching metal, struck your ears and made them ring. It was getting closer to you. 

KA-CHNKK. KA-CHNKK... KA-...CHNKK...

You held your breath now. You ignored your burning lungs. Sweat dropped down your cheek. Or were those tears?

You flinched when a loud SLAM! came from the arcade game furthest from you. 

Your heart rate was frenzied in a racing badumpbadumpbadumpbadump . Maybe it already knew where you were. Maybe it was drawing your fear out on purpose.

SLAM! went the next arcade box.

Your eyes scanned around you frantically. There was only one more arcade game before you. You wouldn’t go without a fight. You couldn’t ! You never got to find out what happened to your best friend! You never got to see if they—!

SLAM! 

This was it. Your last chance. You wrapped your hands around a pipe in the wall and braced yourself to rip it off. You didn’t know if you had the strength to do it or if hitting the animatronic would even do anything, but you had to do something. You had to do something.

There was a long pause. One you felt was purposeful. One that did exactly what it intended. You were hyperventilating. Every second that crawled by was hell. You heard the monster’s claw scratch along the arcade’s screen.

And then, a miracle happened.

“ Hi.” A child’s voice. No, that wasn’t a real child, but an audio of some sort. “ Hello?”

There was silence. Stillness. And then, it was quiet but you knew the animatronic was gone. You breathed again, gulping up air that you so desperately needed. You swallowed a quiet sob. You had to get out of there before the monster returned. 

You peeked past the arcade games. The room was empty. You quickly swabbed your tears away with your palm and pushed up to your feet, your legs trembling beneath you. You took a few tentative steps at first, unable to tear your eyes from where the animatronic left. Then a few tentative steps turned into a quiet jog, then a quiet jog to a reckless sprint. You dashed without caution past the disassembled Bonnie torso and down the hall, the horror of the attraction blurring with your tears and rush. When you reached the window to the office, you stopped in both relief and surprise. You were so relieved you let out a breathless laugh.

The security guard was here.

You collapsed into the doorframe, your breath in heavy pants. You didn’t realize how much your throat and heart burned from exhaustion. You swallowed dry. “Oh, thank god! ” You said in between weighted breaths. “I thought I was—”

You retched . It was a good thing you hadn’t eaten anything, because you would’ve puked. A thick, putrid scent hit you like a wall. A wall made of mold and bile and rot and everything you would not want to find dumpster diving. And if the layers of curdle and decay weren’t foul enough, there was something sweet under it all. Something like spoiled ice cream or cake that’s been left out a few decades too long.

You held your wrist to your nose, your other arm supporting you against the doorframe. “What is that—?!”

“ Sssh!” The security guard shushed you abruptly, putting a gloved finger to their lips, and you were stunned into silence. You didn’t see his face, only his unkempt brown hair under a security hat, because his attention was fully on the cameras, swapping through them carefully. 

You swallowed again as your breath was catching up to you. You took a big gulp of air and then walked into the office. Whatever died in there was worth tolerating if it meant safety from the rotted animatronic (who somehow smelled better than the room). 

The security guard seemed to relax, as he said in a whisper, “There. We should be safe for now...” He turned to the control panel and your breath, despite the smell, hitched. 

Eyes so sallowed, they were pitch black . Flesh deeply gaunt in places you could see bone . Hands not gloved, but purple in their rot and spoil. The guard was no guard; he was a walking corpse .

You stumbled back. His eyes, if you could call them that, widened. He held up his hands, “Don’t freak out!” He whispered, harshly.

You grabbed a crowbar next to you, your knuckles paling in your tight grip. You swung with all of your strength down at him, but the corpse bolted out of the chair, slamming loudly against the desk. 

“Stop! Stop! He’s gonna-!”

All that fire you built up from hiding behind the arcade box fueled your hands and you only saw red. The corpse cursed under his breath before he ducked to the floor right as you whipped at the air above him.

“ Shit! Just listen to me-!”

You stopped with your crowbar midair. But it wasn’t because of the corpse whisper-yelling at you to. 

It was because of the animatronic standing right outside the office window.

Your fire was extinguished and you felt cold again. It wasn’t moving. It was just standing there . Staring at you with half-lidded eyes that were too human and too hungry. As if it was waiting for you to make a move. You swallowed and it felt like sandpaper down your throat. You very gradually lowered your crowbar. You couldn’t look away from it. 

The corpse, even being unable to see the thing, must’ve read your expression, “Listen to me very carefully .” He whispered to you. 

In that moment, you didn’t care if he was a zombie, you’d do exactly as he said.

“Pull up Cam 2,” He said, and his whispers were salt on your tongue. “ Slowly. Keep your eyes on him.”

You did as the corpse directed. The animatronic’s eyes were locked onto yours, and you wouldn’t look away if the apocalypse happened behind you. Moving your hand blindly to click on the control panel, you watched the animatronic’s eyes slowly glide down your arm and to the panel, before clicking back up to your eyes. Why did it feel like a predator? It was too unnatural, too manufactured in its movement to give you the impression of an animal stalking its prey. And yet, you knew you were being hunted, methodically. You tasted iron in your mouth, and you realized you bit your lip too hard. 

“ Good, ” The corpse whispered, who—despite directing you—you almost forgot was there. “Now click the audio file.”

You fumbled blindly for the audio file.

The animatronic slowly raised its hand. For a confusing moment, you thought it was waving at you. Then, you noticed what was in its hand.

Your best friend’s phone.

The fire returned to your stomach. “That’s mine.” You said, and it was barely above a whisper at first.

The corpse swallowed, audibly, “ Click the audio file. ”

You could’ve sworn the thing’s grin widened.

“That’s mine! ” Your hands slammed so hard on the desk, your palms went numb. You and the animatronic didn’t flinch, but the corpse below you did. “Did you take them?!” The words hissed through your teeth.

The animatronic slowly put its hand holding your best friend's phone behind its back, and you felt your blood boil. 

“ Click the-!”

“Did you kill them?!”

Suddenly, everyone moved at once. You broke eye contact first, your hand grasping for the crowbar. The animatronic lunged for the window, its palm slamming a spider web’s crack into the glass. The corpse shot up to his knees and swiped at the control panel. 

A child’s laughter, one all too familiar and artificial, stilled the three of you. The same laughter from your voicemail. 

Suddenly, the animatronic’s eyes weren’t human. You watched with heavy breath as the animatronic turned—all robotic and all coding—and stalked away from you. Taking your one clue with it.

You dropped the crowbar. It clanged against the floor.

The corpse seemed completely focused on the cameras, clicking and swiping and selecting, as he sat back into his swivel seat. You slid to the floor against the desk. 

Suddenly, a second control panel was shoved into your hands, “Reboot the audio.” The corpse still spoke in a whisper.

You looked at it, shaken.

“ Now! ”

Startled, you did as you were told, taping on the device. It slowly started to blink, and when it finished, the corpse next to you relaxed his shoulders, continually clicking and swiping and selecting and swiping again, undead eyes flitting from camera to camera. The corpse didn’t need to order you into action when you saw the ventilation needed rebooting; you began the upkeep all on your own. With heavy questions weighing on your heart, the embers of your adrenaline and rage waned in your blood until it was nothing but ash and exhaustion. 

[art-of-manliness]

Odds & Ends: October 27, 2023

Why Note-Taking Apps Don’t Make Us Smarter. I like the idea of capturing all my thoughts and the stuff I read in one central note-taking app in order to create a super-powered brain sitting in the cloud. I have dreams that my note-taking app will help me unleash a torrent of untapped creativity. But every time I’ve tried putting the idea into practice, I’m always underwhelmed by the results. This article explains what might be contributing to the underwhelm. In the end, you can’t outsource good old-fashioned brain thinking to a computer. At least not yet.  The Thief of Always by Clive Barker. We just finished reading this book aloud as a family, and we all really liked it. Clive Barker, who’s done a lot of writing in the horror genre for adults, also penned this book aimed at kids. It centers on young Harvey Swick, whose boredom leads him to the Holiday House, where each day includes all four seasons of the year and their major holidays. What could be better than Halloween and Christmas every day? But, of course, there’s a dark price to be paid for the fun that’s offered. The second half of the book is definitely a lot weaker than the first, but the set-up is so compelling that a middle-schooler or even an adult who wants a quick pre-Halloween read will likely enjoy it. Peak Refuel Backpacking Meals. The McKays went backpacking in AR last week and dined on these freeze-dried meals during our trip. These are our favorite backpacking meals. They’re tasty and have more protein (and calories) than other backpacking meals. All the varieties are good, but Beef Stroganoff and Chicken Pesto Pasta are particular favorites. WoodWick Candles. It’s getting colder here in Tulsa, so it’s time to start getting our hygge on. Hygge is the Danish idea of creating a cozy, snug, and relaxing atmosphere in your home during the colder and darker seasons of fall and winter. Candles are an important element of hygge. One of our favorite candles is made by WoodWick. As the name implies, the wick is actually made out of wood, and when lit, it crackles like a real fireplace fire. It’s soothing. Great for fire meditations.  Quote of the Week There is a sense in which a man looking at the present in the light of the future, and taking his whole being into account, may be contented with his lot . . . But if a man has come to that point where he is so content that he says, ‘I do not want to know any more, or do any more, or be any more,’ he is in a state of which he ought to be changed into a mummy! Of all hideous things, a mummy is the most hideous; and of mummies, the most hideous are those that are running about the streets and talking. —H.W. Beecher The post Odds & Ends: October 27, 2023 appeared first on The Art of Manliness. http://dlvr.it/Sy2f38

[atsuwiee]

accidentally confessing to your bestfriend! enhypen.

because, this actually happened to me irl- they ended up liking me back as well so this scenario (?) is purely based on what happened to me lmaoo

warnings: i think i put in some swear words- and slight angst on jay's part lol

also this is kinda long so be rEadY ?? anyways enjoy wie woo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

heeseung

it was a normal weekend hangout at your place with heeseung, though he had noticed you were acting a bit strange when he arrived. both of you were at your room and your eyes were glued to your phone, thumbs moving at a fast pace, while heeseung was on the floor playing a video game alone. for the longest time you've had a crush on heeseung and you had planned on telling him countless of times but you didn't know when to- while texting your other friends about him and them persuading you to go on and tell him now- you feel your phone get grabbed out of your hands. "hey give me that!" you say as you reached for your phone only to be pushed back into the bed (playfully) by heeseung. "you're texting your crush, aren't you?" he said playfully as he kept your phone out of reach. "shut up and give it back, lee heeseung!" heeseung didn't listen to you at all instead he got on top of and started to tickle your sides. "tell me who! and i'll stop" he said as he got closer to your face, slowly the redness of your cheeks become evident. "as if!" you scoff as he continued to tickle you. "gosh, okay, okay! heeseung it's you!" you say in between laughter only for this to stop when you realized what you had just said. "i- okay i didn't mean that-" you say as you cover your mouth. "you like me?" "yeah dumbass-" you were cut off by his lips that pressed onto your cheek. "i like you too, cutie"

jay

playing the famous game never have i ever with jay at a literal ungodly hour, out of boredom, you both had been going back and forth at each other for any potential blackmail material you (both) could use. jay paused for a little longer than usual, trying to formulate his question. "aw, did you run out of questions?" you teased him. "no- oh i got one!" he says excitedly. "this is going to be such a cliché question but, never have i ever fallen in love with my bestfriend" jay said with a cheeky smile. "i want to hear your answer first" you say, trying to hide whatever you might spill out of your mouth. "never" he said, this only made your heart ache knowing he doesn't even like you back. "uh-" you paused for a bit making jay raise a brow "what? cat got your tongue?" he said in a playful tone. "well, i have... never..." you say while avoiding eye contact. "are you lying?" he asked as he got closer to your face. "me? lying? why would i be lying about having a crush on..." "crush on?" he asked, prodding into your attempted lie. "you" you say out loud. "you have a crush on me?" jay asked he distanced himself a bit from you. "yeah jongseong, so what? you don't even like me back" you say as you stood up. "i wasn't supposed to tell you until i was ready" you say. "i'm sorry" jay apologized. when you had left, jay wanted to tell you that he really liked you back- but how could he? he said "never" when he actually had a crush on his bestfriend.

jake

jake continued on and on, discussing about the topics you were struggling in physics. you had called him over to tutor you, but when he came to your aid, it appears you had gotten more distracted and jake noticed this as he saw you writing on your journal instead of taking a look at your notes and your textbook. "hey, y/n, are you even listening?" jake said while he snapped his fingers in front of you. "yeah, i am-" you said and quickly looked up from your journal. jake nodded and continued but once he did, your head was in your journal again- eyes glued to whatever you were writing. "okay, clearly you aren't listening, give me that-" he said as he grabbed your journal out of your hands. "i am listening!" you protest, jake was curious on what you were writing so he took a look. "i think i can't focus because of him... why am i even in love with him? wait- you're in love with me?" he asked as he pointed to himself. "stop reading that!" you say as you grabbed your journal out of his hands. your cheeks grew red, and you were quick to grab your textbook to cover your flustered face. you could hear jake giggle and moved the textbook from your face, he kisses your forehead softly and smiles. "well now we got that clarified- shall we continue, y/n?"

sunghoon

"are you free today?" sunghoon asked. "well, i'm not doing anything at the moment so, i guess i'm free today- also are you alright? you sound sad" you say hinting out the tone of his voice. "i just feel tired..." he says. "so uh- do you want to go to the amusement park with me?" he asks. "didn't you say you were tired? you need rest" "please? i just want to unwind with you for a bit" you then said yes later on to his offer. "okay meet you there in twenty minutes" you said as you hung up on the phone so you could get ready. both of you were having fun on the rides and games- not until he pointed to the rollercoaster and practically begged you to go on it. "i-" "pleasee, i'll hold your hand if you're scared" he said with a smile, you couldn't resist this man so both of you went on it. sunghoon knows nothing about your fear of heights so when the ride was about to drop from it's peak you held his hand tightly shouting "i fucking hate rollercoasters- i also wanted you to know i love you a lot, hoon, like a lot lot-!" sunghoon had heard everything and held tight onto your hand. after the ride you both had sat down on a bench. "did you mean what you said?" he asked then faced you, your face growing pinkish. "ah so you heard it... yeah i meant everythi-" you were cut off by his soft lips pressed on yours. "i just wanted you to know i love you too, like a lot, y/n"

sunoo

it was a normal afternoon for you both, sunoo was seated on the couch while you lay down placing your head on his lap, he played with your hair while you played a game on your phone. sunoo brushing your hair with his fingers and at times he'd braid some strands of it too. you were starting to get bored from your game and decided to exit the app to go onto your social media, but sunoo was watching and something on your screen caught his eye. "is that me on your homescreen?" he asked and you were quick to put your phone against your chest. "uh, what?" you asked trying to act clueless. "you used my picture as your wallpaper, you adore that much, don't you?" he said playfully. "ew, who says i have you as my wallpaper?" you asked back while he just scoffed. "i saw it y/n, don't lie~" sunoo said and you sat up from laying down on his lap. "fine" you mumbled out your answer. "do you have a crush on me~?" he asked, more onto the teasing side but you had accidentally spilled your actual answer to him. "haha you bet!" you say with awkward finger guns. "i- uh, need to use the bathroom, be right back!" you say as you quickly headed to the bathroom. sunoo knew what your answer meant, so now he's left there- smiling and giggling on how his best friend likes him back.

jungwon

you had been planning on telling jungwon about how you left through a letter and planned on telling later on the walk back home from school. "y/n" your classmate called before you exited the classroom. "you're a friend of yang jungwon, right?" she asked and you nodded. "could you please give this letter to him? it's regarding the quiz bee thing, i'm one of his teammates" she said as she handed you the folded paper, similar to the love letter (for jungwon) you were holding. "oh okay, i'll give it to him!" you say as you got the letter. "oh thanks, y/n" she said and bid her goodbyes as she left. as you walked beside jungwon back home you remembered the letter from your classmate. "oh jungwon, my classmate said i should give you this letter- its about the quiz bee thing" you said as you stopped walking and looked for it inside your bag. "ugh it's probably another reminder to review" he said as he opened the letter, but then you can see confusion evident in his face. "uh-you give me butterflies every time i see you... uh i don't think this is about the quiz bee-" "what do you mean, let me see?" you say as he shows you the letter. "i- oh my god! i didn't mean to give you that!" you say as you look into your bag again and give the other letter. "here-" "i'll read it when i get home, let me read yours first" he said with a soft smile and intertwined his hands into yours.

ni-ki

"i leave for a minute to use the bathroom and now my phone is missing- riki where the hell did you hide it?" you say, literally flipping all the pillows in your room. "ugh even one of my earbud is missing" you say. "why are you looking at me like that?" riki asks, trying to act clueless. "why are you always hiding my stuff? this isn't even your house!" you say as you walk around your room trying to look for your phone and one of the missing earbud. "please tell me where you hid it" you say as he just laughed and laid down on your bed. "what do i get in return?" he asks playfully. "i'll buy you some bungeoppang" you say, hoping he'll give back what he hid from you. "sounds good! here's your phone now" he says taking it out from under his shirt. "uh, my earbud though?" you say as put your hand out, signaling he give it now. "ah- that's for another deal" he says. "riki just what the fu-" "is jay hyung your boyfriend?" he asked. "no he isn't, where did you get that from?" you asked back. "people were talking about it at school- and i was really offended that you didn't tell your own bff" riki said with (yet again) a playful tone and with a pout. "i don't know why they would say that- because the only guy i'm in love with is you" you impulsively. "you what?" he asked. "i what?" you asked back. "you're in love.... with me?!" riki asks pointing at himself. "you know what- give me back my earbud when i get back, i'll go buy your bungeoppang now- bye!" you ran out the door leaving riki who's a flustered mess now. he then punches the air and you could hear his screams of victory "woo! y/n likes me!" you can hear which makes you more flustered as well.

[pinkchanelbag]

it’s okay; stay

armin arlert x reader

wc: 4k

cw: angst, comfort, pain, childhood flashbacks? armin getting beat up </3 not proofread

note: yes i cried while writing this.

do you remember the days when things were so hopeless that not even he had a way out of it, and all he could do was offer eyes as big as sky-blue plates, and a hand under the table to hold, to anchor you to something when you so badly wanted to drift away. to anchor you to him. 

this was how it was, and this was how it continued to be, and as the feeling of impermanence faded, as your bunk bed in the girls’ quarters filled with more personal belongings and you subconsciously scooted backwards from the edge of your seat, stopped standing on tip-toes, you sunk back into your life, and somehow, into armin. as you found more ways to manipulate your daily routine to fit in more time alone with him, you found that you were your most lucid when you were staring down at a pale palm that you held in both hands, tracing the countless ravines of warm skin and looking for patterns or shapes or words. sometimes his fingers twitched when it tickled, and sometimes you’d tell him what word you had spelled out into his flesh and he’d laugh before continuing reading whatever book his nose was so attached to. 

the memories move too fast and are too painful. you try your best to maneuver away from the ones that most ache, but each path seems worse than the last. 

you’d met him when you were wearing a pale blue dress that stopped at your knees. you only remember this fact because you remember the way it felt as you gripped the fabric close to keep yourself from crying out at the sight of your older brother and his friends kicking at a smaller boy behind a house. you were hidden away after a prompt threat from your brother to go unseen and unheard, because if you interfered or got the bullies caught, he’d make your life an indefinite hell. he’d done it before and he’d do it again, so you stayed out across the road in an alley, your dress turning into a wrinkled wreck between your tiny fingers. there you stayed until the toothless brainless boys had their fill, backing up and shoving shoulders in kudos before running off in a hurry. characteristically, your brother had forgotten to come back for you. you didn’t care. you hated his presence. 

a tiny blond heap sputtered and coughed on the floor some distance away. tears sprung to your eyes. you didn’t care. you hated him. 

the lump on the floor moaned and rolled over in an attempt at a first step to mobility, which was to no avail as he—the young boy whose scuffed face you now saw—stared up at the sky. it lasted all of two seconds before he gasped and scrambled onto all fours, injuries forgotten as his eyes whipped around the scene of the assault. they landed on something and scurried to it. you narrowed your eyes and watched him dust off a half-wrecked book, sighing and pressing it to his chest. a tear curled over your eye and fell down your chubby cheek. he was a good boy. he laid back against the back of the tall house, and you tucked yourself further down the alley to avoid sighting, but you still watched him, feeling like you’d discovered something sort of very precious. 

the next time you saw him was when your mom sent you to the market with a basket and a few coins to buy vegetables for dinner. you were happy to be allowed on your own without the “protection” of your deceptively polite brother. you were confident and unbothered as you took your time to stroll through the vendors. and then you saw him, and some part of you short-circuited. somewhere on the other side of your brain, something launched into overdrive, and you suppose this is what brought your feet forward to stand before him as he eyed a booth of crystals. 

