#i guess the sign was for in this moment but it's a vibe anyway

[n-znm]

[00kittenz]

── “ just an extension cord. ” ( yjw ) 🎮

๑ When you can’t tell if Jungwon’s actually upset with you for ruining his livestream or.. nah, he’s grateful. At least you like to think so.

pair: gamer bf!jungwon ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, blowjobs and handjobs on stream, raw s.x (DONT TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS !!), clit tease, revenge, giggly jungwon, thigh riding, light degradation, oral (f. rec), quick humour, sudden phone calls ?? | words: 2.2k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“sunghoon ! god, you’re such a fucking dumbass.” the heated boy rolled his eyes, watching the ‘you lose’ sign appear on his screen. “good fucking game you ding dong.” he groaned loudly, frustrated to the core. everyone in jungwon’s stream knew him as a top tier player, losing made him feel like he let them all down, even though his fans would continue to cheer him on.

luv4evaaa: you got it next game jungwon, fighting !! ♡♡

takenbytheonenonlytoji: agh, how can someone still be so cute when they’re angry ㅠㅠ

jungwonsusedsock: he said ding dong !! HAJHJAHAHH (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

chewybiscuits: hoon and wonie give off such funny sibling vibes i love them sm.. *sigh..* (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

jungswrld: good game won !! you did your best that’s all that matters !!!

๑ ๑ ๑

his pupils scanned the screen giggling here and there from their remarks. even so, he still wanted to beat sunghoon’s ass for making him lose. “bro it wasn’t my fault ! we were surrounded !!” jungwon stared straight into the camera in disbelief, as if sunghoon could see. “since when was a 2v2 called being SURROUNDED ?” jungwon scoffed taking a sip from his sponsored energy drink. “ready up.”

๑ ๑ ๑

you could hear jungwon yelling and raging in the room down the hall of your shared one, spewing all types of curses and profanities. “such a baby..” you chuckled to yourself. you couldn’t lie, jungwon angry ? definitely had you on the sheets with your legs spread open. if you know you know. and this seems to be one of those situations, although, this time a little flick and rub won’t cut it. his fans knew he had a girlfriend, he introduced you anytime he got a chance. this time however, you wanted to avoid all of that and just get to business. now was the perfect time for that. it was dark meaning the only thing that was lit in his gaming room was his PC.

for some reason his door was open, which explained why you could hear him so clearly. you were supposed to be sneaking in, which meant it was time to go spy kids on his ass ! next thing you knew you were on all fours, like a kitten, crawling your way into his room slowly.. you knew he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but his stream would, so you had to stop every moment it’d go quiet. i guess we could say this mission was about 3 minutes long. anyway, you were under his desk which was all that mattered. you knew he had known you were under there, you’d accidentally bumped his foot trying to lower yourself down on your knees.

which took jungwon by surprise. he screamed, reacting hella dramatically. “what the fuck !” he snatched his headphones off his head pushing back from his desk to scan the area. “bro ? you good ? what’s up?” sunghoon checked on the yelping boy. once he’d seen it was you, holding up a finger to your lips indicating him to keep from telling them you’re currently in the room with him, he’d calmed down, a hand on his heaving chest.

no.1gojostan: ayo ? ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

iloveboobss69420: AHAHAA WTF ?! UHM ? YOU OKAY ?

lightyagamismom: i rebuke, in the name of heeseung’s booty hairs. ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ SAVE, HIM.

“naah, i’m good, just one of my extension cords grazed my leg. thought it was a spider or some shit.” jungwon quickly conjured up a lie, putting his headset back on. he wondered what you were doing down there, and the answer was nothing cause you were attempting to keep your laughter in. his eyes glanced at your sitting figure before looking back at the screen. reading, his eyes dashed through his comments.

“damn, it must’ve had you scared then, i promise you it’s just a cord. don’t need to keep checking kiddo.” sunghoon laughed through his mic.

“haha, funny.” jungwon ran around the map shooting sunghoon.

“stop it ! you’re such a dick !” sunghoon cried.

when you felt that the situation from before had calmed down, you started what you’d planned to do before even coming in this chatty room in the first place. your hands slid slowly against his calves, caressing them over the gray nike sweats he had on. jungwon wanted to look at you so bad, he really did. but to raise suspicion? he’d rather not. although he’d love to show everyone what he could do to you. he’d spare his little fans the sore sight.

continuing, you wrapped your arms around his waist with your head in his lap, hands caressing his lower backside. you could feel his growing bulge on your cheek, your lips coming down to kiss him over his clothed area. jungwon’s body had shivers, tensing up at the very feel of you, he’d gone completely mute from your touch. making him cough out of nervousness.

“jungwon, let’s go north, the leopard villa” sunghoon spun. he tried his best to keep his composure, thinking of ways to help the situation— ending his live abruptly? he would if he could. yet, it just wasn’t normal for him, he could stream for hours on end without any interruptions, his fans would worry if that happened.

