#< me when i’m insane about banana fish | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

survivor-trinidad-and-tobago · 1 year

Text

Episode 14: "It's just us two, plus this extra vote."—Zee

In this round: Alex destroys the competition in Puzzle Paradise; Jack narrowly beats out Colin on Purgatory and comes back after tribal council; Zee plays another idol but ultimately doesn't need it (on brand); Champ dabs throughout tribal council; the newly formed 28 and Up alliance splits their votes in case Zee has an idol; and they would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for those meddling kids and their Banked Vote

Alex

Okay, well the back-up plan still worked! Props to Jack for going down swinging and for making it until that last tribal before ever receiving a vote. And props to Champ for reading the way the votes were headed. So Trin is talking jury management and I'll be honest: Kaleigh and Michael are both playing bigger games than me, when I think on it. Michael has had 2 big moves so far and the girls are at least still talking to Kaleigh, but they've fully stopped talking to me. Steven sent his advantage to Kaleigh, Astyn would probably vote Michael as an original Calypso unless they were still upset that he's the one who went home over them, and I'm not gonna get Kolby's vote cause he think I flipped on Soca (props to Zee for that gotta admit). I burned Eman at least once at this point, with stealing their half of the extra vote, though to be fair, that was only a last resort after Zee stole Michael's. Jack I could maybe get but he reached out to me specifically about the Eman move which we ended up not doing so he could easily be feeling burned by that, but realistically he's probably just more impressed with Michael's/Kaleigh's game over mine. Tony would vote Michael. Steven and Colin are the only ones that really feel up in the air but they're also probably impressed by Michael's moves. I am. Even if the girls don't want to vote Kaleigh they'd probably vote Michael over me. There's still a lot of game to go, though, and I don't want to get ahead of myself. But I don't see how I win unless I'm in the finale with other people and tbh that's not a Final 3 I want to be in!! This is all for fun (and stress) and Michael and Kaleigh are the ones I had the most fun with so obviously if I can't win, I want one of them to! I Sorry I'm bad at wordle and choose your own adventures so I never found an idol, I guess? I can make the case that my game was always more social and that I was always willing to be flexible until someone made it clear they were no longer interested in working with me, but at a certain point, all y'all made it clear you didn't want to! If I keep offering I either look a fool or desperate. Again, this is getting aaaahead of myself and damn I would love to get immunity at least once for both security and a little bragging rights, but we'll see what happens. Even if I am kind of the goat out of the three of us, I can't NOT hope that our 3-person minority could make it to the end together after all this.

LET'S! FUCKING! GOOO! I'll have more to say later, once more strategy gets talked, but FUCK THIS FEELS GOOD. I DOMINATED THAT.

Kaleigh

sigh this game is rly something huh??? colin and jack are in purgatory, we are at final six, and colin is presumably coming back today. zee lost her vote last round so i’m guessing colin did that LOL wonderful. who will go home tonight? i do not know. i need to go to the grocery store for pesto and tinned fish. so. we have champ and zee, obviously a tight pair, and then me, alex, michael, and tony. champ and zee are SCRRAAAAAMBLING! i do feel zee has an idol, but that might j be bananas. but i do feel it. she is RELENTLESS. now saying she’s down to flip on champ. my god. maybe we will try to make it seem like it’s gonna be champ in the hopes that zee will feel safe enough to not play her idol (if she has one) and then j vote for zee. i still have my steal a vote and my idol. idk what’s gonna happen tonight. alex won the puzzle challenge and did insanely well, good for u alex!!! like damn!!! everyone has been kinda offline for the past couple days, it feels like we are j all burnt out - we have been playing for 33 days and i’m just zzzzzz tired. we’ll see what’s in store tonight. also i started reading a good book it’s called the indifferent stars above :)

Zee

So we lost Jack last tribal after Tony flipped, another hot girl, gone with the wind. This is very much not ideal, however I did expect it. Tony and Michael are Ride or Dies, I’ve been saying this since we hit the merge. Michael and Tony refuse to vote each other, so when Tony suggested Michael last tribal I had a bad feeling, especially with Eman gone, Tony had no reason to align with us anymore. But I banked my vote in the hopes that things would go well, and as a bit of security in case they didn’t. Currently there’s six of us left, Champ and I have been playing from the bottom/in the hot seat ever since the Raffy vote out, and since then our numbers have been quickly dwindling from flips and vote outs. It’s just us two, plus this extra vote. Problem is, I don’t want to use my idol, because if I use my idol and Champ goes home, then I’m idolless, and I was planning to use this to idol myself into final four. Our only hope right now is to pull one or two people from the other side onto our side.

Last night I said to Kaleigh like, what is going to happen once they finally vote the rest of us out? They’ll have to turn on each other. I should probably say more about that today too tbh. Like, she’s the only girl, and if Jack comes back that means they’ll have to turn inward at final four, and if not, they’ll have to turn inward at final five if Colin is the one to come back. Tony and Michael would bring each other without a doubt, so it would be her or Alex battling it out in final four, or Alex would vote with the majority in final five, adding Kaleigh to the Jury. All she replied last night was “oh I’ll have to think about it. I want to see the challenge results.” which roughly translates to “Oh I won’t be voting with you, I just want to see if either of you win the challenge so we know who to pick.” Kaleigh also said last night that she “wasn’t willing to go to rocks” if it was a 3-3 vote, so I suggested she bring in Alex and we vote Tony or Michael, genuinely I don’t even care if it’s Tony at this point. I doubt she will but we’ll see.

Tony

The final countdown! I’ve obviously flipped over to the 28+ club and it’s been nice so far. I’m trying to go final 4 with Alex, Kaleigh, and Michael but tbh, would love to make it to final two with Michael but only time shall tell! I’m nervous if Jack returns as he knows I voted for him. I’m also nervous about Colin because I’m not sure if he’ll want to work with me.

Zee

Me and Champ really need to bust our asses off and pull some A-level gameplay in order to survive this tribal in the slim hopes that Jack comes back. I’m suggesting that we tell Tony that Alex and Kaleigh suggested either him or Michael for the tribal, and that they’re planning to blindside them, maybe even fabricate some messages that Kaleigh could have written. Tell them that since it’s only us two we genuinely don’t care anymore and just wanted to let them know. Then suggest that they Vote Kaleigh with us. I mean, I’ve been playing/trying to play a pretty honest game so far, but at this point it doesn’t really seem worth it if it means I get voted out. I really don’t want to waste my idol. Not after last time. Also there’s at least one other idol out there that somebody else found, and it could be Alex or Kaleigh since Alex said that stupid chicken phrase. If we can scatter their votes, then we can have the power in numbers with our three votes. And we could finally get Michael out, OR, vote Kaleigh, but I don’t really want to take that risk.

Michael

Last ditch efforts to flip me by zee and Champ are kind of wild, but it's survivor. Feel like I'm going home tonight, every night I don't go home from last tribal on is a win to me. They should really cut me. If they were smart they would cut me rn.

Champ

Everyone left in the game is so ugly tbh except queen Zee- she’s so iconic duh! Musty Michael thinks he’s running the game LOL! Anyways tonight I’m dressed for my funeral tonight🫶🏻

Tribal Council

youtube

Champ: Tony (NOT TRAITOR TONY EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW)

Zee: Tony (Bonk)

Zee (Banked Vote): Tony (Bonk Bonk)

Alex: Champ (I’m just part of a split that’ll hopefully result in you still being here. If not, nothing personal I promise <3.)

Kaleigh: Zee (i somehow doubt ur going home but ily :’))

Michael: Champ (Hey no hard feeling we just ended up on different sides, I could see myself playing with you in the future! Who knows it could be me tonight.)

Tony: Zee (your challenge endurance is unmatched and I’ve had a great time playing with you.)

#episodes #Youtube

0 notes

all-hail-the-witcher · 3 years

Text

the absolute best quotes from bdylanhollis's vintage baking tiktoks

• "thought this was a joke. turns out im the joke."

• "you can use a mixer, i just do this to feel something"

• "fold in sauerkraut carefully. or what? im going to ruin your disaster?"

• "can a cake be tried for treason?"

• "either chocolate fixes everything or this is alchemy"

• *disgusted chewing noises* "DEMON BABY!!!"

• "before pumpkin pie became king people ate this....now they're dead."

• "combine all ingredients except for pie shell. were you rEALLY WORRIED I WAS GOING TO PUT A F U L L Y C O N S T R U C T E D PIE SHELL INTO THIS?"

• "im a fool, not an idiot."

• "its like reading directions to purgatory"

• "now we have carbonated mayonnaise lime water"

• "MARSHMALLOWS!! with the m a y o??"

• "chop up your dehydrated cow"

• "it tastes like it's insulting me"

• "and its not just a little bit. no. its a severe unauthorized CUP of mayonnaise."

• "honey you cant dilute a war crime"

• "you know its horrible now but i hope it turns out okay. like children."

• *beans boiling over in a pot* "ahhhhHH BEAN REBELLION!!"

• "eggie!! how many? i don't know. it just says EGGS."

• "did you just kill my blender?" *broken blender noises* "hello?" *insane maniacal laughter* "this is personal now. you swung first!!"

• "why are you good? yOU HAVE A BAG OF BEANS IN YOU!!"

• "one of the many questionable substances people experimented with in the 70s...pistachio pudding."

• "smells like a palm springs retirement home"

• "nixon wished it was this easy."

• "this was the cold war after all. fear of communist bananas was at an all time high."

• "the 70s. sponsored by the color beige."

• "its uncomfortably appetizing"

• "meat and desserts was quite common back then. so was botulism."

• "'honey would you like earl gray or pork?' 'ill take a divorce'"

• "sweet, bitter and meaty. like my ex."

• "don't say it dylan" *2 seconds later* "CIMMANIMM!!"

• "350 for two and a half hours! i suppose any less and it might gain consciousness."

• "its a little late in the century for war crimes."

• "are you just making things up? who are you??"

• *opening a can of spam* "you know ive never been particularly religious. but today might be the day."

• "a cup of evaporated milk?! have you lost the plot?!"

• "i feel like if i do this correctly im going to invoke the spirit of richard nixon"

• "this aint food honey this is a bioweapon"

• "sir your phone number is 4 digits"

• "well i don't have sorghum because i don't have a life expectancy of twelve"

• "thats the power of pine sol baby!"

• "bake to your liking. sweetie none of this is to my liking."

• "this is what id imagine a toilet brush to taste like"

• "this is why we don't perform lobotomies anymore."

• "should be a pale white." *holds butter up to arm for comparison*

• "i bet this recipe is just all the wrong answers on a baking test."

• "smells like dentures."

• "not bad dead people"

• "its incredible. and im mad about it."

• "sift your flour three times. lady your cake has tomato soup in it, this is thE LEAST OF YOUR WORRIES!!"

• "'911 whats your emergency?' 'yeah that lady carol is at the barbecue again.'"

• "careful not to over mix. sorry im just trying to kill it."

• "now i know this is going to be awful because it calls for soured milk. not buttermilk, not milk and vinegar, no honey sOURED B A D MILK!"

• "disgusting wasnt enough for you?!"

• "call the U.N."

• "bake until done. you're a piece of work."

• *plays accordion on his kitchen floor*

• "tastes like a shower drain or a bunion"

• "this recipe was sent to me by herbert hoover feet pics. theres something for everybody"

• "are you nine inches yet?? said 14 year old me."

• "i suppose its better than eating your offspring"

• "oh betty crocker WHAT ARE YOU UP TO??"

• "you could just use canned pineapple. if you were a communist."

• "can you bake a pie with four ingredients? yes! i could also eat my mattress."

• "add three gils of water. was this written for a fish?"

• "i think this qualifies as a preexisting condition"

• "unconstitutional!"

• "its a breast implant"

• *clunking from the cabinets* "i think ive summoned something"

• "it seems to have collapsed. like the south."

• "the slogan for this cookbook is 'it's digestible'"

• "remember kids the main ingredient in pie pastry is self doubt"

• "fry in two tablespoons of crisco. on this episode of dead white people."

• "i didnt know tuberculosis had a color scheme"

• "ive baked a toilet."

• "how am i supposed to know how big your teacups are, ira?"

• "why do dead people like dates?"

• "easy does it. wouldn't want to ruin a disaster."

• "'ira honey i'm going to war.' 'over what?' 'your cooking'"

• "tastes like a boot. like a size 10 boot."

• "why just live in the great depression when you could also have chronic diarrhea"

• "it wants me to plumpen my prunes in water. well i won't be plumping my prunes in just anything. buy me dinner first."

• "it looks like a failed grave robbery"

• "walnuts aint gonna save this recipe sweetie"

• "you know its not bad it just vaguely tastes like a felony."

• "'where you goin with that tuna dylan?' 'oh you know just making jello"

• "this recipe is making me cry, not the onions"

• "are we sure this recipe wasnt written by a cat?"

• "it already looks like the great depression"

• "bake in a moderate oven. no need to get political"

•"don't tell gordon ramsey"

• "it tastes like a question mark. but a good question mark"

#bdylanhollis #b dylan hollis #tiktok #tiktok quotes #you're welcome #this took me over an hour and it was very worth it #memes

16K notes · View notes

lesbiansforboromir · 3 years

Text

poster analysis (unhinged)

I’m splitting these images up into vague catagories based on my ASSUMPTIONS of races and origins SO!

The Numenorean section. Lets go through them from the top left to bottom right; - This guy’s Ar-Pharazon. I hate it, because he looks fucking great, the green of his sleeve with the fish scales marked in gold and the islamic style gauntlets and the golden sun motif... literally impeccable fashion and it’s just so delightful to see so much colour everywhere it’s assuaged a lot of my fears but golden armour with golden sun has to be Ar-Pharazon :( - Now this fellow, I am actually still very curious about, the printed fabric is what made me put him into the numenorean camp. Also the red fabric in the left looks to me like it comes from the next costume along, but other than also just loving this look, especially the orange silk sleeves, I couldn’t place this fellow. Suggestions of him being Elros have been going around but I’m assuming all these are main characters and I’m still utterly confused about why a show about the OTHER rings of power has a main plotline in Numenor to begin with but whatever. - I’m going to guess this lady is the Isildur’s sister we’ve been hearing about. The embossed book with the waves has potent ‘chronicler of the disaster’ vibes, perhaps with an emphasis for some visions of the future? Even this single colour simple dress is more exciting a costume design to me than anything I expected, the deep red/orange is very lovely, the rope very cool and the black pearls on the sleeves slap. - Next line and this is Miriel, which makes me now pretty certain Maxine Cunliffe is going to play Miriel. The fish scale mail is beautiful and the way she’s cupping one of the white flowers of Nimloth ;;;n;;; very prominent sense of her trying to preserve numenor etc etc. Very sad. Very cool. - So here this I am assuming is Elendil. A little confused about why he’s holding the rod of the king, (rod of the king also fucking slaps, wings marking kingship etc) but being associated with the kingship whilst also obviously being dressed quite plainly says Elendil to me. - And I’m pretty sure this last fellow is Isildur. Others have suggested Cirdan which is still possible but a young fellow with similar motifs as the other numenoreans and hefting rope in preparation... for... sailing? Seems like Isildur to me. I... guess they did have to make him younger than he is supposed to be, but then again the timeline with this show is absolutely bananas to me, I’m now so sure they must be hopping about.

DWARVES! We’re supposed to be getting Durin in this show and if that’s the case then this first red haired fellow is a little disappointing. BUT the red painted scalemail still looks gorgeous. Worryingly, a translation of the runes on his hammer (into english not khuzdul strangely) sEEMS to say ‘awaken sleeping demon’ which is... so exhausting AND INSANE! When the balrog only awakened like 500 years ish before the end of the THIRD AGE. So either their timeline editting is going to make me tear my hair out or we’re dancing around timelines. THIS LADY THO... absolutely obsessed, I’m really hoping the gold dust on the fingers of them both is more a fashion statement than some antisemetic greed for gold moral hint but the triangle jewelry, the flowing silk looking dress, the jewel studded bracelets, I’m in love. AND this has to mean we really are gonna see Khazad Dum at it’s height and I really wont survive that. God.

Elfses. - So this first fellow... now... I have been creeking back and forth on him, Celebrimbor or Gil Galad? Now, the two possibly three stars pinned to the fabric really FEEL like silmarils right? And the rings all have a kind of uniqueness to them, not precisely all of a common theme, one of them feels dwarven, all of which points to Celebrimbor. HOWEVER. Celebrimbor, as the name suggests, was fond of silver not gold, which would make this immensely gaudy fashion odd. Can’t really trust the show runners to go into that detail, but also! The star pins could just be stars! Especially because it looks like there are pearl sewn cirith runes on his sleeve that MIGHT spell out Elb, ie Elbereth. And I would call Gil Galad the more star aligned religious one. Still, whatever, I love this, the noldoring gold aesthetic I’ve been missing. - This is Galadriel, I have no proof it is about the vibes. The armour is boring but the Telperion and Laurelin merged dagger is quite cool. - Elrond possibly? I have put him here because Elrond apparently loves crushed velvet and such but I’m still not sure about this one. It honestly could also be Ar-Pharazon or another Numenorean. The lettering on the scroll apparently mentions something about ‘looking from the south’ and ‘king’s sky’, I think there’s a quenyan month of the year named king’s something? But I wasn’t sure about that and I am doing none-research for this.