“what are you looking at?” you asked dumbly. your voice and presence scared him out of his skin for a good few moments and he froze for a good five seconds before stammering his answer. 

“um, i’m looking at, at crystals,” he said. you smiled a little, deciding you liked how he talked. you looked at the table before you, tilting your head curiously. 

“why would someone pay for these? couldn’t you just go into the forest and find them yourself?” your tone was incredulous, but when you looked back at armin, he was bewildered to see genuine wonder in your eyes, expecting an answer. an answer from him. 

he fiddled with his fingers. “well, these are different, i think. they come from all over the walls and they all have different names and stuff. you wouldn’t be able to find them around here, i think.” 

you nodded in comprehension, again looking at the assortment before bending down and pointing to a particular one. 

“i like this one,” you said, suddenly sheepish. you clasped your hands to the handle of your basket and looked down. 

“that’s called amethyst,” he said shyly, eyeing the deep purple rock with white flecks as it sparkled in the sun. his eyes shifted to you and stayed there for a few seconds before he decided what to do next. 

“i’m armin,” he said, and you looked up to see a small hand extended to you. your momentary hesitation had him stuttering, “um, my grandpa said it’s polite to shake someone’s hand when you meet them.” 

you really smiled this time, and armin smiled with you. you put your hand in his. 

“i’m y/n.” 

even at your fresh age, you knew that what you found in armin was different. even when he introduced you to his friends eren and mikasa, who welcomed you without reserve and taught you about love different from that which was familial, compulsory, you knew armin was like no other. you were too young to make sense of it, but it felt like in some way you’d been friends all along but hadn’t met yet; as though it was only a matter of time before you met or maybe you’d met before and forgotten. a ridiculous notion, but you were young, and happy. 

things were wonderful. 

until, weeks later, as you trudged behind your brother and a few of his friends, who were bored and lazy for the day, you smacked into your brother’s back by accident, not having been looking in front of you. he barely acknowledged you, instead bumping you off his shoulders as he and his friends pointed at a grounded nest of baby birds. interested, you stood on tip toes and peaked over your brother’s shoulder. 

“y/n?” 

you froze at the soft, questioning voice that called on you from your left. of course it was him, this you didn’t need to look to confirm, but you did anyway. his face sunk in a way that tore at your heart, but still he looked at you with questioning eyes that fell between you and the bullies you now stood amidst, asking for an explanation. 

you couldn’t give him one, but you mouthed an “i’m sorry” before armin gathered his wits and silently backtracked his steps before the boys saw him and found something to satiate their boredom. 

you didn’t see him for ages, half because he was never around and half because of the shame that paralyzed you. how selfish of you, to accept armin’s friendship when you’d been a person who enabled his suffering? 

it wasn’t until almost an entire week later that you saw eren by the river near the market. he sat with a bored expression on his face, head thrown back. he was the most prickly of the trio, and even though you were sure he wouldn’t be pleasant to you, your feet sped towards him.

“eren!” you called, but when his eyes met yours, they turned cold, and immediately he got up to leave. “please wait! please! let me explain!” you stopped a few feet away from him, and he looked over his shoulder at you, and the look on his face made you crumble slightly. 

“there’s nothing to explain. if those are the type of the people you hang around, then we don’t want anything to do with you. do you even know half the things they’ve done to armin?” he sneered. 

“i do,” you said quietly. eren scoffed, just about ready to leave, until he heard the next bit. “…because they do it to me too.” 

from there on, really, it was easy to win back eren’s loyalty, as he had barred you from seeing armin until you put some sort of stop to the abuse he suffered at the hands of your brother. he had said that it wasn’t enough that you were helpless, and that you needed to find a way to help armin out of this, because you’re in a unique position to help and because that’s what friends do. and he was right, and you did it.

on one of those evenings when your brother’s irritating snores didn’t fill the room you shared, you sat upright in bed until the boy himself attempted to sneak back through the window—he was about as subtle as a loosed horse. 

he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw your moon-illuminated figure. 

“what are you doing!?” he whisper-yelled. your voice was small enough that you didn’t need to whisper, and this way, you were able to fein strength in your voice. part of you thought about how maybe the power was there all along, but your passive nature put not use to it until you made your own friends. armin introduced you to courage, you realized, and you couldn’t help but smile in the dark. 

“i know that you sneak out to wreck the farm fences next to jonah’s house,” you said. even in the dark, you could sense his hackles rise.

“so?” he replied, daring you to say the words he thought you might.

“pa said if you did one more bad thing he’d send you to uncle’s ranch to work for the entire summer.” you saw his shoulders tense at perhaps the only thing that scared him. 

“there’s something i want from you…” 

“and?” he said, seething. 

“…and if you don’t do it, i’ll tell mama and pa all the bad things you’ve been doing.”

—

“this really isn’t necessary…” his soft voice spoke, and your heart ached a little at hearing it. eren shushed him while mikasa stood silent as usual, and you stood some distance away from them and waited. 

it wasn’t long before your brother’s gang came trudging down the path before the four of you. you could see your brother angrily muttering at one of the other boys who looked displeased. when they spotted you and the others, they made a small ruckus of shoving and incredulous sounds, but your brother had them under control in a moment before looking in front of him. 

his eyes met yours first, and you saw the hatred. for once, you didn’t care, and even returned it gracefully, hands clasped in front of you and shoulders tall. he held your gaze for only a few moments longer before conceding and looking at the trio that stood in the middle of the path. eren and mikasa stood in front of armin, but not in his field of vision, ready to defend him. but it wasn’t necessary. after a few moments, your brother shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded begrudgingly, aggressively, at armin, without meeting his eyes. armin’s chest seemed to deflate slightly with relief, tension in his fists gone at the sight of his bully surrendering. 

and then they left. 

and as soon as they did, armin pushed past eren and came towards you with a smile. you spoke the words that had been close to bursting for the past week, that you wanted to say a million times over to him if it meant he could believe them to be true. 

“i’m sorry,” you blurted, and armin blinked in slight surpise before he made eye contact with you, now right in front of you. 

“it’s okay,” he said. the words were slow and soft as if he wanted them to materialize in the air for you to see. you couldn’t help it when your eyes teared up as you stared at his blue ones, so impossibly untainted and unnatural in their own right, different than the river or grass fields or pretty crystals or anything at all. for a moment you had a silly thought about all the crazy things armin had told you about the outside, none of them making sense and sounding so supernatural that they surely couldn’t be real, and for a moment you thought that if somehow they were real, these eyes, these impossible orbs were made from the same stuff. supernatural stuff, stuff of nonsense, and that they belonged out there and not in here. 

and then he offered you his hand, and you cleared away the mess of over-mature thinking by resolving that he was here now, and you’d be by his side while you had him. for as long as you could. 

you look upon him now. you look at supernatural eyes that peer down at mikasa, quiet, powerful mikasa, holding her back from the sound of boot hitting bone. his eyes tell her that this is what needs to happen. 

you stand close to the wall, not innocent in the eyes of the soldiers around you but not as guilty as the titan shifter who sits on the floor with blood seeping into his mouth, a disappointed captain before him. 

you haven’t been restrained—yet—because of eren’s claim that he more or less forced your hand, as he had done to everyone else when he planned his scheme. it wasn’t entirely untrue. eren told you what he hoped to do all that time ago, because he needed your help. he wouldn’t go to mikasa because of her priority for his safety nor to armin for his priority on peaceful resolve. eren knew you were neither emotionally attached to his wellbeing nor against necessary violence. you didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to act as a spy who gathered information for eren on his best means of communication, the weakest link the command for him to access, and all other needs. but eren told you he’d do it whether you joined him or not, and he wouldn’t ask anyone else, and that having a second hand to facilitate his intelligence would drastically increase his chances of seeing his plan through, therefor the chances of the survey corps making it out of this alive. 

no one has come to talk to you yet, but you know that you’ll be dealt with, and you could already predict the questions. when they ask you why you didn’t find another way, you won’t have an answer. you’re sure armin would’ve found a better way and convinced eren of it, or that mikasa would’ve never allowed him to sneak out like he did. but you’re not either of those people, and so when they ask, you won’t have an answer. 

for now, all you can do is memorize the faces and figures of your friends whom you haven’t seen in so long. you note mikasa’s hair that’s even shorter than before. the titan markings beneath armin’s eyes. eyes that you avoid desperately because they hurt to look at. they’re just as entrancing, but it’s different now. he finally made it outside the walls. and all that used to be nonsense isn’t anymore. now it’s just the way the world goes, vast and cruel and sometimes beautiful, and those blue catastrophes fit right in. 

when he stood at the door of the aircraft and didn’t wait longer than seconds, mere seconds, before he reached out a hand to take his best friend’s, the man who’d turned him into a killer. a crushing truth for you to realize, and as such you can’t even bear to think of armin’s own feelings about it. and yet, he looked him in the eyes. and yet, he took eren’s hand, and in the way only soulbound people can, he spoke words into eren’s heart that only they two could know. 

the knowledge of this alone is so much to bare that for the next night and day, you don’t dare go near them. 

almost twenty-four hours pass and still all you can do is stare ahead at food rations on the table before you. the aircraft kitchen is small and has exactly three tables lined up for seating. two soldiers sit at the table furthest from you and talk in quiet murmurs while you sit alone, unable to eat. 

the door opens and before you can even command your sluggish mind to take note of it, armin is sitting beside you. once you realize it, your whole body tenses. your head instinctually moves to look in his direction, but you stop it before it can, casting a sidelong look in his direction. there’s a book in his hand that he places on his other side. from your peripheral, he doesn’t look at you either. he stares ahead, but you can’t see his face to read what he wants. 

“i’ve given you space.” 

your entire chest tightens at the sound of his voice. he’s a man now, but somehow the soft timbre is as clear as it was so that “i’ve given you space” sounds not so very different from “i’m looking at crystals.” 

“i thought maybe that’s what you needed. but now i don’t know. now i feel like you’re just avoiding me.”

breathing becomes near impossible. you watch you own chest rise and fall heavily and wonder how you can still feel no air in your throat. you can’t look at him. you don’t dare.

“y/n.” don’t say that, you think, the first thought you’ve managed since he got the jump on you. he turns to you then, and still you don’t look. “are you avoiding me?”

you tell yourself you won’t look, won’t talk, won’t acknowledge he’s there, but as soon as he asks you the question, you feel a reply formulating. you don’t have the ability to refuse him. you’re at his mercy, even if it’ll break you. 

“i don’t know how to be around you,” you say in a choppy, breathless whisper. armin leans in to hear it, and now you can feel his breath, smelling of brown sugar and fruits from his lunch. at feeling him so close to you after so many months, you suck in your top lip as if it’ll keep you together. 

“why not?” and he’s hurt. you can hear it. all his hurt seeps out his pours and all the holes in his body so that even if you don’t look into his face, you can feel it stabbing at your heart. guilt. guilt. 

“i’ve caused you pain.” the words are too much, and your chin trembles uncontrollably. the door opens to let in two more soldiers who turn into the kitchen and begin rummaging through a drawer. you bow your head to hide the evident grief on your face. armin breathes onto your cheek and thinks and thinks. 

“eren made you do it, y/n. it wasn’t your fault.” 

you shake your head lightly. 

“‘should’ve done more.”  the two soldiers mull over their options of snacks for awhile. 

“y/n.” how you wish he’d stop saying your name. “y/n, look at me.” deviantly, you shut your eyes, stiffening your face as much as you possibly can, because you can’t hold on much longer, not when he keeps pushing you like this. not in front of other soldiers, you beg him in your mind. and maybe in a way he understands, because it’s not until the pair in the kitchen have selected a food and walked out that armin raises a hand to your chin and delicately guides your head to face him. you suck in a breath and squeeze your mouth shut to hold onto the anguish inside you, and then you’re looking at him. the first of your tears falls when you see the concerned, pained set of his brow, his soft lips downturned like a sad pup. his eyes. they burn into you. they wither the fabric of your soul. 

“y/n,” he says again, letting go of your chin. you know he can’t find words to say, because there are no words. no words for all that’s happened and all you’ve done. rather than speaking, he does something much worse. 

he reaches into your lap where your hands are clasped by the fingers in an iron grip. panic fills your features as you shake your head fearfully at him, but he doesn’t exercise mercy on you as he takes your two hands into one of his, warm and scarred and you can’t breathe. 

he pulls your hands to his own lap, and in a stroke of—all you can call it—madeness, he delicately pulls your hands apart and places one of his own on his lap, palm facing the ceiling. he settles one of your hands on his palm and nestles the other one underneath, as if guiding you to hold one of his hands with yours. immediately, you understand the words he’s delivered to your heart. your face crumbles, shoulders sag. you stare into his palm and trace shaky fingers across ridges where beneath skin lies bones. you feel each line that builds to make peculiar images and spell all kinds of words, that forms the illustration of a boy filled to the brim with pain and somehow exhuming only love. a beaten boy lying behind a house and staring into the sky, a boy whose eyes don’t really resemble anything at all because maybe they’re unearthly, an entire world unto themselves, a boy whose mere existence pains you because you can’t take his pain away and he’s far too pure to have endure so much. a good boy. 

tears drip onto your pants and take over your cheeks in silent anarchy, because you can’t take whatever it is this boy is made out of. because he offers his hand to you and still meets your eyes after everything, and because his palm spells forgiveness. 

your eyes find his, and say there in silent grief as your hands touch. his gaze is calm, peaceful, assuring. in it you see refuge. redemption. you think that maybe your soul can take it. you bare all of yourself to him in one look, but you trust him completely. 

after some time, the two soldiers remaining get up and dispose of their dishes in the sink, casting side glances at the colossal titan and the rogue soldier who hold hands on the eating table. they take their leave. 

you try to put it into words. and of course, of course there are none. 

“armin,” you breathe. you inhale sharply, because finally it comes. “oh, armin…” you sob, slowly descending into his chest. his arms come around you, and he cradles the back of your head and holds your upper body against himself. you grip his shoulders for dear life and lay your face into his neck, finally, finally, weeping. 

“i’m sorry,” you choke. your tears are hot and wet on his neck. 

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “it’s okay.” you shake your head as if to say it’s not and he runs a hand up and down your back as if to say it is. i promise it is. 

he reaches behind him to pull one of your hands off his shoulder and hold it in his own, bringing them to his chest. your close contact makes it so both your hands press against both your ribcages at once, and astonishingly, you can hear two heartbeats. 

“armin,” your body shakes in his embrace. 

he squeezes your hand hard enough to hurt, but you squeeze back just as tight. as if to say to you, stay with me, and as if to tell him, i will. i will. 

[ikassienatics]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 ↬ 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐡.

warnings: mentions of drugs and guns, smoking, dry humping, mentions of murder, angst-ish, smut. in short no kids under eighteen but it’s your choice.

sypnosis: being in a relationship with london’s leading mafia boss is dangerous, you already knew what kind of consequences your decision would bring but you did not care nonetheless. now in present, after being together for some time, tom finally grew the courage to ask for your hand and marry you in front of thousands, he had plan everything for that night but the outcome is not what he had expected at all. 

author’s note: y’all, the outcome is not what i had expected at all, i’m wheezing rn. i can’t sksks, so this happened, i’m already planning on writing this shit since last week i think? or last two weeks ago, whatever. and everything is planned, they are already in place, the whole plot itself is already painted on the back of my mind, then i wash the dishes, yes bitch i just wash the dishes since y’know i’m the one assigned on that kind of stuff, then while cleaning the plates, it suddenly occur to my mind like, what if i do this shit then that shit, so yeah, that’s the end of the story telling. wtf. that’s how i decided the whole cold blood shit.

you throw your head back as you let out a loud moan. back arching and showing him a great view of your neck and your tits, pulling all your hair so it can rest on the back of your shoulder as you continue to rock your hips back and forth, getting off on his leg. the red room is quiet, the only noise you can probably hear is the sound of faint beats coming from the pub and your whimpers. the smell of drugs and gun powder is also overpowering the smell of your own arousal, to your relief. 

it was probably late that night, 10pm maybe or later than that. tom is currently in the middle of dealings with the other mob bosses, be it about the shipping, new guns, or different kind of drugs you did not pay attention to. but the meeting was cut off when you told your boyfriend that you felt horny, and being the good boyfriend he is, he asked everyone to go out to you can resolve your problem.

maybe that’s why you saw yourself in this kind of situation, a pretty fucked up facial expression, dress hiked up around your waist showing him a wonderful view of your bare legs and the lacy panty you chose to wear. biting your lips, you kissed his cheeks while grinding on him, attempting to hide your face on the crook of his neck.

but the mob only growled in response because of your action, and gods. you felt yourself getting wetter and coming closer to your release at the sight of him comfortably resting on the couch, legs parted to make you more comfortable and both hands are resting on the back of the cushion, cigarette is resting in between his fingers while he watch you get off.

bringing the cigarette between his lips, he took a drag before blowing it up on the ceiling, his hands harshly grabbed the back of your neck, some of your hairs coming with it as he force off of his shoulders “don’t fucking hide from me, baby girl.” he let out, voice is deep and dark making you moan.

your eyes fluttered open, taking in the appearance of your eleven months boyfriend, fitted black t-shirt which shows off every muscle he has, tight black pants, hugging the muscles on his legs, the line of his crotch is also very noticeable. biting your lips, you push your hairs on your back so it does not go everywhere while making eye contact with the mafia leader, eyes is filled with lust, hands snaking on the his neck once again before moving your hips back and forth

tom sighed in response, slowly feeling something wet touching the skin of his leg, he let his hands snake from your neck to your waist, encouraging you to continue. “that’s it, darling. get off on daddy’s thigh, show me how much of a good girl you are.” just the sound of his voice and the devilish words coming out of his mouth is enough to bring you closer towards your peak, eyes closing shut while you fasten your face.

he took another drag from his cigarette, and this time he blow it on your face, and that action gets you more aroused than you were, from his neck, your hand snake to your breast, massaging the mound which brings your more pleasure.

but the pleasure was immediately cut off when you felt a sting of pain on your left cheek, tom fucking holland just slap you across your face, but that didn’t stop you from moving your hips, slowly turning to him, hands holding the part of your face where he hits you, you bite your lips, smirking at the london’s most dangerous person “don’t fucking touch yourself.” he whispered “that’s my job.”

from his leg, your rise so you’re kneeling between his thigh, slowly moving closer to him with a devil smirk on your face, your hands held his jaw, slightly forcing him to look at you while your other hand starter playing with his hair “you hit like a fucking kid.” you teased “hit me hard.”

he growled in response, yanking your hair again as his hands groped your neck, lightly choking you “don’t talk to me like that.” he said angrily making you moan, he push you harshly on the floor before fumbling with his belt, throwing it across the room after then pushing his pants along side with his boxers down, enough for his cock to sprung free.

you moaned at the sight, he looks so painfully hard, the tip is red and leaking with pre-cum, you felt your mouth water with excitement, holding the back of your neck again. tom didn’t waste any second before pushing your head to his hard cock, forcing you to take all of him which made you gag in response, mouth is so deep to the point that your nose is now touching his pubic hair. he moaned out as he started to guide your head in a rhythm, guiding you to bob your head.

slowly, he let go of your head when you started moving on your own, putting both of his hands behind his head while watching you suck his cock, closing his eyes and sighing once in a while because of the pleasure your giving him.

and then the door burst open causing the bar music to enter the room as well, but neither of you moved or stop your actions. tom look up from you, brown eyes locking with a green one, he hold the gun that was placed just behind him, ready to shoot harrison just in case he decided to look at you in a way he did not like

“mate.” haz called out from the door, eyes remaining on tom and trying his best not to look down on your kneeling figure 

“the fuck do you want?” his answer came out harsher than he expected, holding your head once again to silently tell you to keep moving 

“streetfighter is here.” he said eyes remaining locked on tom’s 

he sighed in boredom before looking back at you, watching his cock disappear on your mouth and the sight made his member twitch “tell him to fucking wait.” he ordered

harrison looks like he’s having second thought, after all streetfighter is known as the man who wouldn’t like to wait, just like every one in the building. streetfighter is also a mafia member who pledge his loyalty to the hollands, he’s the one handling the shipments abroad, though it’s still not clear what his relationship with tom is. streetfighter is goods with the rest of the holland but tom, both men are having a hard time seeing each other as allies, knowing tom. he looked down at the man because of the decision he makes and how he handles things with no consideration while streetfighter on the other hand thinks that tom does not deserve to be feared in london and thinks that he’s got nothing but a pretty face and maybe a huge cock.. stretfighter thinks that the people should fear him instead of tom

harrison sighed “aye, but hurry up will ya? i might not be able to hold him long.”

tom only nodded, eyes remained on you while harrison closed the door once again. he held the back of your head under his grasp before forcing you to pick up the pace, hips jolting forward to meet your mouth as he tried to reach his high, the sudden movement and the feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat made your eyes go teary but the feeling is not new to you anymore, considering as how many times you gave your man a head

“fuck, darling.” he groaned “you’re doing so good.” he praises and just in time, he reach his high with one last thrust inside your mouth. you gladly swallow all of them, tom pulled out of you, eyes locking with his as your fingers dance around the side of your mouth, gathering his cum that came out of your mouth only to bring them back again and swallow

he growled at the sight, holding your jaw tightly before forcing you to open your mouth for him, and once you did. he leaned closer only to spit inside your mouth and forcing it to close “swallow it for daddy.” and you did just as what he told you, swallowing his own saliva making him smile in satisfaction “such a good girl.” he began to get dress again, pulling his pants up while you pull your dress down just above your knee

tom grabbed the pistol gun he owned before walking towards you while you’re fixing your hair, he grabbed you by the wait and planted a loving kiss on the side of your forehead, handing you the gun and holding your face on his hands so you could look at him “wait for me at home?”

you slightly smile at him, accepting the weapon he decided to give you and nodding your head “don’t take long.” you whispered seductively, giving him a short kiss that had him wanting for more, when you turn to look away, his head follows wanting to feel your lips longer but only groaned when you pulled back

“take harrison with you, yeah?” he suggested just like what he always do only for you to turn it down “there’s no need tommy, i can take care of myself and besides, you need haz to take care of the dealings.”