HOBBITS!! I do like the concept of making small things large to make their hands look small, a neat trick. Admittedly I don’t have much to say about these, the costumes look good for nomadic harfoots and stoors and I’m very into this plaited horse hair (?) rope for a burlap sack. This staff contraption has what looks to me like a wolf claw but big (again to make Lenny Henry’s hands look small) but in general! Cool intriguing.

??? Evil?? So we have who I assume is our season one villain on the right, our ‘Adar’ who’s leading a gang of orcs and is also somehow one of Galadriel’s brothers which is a concept I find insane but only in a funny way because I dont care about elves. If they make Aegnor or Orodreth evil I would just laugh. On the left tho?? He’s really only here because the swords look so similar. I mean do we have Turin’s evil talking sword? This broken one looks like it’s made out of obsidian more than metal. But the baskets are similar and such so.

Miscellaneous! Just a group of whatever the fucks. Admittedly though, starting from the top left again, I am going out on a limb and saying these first two are connected. This is purely because the segmented belts are the same, but essentially I think these are Balchoth/Wainriders/people from the Sea of Rhun. The horse is worrying, (after shadow of wardor’s timeline nonsense with the rohirrim I’m suspicious) but on the sword the horse motif has a sea serpent’s tail which feels more Sea of Rhun to me and Wains are driven by horses SO! Ugh I love this blue and gold fellow though, the circles and the colours and the patterns! Impeccable taste. Little worried he’ll eventually become the witch king. We’ll see. - Next fellow with the map! Looks very cool and the map itself has pictographic writing I dont recognise. Or I assume it’s a map! It has that vibe but perhaps not. The fellow has a style that I am tentatively calling part of PERHAPS a section of characters who are indigenous to middle earth, perhaps ancient dunlendings or mountain men from gondor etc. - Next one with the apple is gandalf, regrettably, but at this point pretty sure if rumours are true we’re going to see gandalf arriving in a meteor. Hilarious also. - Not THIS... this fellow I’m intrigued by. He also worries me, but I am intrigued. This bark based armour with a kind of green man motif is beautiful. Big theorising here, but if we’re seeing numenorean deforestation, then it would make sense for us to see people allying with the Ents in defending the forest. That would be... SO MISERABLE to see and nigh on impossible to do sensitively since canonically... the numenoreans fully do win but! hhh We will see. - And finally! I have no idea who this woman is but I love her. The mixed fabrics are so interesting, I have no idea where she would be placed, perhaps alongside the indigenous people but I’m excited all the same. Initilly I thought she was a hobbit but they’ve done nothing to make her seem smaller and also her clothes are more complex than those other images.

#lotronprime #The Rings of Power #text post #erran vs lotronprime #:))))) and there you have it proof of how normal I've been

287 notes · View notes

bitsandbobsandstuff · 3 years

Text

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons. Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie.

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth.

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink.

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list.

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.”

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter.

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart.

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly?

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist.

Bliss.

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip.

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare.

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.”

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens.

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine.

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut.

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon?

It’s worth the mess.

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener.

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display.

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor.

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department.

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down.

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally.

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.”

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace.

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

2K notes · View notes

kugisakiss · 3 years

Note

Coming from your bio, do you know of any popular shounen manga or anime where the main m/m leads canonically get together? Even if it's only hand hold in the last chapter, I'd like to know if it's possible outside of shounen-ai or romancs category, for relatively popular manga. Someone told me Tokyo Ghoul has canonically gay leads and that's why it lost popularity, I didn't believe them, do you know anything about that too? Thank you.

Let’s talk about Tokyo Ghoul first! idk where your guy got the idea from, the main character literally sleeps with a girl in a chapter and then eventually married and had a kid with her. I don't remember much about it anymore but, I'm pretty sure the reason it lost popularity was because the last arc or two were, by general consensus, rushed/anticlimatic/messy. the ‘general consensus’ being what I remember from the mangastream comments at the end of each chapter lol

For your main question,

Short answer: if we're talking about a ‘series that ran in Weekly Shounen Jump’ then there hasn't been a single one afaik. and I suspect that we probably won’t be seeing any gay leads for a while yet so I wouldn’t hold up hope for that.

Long answer:

when it comes to shounen manga, unless it already has romance in its genre, characters don’t get together all that often to begin with. sure there’s a few that do (Naruto, Bleach, Kimetsu) but most of the time, if the story has hardly any romantic elements in it (or even if it was teased with plenty), it usually stays that way til the end (Haikyuu, Kuroko, Eyeshield, KHR, Gintama, Sket Dance (there was a confession scene in the last chapter and it’s still in this list), AssClass, TPN, Beelzebub, Hikago, Saiki, Death Note, I’m showing off all the WSJ manga I can list but you get the idea). so as you can imagine, looking for a canon gay relationship between main characters there is pretty impossible.

even looking elsewhere, if you’re looking for “there is no doubt in the audience’s mind; these two boys have hand holding rights with each other”, it’s going to be hard. the best I can find is “implied, but can be explained away” type of relationships which seems to be the furthest they go when the demographic is shounen:

Nabari no Ou - a shounen action manga which garnered enough popularity for an anime adaption, by the same author as Shimanami Tasogare. spoiler alert for a series that ended over a decade ago, not a happy ending for them

Samurai Flamenco - a superhero anime more known for throwing some truly insane plot twists when you least expect it. the closest to relationship confirmation is from some images from the gacha mobile game spin off

xxxholic - more seinen than shounen but it is a spin off to the shounen action Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles so I’ll put it here. it’s a CLAMP series where the two male leads’ lives are very interconnected with each other

these two are very explicitly gay but they aren’t very shounen:

Evangelion - probably the most famous of this list, the relationship (if you can call it that) was with a character that only appeared and lasted one episode but it was fairly overt with it rather than just implying

No. 6 - it’s rather neutral in its marketing and it’s not marked as BL so close enough. an anime adapting a shortened version of a dystopian novel series with an overt relationship between the mains

there’s a few of others like, in DGM where one of the mains has a very complicated and free to interpret past with a one arc character. Banana Fish and Yuri on Ice are definitely gay and popular shows which I wouldn’t put as BL but they are also definitely targeted towards a female audience. Ikuhara is a pretty well known director for his storytelling style and his inability to keep things straight, though not very shounen and if you’re looking for mains in a relationship there’s only Utena which is wlw. I haven’t read it but Blue Flag is a shounen romance manga which went where no one was expecting it to, though it is a SOL romance so I’m not sure it’s quite what you’re looking for.

there’s a few other series which have gay characters in a relationship as side characters but this is the best I can do for leads I’m afraid, hope this helps! if anyone wants to correct me on anything or add to this feel free, this is all mostly from memory lol

#asks #thanks for the ask! really went on a trip down memory lane typing all this out lol #wow remember mangastream i miss them every time the jump+ site refuses to display double page spreads normally #sorry for being stupidly longwinded i just have lots of thoughts about shounen manga

26 notes · View notes

janetbrown711 · 4 years

Text

The Story

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess.

Her full name was Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Second, but Angelina was just fine. However, if you were especially close, she’d let you call her Lena.

She was as kind as she was beautiful. Often Angelina found herself wandering the Warnerstock castle grounds and singing to herself, whenever she wasn’t getting in trouble for skipping classes.

Oh yes, Angelina was a trouble maker. And a smart-ass too. She loved talking back and driving her teachers insane more than anything. It wasn’t that she hated learning, far from it, it was just that she always had something better on her mind. Most often it was a song, other times it was her thinking about the new squire, William.

They had met in the stables. She had just finished her horseback riding lessons and he was just getting started with his. She was roughly 15, and he 16. They hit it off right away, though William made a fool of himself when he tripped face first in to a bucket of water. Angelina didn’t mind at all though, and they quickly became close friends.

William was a handsome squire, and it was very clear to Angelina that he liked her. Angelina liked him too. He had a goofy grin, and was full of fascinating stories she could listen to all day. He was also surprisingly optimistic, always encouraging her and others to never give up on their goals and aspirations.

He was sweet, and Angelina was pretty sure she was hopelessly in love with him.

Her parents didn’t really approve- they didn’t approve of most things she liked. The only thing they let her do was sing, so she practiced and did it often. Angelina was pretty sure that if she wasn’t destined to take the throne, she’d be a singer on stage, and would dance and perform.

Instead, she sat and learned how to eat at a dinner table. Of all the classes she thought were boring and useless, manners were the most boring and least useful. However, she sparked back to life when she looked out the window and saw none other than William himself waiting for her outside.

“Salad, fish, dinner, dessert, oyster.” Angelina cut off her instructor mid sentence and listed off the specific and dumb uses of the forks in front of her. “Now, miss, I’m afraid this lesson isn’t very interesting and something much better is waiting for me downstairs. If you don’t mind, how about we both spare each other from this dreadful lesson and call it a day early?” Angelina looked at her instructor.

“Smart-ass,” The teacher rolled her eyes. “But fine. We’ll just go overtime next time,” she said. Angelina groaned internally, but accepted her win, and ran out of the castle as quick as she could to meet William, only stopping right before the doors to adjust her crown.

“Hi William,” She said with a smile, almost giggling at how nervous he looked. For someone who was soon going to be knighted, he seemed pretty nervous about something.

“H-hi Lena,” He blushed. Angelina snorted.

“William, relax. It’s just me,” She touched his shoulder, and he relaxed a little. “C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

William agreed to this, and with him leading they strolled through the gardens. It was their favorite way to spend the time. They loved looking at all the flowers and planting them too. Angelina’s mother thought it was too dirty of an activity for a princess, but Angelina thought her mother was too rude and egotistical to be queen, and yet here they were.

Needless to say, her mother let her garden.

“Can you believe you’re going to be a real knight by this time tomorrow?” Angelina asked.

“No, not really,” He scratched the back of his neck. “To be honest, I’m dreadfully nervous about the ceremony, but I’m hopeful that things will turn out well enough,” He admitted to her. Angelina nodded.

“Knighthood is a big step from squire. Very respectable and admirable,” She said.

“What about you? You ready to be queen?” William asked.

Angelina laughed. “Me? Queen? Not in a million years. I mean- I know it’ll happen one day, but so long as I have any say in it, it won’t be for awhile,” She remarked.

“Have you not heard rumors of your mother’s retirement? You are of age and all,” He asked. Angelina shrugged.

“I hardly pay attention to a word she says these days,” She admitted. “She hates seeing me happy, so I prefer to not be around her in hopes that i will be.”

“Are you?” William asked.

“With you? Of course,” Angelina smiled at him. William blushed.

“Good- that’s... that’s good,” He said, looking at the flowers. Angelina restrained a giggle.

“So... if I may, why did you want to talk with me today?” She asked as they reached the center fountain.

“Well- I uh...” William cleared his throat. “Well... you see... I-i’m becoming a knight which mean I-I’m eligible for- well...”

“Well..?” Angelina tilted her head slightly. William took in a deep breath.

“Lena... I’ve been in love with you since I first laid eyes on you. You’re... you’re beautiful, witty, courageous, and just... wow,” He said, and it was Angelina’s turn to blush.

“I know I don’t come from much- I’m just an orphan from Acme Falls, a-and I know your mother doesn’t approve but... well...” He got down on one knee.

“I don’t have a ring, as squires don’t really get paid but... I love you, Angelina. There is no one on this earth I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. So... please... will you marry me?” He proposed.

“I... Of course,” Angelina nodded.

“I-it wouldn’t be right away. It’d be after you’re queen- when your mother is gone and can’t-” William paused. “W-wait- did you say-”

“Yes, you dummy,” Angelina punched his arm lightly. William laughed and stood, and Angelina pulled him into a passionate kiss.

And so the pair was engaged, though it was in secret. Angelina was pretty sure her mother finding out would give her a heart attack, and she’d die right then and there.

Well, turns out it didn’t matter because in a months time, Queen Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the First died of a sudden illness, and Angelina rose to the throne. She and William were married no less than a month later.

Ten months after their wedding, Warnerstock had a new prince.

“William, isn’t he just the cutest thing?” Angelina said, unable to take her eyes off her newborn son.

William kissed her head. “Of course, my love.”

“I think I’m seriously in love with him. I never want to take my eyes off of him. I mean seriously- look at that little face,” Angelina sniffled. William chuckled.

“He has your eyes. I think that’s what does it,” He said.

“Stop, you’re making me emotional,” Angelina laughed and sniffled again.

“We’re going to have to name him, you know?” William said. Angelina sighed and nodded.

“Yes, I know... but names are so hard,” She complained. “I mean- It’s not like I have a lot to go on. My father’s name was Harold the Eighth and my mother was Queen Angelina Contessa blah blah blah the first. They were so lazy,” She sighed. “And I refuse to name this precious little thing Harold the Ninth. That’s just a curse.”

“I understand dear. It’s just... well... the people do need to hear something soon,” William said. “They can’t be waiting forever. They want to know their future king.”

“I know, I know,” She sighed, looking at her son’s face and thinking intensely.

“What about something... traditional in the sense that it’s old, but not in the sense it’s boring and overused?” She suggested.

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“Something like... Yakkorotius or Alexandrion or something,” She thought out loud, before shaking her head. “That’s a very stupid name, never mind.”

“What about just... Yakko?” He proposed. Angelina thought about it.

“I think I like that name,” She nodded. “Prince Yakko Warner of Warnerstock it is,” She smiled as she said it. She didn’t know why, but she could tell it suited him already.

And so their little family began. Yakko very much lived up to his name, as once he gained the ability to babble, it seemed he never stopped. Even in his sleep, Angelina swore she could hear him babbling about whatever he was dreaming about in that sweet little head of his. By the time he was three, he would just ramble on and on about the bedtime story William had told him the previous night.

It was the favorite part of Angelina’s mornings.

However, Angelina and William found themselves wanting another child, and so by the next year, they had another son.

“You know what William? I think if they gave out awards for cutest babies, they’d go to our kids,” Angelina said as she laid in bed, utterly exhausted.

“You’re right,” The king agreed. “I think he had to though, to make up for the scare he gave us,” he said. In truth, he hadn’t been born breathing and crying and for a moment, everyone in the room believed the worst. But fortunately, the doctor fixed him right up, and everything was okay.

Still.

It had scared the crap out of Angelina and William, and the queen was determined to never let go of her newborn.

“What do you think of the name Wakkorotti?” William asked out of the blue.

“Like the performer?” Angelina tilted her head. The king nodded.

“I think it sounds elegant. And what about the middle name Alan, after my father?” He suggested.

“We didn’t give Yakko a middle name,” Angelina remarked.

“True, but I didn’t think about it until now,” William said. Angelina thought a moment.

“Perhaps we should let Yakko decide. He’s probably curious and wanting to meet his little brother,” Angelina said, nodding at the maid by the door, who left to go fetch him.

“Letting him decide? I’m pretty sure if he could he’d name him Knight or Dragon or something,” William teased her, and Angelina stuck out her tongue at him. Just then the door opened and Yakko ran to his mothers side.

“You’re okay!” He said, jumping onto the bed. Angelina laughed at his enthusiasm, but remembered that she was holding a sleeping newborn and silently reminded Yakko to keep his voice down.

“Of course I’m okay dear. Now... would you like to meet your baby brother?” Angelina said. Yakko nodded and peered over her shoulder to get a good look at him.

“He’s tiny,” Yakko said.

“That’s because he’s a baby, though you were slightly bigger when you were born,” William explained.

“What’s his name?” Yakko asked.

“What do you think of the name Wakkorotti Alan Warner?” Angelina asked. The boy pondered it for a long moment, stroking his chin intensely before nodding.

“Wakkorotti is cool,” he determined. William smirked and kissed her forehead.

“Wakkorotti it is,” he grinned.

And Wakkorotti it was, though they shortened it to Wakko. Wakko proved himself to be an... interesting child to say the least. He loved to chew on everything he could get his little ungloved hands on, so they had to be extra careful not to leave anything dangerous within his grasp. He also had a tendency to chew on his tail when nervous, which was cute at times, but once he started growing teeth he had a tendency to hurt himself, which was bad.

Once he began to crawl though, he had a funny little habbit of following Yakko wherever he went, to his older brother’s confusion and delight. Angelina found it adorable how he would just chase after him. She found it less cute when he fell on his face, but he always recovered just fine.

Angelina had a tendency to be a worry-wart.

However, perhaps the cutest habbit the two of them shared was the constant want and need to sleep in their bed. Sure, it was a little annoying at times, but Angelina honestly lived for the feeling of her two boys against her as they slept peacefully. She always considered herself the luckiest woman in the world in those moments, despite any other troubles she was facing.