“fine.” he said “text me when you get home.”

nodding your head and planting one last kiss on his cheek, you began to walk away, his eyes following yours. only if he knew what’ll come after, this night will not only be about you and him making love. it’ll also be about him asking you to marry him so both of you can grow old together, be together forever, have a bunch of kids and watch them grow up, have grandchildren. 

but it won’t happen.

it can’t happen.

at least not anymore, those things will only be tom’s wildest dreams, nothing more, nothing less.

because you never reached home after that, your car that was parked just outside the pub remained untouched by you, and three days later the police found a body by the river. that’s when everything has been confirmed, you were murdered in cold blood the same night when tom’s about to propose to you.

disclaimer: all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. the original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. the author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

[allsassnoclass]

astronomy in reverse

Pairing: Roy English/Calum Hood Rating: T for language Word Count: 2016 Read on AO3

Summary: Roy and Calum go stargazing

Calum has learned more about the night sky in the past year than he has in his entire life leading up to that point.  He attributes nearly all of his new knowledge to increased time with Roy.  When the world stopped turning, Calum was suddenly confined to the house rather than a tour bus, for better or for worse.  To an extent he’s glad: Roy and Duke are home, which is a pretty big silver lining.  While he’s missed making music with the band and hearing venues erupt with fans screaming their lyrics and even the constant feeling of miles and miles of road disappearing under his feet, long walks with Duke and long nights spent wrapped up in his boyfriend have more than made up for it.

His favorite nights involve gazing at the sky while Roy talks about astrology or astronomy or cosmology or philosophy or spirituality or anything he fancies.  One thing that Calum loves about Roy is that he’s always coming up with new, interesting ideas about the world.  The first night they spent alone together in Bali was an exploration in thought that he could never have anticipated but was enraptured by nonetheless.  He doesn’t remember the specifics of what they talked about, but he remembers that he fell in love a little, and even though both of them have different thoughts now, that initial spark has never gone away.

“It’s going to be a clear night,” Roy says while they’re eating leftovers for dinner on the couch, Calum keeping a careful eye on Duke so he doesn’t lunge for his plate.

“Yeah?” he asks.  Roy clicks his tongue at Duke and offers him a potato chip, allowing Calum to relax and take a bite of his own food.

“Mars should be visible,” Roy says.  Calum watches fondly as he scratches Duke behind the ears.  The sun hasn’t set yet, and the natural light highlights his face in a warm glow.  Roy is always sunny, even in the dead of winter or in the middle of a rainstorm, like he’s somehow able to trap rays within his skin so he can shine in every context.  Looking at him grinning down at Duke now, Calum feels lucky that the universe aligned to bring them all together.

“Do you want to go out for it?” he asks.  Their backyard is far enough from the heart of the city that they can see the North Star most nights, but Roy has found a place a reasonable drive away that lets them put together more constellations.

Roy smiles at him in response, giving Duke an opening to lunge for more chips.  Dinner dissolves into a battle to corral an unruly dog acting more like a puppy than an old man for once in his life, but Calum doesn’t mind as long as he can hear Roy’s loud laugh and keep seeing him shine.

-/-

They head out once they clean up the mess in the living room.  The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in pastels and lengthening all of the shadows in corners of the city.  Their destination is a hill in the middle of a park, a frequently visited little haven, but Calum is happy to see that they’re the only people there tonight.  They park the car and Calum grabs a blanket kept in back.  It’s a nice evening: cool but not cold, skies clear with an occasional gentle breeze.  Crickets and the rare bird call tickle his ears as Roy grabs his hand as they walk, tilting his head up to look at the moon, a bright spot half-full even while the last of the sun’s rays illuminate the sky.  He doesn’t let go when they reach the peak of the hill, leaving Calum to try to spread the blanket on the grass one-handed.  It doesn’t work, and Roy laughs at him before taking pity and helping.

“It’ll be more helpful if you’d let go,” Calum says as they tug on different corners and try to lay the blanket down in sync.

“It’s important to challenge yourself.”

“Fuck off,” Calum laughs as Roy pulls him down onto the blanket next to him, holding their hands safely in his lap.  Calum turns his gaze to the sky, quickly landing on the moon again.  He lays down and settles in, pulling Roy down with him by their joined hands so he can talk to him easier while they wait for all of the stars to come out.

“Do you think aliens exist?” Roy asks after they’ve laid in quiet for a few minutes tracing the craters of the moon with their eyes.

“Yes,” Calum says automatically.  He glances at Roy, harder to see now that the sun has fully set, but the upward angle of his lips is still visible.

“Why?”

“The universe is fucking huge,” Calum says.  “There’s no way that there isn’t other life out there.  It might not be recognizable to us, but I don’t think our little world is that unique.  We just haven’t expanded our search enough.”

“If it’s not recognizable to us, is it still life, or is it something else?” Roy asks.  Calum hums.

“I guess it depends.  If we can’t recognize it as life then we probably wouldn’t consider it alive as a society, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t.”

Roy smiles wider, the way he does when Calum has a thought he particularly likes.

“Scientists talk about life-cycles of stars from birth to death despite not considering them living organisms like us, but I think that’s because subconsciously we know that we’re all the same.  We’re all connected.  Just because stars don’t breathe doesn’t mean they can’t be alive.”

“So the stars are aliens?” Calum asks, finding Polaris above them.

“Maybe none of us are aliens,” Roy says.  “‘Alien’ implies ‘other,’ and there is no other.  All of our differences are arbitrary, but at the core everything comes from the same place.  Scientists said we’re made of the same things as stars.  We’re part of the same universe and the same collective unconscious.  Why shouldn’t that extend to the other creations we share the universe with?”

Calum hums.  He gazes at the stars and tries to imagine them as alive.

“What about our phones and guitars and stuff?” he asks.  “There are non-living things in the world.  Where do you draw the line?”

Calum can feel Roy shrug next to him.

“Somewhere between stars and guitars,” he says.  “Maybe stars are part of a bigger life.  The Creator’s synapses.”

“And us?”

“His favorite creations.  You are, at least.  He definitely should be proud of what he did there.”

Calum glances at him.

“Are you trying to use God to flirt with me?”

Roy smiles, still bright in the dark.

“Just telling the truth.  Well, as much of the truth as we can be certain of.”

“It’s called the truth because we’re certain of it.  Everything else is called a mystery.”

Roy shakes his head.  “You can figure out mysteries without having a definite truth.  What I thought was a definite truth before could be something different now.”

Calum considers.

“And if I said that grass is green?”

“Fuck off,” Roy laughs.  “I’m talking about bigger things.  Truths of the universe in philosophy or religion.  Things where truth is dependent on belief rather than something provable.”

“Alright, alright,” Calum concedes.  “I get what you’re saying.”  Roy squeezes his hand.  Calum squeezes back, a silent transaction that makes him smile.

“Look,” Roy says after a moment, pointing with their joined hands up at the sky.  “Boötes.  Did you know that ancient cultures had different names for this constellation, but lots of stories for it call him a herdsman of some sort?  More evidence of the collective consciousness and human unity.”

Calum hums, because he has heard that before.  Boötes is Roy’s favorite constellation because he likes saying the name. Calum’s favorite is one that they made up when they were out in the desert celebrating Ashton’s album release. It’s hard to see this close to the city, and it’s probably only really visible in the fall anyway, but it making it was one of his favorite memories from the fall, both of them sitting in the same lounge chair and gazing up at a sky more luminous than this one, picking out different shapes and forming outrageous stories behind them.

They do a lot of storytelling in their house.  Songwriting is its own form of storytelling, of course, but they also do more traditional sorts, recounting things from their day or sitting together entertaining each other with their imaginations.  It’s an exercise in creativity, stretching different muscles that songwriting doesn’t always hit or that Calum doesn’t think to use in everyday life, and he feels like he’s better for it.  If nothing else, it’s saved him from boredom in quarantine and has kept him from traveling in circles in his head.

“Hey,” Roy says, “what do you think happens when we die?”

Calum could never be bored with Roy around.

They spend more time discussing various questions and secrets in hushed voices under the cover of the sky, staring at the specks of stars far above them.  Roy points out which speck should be Mars once he’s fairly certain he doesn’t have it wrong, raising their joined hands to the sky for Calum to follow, and Calum uses sightlines as an excuse to shift closer.

Roy knows that it’s bullshit, but Calum gets a kiss for his troubles.

They trade a few more words back and forth before fading into silence.  Calum stares at the sky and listens to Roy’s gentle breathing next to him and the crickets hidden somewhere in the grass.  He takes his own deep breath of the crisp night air, as fresh and clear as it gets near LA, and feels any lingering tension from the day leave his body.  Out here, cuddled up to the man he loves and watching glittering pieces of celestial gas that might have burnt out already, it’s hard to feel like any of the things that typically bother him matter.  There’s something to be said about contextualizing his problems against the entire universe, and there’s something to be said about doing that while trying to unwrap the universe with Roy.

When they delve into these sorts of talks, Calum always walks away with a worse understanding of the universe and a much better understanding of Roy.

Maybe that’s the point.  Maybe humans aren’t meant to reveal the secrets of the universe, but rather to reveal their own secrets to each other.  Calum knows the way that Roy thinks now.  He knows why he loves the stories he does and how he views himself in relation to the rest of humanity.  He understands Roy’s compassion and his love for the world they’re in.  He knows who Roy is, and he knows a little more every time Roy asks him about things that Calum can only guess at.

He’s never felt like he knows anyone quite like he knows Roy.  It’s more than the fact that they’re roommates and Calum knows what brand of toothpaste he uses and how he takes his coffee.  It’s like Roy is a distant star, and Calum keeps twisting his telescope further into focus, and he knows that it goes the same way.  Roy knows how he likes his eggs and which bass is his favorite, but he also knows the inner workings of Calum’s thoughts.  He knows the way their hands fit perfectly together and when they have to let go to avoid them getting uncomfortably sweaty.

He glances at him, profile barely discernible in the dark.

“Hey,” he says quietly.  Roy’s head tips towards him, breaking his staring contest with the sky.  “I love you.  I’m glad the universe let me know you.”

Roy doesn’t say anything, just brings Calum’s hand to his lips and kisses it, and they go back to watching the sky together, existing in a tiny pocket of space carved just for them and the stars.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

not a continuation (for once lmao) but this is just a funny story I was thinking about for venom bc I feel like I dont incorporate him enough. also I'm in my bed and I'm too tired to get up and get my computer to type in so this is gonna have many mistakes as usual lol - knull anon

~~~~

waiting all day for your "dad" to come home wasnt fun, especially considering the fact that he only had random books on crime rates and how its impacted different cities. however, eventually it became the only thing you were able to read.

not being able to watch tv, not being able to talk to anyone else started to get on your nerves. you were usually just fine without any human contact, so you dont know what the difference is, but maybe it's just that you actually had something to do.

and although they were boring, the non fiction books were more entertaining then the doorstopper on Eddie's door, so what was the harm in reading them?

each day, when venom and eddie left for their "work", you would pick out a new book to read. the ones that were shorter you usually got through in a day, but there were some where it took you a couple of days. however, since you really didn't have much to do, eventually when the days went around, there were no more books you had yet to read.

all of them, had been read through in, what, a month? how long had you been there? you didnt know. you just decided to reread the first one you picked out.

however, you eventually finished that one as well.

so you picked out the second book you had chosen. and you got through that one too.

you were starting to go crazy from the boredom. venom and eddie kept on promising that they would back sooner, and that you wouldnt have to be re-reading the books they had for a while.

but that didnt happen. sure, they had days off. but somehow that was even worse, since they coddled you and treated you like you were 5. which you werent.

one day, they picked up a new book. this one was also non fiction, and it was about how most criminals work, from gangs to serial killers, it had everything.

but eddie had to read it first. he had to read it for his job. the job that he cared oh so much about.

you weren't getting jealous, no. this guy had taken you right off the streets, had taken you from your home, while not perfect, was still your home. you havent seen your parents, you havent seen your friends, and it was starting to become insane for you to handle.

so one day, eddie had told you that something was up in the city. he didnt specify what, he just said that he might be a little later then usual. you're late every day, you wanted to say but you bit your tongue so he wouldnt stay with you.

you needed him to be gone, especially for your plan. you had managed to sneak a peak at eddies computer, only to see that only 2 months had passed since you've last seen anyone who you recognized.

there still might be people looking for you. there still might be people who are trying to find you.

you might as well make their search easier by walking down the street.

jumping from a broken window and onto a fire escape was part of the plan, you had told yourself. climbing down the fire escape and running in a random direction hoping for anyone to recognize you was part of the plan. almost running into a strange ginger haired man who seemed to be confused by your presence was part of the- no, no it wasn't.

you fell right on your ass, and tried to hide a short hiss when you braced yourself with your palms. you brought up one hand and saw that it was scraped.

you looked up to the man in question, who was just staring at you. he didnt seem angry, he didnt seem to recognize you, but it was just this face of confusion.

you were the first to break the silence, saying "I'm sorry, I wasnt looking where I was-"

"do you happen to know eddie brock?"

you stared up at him, wide eyed, as his face started to form into a more understanding face. like he was putting pieces into a puzzle.

"you know, that symbiote of his always leaves their damn scent everywhere, doesnt he?"

you said nothing as he offered his hand with a weird smile on his face.

"oh dont worry, I know what he did. he took you, didnt he? took you right of the street. I was wondering who that was, and I'm so glad I get to meet you."

hesitantly you took his hand and he pulled you up- up over his shoulder.

hanging down, and feeling the blood rush to your head, you saw his feet- no, his body start to morph into something else. something red, with black lines over it. it seemed to incase his entire body.

"I know you dont know me very well, but I'm sure I'm gonna be a good father!"

and as he jumped off the ground and started to swing wherever he was taking you, you started to wonder what wouldve happened if you had just decided to reread the books on eddies shelf.

~~~~

oOF- ok so like I like this and then I don't if that makes any sense it's like, I wish it was better but I also like how it is ya know. anyway I saw that ur not feeling well and I thought this would cheer you up 💖💖💖 while I'm still too shy to start posting stuff (especially since I'm not known for writing this stuff lol) I still like writing this stuff and you were a great inspiration for me, so I just wanted to say thank you for writing your writings and just writing what you wanna write. I really like how you write hcs and drabbles and it doesnt matter what the length of the piece is for me, if it's from you, its gonna be good. cheers love, hope to get the courage to reveal myself in the future 💖 - knull anon

You’re an absolute sweetheart and I love to read what you send in💗💗!! It really means the world whenever someone says I’ve inspired them so thank you so much for that💗💞💕💚💗💕💞!!

The whole time I was reading the part where Reader is reading all Eddie’s books all I could think about was Rapunzal’s day to day montage from Tangled. You did a really good job on these.

[krowfics]

A Spider’s Shadow Chapter 5

Fandom: Warrior cats/Sander Sides

Ships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Dukeceit, (eventual) Remile, otherwise platonic LAMP, familial Creativitwins+Thomas

Plot: Spiderpaw is the sole witness to a murder, due to this, he is no longer safe in Shadowclan. He soon finds himself amongst a group of secret rebels who disagree with the Warrior Code.