Though of course it was true, Wakko proved himself to be quite the handful. However, despite that, Angelina knew that she still wanted to try one more time for a little girl. She loved her boys dearly, but she knew she wanted to try at least one more time for a girl. Plus, she felt being an older brother would be good for Wakko. Perhaps it would help tame him a little bit, though she and William suspected he was destined to be a wild child. They did name him Wakko after all.

“Congratulations your majesties. It’s a girl,” The doctor said as she wrapped the newborn princess in a blanket and handed her to Angelina, who just about started crying when she held her.

“I know what you’re gonna say Lena, and yes, she’s adorable,” William wrapped an arm around her.

“She’s just so cuteeeee,” Angelina sobbed this time, the hormones really doing a number on her. Then again, though William wouldn’t admit it out loud to the boys, she was easily the cutest baby he had ever laid eyes on.

“I just-” Angelina sniffled, desperate to pull herself together. “She’s just so cute. I can’t handle this.”

“You’re exhausted Lena. Maybe I should-”

“No, I want to hold her,” Angelina shook her head, and William backed down. Angelina took in deep breaths and gathered herself.

“I’m okay, I promise,” Angelina said. William nodded.

“I know my love,” He kissed her. His eyes then went to his sleeping baby girl and the two just sat and stared at her sleeping, both feeling exhausted (though one more notably than the other).

In honesty, things were starting to get tense with Warnerstock and Ticktockia, as the new king Salazar was far less willing to follow treaties of the past, and Angelina and William had been working out deals very late hours into the night, and their exhaustion most certainly wasnt helped my Angelina being in labor for two whole days, leaving neither one of them with much sleep at all.

“What do you want to name her, dearest?” Angelina asked. William yawned.

“I thought I named Wakko,” He said.

“Well yes, and I do have an idea of my own, but I was wondering what you think first,” Angelina said.

“Fair enough,” The king said, sitting himself up.

“I was thinking she could have your name,” He said. Angelina blinked.

“You want her to save the same name as my mother?” She raised an eyebrow in alarm.

“I hardly think of your name as her name. You’re much much kinder and more beautiful and kind and a much better mother than she could ever dream,” William smiled tiredly at her.

“Oh stop, you’ll make me cry again,” Angelina said, not admitting how much those words meant to her. William kissed her head.

“What were you thinking of naming her Lena?” He asked.

“I just wanted to name her Dot...” She sniffled. In truth, she liked the name Dot. She had read it in a book somewhere and admired how short yet colorful it was.

“How about that’s her nickname? Like how I call you Lena,” William suggested.

“How on earth is Dot short for Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third?” Angelina questioned.

“It isn’t, I just think it makes sense,” William shrugged. Angelina looked back down at her baby girl and thought about it.

She really did like the idea of her sharing her name... but she did also like the name Dot. It suited her, somehow. Just like how Yakko fit Yakko and Wakko fit Wakko, Dot just seemed to fit Dot.

“I’d like that,” Angelina agreed.

“Do you want me to let the boys in?” The king asked. She nodded. He kissed her one last time and headed out of the room, and before she knew it, two cautious little boys were at the foot of her bed.

“It’s okay you two, you can climb up,” She gestured with her head. Slowly, they climbed up on either side of her, and both looked down at their baby sister.

“What’s her name?” Yakko asked.

“Her full name is Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third... but you can just call her Dot,” Angelina joked.

“That’s a really long name,” Yakko remarked.

“It’s my name too,” The queen said.

“Your name isn’t mummy?” Wakko tilted his head in confusion, and Yakko laughed at him. Angelina gave him a look.

“No. I’m Angelina the second, and this is Angelina the third,” She said, not having the energy for the full name.

“How is Dot short for Angelina?” Yakko asked.

“It just is,” She shrugged.

“Why does she look like that?” Wakko asked with a frown.

“Wakko, that’s quite a rude thing to say,” Angelina scolded.

“Sorry,” he apologized. The queen took a deep breath in.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t snap like that,” She apologized too. “It’s been a very long week.”

“Yeah,” Yakko agreed.

“I think she’s cute,” Wakko said, seeming to have changed his mind from the previous statement. Angelina smiled.

“She is, isn’t she?” She laughed tiredly. After that, the three of them stayed staring at the newest member of their family curiously, even though she was only sleeping. Eventually Angelina joined her in sleep, and soon enough, all four of them were asleep on the bed.

With encouragement from William, despite having a rocky and exhausting start, Angelina was optimistic that everything was going to turn out alright. Thank god William was an optimist, because Angelina was pretty sure between the tension only increasing with Ticktockia and with her exhaustion from having a newborn around again, she was pretty sure she might have snapped by now.

It especially wasn’t helped that when Dot was only three months old, there was already rumors of war.

Angelina hated war. She hated the very concept of it. All she wanted to do was to live a peaceful life with her children and husband, was that so much to ask?

However, despite how dire things were going William always promised everything was going to be okay, but Angelina was starting to become less and less persuaded. So, while she set Dot down for her afternoon nap, and while Yakko and Wakko played in the gardens, she wrote letters to Acme Falls, explaining the situation as best she could.

She couldn’t live with herself if something were to happen and she didn’t have a plan.

Thankfully the people of Acme Falls agreed. Many of them were old friends of William’s, and so they swore they’d protect them if anything bad were to happen to her and William.

Angelina hated to think that way, but she needed to know they’d be safe no matter what.

Well, one night Angelina put Dot in her crib for the night after finally getting her to go to sleep (it had been a rough night and she had had to go through at least five different lullabies) and Angelina went into the playroom and saw Wakko playing by himself with toy soldiers and carts.

“What’re you playing there Wakko?” She asked, trying her best not to let her exhaustion show.

“M’playing soldiers,” He gave her a big toothy grin. She nodded and sat in the rocking chair in the corner.

“Sounds like fun, my dear,” She said, not knowing what else to really say. Wakko was nowhere near as talkative as Yakko, so if he didn’t feel like talking, he didn’t feel like talking.

She had nearly fallen asleep in the rocking chair, when she heard the door open and saw an embarrassed and upset looking Yakko enter the room.

Right. He had just come back from the meeting with his father. Angelina told him he shouldn’t have let him sit in, but William had insisted it was good for him. She sighed.

“You alright honey?” She asked. Yakko sighed.

“I talk too much,” he sighed.

“Impossible. I think you talk just the right amount for you,” The queen shook her head.

“Yakko! Play with me!” Wakko said, putting a toy soldier into his hand. Yakko groaned and looked at his mom. Angelina rolled her eyes.

“Play with your brother Yakko, it’s good for you,” She said, before grabbing his arm and whispering, “I’ll let you have a treat later if you play nice.”

That seemed to change his mood instantly and he quickly joined Wakko on the floor. He was still a little more grouchy than she would have liked, but she was far too exhausted to fix it, and decided he just needed to vent a little and that it’d be fine if she closed her eyes for a minute or two...

Angelina wasn’t how long she had rested before the loud shattering of glass shot her awake in the rocking chair, and she stood.

“What was that mummy?” Wakko asked, tugging on her sleeve.

“I-i’m sure it was nothing, dear,” She patted his head to try and reassure him, but she cringed when there was another crash. In a moment, she recognized what she had to do.

“Yakko, watch over your brother. I’ll be back in a moment, I promise,” She said, trying her best to appear strong and brave for them, but she could see it wasn’t very effective on Yakko. She hugged them tightly and kissed their foreheads.

“I’ll be back in a moment, I’m just going to check on your father,” She repeated, praying that sounded more confident. Quickly, she grabbed Yakko’s shoulders.

“Yakko, listen to me. If anything should happen, I need you to grab Dot and exit the castle using the servant tunnels underground. Don’t stop until you reach Acme Falls, understood?” She asked him. Seeing the fear in his eyes nearly broke her, but Angelina knew she had to get Dot and William. Thankfully, he nodded and She relaxed a little.

“I promise I’ll protect them,” Yakko said. Angelina nodded.

“I love you two so very, very much,” She said, hugging them once again.

Why did this feel like a goodbye?

She kissed their foreheads again, making sure to memorize the feeling of holding them. God, she loved them.

With a heavy heart, she pulled herself away and ran out.

It was worse than she imagined. She could smell wood burning and the shouting and swearing of men. Angelina ran as far away as she could from the nursery, knowing if she ran into any of these invaders, the last thing she wanted was for them to find the boys.

She had to find William before she could find Dot. It broke her heart to admit, but Dot’s bedroom was a million times safer than wherever her husband was.

She dashed around corners and went down and upstairs, and eventually she heard his voice.

“William?!” She called out.

No response.

She ran towards where she heard the voice, but no one was there. Eventually, someone grabbed her arm and she spun around, expecting it to be him, but-

“I found her royal majesty,” a greasy and disgusting man spat on her. Angelina tried to break free, but he was much taller and stronger than she was, and his grip only tightened.

“I demand you let me go!” She tried, but the man only chuckled as more of his ‘friends’ arrived, and she was overcome with a feeling of dread.

“You think you’re so pretty huh? Got all that money and power, hm?” He asked. Angelina didn’t dignify the stupid words with a response, which fill the man with anger and he punched her in the face so hard she fell to the ground.

Ow.

“Did they find the King?” One of the men asked, as another, much taller and muscular man approached.

“He is... taken care of. Now our main goal is to find those little brats. And oh look- you found their mommy dearest,” A familiar voice spoke. Angelina blinked and looked up to see his face.

it was King Salazar himself.

“Surprised?” He grinned.

“Not in the slightest,” She growled. Salazar snapped his fingers and one of the men kicked her in the ribs. Hard.

“You’ve always been so annoying Angelina, you know that?” He complained.

“You’ve always been a stuck-up pain in the ass who’s never had more than ten cents worth of knowledge, you know that?” Angelina fought back, and regretted it as she was kicked again.

“You never know when to shut up, do you?” He frowned. Angelina only glared, which made him grin.

“You know... we were originally betrothed to each other. It’s not too late. We can still be married,” He said, squatting down to her level. Rage filled her body and she spat in his face.

“I’d sooner die,” She stated.

“You disgusting creature!” he shouted, standing up and wiping off his eyes. Angelina felt two men grab her arms and twist them into and uncomfortable position and soon she was off the ground.

“Look... I’m only going to ask this once. Where are those disgusting little children of yours?” He asked.

“Tough, because I’m not telling you,” She glared, and she was dropped onto the floor, her head hitting the marble hard.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Salazar snapped his fingers and guns were pointed at her head.

“I’m not telling you where they are.” She didn’t waver.

“We’ll find them either way Angelina, so how’s about you tell us anyway? We already killed the king, we can kill you just as easily,” He snarled.

William...

Angelina’s eyes darted everywhere as she tried to grasp what they just told her. She didn’t want to believe it but-

William was dead.

Then, the worst happened.

She saw him.

Yakko. He was standing at the end of the hall, looking utterly terrified. Angelina’s eyes widened in fear as she realized her mistake, and she heard Salazar’s voice order:

“Seize the boy.”

Angelina called up all of her inner strength to shout

“Yakko, run.”

Thank god he did.

However, a feeling of dread crawled up her spine as Salazar laughed.

“You stupid, pathetic, and grotesque little creature,” He grinned and Angelina felt blood drip down her face. She hoped Yakko hadn’t seen that.

“He’s going to lead us right to them, which means we no longer have a use for you,” he grinned.

“Wait-! Salazar, please- i-i-” She tried begging, but she was knocked back down to the ground my one of their guns. She cried out in pain as she heard something break.

Her last thoughts were of Yakko, and she quickly and silently prayed that somehow, someway, they’d make it out alive and stay together. They had to.

“please,” she whispered.

And everything went black.

218 notes · View notes

hotdogct · 3 years

Text

as dreamers do ||| n.jm

pairing: na jaemin x reader genre: fluff words: 2.2k a/n: hello!!! this is my first piece of writing in a very long time, so apologies if its all over the place/makes no sense!!! obviously this is all a work of fiction, disclaimer, blablabla, idk what i’m doing i just wanted to write drabbles about nct lmao, so with that being said!!!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you trust me?”

You roll your eyes in the direction of your coworker, Jaemin, who was sitting across from you in the fluorescent lit break room located just behind Splash Mountain’s gift shop and exit. The two of you were part of the massive workforce of college aged youth that Disney recruited every year to staff their theme parks and resorts. While you weren’t initially thrilled with your role as a custodian, you learned to appreciate its quirks - and that included the unique cast of characters otherwise known as your coworkers. From the full-timers that did their best to ignore your presence, knowing another semester would just bring a fresh wave of new faces, to your fellow program cohorts - Jaemin being one of them.

Assuming he was just quoting Aladdin at you, you offer no response to Jaemin’s initial query and continue scrolling through your phone, shoveling the few remaining cheese crackers from the nearby vending machine down your throat, intending on savoring the remaining minutes of your last break for the evening.

Your thoughts wandered back to your fellow cast members. There was Daehwi, sheltered and away from home for the first time, affectionately nicknamed ‘baby’ by everyone he befriended. Wendy, with her melodic voice and cheerful disposition, eager to break into song at a moments notice. Lucas, who might’ve come to Florida to party first, but worked equally hard. Hani, who arrived a few weeks after you, always the first to come help when you radio that your restroom has overflowed, again. Even Jinho, who had initially fooled you with his youthful looks before revealing this was his third time through the program, had somehow wormed his way into your heart. But nobody had been as captivating as Jaemin. When you first met him in passing in the cramped break room, you were convinced casting had made a mistake, that he was lost on his way to costuming for entertainment. He certainly looked like a prince - perfectly straight teeth, boyishly handsome good looks. A few days later he was assigned to clean the same bathrooms as you - “bathroom buddies” as everyone affectionately would call the practice. There, in the shared stockrooms, you learned who Jaemin was beyond his beautiful face - how his friends back home called him Nana, that he was studying photography in college, that he was an only child, a helluva flirt. Even your music tastes were similar, a fact you discovered on one of the many cramped, late night bus rides back to program housing where the two of you stood packed shoulder to shoulder, like sardines in a can. Jaemin interacted with guests both young and young at heart with an effortless charm and grace. Your managers loved him immediately, and before you knew it, you found yourself incredibly enamored with him too.

It wasn’t until his hand suddenly broke through your field of vision, blocking sight of your phone, that you realized Jaemin had stood up and was now standing directly in front of you. His head covered the harshest of the overhead lights, casting a soft halo glow around his black, messy hair and broad shoulders. He smiles down at you, innocently, and you feel your heartbeat accelerate when your eyes meet his own.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, again. This time, without thought, you place your hand firmly in his.

******

Jaemin leads you out of the blinding light of the break room silently, into the dark of the early winter evening. Eyes still adjusting, you follow behind him, thankful that your corner of the park was mostly deserted - Splash Mountain still closed for the season, only a few stragglers were coming and going to use the restroom in the area. You vaguely remember that Jaemin had been assigned a nearby zone to clean that evening - which was it again…?

He leads you up a flight up stairs, then, and that’s when it hits you. Train Zone. The Frontierland Railroad Station. It was an easy zone to clean, as the railroad shut down early each night before the fireworks display. Gathering the trash in an empty zone like this was a godsend, especially when compared to the other ride queues you had to clean, oftentimes fighting constant guest traffic like a fish swimming upstream.

Lost in your thoughts, you follow behind Jaemin as he completes his task diligently, making sure each trash can within the train station is empty and re-bagged for the next morning. It had been a few days since the two of you had worked in neighboring areas, and you often found yourself tongue tied when around him. The background music loop of Frontierland was noticeably absent, the speakers within the station shut off for the night. This led to Jaemin singing nonsense songs while tying up trash bags and wiping down surfaces, dancing lightly on his feet.

Turkey leg-g-g

At the train

D-d-d-driving me insane~

All you could do was laugh at his antics, and before you knew it, the nearby banana boat parked at the exit ramp was full of trash bags. Satisfied with the results of your hard work, you were about to begin the walk to backstage, where the dumpsters were located, when Jaemin turned about face, walking instead towards the train station.

“What are you doing?!” you hiss, not wanting to shout but needing to stress your confusion at his actions. Jaemin stops at the gate, unlatches it, before turning around, beckoning you over with a smile.

“I asked you if you trusted me, didn’t I?” his voice low in your ear upon your arrival at his side, banana boat now parked safely out of any guest traffic. Jaemin unlocks the gate for you, both of you falling silent on your walk back up into the depths of the train station - no more cute, silly songs spilling from his lips.

“Are you sure we aren’t going to get caught?” your voice carries louder than intended across the empty room as you go through the turnstile, and you wince.

Jaemin’s boisterous laugh took you by surprise, followed a moment later by his hand ruffling the top of your head, messing up your hair. As if to say, foolish.

“Getting the trash from up here is technically our responsibility. So what if it took us a little long?”