Words this chapter: 2152

Notes:Warriors typical violence/hunting, unsympathetic/morally gray Janus and Remus,

Chapter 1  Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

~~~

Lionbright bunched up his muscles in preparation, readjusting his footing for the pounce. He lept into the air and landed with a soft thump, muted by the squirrel that now struggled against his claws, he quickly delivered the killing bite to it’s neck and silently thanked Starclan for the catch.

“Great catch!” Nettlepaw purred, standing from their position across from Lionbright.

“Ah, thanks,” He scraped a bit of dirt over his prey, “Though I think that one was a bit slow, otherwise I’m sure it would’ve ended up in your claws.” They’d done a fairly simple hunting technique involving one cat standing behind the prey in case it ran, it was extra helpful for skittish critters like squirrels, but it proved unneeded for this one. Lionbright did catch the squirrel fine on his own but his leap felt lacking, his mind distracted by the occasional wandering thought.

“Maybe.” Nettlepaw shrugged before turning their head sharply, “Oh and another good catch!” They mewed, acknowledging Whitepaw stepping through the bramble with a sparrow.

“It was nothing.” He mewed happily, his head being held high despite his words.

Lionbright flexed his claws in and out for a moment as he suppressed a sneering response. Whitepaw always got on his nerves. It was just a sparrow, nothing all too impressive. Lionbright supposed that attitude was why he earned his warrior name before Whitepaw despite the other being older. But, hunting wasn’t a contest, he shouldn’t be thinking that way. Still, he couldn’t help a small grin at the fact that he was better than the apprentice.

“Nice squirrel.” Whitepaw said once his catch joined the other, kicked a bit of earth over it.

“Lionbright caught it.” Nettlepaw stated, bumping the warrior in question with their side.

Whitepaw sniffed, “Oh really? I suppose it’s a nice change in pace from catching spiders.”

Lionbright sighed, he should’ve guessed some teasing like this was coming, “And what if it is?”

Whitepaw’s ears pressed back slightly, “He’s a Shadowclan cat.”

The warrior frankly wasn’t sure what exactly his old denmate was trying to imply but he really didn’t care at the moment, “Wow, that’s amazing I hadn’t even noticed until you pointed it out just now. Thanks for telling me.” He stood, his mew mockingly sweet.

“Whitepaw don’t be rude.” Crowclaw rolled their eyes as she approached, a wren muffling her words, “I think we should head back and get these in the pile,” they said quickly, not giving her apprentice had a chance to defend himself. Lionbright dipped his head and picked up his squirrel before following the others to another few pieces of prey they’d caught earlier and buried a bit in earth.

Soon enough, he was following the patrol through the bramble and into camp. He felt the midday sun hit his back as he swiftly made his way to the pile. His head was held high, a grin hidden behind his squirrel. Maybe Spiderpaw would eat the squirrel, Lionbright wondered, would a Shadowclan cat like squirrel? Had he even ever tried one? He had plenty of questions to remember to ask his friend later, but for now, he was stopped by an all to common sight.

Just in front of the pile was his father and brother, along with the deputy and medicine cat. Ratpaw seemed a bit puffed up, undoubtedly ready to defend his actions, whatever they may be. He hadn’t run off again had he? Lionbright wasn’t gone for that long but if he could trust anyone to vanish in a moment just to turn up later smelling of twoleg stuff, it’d be his brother.

He stepped closer, more out of curiosity than to get closer to the pile, but stopped in his tracks as he listened to Ratpaw’s hiss, “So I gave Spiderpaw a poppy seed, I did what-”

“You gave him a what?” Lionbright barely acknowledged the fact that his kill had fallen from his grip, still a fox length away from its place in the pile. The rest of his patrol stepped around the group to set their catches down in the proper place before backing away, not wanting to interfere in whatever today’s argument would be about.

Ratpaw looked to him and soon gained an amused expression, “A poppy seed. It’s what you give annoying little nuisances from enemy clans to make them sleep for a really lo-” He was cut off by sudden paws pushing him onto his back. 

The gray tom fell backwards with a satisfying huff as the air was knocked out of him. Lionbright might have used more force than strictly necessary in the given situation, he knew that poppy seeds caused no real harm, but if it got his littermate to quiet for once, then it was worth it.

“The poppy seed was necessary.” Frostpool confirmed, she’d stepped closer after a moment whilst Lionbright was still giving Ratpaw a glare as he kept him pinned down, “He’s quite bothered by what he witnessed,” She spoke in a hushed mew, “And reasonably so.”

Lionbright glanced to see Fernstorm nodding, “He couldn’t get more than a bite of wren down.”

“See?” Ratpaw said in a mockingly distressed voice from under him, “Why must you antagonize me? What have I done to deserve such rough treatment?”

“Plenty.” Redstar said in the chiding tone of a father, “Lionbright, release him.” He continued with the commanding tone of a leader, Lionbright obliged begrudgingly. Redstar watched as Ratpaw jumped up, not looking bothered in the slightest. “Ratpaw, from what I understand, you made the situation worse before offering the seed.”

Ratpaw rolled his eyes, “Yes, Redstar, we’ve been over this before. What shall we describe my actions as this time?” He hummed, “Fox-hearted? Mouse-brained? No better than a rogue’s? No better than a Dark Forest cat’s?” He gasped dramatically, “No better than a Shadowclan cat��s?” 

His father’s face lost any commanding feature, he just looked done, and Lionbright could hardly blame him. However the younger warrior could not relate to the almost forlorn look in Redstar’s eyes, for he was bristling with fury.

He flexed his claws in and out for a moment, then forced himself to breath. “Where is he?” he turned sharply to Frostpool, unable to keep his tail from flicking.

“The medicine den.” She blinked, “Asleep.”

“Right.” Lionbright flicked his ear, his paws were moving before he knew where he was going yet. He just needed to walk somewhere. Actually he felt like he needed to shred a tree of it’s bark with his claws or hunt the whole forest clean but those wouldn’t be helpful. He instead grabbed his fresh-kill between his teeth to move it to the pile.

The day dragged on slowly. Lionbright tried to force himself to lay in the sun and relax but he was in no mood to share tongues and his thoughts were to focused on his friend to let himself nap, despite his sleepless night. It was at times like these when he was restless for an apprentice. With no apprentice duties himself, he’d didn’t have much to do. When Blossomfur’s kits were of age then perhaps he’d get to be one of their mentors, but it’d be a bit before they were even born let alone six moons old.

He scoffed at his own boredom. He wanted so badly to be a warrior as a ‘paw, but he’d take apprentice duties at this point just so there was something to do. Well, not if that meant tick duty, his nose scrunched up at just the thought of mouse bile. 

If Ratpaw hadn’t gotten himself banned from leaving camp again then Lionbright would be able to offer to go hunt or gather herbs with him, but even if his littermate wasn’t in trouble at the moment, Lionbright didn’t trust himself not to get into a hissing match the second he was alone with him. 

Ratpaw was in the medicine den, right? Along with Spiderpaw. Ratpaw had been practically dragged in by Frostpool talking about drying out herbs. Lionbright felt his shackles rise and he stood, trudging over to the den. He didn’t enter, not knowing what excuse to give. He just stood by and listened for a moment, seeing if anyone was talking inside. It was silent, so Lionbright stepped away to continue his failed nap.

It wasn’t long before he was wandering back over to the medicine den again. And again. And again until Frostpool was stepping out with a frustrated huff. “Do you have a thorn in your paw?” She asked.

“Um- No?” Lionbright said, taken aback.

“Burr in you pelt? Chaffed pads? No? Then why do you keep coming back here?”

Lionbright opened his mouth to respond but with what, he had no idea. Sometimes he forgot how scary medicine cats could be while they were doing their jobs. He glanced behind her, trying to discreetly peak into the den. Frostpool closed her eyes and sighed.

“Fine.” She said, her voice losing it’s malice, “I get it, you’re worried. Why don’t you go hunt for him?” She offered, “He could use a mouse, they always go down easy, I’m sure he’d appreciate one that’s still warm.”

At that, Lionbright felt like he was buzzing with energy, “I can do that! Uh, thank you.”

Frostpool nodding, laughing fondly, “You’d better be grateful, Ratpaw was offering to come out here and bite your tail off.”

“I’d expect nothing less from him.” He said, backing away and heading to the entrance. Hunting a mouse was something he could do. He was going to get his friend plumpest, juiciest mouse in all of Thunderclan’s territory.

Lionbright headed in the direction of the old owl tree but he didn’t need to travel that far before he picked up the scent of mouse, strong and incredibly recent. He dropped to a hunter’s crouch instinctively and let his eyes trail on the ground, searching for the rustling of leaves. He spotted a disappointing, scrawny little thing and promptly decided to ignore it.

He carried on, allowing a leaf to crunch under his paw that set the mouse running.

He stopped when he smelt mouse again, this one was easily spotted grooming itself. It looked nice and plump, Lionbright found himself liking his lips. But, as hungry as he was, this wasn’t for him. Hopefully when he returned, Spiderpaw would be awake and he’d be able to give him the freshkill and grab something for himself out of the pile so he could eat with him.

He did need to catch it first.

He shuffled forward, paws low on the ground even when lifted so he could avoid any noisy leaves. The mouse didn't spot him until he was pouncing. He swiftly bit down on it’s spine and took a breath to relax. The mouse looked delicious, perfect. 

He plucked it up and trotted back to Thunderclan’s camp with a bounce in his steps. Once there, he headed straight for the medicine den, only to see his darling brother’s head poke out. 

Ratpaw caught sight of him, “Your spider’s awake.” He said.

Lionbright would prefer to doubt what the implications of that would be when said by any other cat, in fact it wouldn’t occur to him at all. But, Ratpaw seemingly only ever had very few topics in mind, and none of them respectable. The only thing keeping a hiss contained in Lionbright as he realized that Whitepaw was probably having the same thoughts as the medicine cat apprentice was the mouse Lionbright diligently held in his mouth.

The gray cat backed up so Lionbright could bring the freshkill inside. “Oh good!” Frostpool mewed at the mouse, the carrier of which had only just poked his head in, “He can eat it outside, no point in making extra work cleaning. There's already plenty of work to be done.” She sent a sharp gaze towards Ratpaw, who just shrugged in response.

Lionbright turned his attention to the small tabby still laying in his nest. Spiderpaw blinked at him with his bright blue eyes and stood slowly, taking a long step to stretch out of his sleeping position. The pretty tom hunched awkwardly as he walked, he looked like he was fighting his hackles from raising. He nodded at Frostpool who responded with a blink.

Lionbright turned to step out of the den, only pausing when he saw that Spiderpaw had, just in front of Ratpaw.

Lionbright felt a moment of panic knowing that his brother could have said absolutely anything to the Shadowclan cat while Lionbright was out, but then, “Thank you,” Spiderpaw said, “For the poppy seed and the… moss pile.”

Ratpaw, to his credit, did look a bit surprised but he shook it off quick enough with a flick of his ear, “Yeah, yeah, go eat your mouse.”

Spiderpaw nodded at him and trotted out, leaving Lionbright to follow, and follow he did.

~~~

It’s been a while!,, like a year,,

please accept this animation meme of ratpaw and snakeface as an apology (be warned it has SPOILERS ,,,,,)

Chap 6

Tags~ @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare

[cherriesradio]

“I… I think I’m different. Not in a hero kinda way, ya know?”

You coming out to different pro hero’s about your sexuality.

(Because I am currently craving validation)

All Might, EraserHead, Hawks, and Fat Gum

All Might

You always knew that the pro hero was incredibly supportive of everyone.

But for some reason… he had never mentioned on the news or on media if he supports the LGBTQ community.

Which, was strange. Of course he hadn’t gone out of his way to support ANY community, he was busy, ya know, SAVING people from those community’s.

And knowing how friendly and good of a perosn the hero was, you decided that he was one of the best to confide in about a secret you had had for a while.

You stayed after class that day, not wanting to attract attention.

You had heard that All Might was staying later then normal to do some extra paper work, which meant that this was the perfect time.

You walked down the long white halls, going up flight after flight of stairs till you were at the floor of cubicles and the feeling of boredom.

“All Might?” You said, peaking around the corner of the large room.

“Young L/n! What do you need?” He looked up, his black eyes and large smile looking as welcoming as always.

“Um… I wanted to tell you something. It’s uh… kinda important.” You stepped in and rubbed the back of your neck.

He nodded, and stood from his seat, walking to you at the front of the room. “Would you want to sit over there?”

He pointed to the white chair next to the window.

“Sure.” You nodded, already nervous as ever.

“So, Young L/n, what is so important? Is it something involving hero work, or your future career?” He titled his head. You gulped.

“Well, I- it technically will probably heavily effect more future career, but it doenst really invoke hero stuff.” You bite your lip and played with your hands inbetween your legs.

“Hm. What’s important that you need to tell me, even if it doenst involve hero’s? I am a hero expert, after all.” He smiled. He was trying to make you laugh, he could probably feel the nerves coming off your body.

You awkwardly chuckle.

“Well … uh, it’s real personal and your really accepting of everything and stuff and I thought I could trust you with it, and I’m…”

All Might smiled to himself. “True. Now, what were you wanting to tell me? No pony in beating around the bush.”

You sighed, quickly gaining a billion pounds more of anxiousness.

“I…” You squeezed your hands. “I think I’m y/s.” (Y/s = your sexuality)

He had a slight look of surprise, looking up with his electric blue and black eyes right into yours.

“That’s wonderful, L/n!” He smiled.

“R-really!?”

“Yes! Have you told anyone else yet?” He asked

“Well, no, not really.” You giggle.

“Oh. I’m honored!”

EraserHead

You always liked Mr. Aizawa

He was calm in any situation, and knew how to handle most things. You admired his strong quirk and how he didn’t need attention from the public.

He was, after all, always your favorite hero.

And being put up on such a podium, why would you not tell him first? He deeply cared for his students and you knew deep inside that he would never hate you for be LGBTQ.

It was lunch break. You ate half your rice and one huge gulp, and gave the rest to Mina.

Your steps were loud as you ran down the hall to the tecaher lounge.

“HELLO!” You yelled, sliding and grasping at the door for life.

“Um, hello L/n? What do you need?” Aizawa lazily said after a few silent seconds of teachers staring at you.

“Hi I need to talk to you in private for a second!” You were filled with energy, having had thought about this for weeks.

“Alright.” He said, sighing as he moved away from his shared table table with Midnight and Mic.

“What is it, L/n?” He said once you were both out of sight of anyone walking by. His hair looked more silky and almost greasier then normal, he clearly forgot to wash it.

You took in a deep breath, breathing out. Your hands in fists raised up, for whatever reason.

“I haven’t told anyone this and I felt I could trust you with it. So, I’m y/s.”

He honestly didn’t look that surprised at the fact you were y/s. He was more proud that you decided to trust him, of all teachers, to tell

“That’s… thank you for telling me, L/n.” He said and had a smile of warmth.

“I’m glad you decided to tell me. I support you fully.” He nodded.

You smiled and your eyebrows were furrowed, a sympathetic and grateful expression.

“Thanks.”

He patted your back as he walked back to the teachers loung. “Have a good lunch, valid child.”

You laughed at the new, silly nick name and how it was similar to him calling Deku “problem child”

Hawks

You had known Hawks since you were a kid.

Your dad worked at the agency, and bought you to work often after school since your mom left and he worked late so often.

He would have anyone at the agency that he trusted babysit you, so you were known across the agency as “the favorite”

Everyone loved you, including our good old feathery fried chicken. He was one of your favorite babysitters, cause he would bring you on patrol and fly around holding you, and if he had any money on him he would buy you food

So, your little kid mind made up that this man was the human equivalent of god

so would I

Now your 14, and still adore Hawks, visiting the agency and all your friends whenever you had the time, often training with the hero’s

And you started questioning a while ago. You didn’t think anyone suspected anything, and decided that it was time you tell someone.

So, Hawks. He treated you the same he treated full grown adults, so he would treat you seriously with this. And you knew that even if he didn’t like that you were y/s, that he would still love you in his older brother/ cool uncle way

You rush off the bullet train with your usual smile, running as fast as you could after an intense training session before getting out of school for the day.

Of course it took a little longer than normal, since you just moved into the the dorms, Iida was suspicious about letting you leave campus.

You gently pushed through the crowd, muttering about a thousand “Excuse me!”’s on your way in.

You walked in, taking in the familar sent of crappy deodorant and sented candles.

You quickly press the up button and to the top floor, which was the place Hawks always was at this exact time.

You got up there just in time, he had just arrived.

“Hey Kid!” He grinned.

“Hey Keigo!!” You excitedly shout from the otehr side of the roof. “How’s work doin’?” You said, running to the other side.

“Eh, crappy and long as normal. How was school? Are Deku and the angry kid still at it?” He raised an eyebrow

“Yeah, did you think they’d ever stop? Mic put them to together for training and they had this whole angsty monologue with each other, it was hilarious.” You smiled and sat the on the railing that Hawks was perched on

“Haha!” He laughed. “Those two are gonna be interesting heros! Imagine the drama our good old corrupt government will make of them!”

You two continued to chat for a while, until Hawks told you he only had a few more minutes till his turn on patrol.

You nodded, taking in that you have to say it now.

“Hey Keigo?”

“Yeah, Y/n?”

“I think I’m y/s. Actually, I know I am.”

He didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looked excited.

“I knew it!” He grinned. “Great job, kid! I’m proud of you, that musta’ taken a lotta courage!” He said, hand i your shoulder.

“Your fine with it?” You sheepishly said.

“Well duh! I love ya kid, why would I not be okay with it?” He leaned on your shoulder.

“And what do you mean by “I knew it?”

“Oh don’t pretend you don’t take side glance’s at them~” He winked. You two laughed.

You smiled. “Thanks, Keigo.”

Fat Gum

You and Fat Gum hadn’t known each other to long. You were there for your inturship, with Tamaki and Kirishima.

Even so, you two trusted each other. He was accepting and a caring guy, who would do anything for you interns.

So, you made a plan to tell him your y/s.

He smiled as you walked into the room you four always meet at, you saw that the other three were already waiting for you.

“Hey guys!” You waved. A small “Hi” came from Tamaki and Kirishima did his normal, aka running up and fist bumping you with a loud “Hey Y/n!”

You all were on patrol pretty much all day, so it would be difficult to pull Fat Gum away for a minute.

As you all walked along the streets, looking out for the smallest sign of villains, you asked Fat Gum if you two could talk for a minute.

“Sure L/n! You two stay here for a little, me and L/n are gonna talk for a second!” He calls toward Kirishima and Tamaki.

You two go inbetween two buildings.

“So, what’s up L/n?” He smiled down at you.

You rubbed the back of your neck.

“Well, it’s not really a hero thing. Is that okay?”

“Yeah! You can talk to me about anything.”

You nodded. “Okay… I think I’m y/s.”

He looked down at you with surprised.

He then got out of his fat state, back to the size of a normal human and hugged you.

“That’s great! I’m glad you told me!”

Notes: this is probably repetitive and bad but like ✨imaginary validation is nice✨

[clovers-in-despair]

Hi! So, if you know me, you know I’m not the biggest fan of Danganronpa 3’s storyline. I won’t go into detail as to why in this post. Instead, I’m going to show off my Danganronpa 3 rewrite! It mostly focuses on the Despair Arc and then adding on to things like UDG, SDR2, and the Hope Arc. Please note this contains spoilers. I’ll write it in bullet points because it’s easy for me to get things down in this manner, especially since I don’t have every moment of every single day rewritten. Maybe one day I’ll write fanfiction for this! Forgive grammar n stuff, I’m super tired and just spewing my ideas out without structure. So hit that “keep reading” and let’s get this party started.

-In my rewrite, Chiaki Nanami’s punishment isn’t what pushed them into despair. Rather, Junko Enoshima played on everyone’s weaknesses and individually pulled them into despair. In some cases, she used those she already converted as pawns to drag down their fellow classmates. For example, I like to believe Junko played on Nagito’s desire to be loved. And eventually, Nagito understood what she was doing to him.. But rather than stop it, he let himself become despair because he couldn’t wait to see the hope that would be born from it. For another example, Junko might have pulled Mahiru into despair. In turn, Junko uses Mahiru to drag down Hiyoko. I like the idea of Junko’s analytic and manipulation skills being more relevant. A slow process of taking everyone down and hitting them in their weak spots feels more satisfying than everyone going down at once, in my opinion.

-Again, Chiaki Nanami’s punishment isn’t what pushed them into despair. Rather, it was a test. Junko uses Chisa as a puppet here, and Chisa is the one to subject Chiaki to her punishment. Think back to DR3, and how we saw Junko on all the screens as Chiaki navigated the death maze. Now, what if we saw Chisa there instead and narrating the entire thing? What could be more despairful than your own teacher putting you through this death trap? And of course, since I’m a sucker for angst, I like to imagine her classmates NOT watching on in complete devastation. What if they were basking in the feeling it gave them? Cheering on as Chiaki navigates her way through the maze… 

-Now, remember in DR3 where we see Kamukura cry as Chiaki is dying? Remember how Hajime’s attachment to her caused Kamukura to subconsciously care for her? Now, this will come into play later. But let’s get back to Chisa Yukizome. What if Chisa had the same thing happen? A subconscious desire to.. Well, not see her die. So she leaves Chiaki with a very slight chance of survival. The footage of Chiaki navigating the maze cuts out before anyone really sees her die. Of course, the assumption of Class 77B would be that she IS dead. 

-And here’s where Kamukura comes in. He subconsciously cares for her, though he does not know why. I like to imagine he saved her with his talents. And because he is neither on the side of hope or despair exclusively, Chiaki is now a new pawn in this “war” between hope and despair. Just something new to hopefully cure this boredom and bring something new to the table. 

-Well, after treating her, he turns her loose. Keep in mind, a recovery like that doesn’t happen overnight though. 

-Chiaki Nanami ends up in Towa City, and takes refuge in the Resistance. However, she joins under a new identity. Miyuki Watanabe. The fake name stems from the fear that she would be killed if her true identity is discovered, and people realize she is associated with the remnants who had faked their deaths and mistake her as a remnant herself. I tried to design a concept for Chiaki while trying to hide herself. A mask to hide her face, and she has longer hair due to not really getting much of a haircut lately. A wrinkled up shirt, and all that. She has grey bag with two things that are rolled up sticking out of the bags, perhaps posters of some kind.

-Chiaki eventually meets Komaru and Toko at the resistance camp under the name Miyuki, but she eventually reveals her true identity to them and what had happened to her until that point. Of course, Toko was skeptical of this at first but was talked into helping by Komaru. When Byakuya was eventually rescued, he tipped Makoto off to Chiaki’s presence in Towa City in their video call at the end of Ultra Despair Girls.

-Makoto is able to come to Chiaki’s rescue. Of course, once Chiaki is brought back, she’s met with lots of interrogation and DNA tests from other members of the Future Foundation prior to being held in a high security cell for precautionary reasons.  