He was right - the best part of your job was the agency it provided. Sure, you were cleaning up garbage and bathrooms and vomit, but you could walk around freely. Explore hidden corners and crevices of the park. You knew all too well the allures of the shared hallway between the Frontierland restrooms, the stock closet next to the Veranda breezeway, the dumpster behind the Haunted Mansion - places the rest of your desperately horny coworkers had used to hook up in weeks prior. As you follow Jaemin around a corner towards the front of the station, through an open passageway, you wonder if that’s what he has in mind. That is, until you see the view in front of you.

Jaemin had led you to a small balcony that overlooked the whole expanse of Frontierland. From above you could spot guests walking about the park to and fro, the Rivers of America flowing gently behind them in the distance. Bits and pieces of Cinderella’s Castle were visible through the tree line, shining bright in multicolor as the nightly projection show proceeded to play.

“Jaem, it’s….”

“Nice, isn’t it?” He finishes your thought for you, his hand brushing over the staged decorations of fake barrels and crates against the wall of the balcony that seemed perfect to sit upon. Moments later, Jaemin plops down with a satisfied smile on his face and pats the space beside him, silently asking you to join him.

“Nice is an understatement” you offer in reply. A small laugh leaves his lips, a breeze rolls through. For just a moment, it is quiet and still.

“I’ve been wanting to show you this place for a while, but the stars just never aligned right until tonight.”

“You mean, the computer system that automates scheduling and staffing didn’t randomly place us in neighboring areas of the park until to-” Jaemin’s stiff elbow into your side lets you know to drop the wit. That you could do, but a question lingered in your mind, still, and you did have to voice your sole concern.

“How do you not get caught up here?”

Jaemin turns around, points to the solitary light on the balcony, and it’s then that you notice the bulb is off. You might feel exposed looking down upon everyone, but quickly realize that nobody is looking up at the closed train station - let alone looking for two cast members in white uniforms in the dark, goofing off on a weeknight.

Fooling around…

You were thankful for the cover of darkness in that moment, as you felt your cheeks turn crimson at the thought. Being alone, with Jaemin, this close, in the dark...This all seemed very sudden, despite everyone knowing about your big crush on Nana - he had to know too?

“So,” Jaemin’s voice cuts through your ever-racing thoughts, and your chest goes cold. “A little birdie told me there’s something you really, really like…”

If jumping off the balcony was a safe option, in that moment, you would’ve taken it. A confirmation of your worst fears - that Jaemin was aware of your ridiculous, schoolgirl like crush on him. You are speechless, sunken, pulse racing, and terrified.

Without the usual cue of area music, caught up in the last hour, you had missed your usual clues. A loud boom caused you to jump in your seat, out of your brain, head immediately turning towards Jaemin - only to make eye contact with him, bright lights reflecting off the surface, who smiles and motions for you to turn around. Of course.

If you were known for one thing amongst your cohorts, it was that you loved fireworks. Even on the most hectic of nights you found a way to make sure you were outside during the nightly display, never taking for granted that you were being paid to watch the sky light up in time to music. You had your favorite spots to watch from, but had never once considered the train station. From the corner of Frontierland, it felt like the fireworks were almost on top of you - cascading down upon Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, the expanse of empty night sky providing the perfect canvas. As the speakers above you were silent, there was no accompanying soundtrack, but it didn’t matter - you knew the whole show by heart. You were unaware of how long your mouth had been hanging open in blissful, childlike wonder, only noticing when Jaemin gently pressed his finger up against your chin, closing the space between your upper and lower lip through simple momentum. Moments later, his hand brushed over yours, testing the waters, and finding no complaint, interlocked his fingers with yours, and gravity pulls your head to his shoulder. A soft, steady hum leaves his lips, as you settle into this newfound bliss.

The rest of the fireworks show plays out in front of the two of you - two white ghosts in a dark shadow, illuminated by glowing streaks and bursts of color from the night sky. You’re working at the most magical place on earth, sure, but this felt like the most magical moment of your life.

Before you know it, the sky calms again, signaling the end of the show. You remain frozen for a moment, not wanting to leave. When you finally stand back up, awkwardly untangling yourself from Jaemin’s frame in a rushed manner, you can almost feel yourself floating back down to the ground, back to reality. Jaemin, your co-worker, Jaemin the flirt. He brought you up here just to watch the fireworks after all. Had you been a bit more outgoing, a bit less awkward, maybe...

Taking a few steps towards the entryway, a sudden hand on your wrist pulls you against the wall - thankfully, out of sight of any guests, but now engulfing your entire body in shadow. And it’s here in the darkness that Jaemin’s hand releases itself from your wrist, finds its way up to your cheek. Here, he leans in and kisses you - pressing his chapped lips against yours gently, but with enough intent and purpose that you swear you were seeing stars after a few moments. It doesn’t last long, as all fairytales would tell you. When you part, Jaemin rests his forehead against yours, both slightly damp from the Florida humidity, and you can feel him smile against you, somehow breathless, letting out a low chuckle, before asking,

“Did you think I was talking about the fireworks?”

#na jaemin #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream #nct fluff #jaemin #nct scenarios #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin fic #jaemin fic #jaemin fluff #nct x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream fluff

102 notes · View notes

ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Addicted To You

Part VI: Hold On Loosely

Summary/Author’s Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG. I MISSED FRANKIE SO MUCH. also. Holy shit, I love you guys. Part I -- has been my first fic to reach 500+ notes and that is just bananas to me and also wild that it was Frankie that did it. He deserves all of the love.

So, for those who have seen the movie know what is about to happen. But it might not be in the way you think. We get a little bit more Reader and Pope interaction and someone mentioned wondering about her relationship with Benny and I was like Oh perfect timing for this then...Enjoy. Gif credit to @pascalplease

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope’s Sister!Reader Word Count: 4.1k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ Language, TOM (yeah he moved up), No one fucking listening to Frankie, Frustration, Intense situations, FUCKING murder, pining/longing, getting slightly turned on by Frankie piloting again--don’t lie we all do it, Frankie distress, blood/injuries

Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV * Part V (bold means smut**)

[MASTERLIST]

“What’s my name?!” he yelled over the wind of the helicopter behind him.

“I-I don’t know,” She hugged her own body, clutching the duffel bag to her chest and looked at him with uncertainty. The wind blew her dark hair around her face and she made it a point to put herself between her younger brother and the man in front of her.

“Your buddy back there--” he swung his arm around and pointed. “What’s his name?” She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow. “I can just go ask him!”

“I said I don’t know!”

“Now,” he touched her arm and she had to fight not to shrug him off. He dipped his head and his tone was condescending. “When you two finally had sex--and you rolled over and said, ‘what’s your real name’--what’d he say?”

“That never happened!” She shrugged him off then and snarled at him. “He told me you served together...and that you were honest.”

“Why’d he say that?” Tom leaned back in mild surprise.

“Because I asked if he trusted you.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you cheating him…”

The chopper had landed on the Peruvian border just like Pope had promised. They had dropped off the informant and her brother and although you couldn’t hear what was being said, you could tell by Tom’s dramatic body language and the disgust on her face that it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Your brother handed her their cut of the money and touched her face tenderly as she held onto his arm and they said their goodbyes.

Tom stormed back onto the helicopter and sat down, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. You couldn’t help but think that he reminded you more and more of a child throwing a tantrum instead of a hardened military veteran leading a mission. It was as if he knew you were staring because he opened his eyes and looked at you. You averted your gaze quickly.

Pope cleared the threshold of the copter and took Benny’s seat as the younger man went up to take his shift with Frankie in the cockpit. Your brother put his headset on and opened his arm so you could lean against him and hug his side.

“You liked her, didn’t you?” you asked him, looking up with your head on his chest.

“I’m just glad she’s safe.” He said vaguely and you knew not to push the subject. He rubbed his hand up and down over your arm as if to warm you up and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“She’s lying,” Tom’s voice crackled through the coms on the headsets and both you and Pope looked at him.

“No, she’s not.” Pope said firmly and glared at the other man.

“You know what we should have done?” Tom let his thought remain unfinished and you felt your brother tense under your arms. Your stomach dropped as you realized what Tom meant. Before either of you could say anything, Will spoke up, always the voice of reason.

“That’s one you wouldn’t come back from, brother,” he said. He was leaning back against a few of the duffel bags with his arm propped up to keep his side un-strained.

The four of you were quiet for a long time, each mulling over Tom’s words in your own way as the chopper whirred around you rhythmically. The dark sky was crystal clear and you watched as the city below you slowly started to disappear and give way to the dark tops of the trees.

“You still doing okay?” Pope asked and you nodded.

“I’m exhausted,” you said, trying your best to stifle a yawn with his shirt. “But I’m worried if I sleep I’m going to wake back up in that mansion.” It was the first time you had admitted it out loud, but, however ridiculous, it was the truth. Every time you closed your eyes, it was as if you were back in that room, tied to that chair. The darkness that enveloped you wasn’t from sleep, it was the goddamn blindfold being put back over your eyes and it made your heart start racing as panic built in your chest.

“Hey,” Pope said, dipping his head to look at you. “You know I was going to find you no matter what, right?” He gave you another squeeze. “I wasn’t leaving this fucking jungle without my little sister.”

You released a heavy breath and laid your head back against your shoulder, smiling slightly and forcing your mind to remember that you really were safe. Before you could start to drift off, you opened your eyes and leaned back enough to look at him. “If I promise to try and sleep, will you go check on Frankie?”

Pope chuckled and rolled his eyes before succumbing to your request. “Yes. You rest and I will go check on Fish.” As he got up, he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over you before moving towards the cockpit.

"The weight drags when we get into higher altitudes so I want to keep it under 5,000 feet until we hit the Andes. We'll hit the ocean in four hours." Frankie's voice came through the com on your headset and you suddenly felt better. Tom's voice came through confirming that they had heard him and understood.

Four hours. Four hours and you would be headed home. After everything, it seemed like such a small amount of time and with Frankie at the helm, there was nothing to worry about.

When you woke up, it was because you were shivering. The main hull of the helicopter had dropped a considerable amount as it flew through the night and started to rise in altitude the closer it got to the Andes. Your brother was still gone but his jacket was pooled in your lap where it had slipped down off your chest. Both of the Miller brothers were sleeping peacefully and you were glad that Will had finally managed to get comfortable.

You sat up and slipped your headset back on so you could hear what they were saying. Standing up and stepping into the cockpit, the view out of the front of the aircraft was breathtaking. The mountains were huge, rocky crags that were covered in bright, white snow that reflected the sun off of its smooth surface.

"I'm gonna try and head for the two peaks I saw on the map. If we can aim for that valley it will be easier," Frankie said.

"Roger," Tom replied and both men looked up as you stepped over the threshold and put your hand on Frankie's shoulder.

"Hey, you," he said quietly, giving a small smile as you gave his arm a squeeze.

"It's beautiful," you said, clearing the sleep from your voice and nodding ahead of you. There was a clear divide between the lush, green trees on the mountains below and the drastic change in altitude that allowed for the snow to accumulate.

"It is," Frankie nodded, reaching forward and flipping up a small switch before putting both hands back on the joy stick. "You finally rest?"

"A little," you said. You pulled your headset down to rest on the base of your neck so you could lean forward and kiss his cheek gently. He kept his eyes ahead but the action made him smile, making the small lines at the edge of his eyes crinkle.

"Can you cut the domestic bullshit please?" Tom said, gruffly. "How steep do you think that is?" He pointed to the nearest peak and Frankie looked at him sternly.

"It's about 11,000 feet. We can't make that. I gotta find another way." Frankie shook his head and readjusted his grip on the controls.

"That's the quickest way to the ocean from here. You should go for it."

Both you and the man to your left looked at Tom in surprise and annoyance. Who was he to call the shots like this? This wasn't a matter of choice, this was a matter of if something was possible or not. You put your hand on Frankie's shoulder as the helicopter started to rise up the side of the mountain.

Frankie dipped his head to look up through the windshield, glancing down at all of the controls and watching as the lights started to flash in warning. You looked over your shoulder as Pope came up to stand behind you and watch what was happening.

"Alright, baby," Frankie said softly, talking to the aircraft. "Alright, baby, come on now."

He caressed the controls like he had caressed you. His fingers were familiar with them, what made them tick, and how best to move each dial and joystick. Frankie had always flown with a meticulous care that never failed to impress you--it was his favorite thing in the world. His heart lived in the sky and you loved that about him. A loud and rapid beeping drew you from your thoughts as the control panel started blinking red and orange.

"We're redlining man," Pope spoke up behind you as he pointed to the sensors.

"It's close though," Frankie grit his teeth and cursed under his breath. "It's too much weight. It's too much fucking weight. We're never going to make it."

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, sternly.

"It means we're losing fucking money."

"You wanna leave 50 million dollars in the middle of the jungle?"

"You wanna get to the ocean?" Frankie snapped finally, his voice not leaving any room for argument from Tom. The other man glared at him for a moment before looking over his shoulder to address Pope.

"Alright, go do it."

The idea that Tom controlled what he imagined to be the fate of the money, but in reality it was all of your lives, was complete insanity to you--especially because he seemed to be so flippant about the importance of the latter. You looked over your shoulder as your brother lowered the hatch on the back of the aircraft and a bitterly cold wind filled the cabin. The Miller brothers started shoving duffel bags filled with money out into a free fall down to the snow covered landscape of the Andes.

The immediate beeping of the control panel quieted down and Frankie gave an approving nod. “That's feeling better.” He dipped his head lower, leaning forward in his chair as if the movement would help the craft in its painfully slow ascend over the mountains. “Come on. Come on.”

You held your breath as Frankie crested you over the top of the mountain and, just like he promised, there was the ocean. The sun glittered off the water as it rose in the sky and you felt a sense of relief that was comparable to how you felt when Frankie had cut you loose from your bindings in the mansion. Both times he had brought you a sense of safety that made your heart stutter against your ribs. Then the beeping came back. The aircraft paused for a brief moment before it dropped into a free fall.

Your ass hit the metal floor hard and your stomach twisted into knots like you were on a roller coaster. Santiago’s arm wrapped around your waist and hauled you up against him as the copter shook and the metal screamed, alarms going off from multiple places on the dashboard.

“What the fuck are you doing Catfish!?” Will yelled as he gripped the handle above his head and put a hand over the bullet wound on his side.

Frankie’s voice came through the headset, calmer than he most likely felt. ”One of the gear boxes is blown--I don't want to go into a spin.” You all continued to fall in the air down the side of the mountain and his voice became strained as he gripped the joystick and tried to balance it out. “We might be in trouble here. I'm losing altitude--we should land. We should land now.”

“Crash land here we all die!” Tom yelled, looking at his pilot with wide eyes.

“I'm trying to get her back to flat--”

“Prepare for a hard landing!” Tom barked behind at the rest of you.

Frankie flew back down over the canopy of the jungle, the snow giving way to the lush green of the treetops as he tried to maneuver towards the village that you all had seen during your first initial climb. Benny leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he gripped the handle closest to him. You could feel your brother’s heart hammering against your back, but on the outside he remained calm for the sake of the rest of his crew.

“I can't land this with the drop bag under us. We should lose the money and maybe we don't die.” Frankie turned and looked at Tom. The man glared at him but remained quiet. The fact that now, looking certain death in the eyes, Tom decided to shut his mouth, pissed you off. And apparently, it did Frankie as well because without Tom’s permission he looked over his shoulder and yelled over his mic on his headset. “LOSE THE MONEY OR WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“Fuck this,” you mumbled as you pulled Santiago’s arm from around you and scrambled to your feet.

You had been on flights with Frankie enough times that you knew what the external load release looked like. It was the only fucking leaver on the wall, after all. You leaned over Benny and grabbed the red handle and yanked it down. The cargo doors in the floor opened slowly but the canvas net bag full of duffel bags stayed securely attached to the bottom of the helicopter.

“Frankie! It’s not working!” You called out to him and he glanced back at you again.

“There's a manual override on the cargo hook!” His voice was full of worry as he told you to stop. “Let Benny do it--fuck!”

He cursed, watching as you ignored him and leaned over the open door to find the manual override. The wind from the blades and the altitude whipped your hair against your face and you grabbed onto the rope, feeling for a trigger mechanism of some kind. You cursed as black smoke billowed from the top of the aircraft and obscured your vision. The giant metal release was on the other side of the net and was way out of your reach.

“Spot me!” You turned and yelled at Benny as he fell to his knees beside you and you ripped off your headset.

Benny nodded and helped you lower yourself through the hatch and onto the rope. He gripped your arm as you extended your leg and landed a firm kick with your booth onto the latch. When the bag fell, the helicopter gave a jolt as the weight shifted and Benny toppled through the hatch with you. You screamed as you heard Pope call your name and you looked up to see that the only thing that connected you to the copter was Benny’s grip.

“Benny!” Will lunged for his brother and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. The ground was coming closer and closer as Frankie tried to level out the craft and land it in the middle of the field.

“I can’t hold us both!” Benny yelled back at the blond. “We gotta jump!”

“No!” Pope reached through the hole in the floor but Benny was right. He didn’t give them any time to argue as he let go of the edge of the hatch and the both of you dropped the last twenty or so feet to the ground.

You hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind from your chest. Bits of dirt flew into your mouth as you gasped and covered your face with your arm. As the helicopter touched down, dirt and debris whipped around in the air and you squinted to try and see through it all. The blade on the tail caught the dirt and the whole craft jerked sideways as huge chunks of metal flew directly toward you and Benny.

“Get down!” He grabbed you and shoved you back down onto the ground covering you with his body as it continued to spin and jerk. The metal groaned, the blades squealed and all you could think of was if Frankie was still in control of it or if you were all just holding your breath and waiting for it to be over.

Black smoke and chunks of upturned earth continued to fly long after the craft came to a stop but the blades still slowly continued to turn. Benny moved his body off of yours and helped you stand as you both took off running towards the wreckage.

“Santi!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Here!” Your brother called back as Will popped the door open and they both started to climb up out of the sideways craft. “We’re fine!”

“Fish!” Benny yelled as he got to the front and your heart stopped. Both Frankie and Tom were not moving as fast as Pope and Will. The glass of the windshield was shattered, but still hanging in the frame and Benny quickly raised his knee and kicked it free in giant sheets.

Tom crawled out onto the grass and coughed, fresh blood coming from an abrasion on his eyebrow. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Help Fish.”

As soon as Tom was out of the way, Benny got down and leaned in, grabbing the other man by the forearms and hauling him out onto the ground.

“Frankie,” you breathed, running the rest of the way to him. Benny moved to the side as you approached and you threw yours arms around him tightly.

Frankie squeezed you tightly, before leaning back to hold you at arm's length. He dipped his head to look you in the eyes as he gripped your upper arms and shook you slightly. “What you thinking--what the fuck were you thinking?!”

You watched as blood slowly dripped down a fresh, large gash on Frankie’s upper cheek, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. He couldn’t look away from you. His eyes were wild and his chest was heaving and even though his words were harsh, his tone didn’t hold any anger--it held fear. Your eyes burned and your chest felt tight, and the moment he saw it reflected on your face, his resolve crumbled and he pulled you back against his chest.

“You scared the shit out of me, baby,” He confessed as he pressed his lips to the top of your head and shut his eyes tightly. “Fuck.” He shook his head and looked up at the man standing behind you. “Thanks, Ben.”

Benny nodded as he helped Will jump from the door of the helicopter and Pope crawled out behind him, with his rifle clutched in his hand. He started tossing gear down to the ground and they passed around backpacks and guns. Frankie let you go reluctantly as Pope hopped down to the ground and handed him a new bulletproof vest.

“They’re gettin’ into the fucking net,” Tom cursed and the rest of you looked up to watch as people from the nearby village had flooded the site where the bag had dropped. Sure enough, they were using tools and machetes to rip through the thick ropes of the drop net and get into the duffel bags.

”What’s the plan here?” Pope said, propping his rifle on his arm and looking around.

“We’re getting that money back over the mountain and to the ocean,” Tom said, fastening his vest and grabbing his own weapon. “Benny, cover us from that treeline there.” He pointed to the right. “Fish, I want you at that vantage point over there.” He pointed to the left and then continued. “That’s cocaine they’re growing, so they could have guns already trained on us from those watchtowers over there.”

“We got working coms?” Will asked and Tom shook his head.

“No, we’ll use hand signals. Pope and I will get out there and look as peaceful as we can--we’ll signal when we think it's secure.” Tom looked to each of them to make sure they understood before nodding once. “Move out.”

As they all started to move in their assigned directions, Frankie moved his rifle to one hand, so he could take yours with his other. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t argue, not wanting to leave his side regardless. You desperately wanted to inspect the cut on his face, but you knew while he was tasked with watching the back of Pope and Tom, Frankie wouldn’t dare think about himself. You could ask, but he wouldn’t let you, so what was the point? He moved you both up the hill and squatted low into the tall grasses of the field, pressing his right eye to his scope for a minute to make sure he had a shot lined up if he needed it.

As you both watched the retreating forms of Tom and Pope walk towards the farmers, Frankie glanced at you. “Are you hurt?”

“Scratches mainly,” you shook your head and looked down at your palms and arms. “That’s it. You’re bleeding, though.” You nodded towards his face.

“I’m fine,” he said stubbornly, like you knew he would. “Don’t do anything like that again.” His voice was flat and you fought the urge to snap back at him. The adrenaline had been high for you both, the last thing you needed was to fight with the man you currently needed most.

“We both are going to do what it takes to get home--”

“You don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re a badass--”

“Don’t pull that macho bullshit with me--”

The two of you glared at one another and then his face broke into a small grin. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about you being stubborn before looking back through his scope. You knew he was just worried. Was it reckless to do what you did on the drop net? Absolutely. But this entire trip had been nothing but the five of them risking their lives for you, and you were tired. Tired of being the reason that everyone you cared about in this fucking jungle was in constant danger. So, when Frankie told you to be smart, it was because he just wanted you home. He just wanted you safe.

You stayed quiet as you both watched the scene unfold in the field below. Both Tom and Pope were talking with their hands, gesturing, and speaking quickly. Hearing what was being said wasn’t necessary, their body language was more than enough, this talk wasn’t going in their favor.

“Pope, what's he reaching for? Is that a weapon?” Frankie spoke with his gun against his shoulder as he used the hand that wasn’t on the trigger to press the button on his radio.

No response.

“Pope, do you cop-”

“Frankie,” you touched his shoulder as you remembered the coms were dead from the crash.

Frankie leaned back and glanced at you before looking to his radio and cursing quietly. Pope had his arms out in a defensive position, speaking quickly over Tom who had his hand on his gun. This was bad. This was very bad. Frankie adjusted his grip on the rifle and his body went still. Tom pulled his gun and it was as if everything before you happened in slow motion.

The villagers yelled and Tom used his handgun to fire into the chest of the one nearest to him. Then again and again. Blood blossomed to life through their clothing and they dropped to the ground. The second one of them took another step forward, Frankie pulled the trigger, doing what he was trained to do--protect those on your squad.

His rifle echoed and ricocheted back on his shoulder and the man who had stepped towards Pope dropped just like the three before him. You watched as the other men gave the order for the villagers to get back and the screaming continued. Benny ran down the mountain and Frankie stood but you didn’t move. You were frozen in place as you saw Tom raise his gun at the unarmed man, now struggling to breathe, on the ground. You may not have liked him to begin with, but now you knew--Tom was going to get all of you killed.

Perm Tag List Part 1:

@rae-gar-targaryen @zeldasayer @winters-buck @gooddaykate @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor @readsalot73 @cryptkeepersoul @skdubbs @cahooter @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @googiebeankat @dinohaze @saltywintersoldat @huliabitch @silver-lined-solitude @tainted-gay-ghost @roxypeanut @hayley-the-comet @domino-oh-damn @maybege @corvueros @pettyprocrastination @qveenbvtch @hopplessdreamer @ @apples-of-february @pocket-of-anxiety @marie-is-in-the-dark @agentpike @pascalplease @cosmicbug379 @your-pixels-are-showing @gamingaquarius @blushingwueen @crimsonandwhiteprincess @bluemoon-glen @river-soul @robbinholland @nerdypinupcrystal @fleetwoodmactshirt @jaime1110 @fioccodineveautunnale @fantasticcopeaglepasta @kid-from-new-zealand

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #Frankie morales x you #Triple Frontier #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #addicted to you

695 notes · View notes

ggukcangetit · 4 years

Text

Chocolates & Laundry Do Not Mix - JJK fic

title: Chocolates & Laundry Do Not Mix [Prequel to Crime & Punishment]

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: PG 13

warnings: language, y/n uses a pillow to deal with her frustration, not much else?

word count: 3.5k

summary: when your best friend, Namjoon, asks if a junior from his business ventures class can live with you till his lease comes through, you don’t think much about it. But one month with Jeon Jungkook proves to be extremely difficult because of how little the boy says but how much he seems to topple over without much effort.

a/n: this is the first fic for jungkook’s birthday! happy birthday to the bestest, most lovely, wonderful, soft-hearted boy out there. we love you, koo! wishing you happiness always <3

Before Jungkook

Namjoon is a great guy. He’s smart, funny, considerate, thoughtful, kind, and definitely one of the best looking guys out there. You love him, you really do. But there are times when you wish you could roundhouse kick his dimpled ass out of the window. And this would be one of those moments.

“It’ll only be for a couple of months, y/n.” Namjoon sat down on the grass, his long legs stretching out in front of him. Seokjin reached over you and handed him the last neatly packed chicken wrap he had brought. “The lease at his old place ran out last week, and the place he’s going to move to doesn’t allow tenants before August. You’re the only one of us who currently doesn’t have a roommate.”

You frowned, the wonderfully seasoned chicken inside Seokjin’s wrap not really registering in your system. “Seokjin can’t?”

“You do know that I just graduated and will be moving to a different city in a couple of days, right?” He shot you a look and promptly flopped onto the grass dramatically.

“What about Yoongi?”

“He’s moved in with his girlfriend.” Namjoon quirked an eyebrow. “Do you not read any of the messages in the group chat?”

“Jimin? Hobi?” You were desperate at this point.

“Hobi lives with me. And Jimin lives with Taehyung right now. But the two of them are planning to move into a new apartment before classes start in the fall and Jungkook will be staying with them after that! So what do you say?” Namjoon stared at you expectantly. “Can Jungkook crash at your place for the summer?”

If it were up to you, some random junior from Namjoon’s business class would not be crashing at your modest apartment while you slaved your ass off working part-time so that your job prospects would be minutely better at the time of graduation. But then - you stared at Namjoon’s inquiring gaze and Seokjin’s knowing eyebrow raise - it was never really up to you, was it? No. Somehow, all decisions in your friend group had become a matter of collective responsibility. Yoongi wants to buy a new sound system? Well, it must be compatible with the latest AR gaming technology so that Seokjin can come over and use it whenever he wants. Hobi’s ordering a designer jacket for his birthday? It can’t be orange because Jimin wouldn’t be caught dead wearing orange.

And the list goes on…

What it ultimately came down to was that Jungkook would be staying at your place over the summer. If you said no, your friends would definitely understand… But you would feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the year. So-

“Thanks for letting me stay here, y/n.” Jungkook wasn’t what you had expected. Although you had received very contrasting, even conflicting, descriptions of him from your friends.

“He’s a shy guy,” Namjoon said while walking his bike out of the university courtyard. “Doesn’t speak to a lot of people easily.”

Seokjin, naturally, had said something completely different. “He’s the toughest guy I know. Dude could easily bench press us all at the same time.”

That had left you a little worried so, of course, you decided to speak to Hobi. “Jungkook? Haha! That guy’s really something else! He barely sleeps at night because he’s playing video games! And he’s a snack monster!”

Your mind immediately went to the basket of snacks you kept at your apartment. There was no way this guy would touch your stuff, right?

“Jungkook’s a total prankster!” Jimin giggled while sipping his iced tea. “You should see the stuff he and Tae get up to sometimes!”

“It’s no big deal.” Your reply lacked the minimal amount of enthusiasm required to not be considered a big deal, though. If Jungkook picked up on that, he didn’t say anything.

Week 1 with Jungkook

The first couple of days went by without any issues. He seemed like a quiet guy who kept to himself - so far Namjoon’s description had been the most accurate - and you supposed two months with him around wouldn’t be terrible.

That’s where you were sorely mistaken. Suddenly, you found the fridge full of banana milk cartons - not a few bottles, mind you, but a few cartons of banana milk. Every single cupboard in the kitchen was now stuffed with protein supplements, low carb snacks, and the entire country’s supply of instant ramen. Now, you didn’t have anything against instant ramen per se - heck, you really enjoyed the beauty of a quick delicious meal at the end of a long day - but this was pushing things a little. Because for every single instant ramen packet placed in the kitchen, something of yours had to be displaced rather dramatically.

For instance, you had woken up early one Tuesday morning, craving chocolate chip pancakes like nobody’s business. The chocolate chips were kept on the middle shelf of the third cupboard from the left - as they had been since you had moved in a year ago. You knew exactly where your things were placed and, having the unassailable confidence of an only child who has never had to share their space and now lives on their own as well, you opened the cupboard door without looking up. This was clearly not as smart a decision as you had imagined because a ton of instant ramen packets came cascading down on your head.

Jungkook came rushing out of his bedroom, alarmed by the sound of loud and colourful cursing coming from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?!”

The look on your face was probably one Seokjin would have laughed at until he had tears in his eyes. But Jungkook, completely unacquainted with your temper and the peculiar things that set you off, looked like he had just found out that he was allergic to both banana and dairy. Actually, he looked more like Hobi the day he had come home to find Jimin and Taehyung working on the latter’s art project which had resulted in the most tragic paint spill on the most beautiful white carpet in the history of college roommate sagas.

“Oh shit! The ramen- I’m so sorry, y/n!” Jungkook ran towards you to try and help. Unfortunately, he was both hesitant to physically check if you were okay and eager in his desire to make things alright, resulting in a collision which sent you hurtling towards the ground in what would have been an extremely nasty fall. To Jungkook’s credit, he had some insanely rapid reflexes and managed to catch you before you hit the tiled floor and cracked your skull open.

There was a brief moment between when he wrapped his arm around your waist and when your brows furrowed in annoyance, where you caught a whiff of his apple-scented shampoo and noticed the tiny mole on the bridge of his nose.

Cute.

You wriggled out of his hold and fixed him with a look that, hopefully, conveyed that you were supremely displeased with his ramen placement without actually having to tell him off.

“S-sorry about that.” The look had done its job. Jungkook quickly gathered up the fallen ramen packets and stuffed them into the nearest drawer - which then could not be closed.

“How much ramen do you have…?” Your annoyance was replaced with sheer curiosity at this point.

“Oh, uh… I won a gaming contest and the first prize was a year’s worth of instant ramen.” He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment.

You sighed. “Come on, let me show you the extra storage space behind the shoe cupboard.”

Week 2 with Jungkook

Jungkook wasn’t a loud and inconsiderate roommate. In fact, after the ramen debacle of the first week, he had been coexisting with you quite beautifully. Sometimes you would cook dinner, curse at the fact that you had to cook dinner, and then secretly cherish the absolute delight on Jungkook’s face as he ate the dinner you had cooked. Other times, he would tap into his self-proclaimed noodle know-how and whip up some sort of deluxe instant ramen dish, which always turned out to be heavenly and it was all you could do to stop yourself from moaning in pleasure while you both slurped the noodles.

Then, of course, were the times when you ordered takeout, and somehow attracted all the ravenous souls present on the group chat. It didn’t matter whether it was sushi or tacos or fried chicken or pizza or chinese or even a batch of mini donuts from the tiny shop opposite your apartment - all six of them invariably came knocking a few minutes before the food was delivered.

“Gguk, how’s the summer internship going?” Yoongi was holding his third slice of pizza, sitting on the floor with his legs spread haphazardly. This was one of the rare times when he had dropped by for a random friday hangout - his friday nights were usually reserved for his girlfriend.

Jungkook looked up from the game he had been playing with Taehyung and Seokjin. “Oh, it’s fine. The usual internship bullshit.” He let out a small winner as his car flew past the others just before the finish line.

“This damn game is rigged,” muttered Seokjin. “How come nobody but Jungkook ever wins?”

“That’s because you suck, Jin!” Jungkook ducked out of the way as Seokjin reached out to punch him. “Face it, racing games aren’t your thing.”

At the other end of the room, Hobi was dozing off at the dining table while Jimin and Namjoon played their 9th game of Go Fish. Yoongi bit into the pizza and motioned Taehyung to get him a beer from the fridge.

“We should go clubbing.” Taehyung’s impulsive and, frankly, terrible ideas were usually a result of a three-game losing streak. If there was anyone who hated losing more than Seokjin, it was the raven haired guy with soft curls falling on his forehead, staring at all of you with his piercing gaze.

“I’m exhausted. I had classes from 9-7 today,” said Namjoon, waving his hand dismissively.

“I work on Saturdays, Tae. You know that.” Seokjin got up and stretched his arms above his head. “I’m going to head out now.”

“The rest of us can go then.” Taehyung was nothing if not persistent.

“Hobi’s passed out already. And Soya’s waiting for me at home. So I’m going to drop him and Joon at their place, and then head back myself.”

These negative responses did nothing to deter Taehyung’s determination to go clubbing, which meant that you found yourself smooshed into the back of an uber with Taehyung and Jungkook as Jimin sat shotgun. Not only did you absolutely hate clubbing, but the fact that both Jungkook and Taehyung were very well-built, muscular guys, meant that you basically had one butt cheek of space to sit on.

“You okay?” asked Jungkook, before the four of you walked into the club.

“My left butt cheek is asleep, but otherwise all good.” He giggled at your response, gently laying a hand on your back so that you wouldn’t be separated from the group.

An hour later, you were completely certain of three things.