-She does end up receiving some grooming like a haircut and fresh clothes. She remains here until eventually Makoto asks for her assistance. He explains he intends to use the Neo World Program to reverse Junko’s influence on her friends, and asks her to help monitor her classmates’ behaviors from the outside, as she knows them all best. 

Here’s Nanami after getting a haircut and some fresh clothes to wear. Of course, she still wears her signature jacket over these fresh clothes.

-And oh boy, seeing everyone’s faces on those monitors… hearing their voices again.. It both hurt her terribly and warmed her heart. 

-Let’s not forget real-life Chiaki’s reaction to the AI within the program. Before I continue, please note Chiaki is traumatized and not quite the person she was back at Hope’s Peak. 

-Seeing her AI within the program? It causes a bit of an identity crisis. Her AI does remind Chiaki of better days, however, she also feels envy and frustration towards it. She’s a little envious that the AI is there, interacting with her classmates and Hinata again the way she always hoped to do again. Frustrated, because sometimes the AI would respond in ways real-life Chiaki would have done differently. She has zero control over her own AI, by the way. So she can only watch it interact with everyone.

-Though once she learns why the AI is herself, she finds it to be bittersweet.

-But when the killing game begins, her world comes crashing down AGAIN. Still, she was told to continue monitoring the behavior of her classmates’ despite this.

-Might I add that AI Chiaki’s execution brought back some really, really terrible memories for real-life Chiaki? 

-Rest assured, in the end, Chiaki was able to reunite with Class 77B and Hajime Hinata. And they all live on the real Jabberwock Island together.

-In my rewrite, Hajime’s relationships with others tumbles a bit as he comes overprotective over Chiaki, despite her insisting he doesn’t need to be. He worries greatly about her due to their past. The romantic feelings are still there between the two, but the interest in a romantic relationship is low as they both require lots of healing before they’re ready for this. Hiyoko remains on iffy terms with Fuyuhiko and Peko, while Mahiru does the opposite and repairs her relationships with them. Kazuichi is on OK terms with Gundham, and actually ends up falling for Mikan and they get together. Akane is oddly one of the first to be forgiving towards Nagito and they become friends, though I will add that Nagito is a little desperate for Hajime’s attention, which he has directed to Chiaki very heavily. Mahiru and Hiyoko remain besties. Fuyupeko is semi-canon. They acknowledge their feelings but neither has made a move. I’ll make a chart of everyone’s relationships with each other someday and tack it on with a reblog. Right now, it’s just me spewing out my ideas as I’m dead tired.

-Oh, and they provide relief to the world as a way of atoning for their sins. Sometimes their missions require everyone on the island! Other times, it requires a certain number or a certain talent. They’re just here to try and make the world a better place after all that has happened.

[Credit for Chiaki model in replies, hyper links eat my posts]

[aylinaliens]

Hi! Could I maybe request RamKing being the absolute best, once again, and maybe educating their friends on ‘switches’, after this episode i think they need it, or something along those lines as king as it’s RamKing I’m happy! Thank you!

hello! hopefully you like it, it went on longer than i thought but i had to add a ramking moment. you can read it on ao3 or down below

summary: “But...I gave you that drink last week.” Ram paused and King felt his stomach lurched with excitement. Okay well...maybe this was a bit weird but wasn’t this a normal reaction when you had a crush? To feel as if you suddenly can breathe easily for the first time in your life while at the same time being unable to do so? But why did King never remember this feeling when he had crushes on other people?Realization seemed to click on Ram’s face as he connected the dots. “Are you...bringing me plants so that I would talk to you?”

think of me when you look after it (ram/king) 

"You know you can switch right?" The words were out of King's mouth before he could stop them. Constantly listening to Bohn insistent complaining was starting to get on his nerves. He was unsure why this conversation was even happening considering Bohn and Duen never did as much as kiss. Yet somehow their nonexistence sex life was the main topic of conversation for the last hour and half. He was fully planning on staying out of it, perhaps teasing Bohn a little because it was fun, but curiosity got the best out of it. Turns out this whole entire situation could have been solved by a simple search on their phones.

King was met with a variety of stares from his friends-mostly in confusion. It was obvious from the glazed look in their eyes that he would have to spell it out. "During sex, you can switch roles. No one just has to be the top and no one just has to be the bottom." For emphasis he held his phone in front of Bohn's face to show him the article, who was currently leaning against King’s chair on the floor.

Bohn squinted at the device in suspicion. " That's a real thing? But I thought you just had to pick one?"

Before King could answer he was cut off by Wai. "Isn't that a BDSM thing?" Now it was King's turn to stare in confusion. She shrugged before grabbing another shot and bringing it to her lips. "What? I heard it from somewhere."

Shaking his head he pulled his phone away from Bohn to read the web page once more. "It can be but I'm not referring to that. Someone who switches can do both, depending on their mood usually. It has nothing to do with femininity and masculinity. Just because someone is smaller and sweet doesn't mean they would be the submissive one. The same thing goes for those who are bigger and rougher."

King looked away from his phone only to see Bohn somehow looking even more confused. His eyebrows were knit together and he was fiddling with one of the buttons of his shirt. He knew he should have left it alone but he was curious. It seems like he was curious about a lot of things lately.

Actually he seemed to only be curious about one person really. He wanted to prepare in case- no. Nope. King was not going to allow his mind to wander that far. Even if King ever gained enough nerve to tell Ram how he felt he highly doubted that Ram would feel the same. But that was okay, really. He was content at what they had now, whatever it was. Was it simply a crush? That wasn't enough. Was he in love? That still somehow didn't encapsulate the full depth of his feelings. Perhaps he was in between the two at the moment. There was no doubt in King's mind that he liked Ram, though. It was just a simple fact that King gradually realized as the weeks went on but he was unsure if he was ready for things to change. There was still so much he was curious to learn about Ram and he didn't want it to become clouded by the physical stuff. He felt on top of the world just by Ram saying a full sentence to him. He was positive that he would be unable to handle Cool Boy holding his hand let alone kissing him. Still, King figured that someone in his friendship group should be informed about this stuff. He had zero ulterior motives. None whatsoever. Just curiosity.    

It seemed like the rest of the group tuned out, partially from boredom and partially from the round of shots that were delivered to their table. Bohn thankfully opted out drinking and instead was still trying to process King's words from a few moments ago. "Wait, but how do you decide? Do you just flip a coin or something?"

King seriously hoped that Bohn and Duen didn't sleep together for a very long time-it was clear that they both needed to mature.

"I guess it depends on the mood."

"How do we figure out the mood?" It was as if King was talking to a child at this point. Still, he tried to remain patient. It was clear that Bohn was upset about this, more so over the fact that Duen's personality did a complete 180. Or it had to do with the fact that his masculinity was called into question. King guessed Duen seemed to be struggling with that too.

So for the next ten minutes King answered every question Bohn threw his way, no matter how embarrassing they were. He had to remind Bohn quite a few times that he was far from an expert and he should speak to someone who was but knew that someone had to do it. He was sure Boss would just find another DuenBohn fan fiction and use that as an educational tool.

Just as Bohn opened his mouth to ask another question King cut him off. "Are you ready to have sex with Duen?" It was blunt and far from King's business. It was no one else's but their own. But he assumed that after the conversation they just had- after all the diagrams they saw -it would be safe to ask it.

Bohn's cheeks were already red from the alcohol but it somehow burned even brighter. His eyes went comically wide as his mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling to form a coherent reply. "N-no? We haven't. We haven't even k-kissed. Why would you ask that?" King really couldn't stand his friend sometimes. How was it this question that made him flustered and not the in depth discussion they had about the best positions for the first time.

"If you're not ready to have sex than why are you guys fighting about this? I'm not saying you shouldn't educate yourself on this but you're letting everyone's opinions influence you."

Bohn sent a glare at King. "Weren't you the one teasing me earlier? You were pushing your opinions on me."

King did push his opinions on him but that was before he did his research. It's not like he would stop teasing Bohn about Duen but maybe he'll stay away from this touchy topic. He didn't bother to answer that question. "Look, you need to talk to Duen about this, not us. We are not the ones who you're in a relationship with. It's none of our business. We can joke about it and I'm here for you but...this is not our decision to make. If you truly don't want to lose him you need to have this discussion. It doesn't even have to be about sex but set up some guidelines and rules so that when you do get to that point you'll know what to do."

Bohn took a few minutes to mull things over as King slowly began to sip his drink. He was going to need a lot of alcohol to get this conversation out of his mind. It's not that he was ashamed but it was a tad bit embarrassing to have a crash course lesson on sex education in the middle of a crowded bar with your best friend. Finally, Bohn nodded and spoke, his voice still slightly slurred from the alcohol. "I want Duen." Obviously. "I want him to pick me up so that we can talk about this. Right now. Right here." Okay that's not so good of an idea. King meant they should have the conversation completely sober and preferably when he was not present. "I'm not leaving unless he picks me up."

It was possible that King just made things ten times worse than before. Damn his curiosity.

Turns out he didn’t make things as worse as he originally thought. Both Duen and Bohn finally sat down and had a serious conversation about the whole thing ( and finally set boundaries for their friends). However, because Bohn and Duen are stubborn and strong willed they automatically found something else to bicker about but this time King was not going to intervene. He was too busy trying to get a certain boy to just say one more word to him.

Just as Ram was about to get on his bike King appeared, bag in hand. He was met with a blank stare but King was used to it. He thrusted the bag toward the other boy and flashed him a grin. “Thanks for the drink you bought me. I figured I should probably repay you for it.” Ram cautiously took the bag and peaked inside, only to glance up with a perplexed expression.

“You got me another one?” Was it weird that those words were like music to King’s ears? It probably was but he didn’t really care. King ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tick that he only seemed to do in Ram’s presence, before grinning again. “Yup. It’s the least I could do.”

“But...I gave you that drink last week.” Ram paused and King felt his stomach lurched with excitement. Okay well...maybe this was a bit weird but wasn’t this a normal reaction when you had a crush? To feel as if you suddenly can breathe easily for the first time in your life while at the same time being unable to do so? But why did King never remember this feeling when he had crushes on other people?

Realization seemed to click on Ram’s face as he connected the dots. “Are you...bringing me plants so that I would talk to you?”

King leaned forward, close enough that their faces were only a few inches apart. He was still not ready for that yet but he had to admit it was amusing to watch Ram squirm. His eyes went wide as his cheeks tinted an adorable shade of pink. “I might be, Cool Boy. Do you have a problem with it? Do you want me to stop?"

Rather than replying Ram ducked his head before jumping on his bike and peddling away. If anyone else did that King would have thought it was rude but with Ram it was different. It was just... so him. By now he was used to the silence and abrupt endings to their meetings but he had to admit he liked it even better when he got to hear Ram’s voice. He ran a hand through his hair as he watched the other boy slowly disappear as he turned a corner and patiently waited for his phone to buzz. Not even twenty seconds later King’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. Right on time. Slipping the phone out of his pants he began to read the messages, a soft smile on his face.

No.

No, I don’t have a problem with it.

You can bring me as many plants as you want.

And thank you.

Another few seconds passed before the phone buzzed one last time.

You don’t always have to bring me a Venus flytrap though. You said they are very hard to germinate so...it’s up to you.

Oh, King had a very long list of plants he could give to Ram that takes little time to germinate but he would still give him Venus flytraps too, just because it’s worth the wait ( Ram was worth the wait).

[serendipityunho]

No Strings | 강여상

↳ PART FOUR

GENRE: angst, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, college au WARNINGS: explicit language, heartbroken mingi :’)

Word Count: 1.8k

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Eujin never showed that side of her to anyone, the side of her weakened state. Everyone saw her as that girl, the girl who took no shit from anyone, the girl who could honestly brush off anything and leave wrecks unscratched. Not in this mess. 

Yeosang didn’t bother defending himself at all, he was a blunt person after all. There was no point in lying about what happened when there was literally evidence of it on her phone, probably deemed tainted now. 

“Why did you do it?” Yeosang’s eyes stayed glued to the ground, head slung low as he leant forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Just say you’re done with me and let’s get it over with-” 

“I’m asking you why? Why did you get with me even though you were going to crawl back to her?” Eujin squeezed the ice pack, hands aching and burning from holding it for too long.

“I don’t know” Yeosang carefully took the ice pack from Eujin’s hands, pressing it against his swollen face before leaning back against his couch.

“Don’t know or don’t want to tell me?” Eujin genuinely cared. She cared about things, especially things that had a necessary reason. 

“Why do you care? Shouldn’t you be yelling at me?” 

“I already yelled enough for today. And, I care because you were the one who made this mess. If it wasn’t for you, then maybe I wouldn’t have let everyone see that side of me. They probably think I’m psycho now” Eujin scoffed, crossing her arms against her chest as she paced back and forth, glaring at Yeosang.

“Everything has to be my fault doesn’t it?”

“That’s because it is your fault, idiot” 

Yeosang didn’t know what to say. Why didn’t he just leave her? Save the trouble of confrontation and embarrassment. Heck even a beating.

“I’m sorry”

“You hurt me, Yeosang. I thought you actually liked me, thought that I actually found a decent guy for once” Eujin’s head started subtly pounding, barely managing to keep her voice stable as she attempted not to break down in front of Yeosang.

“I’m sorry”

“Saying ‘sorry’ over and over again isn’t going to fucking solve anything, Yeosang!” Anger got the best of Eujin, except, it wasn’t just the anger Yeosang had caused. It was all the built up anger from herself, she let herself fall into the same mistakes once again. 

“Well what the fuck do you want me to say?” The ice pack landed on his coffee table with an ear-piercing sound, making Eujin flinch subtly in the corner. 

“Just admit it so I can get this over and done with”

“Admit what?” Yeosang knew exactly what she was talking about. 

Eujin narrowed her eyes at Yeosang, scoffing in disbelief as she sat down across from him with her elbows on her knees. She needed him to say it in order for her to fully comprehend her mistakes.

“Just. Admit. It” Their eyes locked hard on each other, searching for some sort of reasoning on both parts.

“I love her” Those words were more than enough for Eujin to blink back her tears, leaning back up from her forward position.

“Great. Now we’re done. See you around, Yeosang” Everything ached, from her heart to the back of her throat as she blinked away tears and pushed the thoughts to the back of her head.

Guilt consumed Yeosang for the rest of the night, pondering and pondering of his mistakes. He knew better than to get into a relationship when his feelings laid with someone else, yet he did it anyways.

Now look at his outcome, he broke a girl who was already broken enough. Looking back, he thought, “What was the point of that?”, absolutely nothing. Did he do it out of boredom? Who knows. The only thing he got out of it was a fit of jealousy and sense of realisation. 

Eujin had already left his apartment by the time the ice melted into water in his plastic zip-lock bag. Yeosang continued staring at the ceiling, arms behind his head as the series of events play over and over again, questioning every decision that was made. 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It wasn’t hard to spot a vibrant red-head in the shelves of hard-cased books. Mingi rarely ever wore his thin framed glasses unless he was studying hard. And he never studies hard. So this was a sight to see. 

“Can we talk?” Mingi seemed quite surprised to see Yeosang after the little beating the two had in the parking lot the other day.

“Yeah, what’s up?” The heavy book shut close with a small thump before being slipped back into its slot on the shelf. Mingi’s build was slightly bigger than Yeosang, making it a little more uncomfortable for him to talk to, especially after their little episode. 

“Actually, you don’t mind if we go somewhere else, right?” Yeosang scanned the not-so-empty library, college kids, some even from his course, scattered everywhere at every table with their heads buried in some head-aching pile of words. 

“Uh, sure” Mingi snatched his backpack off his table before following Yeosang closely behind, brewing possibilities in his head of what the deal was.

The two reached the parking lot, it was quite ironic really. With a click of the button on Yeosang’s keys, they stepped into his car, basking in silence before either one muttered a word.

“Is your face okay?” The little ice breaker only made it more awkward than it already was.

“Yeah, I guess. Does it look okay?” Yeosang snapped his head to the side, letting Mingi have a look of his face. 

Mingi felt a slight pang of guilt, the thought of Yeosang rocking up to your place looking like that thanks to him was actually quite nerve-wrecking. He was skeptical that you might not see him the same way again, even after his unexpected confession in your kitchen yesterday.

“Sorry” Mingi offered a small apologetic smile. He actually found it quite funny that he was sitting in the car with a guy he beat up literally two parking spots away from this one he was in. 

“It’s okay, I would’ve done the same for the girl I loved too” Yeosang turned back to the front, softly tapping his fingers on his steering wheel.

“Is it that obvious?” 

“It’s more prominent than your hair, dude” Mingi’s face flushed, head falling back against the cushion as he kept silent.

“So what’d you bring me out here for?” He was genuinely curious, well, who wouldn’t be?

“Well, we both love her, that’s for sure” 

“Mhm?”

“And only one of us can have her”

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Yeosang” 

As much as it hurt for Mingi to admit it, he had to in order for you to find happiness again. Happiness with Yeosang.

“Don’t say you’re planning to kill me or something” Yeosang chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“Nah... You can have her” Mingi’s response took Yeosang for surprise. 

He was always a competitive guy, always doing what had to be done in order to win. The fact that Mingi was giving up you, says a lot. But really, he just loved you that much. Loved you so much he’d rather see you happy than him, even if it meant seeing you with someone else.

“Look, I don’t want to see you all depressed and stuff-”

“I mean it. Trust me, it’s better for her to be with someone she loves too rather than being in a one-sided relationship with me” 

“I’m sorry, bro” Yeosang was hesitant to pat Mingi on the shoulder at first, but then he realised maybe he kind of needed it. 

“Everything happens for a reason. Just make sure you don’t fuck it up otherwise you’d be wasting my potential boyfriend time” The two broke into small chuckles, unbelievably mending their friendship just like that.

“You have my word”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was the epitome of a cliche, you could’ve sworn your window was on the brink of cracking from all the stones being thrown at it. You really didn’t want to open it. At all. 

But, it was tempting by the fact that it was Yeosang’s dorky self putting an effort into collecting stones at the bottom of your apartment building and aiming it high at your window. 

“What do you want? It’s like nine o’clock!” You swung open the window panes as you hissed at Yeosang, slightly worried that he might’ve actually hit you in the face with his pebbles. 

“To talk?” The pool of pebbles held within the bottom of his shirt dropped to the ground as Yeosang stood there, slightly shivering.

“You couldn’t just have called me?” 

“It’s on silent, doofus” 

Idiot, you told yourself. How could you not realise? You were studying after all.

“Wait over there” You let out a loud sigh before shuffling your slippers on and buzzing the intercom for Yeosang to enter the building. 

His padded footsteps against the lush carpet grew louder as he walked up the stairs. You had already opened the door by the time you saw his ashy brown hair peak from the stairs of the level below you.

“What are you doing h-” Yeosang pushed you inside as his lips locked onto yours, hand cupping both sides of your face as you stumbled back in shock.

“I love you” Oh god, did you just hear that right? 

You couldn’t pry your eyes away from Yeosang’s sparkling ones even if you wanted to. Literally. He was still cupping both sides of your face while flashing a bright grin.

“Huh?” 

“I love you, idiot” The sparkle in Yeosang’s eyes shined even brighter as your cheeks balled from the forming smile.

“You do?” Yeosang looked like he barely caught on to your mere whisper, but he did.

“Yes, I do. And I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner” 

There wasn’t another word you wanted to wanted to say in this moment. It seemed like everything was going your way. 

You pushed yourself forward, pressing your lips on Yeosang’s once again, making Yeosang stumble back onto the couch. You couldn’t think of anything else other than the fact that you had him again.

There was no surprise as to the fact that your clothes had once again been piled on top of each other on the floor. His touch was as mesmerising just like you remembered. 

It wasn’t just sex. It was something more than that. The two of you didn’t realise that sooner. 

“Is your face okay?” You traced small circles on Yeosang’s naked chest, legs tangled with his under your fluffy blanket as the two of you laid on the couch.

“I’m glad both you and Mingi care about my face” Yeosang’s deep chuckle filled your ear, making you chuckle with him.

“You spoke with Mingi?” Suddenly, those vague memories came back to you in an instant. 

“Yeah... he loves you a lot” 

“Boy catches feelings easily, I can’t blame him” 

“I can’t blame him either, I mean who wouldn’t catch feelings for you?”

“Ew, stop that”

“Stop what?”

“Being cheesy, it doesn’t suit you”

“Yeah, you’re right. I kind of cringed too”

Man, it felt great having your best friend back- lover. Lover? Either way, it was great.

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4

[panda-noosh]

Change of Plans {Keith x Reader}{The Rockstar Series}

The Rockstar Series: a series of fics documenting rockstar!Voltron falling in love.

Words: 11.4k

Summary: Now that Keith Kogane is a rockstar, it’s become very difficult to decipher whether someone likes him for him, or for his money. So, he’s decided to just stay as far away from love as possible. 

Genre: mild angst, fluff

Notes: masterlist - support my writing or ask me about commissions! - I HAVE ONE PART LEFT OF THE ROCKSTAR SERIES WTF 

---

Keith Kogane does not care about relationships. He promises.

  They're pointless. He has a whole career to concentrate on, meaning he has zero time for anything besides his music. He has zero time for anyone else besides the fans and his band mates.

  That's the bottom line.

  This is what Keith tells interviewers. It's what he tells fans when they ask him if he's single. It's what he tells his mother when she asks him when she's going to get some grand-kids.

  In reality, there's a deeper reasoning behind Keith's slight hostility towards the topic of love.

  Being a rock star isn't as easy as some people make it out to be. Sure, he's living the dream, and he wouldn't trade it for anything, but there's a level to it that not many people see. They don't like to dwell on this particular level, because it dims the seemingly perfect life that apparently comes with being a rock star.

  This level includes not knowing who loves you, and who just wants you for the fame and money.

  Contrary to what the public think, Keith Kogane has been in a few relationships during his time in the spotlight. Of course he has. He's a growing boy, experiencing new things, learning from mistakes – some of his mistakes just happen to contain other people, people whom he trusted before finding out they'd maxed out his credit card, or got mad at him for not putting their relationship on Instagram yet.

  Yes. Keith Kogane has trusted a few people in his life, but no longer.

  He made the promise a few years back, when his music career was reaching a new peak. Whilst his band mates were busy getting into relationships, somehow managing to find people who actually like them, Keith sheltered himself from that side of things as best he could. It wasn't worth the heartbreak. It wasn't worth the anxiety, either, which is the main reason Keith has decided to dedicate his life entirely to the music.

  “I'm married to my bass,” he tells Pidge. It's early morning, and Pidge has just crept into Keith's hotel room due to her boredom. She flops down on the sofa in the corner, watching Keith ruffle up the back of his hair to get his go-to look.

  “Right, well, that's just sad sounding,” she replies. “Matt has this friend who I think would suit you perfectly.”

  “I'm not interested.”

  “Why not?” Keith opens his mouth to reply, but Pidge raises a finger to silence him. “And don't tell me you're married to your bass. It's a bad way to hide your loneliness.”

  Keith rolls his eyes. “I'm not lonely. Why don't you understand that not everyone wants a significant other? Before you met your partner, you didn't even mention getting into a relationship.”

  “Yeah, but then I fell in love. It's difficult to ignore a socially anxious bartender, Keith.”

  Keith scoffs.

  Pidge sighs, letting her arm flop over the edge of the sofa. “I just don't want you to be on your own, man. You're a good guy.”

   “Thanks.”

  “You've just got trust issues.”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Yes, you do. How else would you explain this isolation you've got going on?”

  Keith frowns. It doesn't matter how many times he explains to Pidge he's not isolating himself – the girl will never understand. She's been in a relationship for nearly two years now, and to everyone's surprise, she's certainly head over heels. Pidge was once one of those people who Keith thought he would have by his side forever, joined in harmony by their lack of love lives and their lack of caring.

  But alas, that is not meant to be. Keith can put up with it.

  So why can't Pidge put up with his decision?

  “Can we drop this conversation?” Keith asks. “I'll find someone when I find someone.” Yeah, right. “Besides, I'm perfectly happy being on my own.”

  Pidge frowns. She doesn't believe him, but Keith doesn't care. He stands up from his chair and heads towards the snack table, picking up his black bass on the way. Behind him, he can feel Pidge's eyes burning holes into the back of his head, but it doesn't matter – he's made his point, and he plans to stick by it.

  He isn't going to get himself hurt. Not if he can help it.

  ----

  Apparently, Smokey Saturdays is a big deal.

  You'd heard of them before, of course. The new rising rock group with the millions of fans, and the members who broke hearts. Lance McClain is their front-man, from what you've read. They're on tour for half the year. They perform in sold out venues, and have paparazzi snapping pictures of them from behind bushes when all they want to do is go out to eat.

  And apparently, you're their new bus driver.

  It's an embarrassing comparison, you have to admit, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You're broke, you've got a drivers licence and an abundance of free time – so why not? When you applied for the job, you didn't think you would actually get it – and yet here you are now, standing in front of a massive black bus with the words 'SMOKEY SATURDAYS' written in red down the side of it. Plastered amongst the red lettering is a picture of the four members, an action shot that captures the sweat-soaked, good looking faces of each of them.

  You have to bite your tongue to disguise your laugh.

  “They might decide to stay in the hotel rooms,” Bruce, the owner of the bus, explains as he waves his massive hand across the exterior of the vehicle. “But there's beds in there for them, the fridge is kept full, there's a lounge area. The whole heap.”

   You nod. “Right.”

  “You can just stay up the front. Your job is to get them from point A to point B in time for their shows – not difficult to understand, is it?”

  “It is not.”

  “So do you understand what you have to do?”

  He's talking to you like you're five years old. You're too busy staring at the faces of Smokey Saturdays to call him out on it. So, you slowly nod, hoping that is a sufficient enough answer for him to understand that he does not need to explain this job to a person who has been doing it for nearly a year and a half now.

  Bruce smiles, gives you a cheery thumbs up before he wades off in the opposite direction, leaving you alone with his so-called pride and joy – his tour bus.

  You step inside. It's not like you have a particular fondness for vehicles – you certainly don't. Most of the time, you can't even tell one car brand from the other, let alone admire them for anything other than surface level stuff. You can appreciate a nice bonnet, can comment on how nice a cars wheels are, but that's about as deep as your love for vehicles really goes.

  You honestly just needed the money, and this job showed up on Indeed.com, and you applied for it. They saw you had a drivers licence and seemed to think you were a suitable candidate for the job, and here you are a year and a half later, parading one of the worlds biggest rock bands around the country.

  The interior of the bus is leather – already off to a bad start.

  Behind the drivers bay is an entire house. That's really what it looks like; bunk beds, sofas, a toilet in the back, a tiny little kitchen area that is blocked off only with an old shower curtain that's on the verge of falling off. There's cups hung up on the wall, and you make a mental note to go over every single pot hole you come across, just to see if the cups hold.

  And placed on the coffee table that is nailed into the floor is a Smokey Saturdays poster.

  You walk over and pick it up. The poster is the four of them lounging around a music studio, Lance holding a microphone with his hair spiked up, Hunk leaning against a drum kit, Pidge lounging across a sofa with a bass pressed against her knees.

  And then there's Keith, leaning against the door in the background with his head down and his bass leaning against his long, slim legs that are hidden beneath a pair of too-tight black skinny jeans. There's a rip in the knee, revealing a bit of pale skin. His black hair is falling in his eyes with the way his head is down, and you wonder if he still has a mullet.

  Keith is attractive, you will fully admit.

  You've never been the type to latch on to the boy-band-type. You like a celebrity more for their music than anything else, but you would be a liar or a fool to claim that Keith Kogane does not have a side of good looks to him. Though you don't know too much about him, you've seen the posters. You've seen the album covers. You've seen the screenshots taken from interviews, where he's casually gazing at the floor, tapping at his leg, lounging against the chair as Lance and Hunk and Pidge take the reigns; he's just got that casual aura about him, and adding that to the black clothes and the cheeky little smirk he wears when he gets a compliment – god, he knows how to make his audience go insane.

  Not like you're part of his audience. You're just his fucking bus driver.

  You head back to the drivers bay and sit down. Pulling the keys from your pocket, you set them on the dashboard before finally turning to the radio. There's an array of buttons, all of which you know the meaning of – but you immediately go for the radio. Of course, Bruce – being the kiss-up he is – has already put the Smokey Saturdays album inside, meaning it is Lance's voice that immediately blasts from the speakers.

  You don't even bother turning it down. If Bruce was telling the truth, then Smokey Saturdays won't even be out of their photoshoot for another twenty minutes, meaning you have a glorious amount of time to just lean back and enjoy the ambience of your new travel-buddy.

  You lean your head back against the leather seat, listening to Lance's melodic voice. Even though he's the front-man, you can't help but zone in on the bass guitar in the background, Pidge and Keith working in perfect sync, as they always seem to do. Hunk's drums pull the whole thing together.

  They're actually quite good.

  It doesn't take long for you to find yourself nodding along to the beat, letting the album play on Shuffle so you can get a taste for each of their songs. Though they call themselves a rock group – and there's definitely a rock element to each song – there's a wide range of emotions that hit you all at once. There's sad songs, slow songs, fast paced songs, songs that sound more electric than anything else.

   It's quite a journey.

  The fifth song is playing when someone clears their throat beside you.

  Your eyes snap open. Your body lurches, fingers immediately slamming into the radios OFF button.

  You spin round, and are met by those weird violet eyes that every teenage girl across the UK seems to be obsessed with.

  Keith Kogane can not look any less rock star right now.

  He's stood in the door of the bus, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes are downcast, though he flicks them up every now and then before looking away when he so much as makes a second of eye contact with you. His ankles are crossed, his shoulder pressed into the door frame, and his mullet is real.

  His. Mullet. Is. Real.

  “Hi,” you say. Your voice sounds flat. Good. Make him think you don't give a fuck, even though he's just caught you jamming out to one of his songs.

  He smiles awkwardly, without teeth. “Hi.”

  “I didn't expect you to be here for another twenty minutes.”

  “Yeah. The others are getting their make up off.”

  “Oh right.”

  Keith gestures vaguely to his face. “I – uh – just kept mine on. I need a nap.”

  You nod. Are you supposed to say something to that? Does he perhaps want you to give him the Grand Tour of the tour bus?

  You stand up and gesture vaguely. “Well, go crazy.”

  Keith nods. You two seem to be doing a lot of nodding. It's the only way you can communicate without thinking you're somehow messing up.

  He stares at you for a second longer before shrugging and heading towards the bunk beds. Over his shoulder is a single rucksack, and you have the sudden urge to ask him how he's going to survive for the next five months with nothing but a small rucksack worth of belongings.

  Then you watch him shrug his leather jacket off and get into bed wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and you think that maybe the answer isn't as difficult as you might have originally thought.

  You hollow out your cheeks once he's pulled the curtain over his bed and disappeared from view – great. Your first day on the job and already you've embarrassed yourself. In front of Keith Kogane, to make matters worse. The nations god damn sweetheart.

  You slump back in the drivers seat and grumble under your breath. He didn't even seem that nice. He just looked weirded out. Maybe he was just tired.

  Or maybe he's an asshole.

  You really, really don't want to be dealing with an asshole for the next five months.

  -----

  Keith is running late.

  Yet again.

  He tries to keep his schedule clear and concise, but he has learned that is impossible when you live the life that he does; nothing ever goes to plan, and that's something he needed to learn sooner rather than later.

  He'd woken up a few minutes late, but god, did Lance really have to start screaming in his ear because of a tiny bit of oversleeping? Now, Keith struggles to shrug his leather jacket on with one hand, the other busy running through his mullet in his attempts to flatten it down, because there's no way in hell he's going to get time for the bathroom this morning.

  “We're already here!” Lance yells through the bus. “Y/N, location!”

  Keith frowns. Y/N?

  “Canduke Studios!” a voice yells back. A voice Keith vaguely recognises.

  He straps his belt buckle into place, snatches his bass guitar up and darts to the front of the bus, where his band mates are already lined up waiting for him.

  “Took you long enough,” says Lance. “We've got an interview today, then sound check, then the show and then the meet-and-greet at the end.”

   Keith nods, too busy fiddling with the straps of his guitar case to really pay much attention to whatever shit Lance is spewing this time – he goes over the schedule before every single show, as if that schedule has a chance of ever staying the same. Something will show up and change it completely. Keith just knows it.

  The four of them march out of the bus and are immediately met by the screams of fans who have no doubt been waiting outside the studio for days. Word was going round on Twitter a few nights prior, and there was no doubt in Keith's mind that the dedicated people currently calling his name have suffered through the bad London weather and camped out just for him.

  He feels a little bit guilty, considering the only thing he can really do to thank them is put on a great show and wave as he walks past.

  One of the girls makes a grab for his leather jacket. Keith smiles at her, even as fear bubbles in his veins. A security guard magically appears at the side of him and swats the girl away, and Keith is forced to listen as she wails his name.

  “It's a bit hectic out here today, isn't it?” Hunk asks, leaning close. Hunk always gets a little panicked in public situations – Keith loops his arm through his friends and tugs him close.

  “It's okay.”

  “You sure?” Hunk glances over his shoulder. “They look dangerous. Those barriers don't look like they're gonna hold.”

   Keith follows Hunk's gaze and immediately winces, because the bigger man is right. Behind him, the girls are knocking at the metal barriers, arguing with security and police alike, looking like they're really not going to take 'no' for an answer this time. One of the girls catches Keith and Hunk looking back at her and immediately throws herself into the outstretched arms of a police officer, screaming their names.

  Keith tugs Hunk a little harder. “It'll be fine.”

  They enter the studio and are led down the hall to the room in which they'll be doing the interview. The interviewer is a tall man called Donny who has a thick Yorkshire accent; Keith decides then and there that he won't be participating too much in this interview, considering he has to stop and ask Donny to repeat himself every two seconds; Lance is the best with accents, so he'll leave him to it.

  Keith sits down, puts his bass guitar behind him and digs inside his pockets. Hunk, Pidge and Lance go off to get their make-up done, but Keith's make up takes about two minutes, so there's no rush. He can calm down, cool off from the hectic morning he's already been subject to. He hates being woken up by Lance's overreactions, but it seems to be a more and more common occurrence recently. Keith can hardly blame the guy, of course – Lance was the one who set this whole thing up in the first place. He just wants the band to get bigger, and he doesn't want Keith oversleeping getting in the way of that.

  Nonetheless, it's a bit annoying.

  Keith searches for his phone in the pockets of his leather jacket. He finds his keys, a packet of gum, a picture of his dad and his dog Kosmo. He even finds a piece of string he'd tied around Pidge's finger once to see how long it would take till the lack of blood flow made her finger numb.

  But no phone.

  He groans. “Hey, Pidge?”

  “Hm?” she calls back, lips clamped shut as the make-up artist applies some black lipstick.

  “Did you see me lift my phone off the charger this morning?”

  “Mate, I didn't see anything this morning. You think you're the only one Lance harassed?”

  Keith sighs and stands up – alright then. This is fine. Just because nothing has gone quite to plan this morning, does not mean the rest of his day is being set up for disaster. He just needs to keep a positive attitude and take it one step at a time.

  The first step, however, is him retrieving his phone from the bus.

  He doesn't even ask his manager if he can leave. He just walks back down the halls of the studio, ignoring the awestruck glances of the people working around him, and strolls right out the front doors.

  Sometimes Keith forgets he's a worldwide known musician.

  The fans immediately start screaming, startling him out of whatever daze his lack of sleep and lack of positivity had driven him into. He jumps, looks up just in time to see the police basically crumble to the ground as the fans dart towards Keith in a frenzy.

  It's a fucking mob if Keith has ever seen one.

  His first reaction is just instinct – he runs. He runs and he runs and he's dodging hands and trying to remain so, so polite but holy shit someone's just tried to grab his hair, and holy shit they're going to trample each other, and holy shit he was so stupid for thinking this was a good idea.

  He didn't even think.

  He heads directly towards the bus, ignoring the fans screams. He loves his fans – he really does – but he doesn't love crowds. He doesn't love frenzies. He doesn't love the risk of being crushed beneath a bunch of people who love him so much that they're willing to risk everything just to get close to him.

  He stampedes up the steps of the bus, hits the OPEN button and throws himself inside.

  “CLOSE THE FUCKING DOORS!” he wails.

  Your head shoots up, but you listen nonetheless. Keith has to give you props on your quick reflexes.

  The doors slam shut just seconds before the fans ram into the glass.

  He pulls the privacy curtain over and falls to the floor, trying to catch his breath before he passes out.

  “Alright then.” You slowly stand up. “Should I – like – call the police or something?”

 Keith waves a dismissive hand. “They'll tire themselves out.”

  “Right.”

   He looks up from the ground, trying for a smile, but he's certain he just looks scared. Your eyebrows shoot up – that's enough confirmation for Keith. He sighs and slumps back against the wall, running his hands through his hair.

  “Sorry,” he says, but he isn't sure why.

  You nod. Keith remembers you did that a lot yesterday.

  “Do you mind if I stay in here for a little while?”

   You gesture towards the lounge. “Make yourself at home. Mi casa es tu casa.”

  “Right. Uh. Gracias.” Keith pushes himself from the ground and flops onto a sofa instead. You continue staring at him, hovering awkwardly in the drivers bay. He kind of wants to ask you to mind your business, but then he remembers that you've just played a big part in the reason he isn't currently crushed beneath the weight of about fifty people, so he bites his tongue.

  Instead, he says, “So you just stay in this bus all day and wait for us to finish?”

  “Something like that,” you reply. “It's all good, though. I read a lot.”

  “Oh.”

  You clear your throat. “And I – uh – listen to the radio sometimes, too.”

  Keith nods, picking at a loose thread on the pillow beside him. “Yeah, I heard that yesterday. You were listening to our second album.”

  “Was I?”

  “I think so.” He points at his head. “They get muddled up sometimes.”

  “I'm sure that's a sign of dementia.”

  Keith's lip twitches. “Fuck, I hope not.”

  It goes silent. It's kind of awkward. Keith shifts on the sofa, bites his lower lip, looks at the floor because what else is someone supposed to do when they're stuck on a tour bus with an absolute stranger? What kind of things are you even meant to talk about in this situation?

  You lean against the drivers bay and narrow your eyes. “Are you not gonna get in a shit ton of trouble if you don't get to your interview?”

  Keith shrugs. “They'll put my safety first, I think.”

  “You don't sound so sure.”

  “No, no. Pidge and Hunk will definitely put my safety first – Lance might try and stab me when he gets back, but he'll come round eventually.” Keith pauses. “Hopefully.”

  You slowly walk into the lounge. Keith stiffens on the sofa, suddenly afraid of you sitting beside him, but you instead take a seat across from him. He admires the way you so casually lounge against the cushions, propping your head on your hand, looking at him like he's a person and not just a rock star.

  “How long is it gonna take for that crowd to clear out?”

  Keith frowns. “It usually takes about. . . ten minutes, fifteen minutes. Depends how many police are on the scene.”

  You glance over your shoulder. “Depends on how many police are left. I'm pretty sure poor Officer Baldy's broken his leg.”

   Keith winces, and before he can think better of it, he leans over and yanks at your hand, tugging you away from the window. You slump back against the sofa, an amused grin now forming on your face.

  Keith groans. “Don't do that.”

  “I was just having a look. They don't care about me.”

   “They'll get your picture, and then it's over for all of us.”

  “Oh, yes. Scandalous. Who would have thought that Smokey Saturday's bus driver would be in the tour bus! I wonder what they've been doing this whole time!”

  Keith gives you a blank look. “Ha.”

   You grin. “So we're just gonna stay in here until the police come and get you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Awfully boring.”

  “Better than getting trampled.”

  You pause.

  Keith raises a brow.

  You roll your eyes. “Okay, I guess so.”

   “You're not one of them teenagers who love the idea of death, are you?”

  You guffaw, placing a clawed hand over your heart. “First of all, I'm an adult. Second, there's nothing wrong with being prepared for death. It's when you wish it upon yourself that it becomes an issue.”

  “Was that meant to be philosophical?”

   “I took psychology in university.”

  Keith raises a brow. “And now you're a bus driver.”

  You shrug. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

  There's a little sad note to your voice when you say this, and Keith doesn't want to dwell on it, because he barely even knows who you are, but huh. It makes him feel something. He looks at you, and he genuinely thinks he kind of wants the best for you – just because you've shown him this ounce of normalcy for a few minutes.