First off, there was nothing in the world that could make you enjoy clubbing. Not the location, not the music, and not the people you were with. Secondly, the three boys you were with not only had devastating good looks, but also managed to shake up the club with their crowd-pulling dances. Jimin’s style relied heavily on his seductive hip movements while Taehyung was destroying everyone with his smoldering expressions. Jungkook, meanwhile, was running completely on an adrenaline rush, and matched Jimin and Taehyung move for move, adding a sexy amount of aggression to the dances as well.

And finally, Jungkook, despite his muscles and dancing and adrenaline, liked to cuddle when he was extremely exhausted and had someone in his vicinity. That someone happened to be you that night as you came back to the sofa to find him curled up into a ball, his mouth slightly open as he slept peacefully. Your mistake was trying to place a blanket on top of him because you soon found yourself being pulled into his embrace as you became Jungkook’s personal cuddle pillow. You could say that you struggled for a long time, trying to break out of his grasp but he was just too strong for you, so you eventually gave up and fell asleep while cuddling with him on the sofa.

But then you would be lying.

Week 3 with Jungkook

Not that you would ever admit it, but Jungkook had a very pert bottom. As bottoms go, his was definitely somewhere in the top tier. The general consensus on campus was that Jimin and Taehyung were the usual contestants in the battle of the first-rate bottoms. But those of the general consensus had clearly never seen Jungkook in skin-tight jeans, kneeling on the floor while trying to reach for the remote that had fallen under the sofa.

“You’re zoning out again!” Seokjin was seated opposite you and snapped his fingers in front of your face. “You know I hate being ignored, y/n.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you…” Your cheeks colored as you tried to rid your mind of the images of Jungkook from that morning, reaching for the highest shelf and flashing a beautiful strip of impeccably shaped abs.

“Tell me you aren’t daydreaming about Jungkook’s ass.”

“I am not daydreaming about Jungkook’s a-” You closed your mouth quickly, slapping Seokjin’s arm for good measure. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Work’s so boring and you’re so predictably entertaining, y/n,” he grinned and bit into the chocolate cupcake in front of him. “I miss seeing you everyday.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you grumbled.

“Nah, but seriously, Jungkook’s a solid guy - pun completely intended.” You rolled your eyes as he snickered at his joke. “You two would be good together.”

“You’re well aware of my stance on people setting me up, right?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“No one’s setting you up. I’m just saying -” Seokjin popped the remaining half of the cupcake into his mouth - “if there’s potential, you shouldn’t stop yourself.”

Unfortunately, any potential that may have been present, completely fizzled out when you got home that afternoon. You had made one thing perfectly clear the day that Jungkook had moved in with his stuff - your snack supply was completely off-limits. Yet here you were, staring at a near empty basket while Jungkook lounged on the sofa with chocolatey fingers and an empty chips packet lying on the table.

Pert bottoms definitely did not trump snack supplies - as Jungkook found out the hard way when a pillow came crashing down on him with the wrath of all your ancestors combined.

“Y/n! What the fuck?!” he yelped, ducking from your well-aimed blows.

“My snacks! They’re off limits! Asshole!” You punctuated each word with a smack of your pillow.

“Stop! Stop!” He grabbed the pillow from your hands and threw it as far as he could. “I’m sorry! I was really hungry and there wasn’t anything else at home!”

His stupid big doe eyes were just too damn sincere and you felt yourself deflating and sinking into the sofa. After making sure that you wouldn’t attack him again, Jungkook sat down beside you, nudging you softly with his shoulder. “I was going to go to the asian store once they open in the evening. Do you want to come with and help me replenish the snack supply?”

You huffed in annoyance but gradually rested your head on his shoulder. Jungkook had lived with you long enough to know that that was a yes.

Week 4 with Jungkook

Choosing movies to watch over dinner was always something you struggled with. Not when you were alone. No, you knew exactly what you wanted to watch. Your Netflix suggestions were appropriately lined up with crime dramas and sci-fi thrillers. It was only when there was someone else watching with you that the situation became contentious. Namjoon had a penchant for documentaries, and Hobi and Jimin liked watching musicals. Seokjin refused to watch anything even remotely close to a horror film, and Yoongi and Taehyung always voted for heavy art films. And Jungkook-

“I am not watching Titanic.” You settled into the sofa with your bowl of pasta, reaching forward to grab the soda can on the table.

“Come on, y/n! It’s a classic!” Jungkook whined. You had realised that the boy whined a lot over little things like movie selections and waking up before 8 am. “A tragic tale of true love.”

You snorted into your food. “True love would’ve been if they’d both survived.”

“You’re so cold.” There it was, the infamous Jeon Jungkook pout. It didn’t make an appearance often, but when it did, you found yourself growing weaker and much more likely to give in to whatever stupid thing he wanted.

“Fine. Put it on. But don’t blame me when I end up scrolling through Instagram the entire time.”

“I won’t,” he grinned and sat down next to you. The sofa dipped considerably and you found yourself sliding towards him involuntarily. It wasn’t that this position was uncomfortable - you were actually really fond of unwitting physical contact with your friends. The only problem was the way your heartbeat quickened every time the unwitting contact was with Jungkook.

By the time the movie was over, Jungkook’s nose was running. It was no secret that he cried during sad movies but you still loved teasing him about how easily characters brought him to tears.

“Damn, look at you crying over Jack and Rose. They’re just fictional characters and Rose didn’t even die! What would you do if I was in their place? Would you cry over me too, Gguk?” You nudged his shoulder playfully.

“No.” His reply was firm and you wondered if he had been offended this time.

“No? Why not?”

“I’d never let that happen to you.”

You could safely say that you had never bolted to the bathroom as quickly as that moment, splashing your cheeks with cold water to bring down the flush.

This wasn’t the only time Jungkook had left you completely speechless, however. He ordered takeout much more than you did, not having time to cook much because of his internship. And his takeout orders usually consisted of either pizza or fried chicken. On most days, you were done with dinner by the time he got home and ordered takeout.

On one such day, you looked up from the spreadsheet you had been working on, your stomach clearly unsatisfied with the grilled cheese sandwich you had eaten a couple of hours ago. Making your way to the kitchen, you rummaged through the contents of the fridge, huffing in annoyance as you found nothing suitable for your current hunger-related dilemma.

“Do you want pizza? I’ve finished but there are a couple of slices left.” Jungkook pushed the box towards you and turned his attention back to his phone. It was a veggie supreme - something that Jungkook always ordered.

“How come there aren’t any olives?” you asked, knowing that that particular pizza store always put olives on their veggie pizzas.

“I asked them to take out the olives.”

“Why? I thought you loved olives.”

“I do. But you don’t eat olives.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment. “But you ordered the pizza for yourself…”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want the olives to stop you in case you wanted to have a slice.”

He hadn’t looked up during the entire conversation but you could see the way his cheeks turned pink and how he kept tugging at his ear. You, yourself, felt your heart soar and bit into a slice of pizza - trying to stop the shit-eating grin from spreading on your face.

After Jungkook

It turned out that Jungkook didn’t need to stay at your place for more than a month. Jimin and Taehyung had somehow convinced their landlord to allow them to move in a month ahead of the designated move-in date, which meant that you were once again living alone.

It was weird. There was a lot of space in your cupboards once again and the fridge didn’t always smell of chocolate shakes and overripe bananas. You were also free to choose whatever movie you wanted to watch with dinner. But something still felt amiss…

You sighed and reached for your basket of snacks, frowning as your fingers swiped at thin air. Your eyes widened as you glanced at your previously well-stocked supply of snacks, noting the distinct lack of at least 75% percent of its contents.

“JEON JUNGKOOK!”

please leave a comment if you enjoyed this story! tagging @holynamtiddies , @hauntedlilies

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #c me write bangtan #jungkook fluff #bts fic #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #bts #bts fluff #bts bookclub #happy birthday jungkook!

246 notes · View notes

bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

Your HK au post is so well thought out and I love it but as someone who has seen many hours of HK clips on Youtube, I am curious which cast members you can see making the most iconic mistakes. Who overcooks like a dozen wellingtons in one service? Who overcooks and throws away about 5lbs of pasta? Whose signature dish makes Elias physically sick even though they insist customers always love it? Etc.

oh i'm glad you like it!!! in no particular order:

- any time jude is put on the meat station, she burns the lamb. it's like a curse. she tries to make lamb for a challenge once before she gets sent home in an effort to redeem herself but she burns that one too. the night she gets sent home she burns three lambs in a row and elias sits her down and forces her to eat her burnt lamb at the chef's table.

- on the flip side, jane gets put on meat her first service and only puts out raw meat. she's like 'it's not raw it's rare!' and elias is like 'the fat isn't rendered and it's cold what do you mean it's not raw???' (she puts out raw chicken two times in a row and elias almost loses his mind)

- martin. i love martin. but his signature dish does not go over well at all. elias takes one look and is like 'this looks like you upended a trash can on this plate and sprinkled some chives on top of it. what is it supposed to be?' and then he eats it and spits it out almost instantaneously. martin's so nervous, all he can think to say is, 'it's something i serve all the time, people love it!' and elias is like 'remind me never to come to your general area of the country. zero points. next'

- poor gerry. the man just cannot cook scallops to save his life. elias is like 'they're rubber do them again!' and then gerry tries again and this time they're stone cold. the next time they stick to the pan. gerry gets kicked out of the kitchen, goes back to the dorms, and sits on the couch with his head in his hands like fuck.

- jon has mostly good services. but. his big mistake comes somewhere near black jackets when he gets up in his head about things. he slices a wellington, is like 'shit this is over' and is so afraid to bring up overcooked wellington or admit to it that he just... throws it away. he does this for two more before elias gets impatient and goes over and is like 'what are you doing??' and pulls perfectly cooked wellingtons out of the trash and is like 'these are perfectly cooked!! why are we throwing away perfectly cooked food!! you're better than this jon' and jon is convinced he's going to get kicked out even though it's his first real mistake in service.

- jared is the person who doesn't communicate at all. he either says absolutely nothing or gives conflicting answers ('two minutes on the fish' [one minute later] 'three minutes on the fish chef!') and likes to blame his communication mistakes on other people, saying that they didn't talk to him.

- mike puts up a lot of undercooked risotto (like... consistently) and eventually it gets to the point where he's put on apps and his teammate is like 'dude just- just let me do the risotto please' and in the cut-away interview portion, mike is like 'what the fuck dude, i know how to cook a goddamned risotto, get off my back' when clearly he doesn't lol

- tim has no palate. he does very poorly at all the 'taste it now make it' or palate challenges. elias gives him banana to taste and he guesses carrots. he gives him chicken and tim guesses egg whites. it's awful.

- manuela does the classic 'i didn't realize the stove/oven wasn't on!' not once, but twice in her time in hell's kitchen. she sits there stirring risotto over a cold burner for ten minutes before elias finally goes over and is like 'it... it's not even hot manuela!'

- agnes almost burns down hell's kitchen. twice.

- helen/michael (i think they would use both names, but i haven't decided yet) just can't remember the orders that elias calls out. he'll call 'two wellingtons one halibut one new york strip' and he'll ask helen/michael to repeat it back and they'll be like *dial up noises* 'two wellingtons, one- one tuna, um...' and elias is standing there like 😐

- in all of oliver's time in hell's kitchen, elias doesn't like a single original dish he does for any of the challenges. oliver, in his cut-away interviews, is like 'well, clearly he just doesn't recognize talent' when quote-unquote 'talent' is like... two weirdly butchered overcooked fillets and pomegranate mint pink peppercorn sauce.

- daisy sends up so much raw fish. the kind that elias slams down on the table and smushes beneath his hand because he's so frustrated. she has basira check it, basira says it's not ready, and for some reason she walks it up anyway. once (and only once) she sends up overcooked fish and elias is like 'finally, some fucking variety in your mistakes'

- julia talks back to elias, and when she gets cut, she says right to his face, 'you're making a huge mistake and you'll regret it' and then stomps away just to stomp right back when he says, a bit snidely, 'get out of my fucking kitchen.' she is escorted away by security. everyone else is like 😳🤐 it is silent in that room.

- basira is extremely meticulous in her cooking. this also makes her a very slow chef who tends to get in her head as a way to cope with the insanity of the kitchen around her. she'll often be like a brick wall when people try to talk to her and then pick up a pan and say 'walking scallops to the pass!' when the risotto still has three minutes to go.

- naomi is the unfortunate pasta-waster. she also basically falls apart on garnish, sends up raw eggplant three times in a row, can never remember what garnish goes with which thing. when they're prepping the kitchen she's standing with a little list trying to remember what goes in each dish.

- sasha is... not very good in the beginning, but around episode three there's such a sudden shift in her cooking that people swear she's not the same person anymore. the main way sasha avoids elimination in the beginning is her team not losing dinner services, despite the fact that she sends up near-consistent rubber scallops and salty risotto. the audience is surprised when she's in the final four, but she says in the cut-away interview, 'i just realized what i needed to do and i did it. i'm a different chef right now than i was when i came here, that's for sure'

- georgie once butchers thirty racks of lamb incorrectly during prep and they have to throw all of them away. she also has a tendency to struggle with cutting lamb and is often like 'melanie, just. can you do this for me' because melanie is frighteningly good at cutting meat in one slice.

- melanie is the contestant who gets in arguments with nearly everybody all the time but then next episode is friends with them again. this happens sometimes in the span of five minutes with jon, and people just cannot decide if they're friends or not. (they are.) she also makes a signature dish that elias refuses to eat because her steak is so raw it's 'still mooing' and she's like 'well if he'd just tasted it he'd know that my flavors were good.'

- jordan drops an entire pan of wellingtons. ten wellingtons just. rolling all over the floor. elias is furious and he has to go over to the other kitchen, borrow some wellingtons, and apologize to the other diners for the now-thirty minute wait time. then, he has jordan go out and apologize directly. jordan's cut-away interview is just him hanging his head and whispering, 'fuck me'

#ask #anon #tma hk au #i am so glad that people like this au!!#i thought it might be too obscure/weird haha #(i've also never watched the mistake compilations only a few full seasons so i'm drawing off of what i've seen so far!)#which is mostly 'stone-cold' and 'rubber' yelled ad nauseam lol

10 notes · View notes

storybookprincess · 4 years

Note

hey!!! got any banana fish fic recs??? also, thank you for always being a kind and uplifting person <3 your blog always brings me a smile when i see you on my dash!!

hello my friend!!!! first, thank you so much for your kind words!!!! ^_^ this account is a lot of fun for me, so it’s always really really nice when someone enjoys it as well!!!!

so here’s the thing about me & fanfic--i am absurdly picky. like, absurdly picky. so what i end up doing in most small to mid sized fandoms (maybe 1k-15k fics) is finding a few authors & fics i really really vibe with & then re-reading them constantly. i say that by way of apology, because this list isn’t particularly long or broad & that is 100% the fault of my pickiness. that being said, all of the following fics slap.

okay, so first of all, i full on stan anything by @eijispumpkin /adreamingsongbird. their fics are incredible--super well written, offer such a nuanced & compassionate perspective on trauma, are brilliantly characterized, & also have that excellent h/c and angst content i crave. here are a few to get you started:

i’ve re-read the sun also rises about a million times by now. i LOVE a good outsider pov fic & i’m obsessed with anything exploring how eiji’s family responds to meeting ash for the first time, so this one hits all the right buttons for me.

their harbor series is literally just canon to me now. words cannot describe my love for it.

all i ever learned of love also makes me go totally insane. the whole series is excellent.

i could be here talking about adreamingsongbird all day, so we’re gonna move onto some other authors for the sake of everyone’s time:

apple koi; the story that almost (and we’re here, now we’ll hold on) by ryefo was the first fic in a very long time that actually made me cry. highly highly recommend for an excellent post-canon story.

stupid for you by amaiyo is easily the most lighthearted and comedic fic on this list, and it is such an utter delight. i am always weak for ash simping for eiji & anything portraying the dynamics of ash’s gang & this seriously delivers on both counts.

hopefully that’s enough to get you started!!!!! i really want to write some banana fish fic one of these days myself bc this series makes me lose my mind, but i’ve gotta finish up my current projects before i let myself take on any more wips. one day, hopefully, bc this fandom is awesome & i’d love to contribute to it!!!!

#asheiji #banana fish #fic rec #my stuff #asked and answered #Anonymous

37 notes · View notes

weasleydream · 4 years

Text

dreams are my reality - part 1

Here is the first part! I’m so glad it’s finally out and i really really hope you’ll enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing it!

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist

~ as if it’s meant to be ~

Summer had always been my favourite period of the year. When I was a child, it was because my parents would always bring me to this lake they had discovered when they were teenagers, and we would spend the day swimming and fishing. During my Hogwarts years, the traditional camping night with the Marauders and later Lily became another reason for my impatience. But I had to admit that Sirius agreeing to spend the afternoon with me on this beautiful beach of the south of France was a whole other level of pleasure associated with summer. His messy hair, his tan skin, his muscles shining with the water, and the-

“Sirius, what the hell is that?”

He was playing with a shapeless pile of jelly, touching it with the tip of a stick I had thought was his wand. He looked up to me, a shade of surprise underneath his goofy grin.

“Never seen a jellyfish before?”

“A jellyfish? And you’re playing with it?”

“I wasn’t playing! Just trying to see if it was still alive.” Sirius’ eyes fell once more on the animal, and I realized how obvious it was that it wasn’t just a pile of jelly.

“And?” I asked, leaning forward to see it better.

I looked up when Sirius didn’t answer and found him pointing at the sun.

“Time of death: approximately 4 p.m, give or take an hour.”

I was going to reply that it wasn’t very precise when a wave stronger than what we had anticipated crashed on the sand, sending the jellyfish right on my feet. I jumped backwards, a high-pitched scream I couldn’t contain escaping my mouth. In an instant, Sirius was next to me and in another split second, he had dragged me on the dry sand, fussing over me like a soccer mum.

“Did it touch you? Y/N, do your feet hurt?”

“I- I don’t think so…”

Sirius seemed as surprised as I was, and after looking at me like he didn’t know if he should drop it or betray the whole wizarding world by apparating away from a beach full of muggles, he sighed.

“Then why the hell did you scream so loud?”

“Because I was scared!” I tried to defend myself, even though I knew I had a bit overreacted - just a bit.

Sirius rolled his eyes and slipped an arm around my waist as we began to head back to where we had let our stuff.

“You’ll be the death of me one day, that I can tell you.” he eventually murmured in my ear. “I mean, you’ve almost bee already but-”

“Sirius.” Any trace of joy had left my voice, it was all replaced by shame and this visceral fear I never wanted to experience again. “You know I don’t want to talk about it. Sirius, you almost died because of me, I just- I don’t want to think about it ever again.”

“We shouldn’t try to forget it,” said Sirius, who put his hands on my hips and rested his forehead against mine. “Love, dying to save you would have been an honour, the best way to leave this world. I would do it again if I had to.”

“Then it’s a good thing that it won’t happen, right?”

This need of reassurance had never left me, it was still here, not so well hidden since the end of the war. The mess that had been our lives for so long had left scars, deep and dirty wounds I was ready to keep hidden until the end of my life. But how could I leave that part of my life behind if I didn’t know for sure it was over? Everything had been so strange, so sudden, that I was fearing the day Voldemort would come back, stronger and angrier than ever, the day we would have to fight again, the day Sirius would risk his life for me again… The possibility that my life at the moment was a dream, an illusion, it was too much to bear.

“A very good thing, actually!” Sirius was back to his joyous self, and had this goofy grin that had become his signature over the years. “Or else I wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

He was going through our bag, throwing away everything that was going in his way, my clothes included. I watched silently as my top joined my short in the sand, knowing better than trying to stop Sirius. I would have ended up in the sand too, or maybe just ignored, it was a fifty-fifty. I eventually decided to say something though, because there was no way I would let him waste my cookies like that. Chocolate cookies, dispersed on the sand, can you believe it?

“Sirius, love, what are you-”

I stopped suddenly, because Sirius had obviously found what he was looking for. My completely unready mind tried to find a reason for why he had gotten down on one knee, but I couldn’t come up with anything and just looked at him speechless as he opened the box.

“Y/N, love, life hasn’t exactly always been a piece of cake, but you always made it easier and I want to share the rest of mine with you. The past three years with you have been just perfect, and every second I’m not with you, touching you, hearing the sound of your voice, it’s just a big waste of time.” He stopped a second, inhaling deeply. “I- I could keep rambling about how perfect you are because right now I’m fucking nervous but if you say yes, I’ll have a lifetime to tell you how I adore you. So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

I didn’t trust my throat enough to produce anything else than a strangled sound, so instead I blinked the tears away and fell on my knees in front of him. My shaky hands reached for his cheeks. The second he realized what it meant, Sirius' little smile widened in an overjoyed grin, and his lips crashed on mine. If at some point we rolled on the floor, if our hair ended up matted with sand while we were in the middle of a crowded beach, none of that ever mattered. I was in Sirius’ arms, I was going to marry him, things couldn’t have been better for me, and the little boy who said it was dirty or the guy that called loudly for someone called like me couldn’t have done anything to disturb that.

_ _ _

We had spent a wonderful day and an even more wonderful evening, yet my nightmares had never been more vivid. The dark alley of this cursed muggle village, the screams, the light, the blood… I was living it again, this night I almost lost Sirius. It all felt too real, from the pain in my muscles to my heartbeat still frenetic, and even his arms wrapping strongly around me couldn’t get me out of the hell of this night.

“Y/N! Y/N, can you hear me?”

The voice was far from me, my mind wouldn’t even acknowledge it.

“We’re going to get killed!”

This voice, though, would stay forever engraved in my brain.

I had known since the beginning the idea was fucking bad. James had insisted, “It will be fun!”, he had said, and Sirius had smiled like an idiot. It was safe to say that they were the only two ready to venture in this bloody village, bloody in the literal sense of the word. Something was here, something the muggles used to call a monster, but we knew better and this something had inherited the sweet nickname of “a son of a bitch of Death Eater”, found by Sirius, obviously.

Nothing had been decided yet, but James and Sirius already acted like they had clocked the man and come back heroes. Peter was completely opposed to this idea, and it was one more example of me completely agreeing with him. Both Remus and Lily were torn between the two options they had, and I suspected them to think that it was worth the risk. The number of victims in this village had risen up to seventeen the previous day, and even though there were members of the Order closer to the location than us, Dumbledore had asked us to go and take a look.

“A mission for the best,” he had added, which had seemed to decide James and Sirius.

They wanted to take that mission.

And it was definitely a very bad idea.

_ _ _

“Wow, Y/N you look like a zombie. You sure you’re okay?” asked James in disbelief when he opened the door.

“Zombie! Zombie!”

Something pushed James unceremoniously and jumped on me. It was Harry of course. The little black haired tornado was now tugging at my hair, giggling with every roll of my eyes. Or maybe it was because Sirius was making faces behind my back; I wasn’t totally sure. Anyways, that gave me the perfect excuse to avoid James’ question because I certainly didn’t want to tell him I couldn’t sleep, that what should have been one of the best days of my life had brought back the worst of my nightmares and that it seemed like I was going insane.

“You little devil, you’re getting taller and taller every time I see you!” exclaimed Sirius cheerfully, and Harry extended his arms toward him.

“You know the last time you saw him was a week ago, right?” James mocked, diverting his attention from me in the process.

He was watching proudly as Harry and Sirius were having a very serious conversation about the banana the boy had eaten an hour ago, and he missed the wink my fiancé shot me. I smiled, grateful for his help, and at the moment I could have sworn I was feeling his comforting touch on my cheek.

Remus arrived half an hour later, and we had to wait another hour before Peter’s entrance, his arms full of candies as every single time he was at the Potter’s. “Half for Harry, half for me, the rest for you!”, he always said, but it usually ended in Remus stealing all the chocolate only to give it piece by piece to Harry while Peter and James were arguing on what was the best between cauldron cakes and jelly slugs. Not today though, and Sirius had made sure of that in his own way.

“I’m glad you’re all here, no Peter, cauldron cakes do not taste better than jelly slugs and Remus, share the chocolate with Harry.” he suddenly declared, making Peter jump on the couch, to Harry’s great amusement. “We have an announcement.”

Without moving the rest of his body, Sirius grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. All eyes were on us, and if Sirius’ nervousness was only betrayed by his stillness, mine was definitely visible with my dark red face.

“But before I say anything, I warn you: no blubbering. Right, James?”

Lily suppressed a chuckle as James nodded in a very serious way, his hands folded underneath his chin and his eyes squinting. The others were less dramatic but as curious, and I looked up to Sirius only to see him biting his bottom lip. If this view was incredibly sexy, I didn’t have even a second to think more about it before he dropped the news.

“Y/N and I are going to get married.”

I was pretty sure my voice wasn’t as high-pitched as Lily’s now when she had told me she would marry James. Between Oh my god!’s and I knew it!’s, she managed to put Harry down and to hug me, and we began to hobble like two children. We only stopped when Lily pushed me back, asking desperately to see the engagement ring, and I caught a glance of James wiping a tear away - “That’s why we said no blubbering, Prongs!” I shouted with a smirk, to which James answered with a playful and tearful glare - and Remus and Sirius sharing a strong embrace while Peter was trying to explain to Harry what this mess meant.

“How did it happen? When? By Merlin Y/N, why didn’t you tell me before?”

Lily was so excited I couldn’t help but giggle at her bright eyes, and Remus snuck next to us to hear the story. Before diving straight into my monologue, I threw a look at Sirius and found him grinning from ear to ear, with James’ hand on his shoulder and Peter wondering out loud what they could do for his bachelor party.

“Come on Y/N, we want to know!” whined Remus.

I rolled my eyes playfully, installed a more and more tired Harry on my knees and began the story.

“This dumbass was playing with a jellyfish - a jellyfish, seriously, is there a single mentally stable person that can have the idea to play with a dead jellyfish? Anyways, I asked him what he was doing and-”

I finally shut up almost fifteen minutes later. By the time I was done, Harry had fallen asleep and seemed to be quite comfy, all snuggled he was against me. Lily was beaming, and if her eyes hadn’t actually taken the shape of two hearts, I could perfectly see the image. Remus and James, who had joined us with Sirius and Peter five minutes ago, were still making fun of my fiancé.

“Come on Pads, admitting that you’re nervous is a rookie move!”

Peter was the first to decide we should toast to our future wedding. He grabbed seven glasses, filled them all with orange juice as Lily had forbidden alcohol in Harry’s presence and we all held our glasses high.

“To the wedding!” exclaimed cheerfully Remus.

“It was about time,” added Peter. “It’s been years since you’ve begun to like each other, I was beginning to fear it would never happen!”

“Amen, brother. Wait a minute!” Suddenly, James’ eyes lit up and the smirk he was arbouring when he looked at me was quite worrying. “That’s why you’re looking like a zombie, Y/N, you celebrated the news quite well!”

He winked at me and I snorted, too embarrassed to find anything to say.

To be continued...

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #marauder era #marauders era #marauders imagine #Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n

21 notes · View notes

writefinch · 4 years

Text

Family-Owned Small Business

(CN: incest, sex work, mentions of sexual assault & suicidal ideation)

The worst part of my job is administration. Last-minute rescheduling when a client flakes on us. Chasing up payments. Booking accommodation at short notice. Answering messages! Jesus, every time in the last year when I've slumped, sighed, and thought to myself "fuck working, I need a break from all this" it's been when I've opened my messages and seen thirty different texts that need a reply. Some people are fine with it I guess, but for me it's boring, time consuming, and stressful.

Big deal though, right, I mean nobody loves doing admin, why even bring it up? Well, if I tell someone that for work last night I ate a client's cum out of my mom's pussy, I'd expect that they'd get fixated on the sex work and the incest. I'd expect them to freak out and not pay attention to the specifics of what I'm saying. So, first, I'd like that person to know that the thing I hate about my job is probably the same thing that *they* hate about *their* job. I would rather lick my mom's asshole for five minutes than answer emails for five minutes, and I answer a lot of emails.

Do we have to worry about violence, danger, cops, and legal trouble? Yeah, we do. Am I scared of these things? Yeah, sometimes, but I had to worry about all of those things before I started doing sex work. At least now we've got the money to buy our way out of the worst of it.

I'm not saying that what I do with mom is an objectively healthy relationship, let alone a perfect one. If you took me back in time and told me I could pick a completely different life for me and my mom, I'm sure there's a bunch of choices I'd pick over this one. But I never had that choice. I got hurt a lot growing up. I feel like I've finally escaped the things that hurt me, but I know that I've barely started to recover from them.

That's why I'm writing this. We've saved enough money to afford some therapy and my first session is next week. I want help with the fear, the nightmares, the mood swings and insomnia, I want to stop the rush of rage and terror that flows through me every time I see the word 'dad,' I want help untangling the stuff that came out of being told I was a pansy when I was growing up, then figuring out I'm gay, then figuring out I'm a girl, then figuring out I'm all three of those things while I was living in a place that kept trying to kill me for it. What I don't want is for the psych to pin it all on the two least harmful and least fucked-up things about my life, and worse, I don't want them to make me believe it. This journal is a prophylactic, an assessment of my job, my relationships and my life that I can refer back to if and when someone sticks their fingers in my brain and swirls them around.

I'll start with a problem statement: my dad. The memories that hurt the most are the ones where he almost appeared human, the flickers of joy, curiosity and humor that stood out from the bland cruelty that made up the rest of his personality. I'll remember him buying me ice cream or talking about a book or a movie with me, I'll doubt myself and wonder if I just went crazy and cut him out of my life for no reason, and then my brain will hook onto a random act of sadism he inflicted on me.

The physical abuse was bad all on its own, real psycho shit like driving me out into the woods and making me pick through the brush for a switch he could hit me with and a whole lot more I won't go into, but the emotional abuse was worse. When I was eleven, I forgot to feed my cat one day. He gave her away to my uncle, but told me that she'd developed malnutrition and had to be put down. I didn't find out the truth for another two years, when he just let it slip at Easter. He bragged about it, even, like he'd invented a really smart child-rearing technique. I don't want to write too much down here because I don't need to, if anything I want therapy to *stop* everything he did from running through my head. He's a punishment-obsessed sadist, a Baptist, and he works as a judge. Did he ever sexually abuse me? No. Parent of the year, right? He kicked me out for being a fag the day I turned eighteen, so it's ironic that my biggest fear is that he comes looking for me. He doesn't even know I'm a girl.

On the other hand, my mom has had an interesting life. She's kind of a fuck up. When I was one year old, mom and dad split and dad got full custody--being a judge helped with that--while mom left the state. She spent a decade trying to kick a heroin habit and a year and a half in prison for related stuff, got banned from even entering the state I lived in on account of her parole--again, dad being a judge helped with that--illegally emigrated to Canada for a while, and went to Oregon by mistake, doing a mixture of bartending, delivery driving, MDMA dealing and whoring to stay afloat.

The only reason we met again is that I was in the same city staying with friends, also whoring. I don't remember the first time I saw her, but the first time we talked was in a mutual friend's tiny studio apartment with a few other hooker friends. We ended up comparing our Pest Lists, shared a few drinks, and swapped numbers. A week later we fucked, and a month after *that* we realized that we'd Oedipus'd ourselves. It seems funnier now than it did at the time.

That was an emotional time. We cried with joy that we'd found each other, we started tip-toeing around the ideas of rebuilding our lives together, and we agreed to pretend that the sex had never happened. Of course, we got drunk together a week later and fucked again. She's hot! I have a thing for older women, I have a thing for breaking taboos, and I have a thing for being mommied in bed. Blame dad for raising me like this, I dunno.

We started doing sex work as a team after she got a dental abscess. The bill for the hospital stay and the tooth removal was insane, and the dentist straight-up told her that she'd end up with another in a different tooth within a year if she didn't get two root canals. Even when she was recovering, we could only afford fish antibiotics off of Amazon. We crunched some numbers and made some inquiries, and figured out that we could pull in two week's worth of our combined income with one night of mother-daughter stuff.

Our first joint session was with a real estate pervert I'll call Stan, a chubby balding powerlifter in his fifties who we'd both had as a client before. Mom took me over her knees and switched between spanking me and fingering me while he watched. I sucked him off while mom made out with him, made out with my mom with his cock between our lips, licked his balls as mom licked my ass, then let him fuck my ass while mom sat on my face. That was the first half hour. He came six more times before we passed out in the early hours of the morning, and I drifted off nursing his finally-limp cock in my mouth. He paid us the price of a used Volkswagen for our trouble, and I blew him one last time before we left as a thank-you.

Six months later, mom's teeth were fixed, I was on spiro, and we had just under a dozen clients for our "doubles sessions." Only a few of our appointments are ones with me and mom together, three or four a month, we mostly work alone. That's not out of a deliberate choice, it's just that we've got a strict criteria for who we'll double up on.

Trust is one thing: depending on the lawyers we can afford, what we're doing is either kinda illegal or extremely illegal. Since my dad is presumably still a judge, I don't want him to ever find out about this. He'd put us in a prison or a mental institution. We won't do a double session with a client unless we've both had individual sessions with them.

Money is the other thing. Getting your dick sucked by a hot mom while her daughter sucks your balls costs a week's wages for the average person. Hiring us for the night is more like a month's wages. Even in a city like this, there's only a few thousand people that can drop that kind of money on hookers. Then, they've got to *want* to fuck a trans girl and her mom together. Don't get me wrong, more people are into mother-daughter incest than you'd expect, but it's not a universal thing.