  He pulls his feet up onto the sofa, swinging one arm behind his head. “Did you want to do something with psychology, then?”

  You start, clearly not expecting Keith to dwell further on the fun little fact you'd thrown into the conversation earlier. However, Keith feels like it would be a disservice to let this opportunity go to waste – the opportunity to get to know you a little better.

  “I guess,” you reply. “I mean, I left university not even knowing what I wanted to do, so I don't really know. I think I just wanted to – like – survive.”

  Keith nods. “A good goal to have.”

  “I definitely didn't want to be a bus driver.”

  He glances at you. “Do you not like your job?”

  You shrug. “It's meh.”

  Keith doesn't really understand that. His job isn't meh. He's never had a meh job before, because he's been blessed with the life he's always dreamed of. Nonetheless, he's seen people like you before, people who take what they can get. They settle for the bare minimum for the rest of their lives, not even taking into consideration that perhaps there's something better for them out there, something more.

  Keith would have been one of those people if Lance hadn't dragged him into his makeshift band when he was only seventeen years old. Keith would have been rotting away in some rickety old house, just Kosmo there to keep him company.

  But no. Keith is living his dreams, travelling the world, performing on stage every single night with three of his four best friends.

  He smiles.

  A pillow hits him in the face.

  Keith yelps, throwing the pillow down to glare daggers in your direction.

  You blink. “You were smiling at nothing.”

   “Did you really have to do that?”

  “I thought you were having a stroke, Keith.”

  He narrows his eyes. “So you threw a pillow at me?”

  You raise your hands in mock surrender. “I took psychology, not medicine.” There's a pause, and then, “When are you performing?”

  “The show starts at eight,” Keith replies. He glances at the clock hung on the wall, immediately winces when he sees what time it is; the interview would have definitely started by now, meaning Lance is probably sitting there with that awkward, strained smile on his face, trying not to completely lose his head over the fact that Keith is nowhere to be seen.

  Already Keith can picture the scolding he's going to get when his other band mates get back. There's going to be very little mercy shown tonight.

  “You're doing it again.”

 Keith's eyes snap up. “What?”

  “That thing.” You gesture to Keith's face. “You're zoning out again.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It's not a bad thing. I just – you know. . . There's two of us in here. It would be nice if you could share your thoughts so I'm not left thinking you're going to kill me.”

   Keith knows he should laugh – that was a joke. Definitely a joke, but Keith can't bring himself to feel anything other than pure disappointment. Disappointment towards himself, because he promised himself he would put his career first, and yet here he is, letting his fans down again.

  He hates when his thoughts get like this. In the back of his mind, he knows he's not the one to blame. He can hardly help it if there's a dangerously large swarm of people outside the tour bus. He can hardly help the fact that he won't be able to move without the risk of getting trampled.

  But still. He doesn't want to make the fans sad. He should be sat in that studio now, talking about his celebrity crushes and his plans for the next album – not sat here with a stranger.

   You shift, and suddenly you're sat beside him. You keep your distance, though you lean forward in your attempts to catch his eye. Keith bites his lip and looks away; he doesn't know how good your analysis of other people is. He doesn't want to run the risk of you seeing his guilt.

  “You feel guilty.”

  Keith silently curses.

  “Hey, that's not cool,” you continue, shifting a little bit closer to him. “None of this is your fault, dude.”

   “I know that,” Keith grumbles, because lying is so much easier than sounding like a complete wimp.

  And maybe its your psychology degree that makes you so good at picking up on deceit, but you don't let the subject drop as easily as Keith would like. “I'm not just saying that to – like – get in your pants or anything. I'm not like that.”

  Keith's eyes widen. “I never said-”

  “I mean, I know you're a big rock star and you have the nice hair, and you dress in all black, but I'm being serious when I say none of this is your fault. You can't help that them fans went batshit crazy.”

  “Lance isn't gonna see it like that.”

  “Lance can suck a dick.” Your eyes widen. Even Keith swings round, an amused grin bursting to the surface before he can even fully comprehend it.

  You shake your head. “Please don't tell him or Bruce I said that.”

  Keith snickers. “I won't.”

  “You know what I'm trying to say though, right?”

  Keith pauses. “You were trying to be comforting, weren't you?”

  “I tried my very best.”

  “Well, it worked.” Keith shrugs. “A little, I guess.”

  You grin. “Good. Now, how about we play a game of Monopoly whilst we wait for the police to get their shit together?”

  ----

  Keith is surprisingly good at Monopoly.

  He's also surprisingly competitive.

  He sits on the other side of the coffee table, legs folded beneath him, his head in his hands as he gazes out over the tiny plastic empire he's been building for the past ten minutes. His lower lip is raw from the abuse his teeth have given it. You're fairly certain you can see steam rising from the top of his head.

  “I don't want to sell my property,” he mumbles.

  “It's an important move to make.”

  “I know. I know that. It's just . . . . god, that's 50k per turn that I'm losing. I don't know if I can afford that.”

  You slap your hand against the table. “What the fuck do you mean? Your bank account is bloody thriving right now! You have six other properties!”

  “But this is my best one!” Keith raises a hand. “You know what, you're just trying to distract me. Shut up and let me decide-”

  “No. No, you're taking far too long, and it isn't fair. Give me the dice.”

  Keith's eyes shoot up. He snatches the die from the middle of the table and presses it into his chest. “You're not allowed your go until I've made up my mind.”

  “Then make up your mind!”

  “Don't fucking rush me!”

  “Keith Kogane, I swear to god, I have properties to look after as well, and I'm three steps away from Go, so if you-”

  “Do you think real estate is a joke?”

  You flip the Monopoly board.

  Keith cries out as the pieces slap him in the face and crumble in his lap. Paper money litters the tour bus floor. The Chest cards disappear beneath the nailed down sofas.

  You stand up, trailing your hands through your hair. “I had to. I had to. You gave me no choice.”

   Keith raises his hands above his head, his jaw open. He can't break his eyes away from the wreckage of his plastic village. “Y/N...”

  “You gave me no choice!” you exclaim, desperate to defend yourself. “I had properties to care for as well, Keith, and you were fully prepared to sit there and make me watch them crash and burn!”

   Keith stood up. “You're a murderer. An actual murderer.”

  You scoff, folding your arms over your chest. “Give me a break.”

  “Another round,” he demands. “I want another round right now. I want my houses back.”

  “You're not getting your houses back. I'm not playing another round with you.”

  “Why? Scared I'm gonna take the lead again?”

 “No! I'm not scared of anything.”

  Keith rolls his eyes. “Then you'll play another round.”

  “No. Neither of you are gonna be playing another round.”

  And suddenly, you can hear a pin drop.

  You know who it is before you've even turned around. You continue to stare at Keith, but his eyes have long since flicked away from you, darting over to the now open door of the bus where Lance and no doubt everyone else stands waiting for you to notice them.

  You slowly turn around, flashing Lance a smile that he does not return. Behind him, Hunk and Pidge are awkwardly scratching the back of their necks. You're fairly certain they're trying to blend in with the walls or something, as they are making it exceptionally clear they do not want to be here whilst Lance scolds Keith.

  Because he is definitely going to scold Keith, if his face is anything to go by. Furrowed brows, flared nostrils, tanned arms folded over his chest.

  “This is what you were doing whilst we were in that studio trying to come up with an excuse as to why you weren't with us?” Lance says. He's keeping his voice quiet, but you can hear the waver in his tone, the way he's trying to keep himself as calm as possible.

  “There was a mob,” replies Keith. “Y/N and I thought we might as well play a bit of Monopoly while we wait for the police to sort it out.”

   “The police sorted it out fifteen minutes ago, Keith,” Pidge mumbles.

  Keith pauses. “What?”

  “The mob was controlled fifteen minutes ago,” Lance confirms. “We were waiting for you to come out of the bus and join us, but it looks like you had more important things on your mind.” Lance raises a brow, points between you and Keith. “So how long has this been going on?”

  You splutter. “What?”

  Keith waves his hand in the air, stepping forward. He pushes Lance back a little bit, and you can just barely make out the amused grin forming on Lance's face at the sight of Keith's suddenly flustered state. “No. No, don't even start. You've got this twisted.”

  “Wait.” Lance pops his head around Keith's shoulder. “You two aren't together?”

  Hunk snickers. “You seem awfully close.”

   “You're acting like a bunch of ten year olds,” Keith growls. “Look, I'm sorry I missed the interview – it was a one-time thing. I swear. But the only thing we can do now is move on, get to sound check and put on the best damn show to kick off the tour. Right?”

  “You know I have the bunk above yours, right?” says Lance. “If you two want to get it on, I expect you to go into the hotel to do it.”

   Your stomach curls. Quickly, you slip past Keith and his band mates and make your way back to the drivers bay, no longer wanting to be part of this conversation; had the crowd really been controlled fifteen minutes ago? How had neither you nor Keith noticed that?

  You slump down in the drivers seat and turn the radio on. The band will be ready to move in a few minutes, so at least you'll have something to keep your mind occupied whilst they're out there teasing Keith over something that honestly isn't worth teasing him about; you two are just friends.

  In fact, even the word friends seems like a bit of a stretch. He's a rock star, and you're a bus driver – you are on two separate planets.

  You just happened to play a game of Monopoly together to pass the time. Where's the harm in that?

  ---

  “You told me you didn't plan on getting into a relationship.”

  “Shut up, Pidge. It's been two weeks.”

    “Yeah, two weeks where you and Y/N have barely stopped talking. I've never seen you this chatty with anyone.”

  Keith rolls his eyes; his band mates are so immature sometimes. Yes, he loves each of them more than words will ever be able to explain, but there continuous insistence over Keith's love life is starting to get under his skin.

  He made a promise, both to himself and to his fans, that he would not be in a relationship any time soon. He doesn't have time for a relationship. He isn't really in the correct mindset for a relationship right now. And yes, he can't deny that you're nice, and your personality clicks with his almost perfectly, and you make him laugh more than anybody has ever done before-

  But that's not enough. That doesn't change the fact he's currently on tour. That doesn't change the fact he barely has time for himself, let alone another person.

  He plucks at the string of his bass. “You're all a bunch of nosy bastards.”

  Pidge pushes herself up onto her knees. She's sat on the sofa across from Keith, the two of them being the only ones currently occupying the hotel room. Hunk and Lance decided to stay on the bus; the longer Keith is stuck in this room with Pidge, the more he's starting to see the sense in their decision.

  “Tell me this,” she says.

  “No.”

  “Do you like this person?”

  Keith pauses.

  Pidge leans forward. “Well?”

  “We get along,” Keith admits. He's treading on thin ice here. He doesn't want these rumours to continue. “We have. . . good conversations.”

  “Mm.” Pidge slowly leans back, keeping her eyes firm on Keith. It makes him uncomfortable. “I hope you know you're blushing.”

  Keith looks away. “It's hot in here.”

  “It really isn't.”

  “Can you just drop it?” Keith snaps. “I swear to god if things get awkward between me and Y/N because you lot can't mind your own business-”

  “You just cherish their friendship so much-”

  “Yes!” The word bursts from him before he can stop it, and he knows exactly what it sounds like, and there's really no coming back from it, but he means it. He really does mean it. It's been two weeks since you and Keith started talking, two weeks of tour, two weeks of him sitting up the front of the bus with you, eating Strawberry Laces straight out of the bag as you and him share stories of times neither of you will ever be able to relate to. He cherishes those moments, after shows when you meet him at the doors of the bus and ask him how it all went, and he wishes wishes wishes he could just ask you to go to the next show so you can see for yourself, but he never invites you because what if it sounds like he's asking you out?

  Pidge goes silent. So does Keith, unwilling to take the confession back but even more unwilling to dwell on it.

  Pidge clears her throat. “Oh. Right then. Sorry. I didn't mean. . . . You know I love you, right? You're like my brother.”

  Keith mutters something under his breath.

  “I just want you to be happy, that's all. I get worried when you. . . when you get that attitude, you know? The fuck the world attitude you seem to favour nowadays. You may think it's cool, but it's just worrying sometimes.”

   Keith shrugs, slumping further down in his seat. He plucks another low string on his bass guitar, cringes at how out of tune it is.

  “But Y/N looks like they make you happy,” she continues. “And I promise, none of us are going to get in the way of that. At least, not on purpose.” She smiles sheepishly. “Who knows? Maybe they like you back.”

   Keith groans. “I don't-”

  Pidge raises a hand, silencing him. “I wasn't trying to start anything. I'm just saying.”

  Keith lets the subject drop after that. He stays curled up on the love seat whilst Pidge crawls into her bed and goes to sleep – she's always been good at falling asleep fast. Though she has a habit of pulling all-nighters, she's definitely not an insomniac.

  Keith isn't an insomniac, either. He's just an over-thinker, and that's the only thing that keeps him awake. He lowers the amplifier to it's lowest volume and sits up for another few hours, gazing out the windows because he refuses to close the curtains just yet – he can see the bus parked outside, you no doubt sleeping in one of the bunk beds at the back. Keith hates the fact that's where his mind goes, but he doesn't try fighting it off – it's too late for that. His brain can't handle that kind of denial at this time of night.

  So, he lets himself think, and think, and think, until the sun is peeking up over the horizon and suddenly his eight hours of potential sleep has dwindled to three hours, and then two. He finally falls asleep, knowing he's meant to wake up in an hour and a half, but not really minding, because at least he'll get to see you when he finally rises.

  -----

  “'Keith Kogane talks about staying single in latest interview with Rolling Stones!'” you announce as soon as Keith steps foot into the drivers bay. You've been waiting on him for the past hour and a half, flicking idly through one of the magazines Bruce provided for you in his last care package. Of course, the majority of it includes Smokey Saturday merch and magazines – you once would have complained, but this particular issue of Rolling Stones is one you're quite interested in.

  Keith freezes in the door. He's sweating, a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders. He narrows his eyes when he sees you, to which you simply raise a brow and wave a hand, urging him to explain.

  He shrugs. “I want to stay single. Where did you get that?” He snatches a Strawberry Lace out of the packet you have opened on the dashboard.

  “Bruce sent it to me,” you reply. “That's a bit of a sad headline, isn't it?” You cup your ear. “If you listen closely, you can make out the sound of millions of hearts shattering-”

  Keith snatches the magazine out of your hand and slumps down on the seat next to you. “Gimme that.”

  “Have you not seen it yet?”

  “I don't really make it a priority to read these things any more. They just put me in a bad mood.” He shows you the picture they used for the article; it's Keith leaning against his amplifier, his head down in his usual, mysterious fashion, hair in his face. If you didn't know of him, you wouldn't even know it was Keith in the picture, considering they hardly ever show anything more than his famous black locks draped over his forehead. “Do you see that picture? That was my least favourite picture we took, and they chose it to be the one everyone sees when they open the article.”

  “Hunk said he was holding back a sneeze in the picture they used for him.”

  Keith scoffs. “Hunk always looks like that. I, on the other hand, have the potential to look good.”

  “Well....”

  Keith shoots you a glare. You raise your hands in mock surrender.

  “Yes, you're right. Fabulous. You look fabulous.” Keith grunts and looks back down at the magazine. Slowly, you lean in. “Is there a particular reason you want to stay single?”

  The question is a risky one. Your feelings for Keith have undeniably grown these past few weeks, but you've successfully managed to squash them down into nothing. However, reading that article left you no other choice but to just ask – just ask. Just get the answer from him, and if he says it's true, and he gives you a valid reason for his feelings, then you'll back away. You'll be able to tell yourself there's absolutely no hope and move on before things get even deeper.

  Keith chews his tongue. He looks like he's thinking, eyes never leaving the glossy paper. His jaw ticks.

  “Has anyone ever used you for your money?”

  You flinch back. That certainly wasn't the response you'd been expecting. “Uh....”

  “Not even just your money,” he hastens to add. “You're gorgeous. Has anyone used you for your looks? Or maybe they've seen something you have that they don't, and they use you to get to it?”

  “Uh....”

  “It's not a good feeling.” He closes the magazine and sets it on the dashboard, his boots following suit. Usually you'd scold him from putting his feet up like that, but you're at a loss for words at the moment. “It really puts a damper on the whole experience of falling in love. I don't even wanna risk it any more.”

   You pause. “Someone used you for money?”

  “Multiple people have used me for money,” he confirms. “Money, fame, to get one of the others. It's just. . . happened too many times. I'm not really keen on risking it again.”

  “How is that a good way to live life?” you ask before you can think better of it.

  You know it's none of your business. Keith doesn't have to explain himself to you, and you certainly have no right thinking you have a say in whatever plans Keith has for his future.

  Keith looks at you, raising a brow. “It's the safe way of living life.”

  “Are you not lonely?”

  “No. I have my band mates. I have my fans.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” You nod. You understand that – not everyone needs a romantic partner to feel accompanied in life, but there's a difference between comfortably going through life without an interest in love, and avoiding it because of a bad experience.

  “I don't know why you're chastising me,” he says suddenly. “I never see you with anybody. You just sit in this bus all day and melt.”

  You should probably be offended.

  “I'll have you know, I don't actually have a partner at the minute, but it's not because I've got trust issues.”

  “I haven't got trust issues.”

  “So what would you call it?”

  “Self care.”

  “You're scared of getting hurt. You think every person you meet is out to get you.”

  Keith rolls his eyes. “Your psychology major is showing again.”

  “I'm serious!”

  “So am I!”

  “I think you'd make a great boyfriend.”

  You wince. Okay. Shit. You didn't think that one through at all.

  Keith's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before you're standing up and stretching. Your arms very nearly hit off the overhead light, and your lower back cracks painfully with how quickly you twist. “Okay! I actually have some errands to do right now, so if you don't mind, I've had enough of your company for one day.”

  Keith doesn't respond, simply shifts his legs so you can squeeze past him. You give him one final smile – anything to play off whatever mess you've just made – before stumbling down the steps of the bus and marching across the road, fanning yourself the entire way to the corner shop.

  No. That did not just happen. You did not just say those words to Keith fucking Kogane.

  Things like that only ever happen in movies, right? People don't actually blurt out cringy confessions like that, because most people in real life have a thing called common sense. Most people in real life have a thing called self awareness. Most people in real life have this thing where they can tell when someone likes them back, and Keith certainly wasn't giving off those vibes.

  So why did you feel the need to say something so stupid?

  You bump your head against the shelf of ramen noodles. How are you ever meant to go back to that bus and face him now? How are you ever meant to cover this up and make it seem like an innocent slip of the tongue?

  It seems impossible. You've bloody doomed yourself.

  ----

  Keith stares into space.

  Fuck.

  So this is it then. This is what it feels like when someone's plans get thrown out the window because of a single mishap. This is what happens when every single promise you make to yourself is suddenly broken, because you've just realised that those feelings you've been hiding away can no longer be ignored.

  Keith actually has to deal with his emotions.

  That's not something he's particularly good at.

  Your words echo in his ears. You'd make a great boyfriend.

  The thing is, Keith hears that almost every day, or at least a variety of that sentence. He reads it on Twitter, on his Instagram – hell, even people in real life will often come up to him and confess that they believe he would indeed be the perfect candidate for them, that their personalities match so well according to the Buzzfeed quiz they took the night before.

  Keith is usually so quick to ignore those kinds of confessions, but hearing it from you. . . It feels real, somehow, more than an in-the-moment fan confession that usually just leaves him feeling uncomfortable and uncertain how to respond.

  He actually feels as if he could respond.

  He closes his eyes, digging the balls of his palms into the sockets as if that alone could help dispel the feelings bubbling to the surface. They were previously hidden behind some kind of trap door, but your confession opened the latch. Your confession is the reason he's feeling anything at all. You're the reason he isn't able to hold back any longer.

  A knock sounds on the drivers bay. Keith doesn't look up.

  “Where did Y/N go?” Lance asks. “And what's up with you?”

  Keith spins round and stands up, already grabbing his leather jacket. “Did you see where they went?”

  Lance presses his hands into Keith's shoulders. “Woah, dude. What's going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything's fine. I just need to know where Y/N went.”

  “I don't know,” says Lance, before raising a brow. “But we have an interview in ten minutes. You didn't forget again, did you?”

  Keith falters. Fuck. Now is really not the time to fill his schedule with pointless interviews.

  He bites his lower lip and glares down at the floor. Lance chuckles.