Clients are, on average, annoying. It's a fact of life. The thing that all clients have in common is a ton of disposable income and a fondness for fucking hookers. They're not necessarily bad people, but there’s a heavy ‘What can a banana cost, ten dollars?’ vibe to them. It’s not that they’re adrenochrome-drinkers who don’t see regular people as human, it’s more that they don’t have an intuitive awareness that other people don’t have savings accounts, health insurance, an investment property, and four figures of walking-around money at any given time. I guess I'd feel differently if I was like, a concierge or a PA, but there's a lot more pillow talk in my job.

I've had bad and dangerous clients before, there's been at least two occasions where I was pretty sure I was going to die--one where the hospital afterwards stay wiped out four months of income, not counting the month where I couldn’t work--but they were all before I met mom, when I couldn't be so careful about screening prospective clients and dropping them if they threw up red flags. I'm sure we'll get bad clients in the future, but we're in a better place to deal with them safely.

I also wanna write down what a "normal day" is like. Friday was a good example. I woke up early at 9am and cooked breakfast for mom. She was up already doing the laundry. We entertain some clients in our apartment, so we go through a lot of clothes and a lot of sheets. You can't fuck a guy on top of another guy's cum stains, that's rude. Some of the job is Housework But More. We don't really use the main bedroom or the sitting room because we treat them like bed and breakfast guest rooms. It's annoying but every time we have a session without getting an actual hotel or motel room we save like $50 minimum.

After breakfast I epilated, showered, and went for a run. Personal grooming isn't that big a deal in terms of time, I'm not saying I don't spend a lot of time on it, I do, but I'd be spending that time even if I worked in a bar or an office or something. Look: I'm hot. I might have been a weird-looking spotty nerd when I thought I was a boy, but as a girl I'm a fucking dime. I could get like, 25% uglier before it had any impact on my earnings. The only part of personal grooming that's necessary for sex work and I wouldn't do all the time anyway is power-washing my guts an hour before every session.

After lunch, mom went to see some friends and I played Magic for a few hours. At two pm, the actual work started. I picked up the work phone for the first time that day and began answering texts. An hour later I'd cancelled the 6pm appointment, blocked out all of Sunday evening, checked in with a few regulars, and provisionally moved three guys to the 'Time Wasters' list.

I spent a while sexting with a good prospect. He was a good prospect because he paid up-front for the sexting instead of treating it like a free samples platter at Costco. We scheduled a tentative appointment for next Tuesday, when his wife would be out of town on a business trip. Most of the guys I fuck have kinks, and I swear that 'cheating on your wife with a sex worker' is the most common one there is. Do I feel bad about it? At my hourly rate, absolutely not.

Mom got back at half four, so I took a break. We made tacos for lunch together and ate while watching Billions. She nudged me and told me that I need to do my injection, and, well, we have a little ritual for that. I'm scatterbrained and I'm not great with needles, but mom has been incredibly supportive with my HRT, and when I told her I was having problems taking them on time, she came up with a way to make me as comfortable as possible. As soon as the needle is ready, I laid down in her lap and she cradled my head in her arms, pressing her bare chest against my face. I took a nipple into my mouth and nursed it softly while she stroked my hair. She called me a good girl, telling me how proud she is of her daughter, how much she loves me, and asked if I was going to take my medicine like a big girl. On good days I inject myself while she pets me and coos over me, and on bad days she takes the needle and does it for me. As soon as I dropped the needle in the sharps container, mom pressed a Hitachi against my cock and took one of my nipples into her mouth, called me her big brave girl, and asked if I was gonna cum for mommy.

As usual, the answer was yes.

Late afternoon and early evening is when the messages start flowing in, especially on Fridays, when the kinds of people with hooker money have either left work early and thinking about getting laid, or are still held up at work and are desperately thinking about getting laid. This kind of messaging gets trickier, because it comes down to what I'm providing. Like, setting up a session is the kind of normal administrative stuff that's baked into the price of a session. It's also partly a sales job, so I'm naturally flirty and solicitous, and because I do sex work I talk openly about sex.

However, *sexting* is not normal administrative stuff. If I'm sending you messages for jerking-off purposes, I can charge by the hour or by the text but I will insist on charging for it. Also, it's not just sex that me and mom provide. There's a reason that 'companionship' is an old euphemism for whoring, it's because whores are good company. I'm a good listener and I don't judge, which means I'm like the fun parts of a therapist but without all the homework and self-improvement. I'm (unsurprisingly) friendly with all of my clients, and I have more than a few clients and former clients who I'd consider good friends and vice versa. I talk to a bunch of them outside of a business context, especially the ones I met outside of my job, and that's a normal part of maintaining a pool of clients for any sales job, but on the other hand... it's a demand on my time and it's a part of my services. I can and have bluntly told guys that they're wasting my time when it comes to uncompensated sexting, but the platonic stuff requires a lighter touch.

One of my regulars, Fintech Pete, sent me a message. Two messages later, he sent me $100, and we're off. Describing in gratuitous detail exactly how I'm going to suck his cock, begging him to fuck me until my clit is drooling all over the sheets, sending him feet pics, things of that nature. Pete is great for sexting because he barely jerks off while he's doing it, he saves all the messages and pictures and jerks off to them later, because he's got some biohacking routine where he only cums once a week. He said once that part of the reason he hires sex workers is that he takes each nut a lot more seriously if he's paying three digits minimum for the privilege. He does this teleconferencing report with the board of directors at his company four times a year, and every time he hires me to kneel under the desk in his home office and suck him off while he makes his presentation.

Anyway, while we were going back and forth like that, he mentioned that I'd made a joke one time about doing a joint session with my mom. I told him it wasn't a joke, and to cut a long story short, half an hour later I was asking mom if she was up for an overnight session starting at 9pm. She agreed, Pete confirmed, so we both got ready--think getting dolled up for a night out but with a more thorough enema--and drove to his place. He lived outside of town in a two-bedroom suburban home, alone with his two dogs.

As soon as we were parked in his garage I did the safety call in front of him: I rang a friend of mine, told her we were visiting a friend, told her it was at the address I sent her earlier, and told her we'd call her again tomorrow morning. Was it really necessary to do that with someone like Fintech Pete? No, but practice makes permanent. If you let these things slip when there's no danger, eventually they'll slip when there is danger.

Now, I don't want to imply that I'm in a lot of danger! There's a reason that most of the faces you'll see on the Trans Day of Remembrance are of poor black and brown women, because real danger comes when you can't turn skeevy jobs, when you can't afford to take precautions, when you have to make the choice over and over between maybe starving and maybe getting murdered. I'm white, I've got a good support network, and I've been relatively lucky in that I can do all these things to minimize my risks. I've still got to do them, though! Things like safety calls are a good habit to get into and it helps all sex workers if there's an expectation that they've all got someone looking out for them.

...I get that there is some bravado creeping into this journal. I start off saying that admin is the worst part of the job and a page later I flippantly mention that the job has put me in the hospital. On a day to day basis yeah, the admin is the bit that sucks the most, but if you offered me a deal where the admin is twice as bad but I never took that session, I’d take it in a heartbeat. This job has left me with some scars. Any time something cold touches my wrist I get a vivid flash of the first time I had my hands zip-tied behind my back in a cop car. I've had nightmares all my life, and more than a few of my nightmares are about stuff that's happened since I got into sex work.

If it seems like I’m downplaying it, it’s because the harrowing stuff is where the job has gone wrong, it’s not baked into the everyday stuff, and most importantly it has nothing to do with my mom. The work I've done with her is some of the least stressful and dangerous I've had since I started this job, and whatever wounds I have, she's not the one who caused them.

On a more positive note, a cool thing about doing sessions with my mom is that we can dress pretty conservatively and still have it come off as insanely lewd. Mom wore a black cocktail dress with an imitation pearl necklace and her hair up in a bun, I was in a white blouse under a lambswool sweater, a pleated short skirt, cheap dark tights--Pete has a thing for tearing them--and patent leather shoes. When you're going to suck a guy's world entirely off alongside your mom, the more modestly you're dressed, the more perverted it looks. Out in the suburbs it also means you get to avoid the microskirts and fishnets look which screams to the neighbors 'I've just hired a pair of hookers' or the mid-range raincoat over microskirts and fishnets look which screams 'I've just hired a pair of pricey hookers."

Pete's living room looks like the back room of a Radio Shack, computer guts everywhere, every surface turned into a makeshift workbench. It's not a suitable place for lovemaking; I don't want to have to pull shards of a soundcard out of my perineum. His bedroom is a lot neater, with a king-sized bed to sit on, a ton of pillows to lounge up against, and a TV mounted on the wall. Mom poured out some wine, a mid-range red zinfandel that we'd picked up on the way, Pete brought out some imported dark chocolate that costs like $40/kg, and I swung my legs over his lap and turned on the Food Network. I took a bite of chocolate, mom took a sip of wine, and before either of us swallowed she pulled me into a deep kiss, mixing the wine and the chocolate. It's a good combination, and Pete enjoyed the show.

The night started off with chatting. None of us were in any rush, not with an overnight session, and since Pete has been a client for each of us for a while it was a pretty relaxed atmosphere. Pete's fingers danced over my thighs, absent-mindedly plucking ladders into the fabric as we talked baseball, business, sex work, the difference between the gentrified fag bar downtown and the really gentrified fag bar downtown, programming and other nerd shit, local politics, the contestants on Cutthroat Kitchen, just normal stuff. Mom and Pete started talking about fancy cooking stuff so I started annoying them both by claiming that sardines are just fully-grown anchovies, that DOP labels are all fake, and that instant grits are better than the regular ones until mom jabbed me with a finger and told me that my mouth should be put to better use elsewhere.

You know how some people say "Cilantro tastes like soap, that's why it's good?" Same thing for how weird it feels to go down on my mom. The first time I ever jerked off, watching a 144p clip of Rocco Sifreddi fucking a girl in the ass while flushing her head down a toilet bowl, knowing that this meant I was going to go to Hell unless I begged God for forgiveness and never did it again, I came so hard I passed out. It feels good, it feels wrong that it feels so good, and it feels even better because it feels so wrong.

She was already wet when I got between her legs. I kissed her clit and started licking, her bush tickling my nose and her thighs squeezing my ears. Fabric rasped over my head as she hiked her dress up to run her hand through my hair. Everything was muffled but I could hear kissing and clinking, and I knew that mom was undoing Pete's belt and jeans to give him a Catholic-quality handjob.

I got mom worked up, bucking her hips and getting all breathy, until she asked me to get up here and give her some help. I crawled up to his groin and winked up at him. He blushed and grinned back. Pete's not a bad-looking guy. I mean, I don't care about looks in general, I guess I can look at someone and say that objectively they're ugly, and if someone is beautiful it adds something to the experience, but like... it doesn't really figure into it. Obviously most johns don't look like supermodels but they're not uniformly ugly, as I said before the thing that johns have in common is being horny guys with a lot of disposable income. Still, Pete is towards the better-looking side of that scale.

...Okay there is one thing about him that's weirdly common for my clients, I call it 'John Balding:' where a guy is losing his hair but in a slow, uneven, and kinda weird pattern, so that even when they cross into being more bald than not, they never bite the bullet and shave it all off. Pete is only like 30% of the way through that process so it doesn't look terrible yet, but he's on that track.

Anyway, back to the sex. A fun thing about double blowjobs is that you can take them a whole lot slower than solo blowjobs. Me and mom have had a lot of practice so we go at about 1/4th speed and it feels twice as good. She started off by wrapping her hand around the shaft, slowly stroking it while she softly kissed the tip, and I licked his balls, gently lapping at one, then the other, cleaning away the day's sweat and musk, carefully taking both of them into my mouth at once. Mom swallowed half his length, and I started kissing my way up his shaft as she pulled back up, my lips touching the head as hers reached the very tip. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into a deep French kiss with his cock in the middle, precum mixing with spit, moaning as we felt him twitch and grunt, mom's hand on his balls and my hand on his shaft. We broke the kiss and repeated it in reverse, taking his cock in my throat as mom kissed her way down to his balls. He came after five minutes of gentle little schoolgirl kisses on each side of his cock from the pair of us. The first rope caught mom on her cheek, the second hit her hair, but I wrapped my lips tight around the head and sucked him dry before he could spill another drop.

You can't give a client a mother-daughter blowjob and not snowball the cum back and forth in front of him. We've done it enough times to get the timing down: wait until he sits up straight, because if you don't he'll be too dazed from nutting in your mouth to really appreciate it. Make sure he's looking at you, move your hair out of the way so it doesn't obstruct his view, open your lips so that a trickle of jizz almost sloshes out, move in close to your mom so that your noses are touching and it's clear that you're about to kiss, sink a palm into her tits as she grabs your ass, and then you gotta really go for it: wide-mouthed, feral, energetic, like you're trying to reach each other's sinuses. If a little bit of cum spills out because you're being so sloppy, that's a sign that you're doing it right. You're going to lick it up afterwards anyway.

We broke the kiss, I licked mom's face clean, and we took a break. We drank some more wine, he offered us cigarettes--the coolest clients are the ones that let you smoke indoors--and we cuddled and relaxed for a while with Guy's Grocery Games playing on the TV. Pete went to get some water, and returned with three bottles and a strip of Cialis. He downed two pills, we both stripped off--it was sweltering by that point--and got ready for the next round.

Mom played with his nipples and I got between his legs again, this time going lower than his balls to eat his ass out. Rimming is a trusted client privilege like the mom-daughter stuff is, except it's less about trusting them in the legal sense and more about trusting that it won't be grainy down there. I like it when a client is clean enough to rim, because I'm extremely good at it. Mom says she's better, she claims she once made a guy no-touch cum with a rimjob, but I don't fucking believe her.

He got hard after a minute of digging my tongue into his ass, but his cock was still super-sensitive so we figured we'd tease him for a while longer. We swapped places, mom ate his ass while he made out with me, squeezing my tits and playing with my cock. I like it when guys touch my tits, my cock is... fine, I guess? I don't viscerally dislike people touching it but it doesn't do much for me. After a minute of that he reaches around and works a finger into my asshole, which is much more my speed.

By the time he was two knuckles deep I looked down and saw his cock twitching, leaking precum onto his stomach. He seemed pretty worked up. I kissed his neck, nipped at his ear, and whispered, "Do you wanna breed me, Mister?"

He sure did.

I use condoms unless I've got an extremely compelling reason not to, and mom has a cool trick for getting them on. She grasped Pete's cock around the base, placed her lips around the tip, deepthroated the entire thing in a single stroke, and as she slowly lifted her head back up, his cock was neatly fitted with a condom.

As soon as I lubed up he put me on my back, pushed my ankles up to my ears, pressed his cock against my hole and sunk into me inch by inch. He muffled my moans with a kiss and rutted me into the bed. I gotta give it to him, all that biohacking and cardio is doing something right because he railed me at a fast, steady pace until my dick was leaking all over my tummy and I couldn't form sentences in my head any more. Mom made out with him as he finished, and at that point I was just babbling nonsense. He was gentle and cautious as he pulled out of me, stroking my hair as I reached down to take off his condom. I poured the contents out over my tits, slumping back against the headboard as mom licked them clean.

It wasn't yet midnight by then, and we went on like that through the night. Licking his feet, mom-daughter 69, him sucking my cock while mom rode his dick like a Sorority cowgirl champion, more wine, more double-blowjobs, tacking an extra $200 onto the fee for the privilege of pissing in my mouth instead of having to get up to go to the bathroom, a whole buffet of fun whore stuff.

We woke up at around ten in the morning, stayed for breakfast, then said our goodbyes. Me and mom thanked him for his custom, and he thanked us for a good time. By midday we were at home, we both showered, checked our calendars, messaged our evening clients to confirm that they were still on, and then... well, the rest of the day kinda evaporated. I played Demons' Souls until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, passed out in bed, and woke up when my alarm went off in the evening.

That's one of the things I don't like about overnight sessions: you're technically only spending like, ten to twelve hours with a client, and for some of that time you're either not fucking or actively asleep, but it kinda feels like it destroys two days. By the time it's scheduled, everything in the rest of the day is either preparing for it or doing it, and when you get back it takes the rest of the day just to recover. I don't like that part of my job, and if I sit down I can probably go through a whole bunch of things I don't like about my job. I still know that my job isn't a *bad* job, because the last time I had a bad job it was at a chicken processing plant. Know how I know that the chicken job was bad? Because I excused myself for a bathroom break four hours into the shift, walked off site, and never came back.

You know what, there's another reason I know that this isn't a bad job and that mom isn't a bad mom, and I guess it's part of the reason I've written all this down in the first place. I was seven years old when I first wanted to die. By the time I got to high school, suicidal thoughts were just the radio static in my brain. I can't remember any point after like, grade school where I didn't daydream about suicide every single day.

Now? I sometimes go for weeks without thinking about killing myself. It hasn't gone away completely, it still pops up when I'm upset or stressed out or tired or really hungry, but what I do is I talk to mom about it, and she talks me out of it. I feel guilty sometimes about putting that pressure on her, and taking that pressure off is part of the reason I'm going to therapy I guess.

I hope it works out.

I really think it will.

#story #stories

65 notes · View notes