  “Y/N got you a little distracted?”

  “Do I have to do this interview? Will it really be that bad if I just don't show up to this one?”

  Lance frowns. “You didn't show up to the one in Canduke Studios. People are gonna start getting suspicious.”

  Lance is right, of course, and Keith knows this. Nonetheless, he looks out the window towards the road in which you'd just run through, away from Keith and his silence, away from Keith and the confession that is teetering on the edge of his tongue.

  But Keith has other priorities. He has a job. He has duties that he can't just abandon because he's had an epiphany that maybe – just maybe – feeling things for other people isn't such a bad thing.

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods. Lance grins, swinging his arms round Keith's shoulders before leading him down the steps of the bus towards the studios.

  ---

  Do the lights really have to be that bright?

  Does there really have to be twenty people staring at him right now?

  Does he really need this much make up on his face?

  Keith dabs his forehead with a tissue and scowls when his foundation comes off with it. Now he's going to look like an absolute idiot when the camera turns to him.

  It's been rolling for a number of minutes now, but Keith has done what Keith does best and hidden himself in the background. Hunk and Lance are sat in front of him; Pidge had thankfully taken the seat behind Lance, meaning Keith could easily hide his form behind Hunk's build. If he's lucky, you won't even be able to properly see him.

  That is, until he gets addressed, which really doesn't take long. News of the mob from a few weeks ago still has not died down, and Keith is growing tired of the questions asking him if he's okay, if he's recovered from such a scarring event. The amount of times Keith has laughed it all and said it was no big deal is uncountable at this point.

  “So, Keith,” the interviewer says. He's an elderly man, grey haired with circular glasses. He doesn't know the first thing about Smokey Saturdays, and perhaps that is why not a single question about their music has been asked. “You were recently part of the Rolling Stones interview we were talking about with Lance; your article caught the eye of quite a few people.”    He waits. Keith pauses; is he meant to fill in the gap here?

  “I saw that.”

  The interviewer nods. “Tell me how you manage that. You know, the whole wanting to stay single thing. It must be pretty difficult when you have thousands of people throwing themselves at you every single day. Do you never look in the crowd and think you know what, I like the look of that one?”

  Pidge snickers. Lance and Hunk are biting their lower lips to keep their own laughter at bay.

  Keith kicks the bottom of Hunk's seat as subtly as he can before replying. “Nah, that's not really my thing.”

  “No? So you were serious when you said you don't want a relationship?”

   Keith opens his mouth to say yes, that's exactly what he meant, but his words falter. He remembers you, and suddenly he doesn't really know how to respond, which is weird because he's been trained for this. He spent weeks with his publicist, trying to perfect his responses to questions like this, going through media training that left his mind numb and his entire life feeling like a lie.

  How could you just come around and undo all of that?

  Keith doesn't know, but he doesn't have time to dwell on the specifics. The interviewer is expecting an answer. Keith can't just stare into space, he can't just stay silent, he can't just-

  “I mean, I wouldn't mind a relationship. Like, I'm not against the idea.”

   Pidge nearly falls from her seat.

  Keith barrels on, gripping his arm rests so tight he's certain he's got no nails left. “When I did that interview, I was in a place where relationships just weren't the top of my priority list – and they still aren't. But I was a little bit angry at the fact I couldn't find the time to dedicate to someone else. I was a little angry at the fact I couldn't live a proper, adult life that includes things like falling in love, and one-night-stands and all that bullshit.” Keith shrugs. “But I think I realise now that you shouldn't make decisions like that on a whim. All it takes is finding the right person to change your mind.”

  The interviewer blinks. The whole room goes quiet. Pidge is breathing so heavily that Keith genuinely contemplates sprinting back to the bus to retrieve her inhaler.

  You might not even be watching the interview, which is the funny thing. Keith has just poured his heart and soul out – as best as Keith Kogane really can – and the only people who will hear it is the entire world, but not the person he wants.

  He bites his lips and slumps back in the uncomfortable directors chair. “So yeah.”

  “Wow,” the interviewer says. “It sounds like you've found someone special, Keith. Are we correct in assuming you've fallen in love?”

   “No.”

  The interviewer frowns. “So that all just. . . . came from the heart?”

  Keith nods. It's the best he can do. He thinks he's going to throw up.

  Lance sits up. “Okay, anyway! Did you know, Larry, that we actually have a brand new EP coming out at the end of the year...”

  ---

  You stare at the TV.

  You're crying.

  It's so stupid. This whole thing is so god damn stupid. Why are you being so emotional? What right did you have to sit here and cry over something as stupid as heartbreak?

  You push a pillow against your face, letting the tears sink into the fabric. Maybe you're just being overly emotional because of earlier on – you'd already eaten two cups of ramen to try and soothe your anxiety and regret, but it clearly wasn't enough. You'd then decided to just say fuck it – this was basically your bus. You can sit in the lounge if you want to. You can put your feet up on the coffee table if you want to and nobody is allowed to tell you otherwise.

  So that's how you've ended up in tears, watching Smokey Saturdays live on the Larry Newman show.

  And it really is live. Keith really said all of that on live television.

  You turn it off once Lance starts going on about the new EP; you've heard it all before, considering it's all he talks about. Plus, after hearing Keith talk like that, you're a little bit jarred to say the very least.

  You finish up your third cup of ramen and place the empty cup on the sideboard, ready to be taken to the bin when you next pass one. You pace the bus for a little while, because that's all you can think to do – there really is nothing else. Keith said it before – you just sit on this bus and melt, wait until they're finished living their lives so you can get on with your own. Apparently, all your life currently consists of is driving a world famous band around.

  And the thing is, you don't even mind.

  That's the crazy part. Once upon a time, you would have felt complete shame and embarrassment when you had to tell people this was your job, but now it's just. . . . a thing. You enjoy it. You can sit up front, listen to music, eat Strawberry Laces.

  You can talk to Keith.

  You close your eyes. You don't want to admit that that's a bonus, because it just sounds so sad. Your life has never been perfect, and you're still wasting your degree, and your parents would be shaking their head at you right now, but you're happy. You're genuinely, utterly happy.

  Despite what the tears pouring from your eyes may suggest.

  You hear the band making their way to the bus shortly after seven pm. It's dark now. The street lights are on, and when you look out the window, you nearly choke on your own tongue because Keith looks so good, even though his head is down and he's walking with a determined march in his step that you're not stupid enough to be oblivious to – you know exactly why he's walking like that. You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the night.

  You tuck yourself into the drivers bay, hoping and praying he'll just walk past.

  The doors of the bus open and the band walks in. Lance, Hunk and Pidge all yell a little “Hello Y/N!” over their shoulders before marching off to their designated bunks. Keith, on the other hand, pulls open your privacy curtain and says, “Can we talk?”

  “Do we have to?”

  “Can we go outside? Do you need my coat?”

  “Is it cold?”

  “A little bit.”

  You snatch his leather jacket out of his hands and follow him down the steps of the bus. You might as well get this over with. The sooner, the better.

  You shrug his jacket over your shoulders. The two of you stand on the pavement, the glow of the street lights illuminating his pale skin and his black hair, those violet eyes burning into the crown of your head as you make it a priority to keep your own eyes on the floor.

  He sighs. “Did you watch the interview?”

  “A bit of it.”

   “Did you see the important part?”

  “Yeah. Hunk balancing that tooth pick on his eyelash-”

  “You know what I mean.” Keith pauses. “You saw it, right?”

  You bite your bottom lip. That's really the only confirmation Keith needs.

  He inhales shakily, scrubbing a hand against the back of his neck as if he's nervous. Him! As if he has anything to be nervous about.

  “Sooo...,” he drawls. “I – uh – just want you to know that I changed my mind.”

  “I gathered that.”

  “And the only reason I changed my mind was because I met you and realised that missing out on this chance really isn't something I like the idea of.”

  You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out once his words settle.

  Your eyes snap up, jaw opening and closing, words on the brink of your tongue but not quite making it that far. Keith grins down at you, a smile you've never seen on his face before – he almost looks excited. Perhaps if you pay extra close attention, you'll be able to see him jumping up and down on the balls of his feet.

  You take a single step back. “Wait, what?”

  “I like you. A lot. More than – More than I think I have a right to, considering I've been going on for months about how I don't want a relationship.” He hollows out his cheeks. “I'm so sorry you had to put up with that.”

  “Keith-”

  “And I get it if you don't like me back. I'm not – I'm not one of those celebrities who thinks everyone should be honoured to be liked by me, because that's such a – a douche thing to do, but I just can't sit in that bus with you and pretend you're not the only person in my life right now outside of the band who makes me feel completely normal.”

  This is happening so fast. He's talking so fast. Your heart is beating so fast.

  “So – uh – yeah. Yeah.” He waves a hand as if to say Now that that's over. “Basically, the interview explained it all. I was a bit vague, but it was all about you, really. Yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Anyway, it really is cold out here. We should probably get back-”

  “You like me back?”

  Keith blinks. “Yah.”

  “Keith. I don't even . . . . You said all that about me?” It shouldn't be such a surprise; at the end of the day, you and Keith are trapped in a bus together for a good portion of the day. You two get along like best friends. He brightens your day, so why is it so hard to believe that you brighten his?

  Nonetheless, your heart is beating at a million miles per hour and your smile is forming so fast you can't even think of stopping it. Keith looks at you, eyes tracing every inch of your face before his own smile appears, slightly lop sided and forever cheeky, but so, so perfect.

  He cups your face. “You're smiling. That's a good thing, right?” He tilts your head side to side, pokes at the corner of your lip. “Right?”

  “Right.” And then you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him into you. The kiss is a little bit unpractised, and Keith stumbles a little bit, but then your back is pressed against a lamp post and his hand is on your waist, and your hand is trailing through his hair, and for once, nothing really seems out of place, even though everything is out of place and this is the most bizarre thing you've ever done in your life.

  Keith laughs against your mouth. It's such an uncharacteristic thing for him to do that you're nearly convinced to pull away, but he presses his fingers deeper into the flesh of your waist and that idea quickly slips from your mind.

  He pulls away first, only when he needs air. You could have gone for another minute, at least, but you'll tell him that another time.

  He groans, bumping his forehead against yours. “Holy shit.”

  “Romantic.”

  “I'm sorry for being such a depressing bitch a few days ago.” His voice has dropped to a mumble. “I was just. . . so scared of getting hurt again.”

  You stroke your thumb along his jaw line. He closes his eyes, nuzzles into your touch. “You don't need to apologise for that, Keith. But – like – just so you know, I don't want you for your money. I actually think you're quite a decent bloke.” You twirl your finger in his mullet. “And you've got a nice bit of hair, too.”

  Keith pinches your waist. “I actually think you have a really nice bus, and you listen to our music.”

  “Not all the time!”

  “Every time you turn on that radio, there's a Smokey Saturdays album playing.”

  “Bruce put that there.”

Keith pulls away and laces his fingers with yours. “Right. That's the excuse you're using now?”

  “I actually hate your music.”

  Keith drags you towards the bus. You stumble after him. “Mhm.”

   “I'm serious.”

  “Okay.”

  “Keith, I swear to-”

[haikyuu-loves-thiccies]

Third Year!Chubby!Reader x Kageyama Tobio

Wee woo I wrote the thiiiiiiiiing. it’s 4 am and I’m big sleepy so forgive any bad thiiiiiiings. Also there aint no smut smut in this but it is definitely crude sooooooooooooooo >:)

    Y/n was a casual friend of Daichi Sawamura's. They never really hung out, but they were friendly during school hours and often sitting in the same group during lunch. Once highschool kicked in and Daichi took into the boys volleyball team, what friendship they had had drifted. It didn't bother y/n, but what did bother her was that in this year, her final year of highschool, she was standing in front of the tall senior, asking for her to join as Karasuno's volleyball manager- almost half way through the school year.

   “Umm.. Y/n...” Daichi was hesitant, a little confused and almost concerned as to why now someone- this someone, was asking to be a manager for the team. “You can apply, talk to Takeda-Sensei, I guess... But why now? I-If you don't mind me asking! It's just.. We already have Shizumi, and she's training a first year to take over after we all graduate.”

   “Yeah, well. I... Want to do something.” Y/n swallowed hard, tapping the tips of her pointer fingers together. “This is hard to admit, okay? But I just haven't done like.. Anything.. Throughout highschool. I know it'll only be for less than a year, but I'm tired of being... Bored.” A deep breath made it's way out of Y/n's lips, her body relaxing ever so slightly. “That, and, all the other clubs rejected my late entry. For literally every position.”

   “Oh, oh.” Daichi rubbed the back of his neck, not really surprised that her late entry applications weren't accepted. He understood, and was mildly concerned, by what Y/n's motive was. Boredom can drive someone mad and extreme cases, can make someone feel completely empty. It was a sorrowful thought, that Y/n might be feeling that way when in only a couple months she'd be graduating and life would open up with so many new things to experience. But still, Daichi could understand the need for something in the now, rather than later.

   Y/n looked up at the captain, suddenly feeling flushed with shame.

   “I'm sorry if that's like... Not a good reason to want to join- or if it's wrong or, offensive.. Or something.”

   “No, no! It's fine. It's not usual, but I guess on a technicality, we're all just doing things to fight boredom, right?”

    While not exactly true, Y/n appreciated the effort her old friend had made to ease her discomfort.

    “I can take you to Takeda-Sensei, like I said, but I really can't promise anything, okay?”

    A bright, hopeful smile spread on the young girl's face, one Daichi recognized all too well.

    “Okay!”

    It was a miracle, and nothing less. Y/n was as aware of this fact as she was grateful that Daichi had managed to convince the volleyball team's Senseis to give her a shot. It was like new life was breathed into the girl, no more of that awkward, isolated unknown, but the girl Daichi had known before highschool had blossomed back larger than life itself.

   Y/n had settled into Karasuno's pack with ease. She was full of an uplifting spirit and cheerful demeanor, along with a mind full of snarky comments, that the underclassmen seemed to just eat up. Sugawara had never met Y/n personally, neither had Asahi, but both took to her almost as quickly as the second and first years.

   Now, Y/n was refilling the first year boy's water bottles, taking note on whose is whose. The first years, outside of Tsukishima Kei, had the same casual yet not durable style. Hinata's was orange, much like his hair, with it's brands logo on the front. It was plastic- as was Yamaguchi's, while Tsukishima and Kageyama had stainless steel ones. Yamaguchi's was simply green and black, Kageyama's was dark blue with a black stripe down it's front, and Tsukishima's was the odd one out- It had a whole ass dinosaur head on it's cap. Completely decorative, and totally out of left field in Y/n's mind.

   It was hard not to giggle when she was handling the tall middle blocker's cup, but she managed not to make a mess of the others and carry them all back in one piece. Now, she thought, comes her favorite time of the day. The boys were all taking a break, toweling of the sweat and grime from practice, the boys who had their water were already downing it, the first years awaiting their own.

   “Alright sugar-honeys, here's one round of water.” Passing around the bottles, Y/n was giving each of the youngest boys playful, loving winks, flustering up three of the four.

   “Here's one for you, Yamaguchi.” She fluttered around the freckled boy, who blushed and thanked the girl with a soft stutter. Yamaguchi was the easiest boy to truly fluster up. Part of Y/n knew it was because he wasn't used to female attention. Let alone having a third year be so sweet and touchy with him.

   “And here's yours, Hinata baby~” Ruffling the orangette's hair, Y/n dropped the bottle down beside him, which he snatched up instantly and began sucking it down, his face bright red from the chosen pet name the upperclassman gave him.

   With a swift movement from Tsukishima, who muttered a stoic “thanks” quicker than she could drop any lovey-dovey comments, Y/n's final bottle to give was to the raven haired setter who had stolen her heart.

   “Here we are, Kageyama.” Y/n leaned down, allowing her school uniform's top to show off her breasts. Her fuller frame complimented her uniform, from showing her plush cleavage to her ass peaking out ever so slightly from her skirt whenever she bends over. Knowing full well what was happening, she squished her arms together ever-so-slightly, pushing her breasts further out. She saw, immediately, Kageyama's eyes were bouncing from her chest to the bottle, back and forth, quick and panicky movements that gave Y/n all the information she needed.

   Kageyama's hand shakily moved to get his water bottle, when his whole body went frozen stiff. A sly smirk traveled Y/n's lips, and she looked down knowing full well what she'd see.

   “You okay, baby?” Y/n whispered softly, not moving from her position in front of the sitting boy.

   “I-, you- my-” Unable to form a sentence, Kageyama gulped, shutting his eyes tight and crossing his legs ever so slightly, pulling his volleyball bag onto his lap.

   “It's okay, I wont tell~” The setter's head jumped up, a blush spreading on his cheeks and along with it, a bead of sweat. Thankfully, the other boys were deep into a conversation- planning their next moves to practice, who'd be having what for dinner, and other things that Kageyama's head couldn't fit in his mind, when his body was laser-focused on the girl in front of him. Kageyama tried to fumble out an apology, embarrassed and ashamed at his body's reaction to his upperclassman manager, but the girl shushed him with a gentle coo.

   “You don't have to apologize to me honey, you're alright~ Besides.” The girl stood up, relief flooding over Kageyama instantly. “I think you're cute like this!~”

   Kageyama cringed, her comment brought attention from some of the others.

   “Huh??? Kageyama?? Cute?!!” Hinata jumped up into the space between the girl and boy. “Since when?!!?!” He demanded, puffing out his cheeks almost in a manor of jealousy. Kageyama wanted to kick the boy, shove and shout at him for insulting him, but found that he was still glued to his chair, afraid to move a muscle and have someone noticed his little problem trying to force its way up.

   “Since, like, ever! But don't worry, you're cute too pookie-pie~” Y/n brought out the worst of her attacks, the comment embarrasses anyone it reaches just from the sheer force of how aunty-at-a-family-reunion it is. From behind her, Tsukishima snickered. Hinata shrunk away from Y/n, smiling very shakily.

   “O-Oh..” Was all he could manage.

   Finally, Kageyama stood up, his problem tamed for the moment. He took the opportunity and bowed to his upperclassman crush.

   “Thank you for the compliments Y-Y/n-san.” With that, he excused himself and staggered off, making awkwardly cautious strides to the bathrooms. He didn't know until it was too late, but Y/n was following him.

   At the doors of the bathroom, he finally noticed the girl shadowing his footsteps. Kageyama looked at her like a deer in the headlights, and gulped.

   “U-Um, I'll be back in a minute Y/n, I just have to pee.”

   Y/n cracked an amused grin, this boy really doesn't know how to talk to girls.

   “One sec, Kageyama. I wanted to talk to you privately.”

   “I-if this is about-”

   “It's not, well it is, but not completely.” Y/n rested her back against the brick wall of the hallway, looking at Kageyama with an air of cool confidence, despite internally very anxious for what she was going to say next. “Listen, if... If I make you like, super uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I just think you, all you first years, are really cute and stuff..” Y/n palmed the back of her neck, feeling the heat off her own body. “Especially you. I like you a lot, Tobio. Haha.”

   When Y/n looked up at the first year, she wasn't expecting the deadpanned expression he was giving her. It gave her a moment of panic, but soon relaxed her body, knowing this was just... How he tended to look.

   “You like me?” Kageyama whispered, testing out the sentence quizzically.

   “Well, yeah. And trust me-” Y/n's arms went up in the air defensively. “I know you're super busy and focused on volleyball. I get that you aren't exactly super available for dating and stuff, and I'm okay with that. But like, I dunno... If you wanna... Maybe we could give it a shot-”

   “Yes.”

   A stark, sudden answer. Y/n needed only a few seconds to register the blunt honesty in his reply.

   “Wait, really?” She laughed, pleased but also amused by his sudden energy.

   “Yes. I'd like to date you, Y-Y/n-san.” Kageyama nodded his head quickly, blush covering his face to his ears.

   “Well, then.. I hope your gym shorts are ready, cause if we're gonna start dating, there's gonna be a looooot more action going on in there~!” Too casual. Kageyama thought, watching his now date skip swiftly back to the gym, leaving him there flustered up and processing everything that had just happened.

 �� When Y/n reached the gym doors, she placed her hands on them and gave one last glance at Kageyama, only to fight the urge to crack up laughing.

   He was staring down at his dick in absolute pure wonder.