“mmhm, good idea, for once..” he tempered a light groan.

while he spoke you’d been busy pulling his waistband down slightly enough for you to bring his shaft into view. the boy pursed his lips feeling your touch on his hard. your hands massaged him slowly, giving it a couple light strokes until it’s been replaced by your salivated mouth. you were limited to a slow pace, that was unless you wanted to be heard. starting off with the tip, your tongue slid across the red texture. you loved his tip the most when it came to his cock, for some reason it was the most satisfying part to mingle with, and it came with different amounts of surprises everytime you greeted it.

“fuck..” he muttered under his breath, he was battling with himself, it was like he was hit with this annoying need to lean back. your head bobbed up and down around his thickness, you were annoyed with the pace, so you quickened it juuuust a little bit, a gag was held at the back of your throat at he pushed on your tonsils.

his breathing was mid hoarse, but who could blame him. poor thing :((

chewybiscuits: urmmm.. is he okay ??.. *worry worry*

munch12340: hey bro ? you don’t sound too well..

catboyjungwon: wait, what happened ???

jungwon’s eyes immediately went to the chat. he felt his reactions weren’t concealed enough, scared that it might look too obvious what he’s currently up to. “hey chat.. i-.. yeah, i’m okay, my stomach just started paining.. badly..” his hand flew to your head as if he was touching his stomach. “damn it, i’m gonna end it here, i’m not.. feeling okay” he lied, sweat beading from his forehead.

“hoon, i’ll see you.. tomorrow? jungwon nation, goodnight ! rest well ! or good day, i dunno. bye !!” he rambled, mustering a quick bye to his friend and fans before quickly turning off his stream.

he immediately let out a moan of relief, “couldn’t have waited ? needy slut.” jungwon thrusted his hips into your mouth. this time, you were more than audible, he could feel the vibrations of your vocal before you pulled from him with a loud pop.

“are you mad at me ?,” you pouted at him teasily, your hands fondling his balls.

“tch.” jungwon scoffed, pulling you into his lap.

“so, no ?” you played with his hair, riding his thighs slowly.

“so, no?” he playfully mocked you. he loved the way you looked getting off on him, he loved the sight of you in pleasure. your gentle moaning snatching him of his sanity.

he took your hips in his grasp heaving you over his length, jerking himself before closing the gap between the two of you, all he had to do was move your panties to the side since you were wearing one of his oversized t-shirts. both moaning in sync at the tight fit.

“so big.. so full...mmh..” you cried, wrapping your arms around his neck.

his hands found the flesh of your ass, guiding it into movement after slapping it once, or twice. throwing his head back at the feel. “god.. that’s right squeeze this dick baby..” he let go, pulling your shirt from it’s hem, throwing it off of your pure body. as you found it in you to bounce at a quicker pace allowing him to see your bare tits move in following.

the feel of your clit rubbing against his lower brung your high closer and closer. “fuck, so good..” your voice shakes when you clench around him. he immediately captures your lips in his.

it was as if he hoped to taste your juices through your mouth. the moment your high hit, so did his, you sat soaking his shaft— not to mention his clothes.

“you’re so fucking hot..” he panted against your mouth, picking you up and bringing you into the room next of yours before collapsing onto your figure when you’d settled back in bed.

“gonna fuck the shit out of this tight little cunt. ” he continued, “gonna fuck you so dumb.”

and he did just that, ruining you. he pumped his thick cock into your crying pussy like he depended on it. he wanted you to know you were his and his only.

“o-ahmm-,” you sighed, “jungwonnie.. so good, so good..” your left hand covered your eyes as the other went to play with your clit. the impact of his thrusting left you feeling numb.

“feels good, right ?” he chuckled at your pitiful state, he could feel you shaking beneath him.

“did i fuck this little cunt stupid ?” his body hovered over you slapping your thigh. “i did, didn’t i ?” he growls feeling himself throb inside you. your moaning and whining filled the room for a while, that was until you felt your high hit before you could even announce it.

“shit !..j-jungwon..” you panted heavily, grinding yourself on his paused figure. the pressure you had sitting on your clit drove you crazy.

jungwon pulled out, his length rubbed your folds. watching you squirm under him, he never understood the concept of shaking orgasms, but he liked to see it, he thought it looked the best on you.

“you’re so stinking cute, you know ?” his hands pleasured himself once he felt a knot flowing through his lower. coating your pretty, soaked, pussy in his pool of white.

“fuck..” he looked at you, seeing your furrowed brows looking at his phone that rang beside you. “who’s it ?” you picked it up feeling the weight of the bed shift as you read the caller ID.

“sunghoon ??” you spoke through a moan, his tongue dancing around your bud.

“answer it, princess” he says while going down on you.

“but he’ll-” he nibbled at the side of your folds.

“go on. put it on speaker.” and so you did, trying your best to keep the moaning to a minimum.

“sunghoon ?”

“y/n, hey how are you girl ! oh my gosh !”

you muster a laugh over the feeling you got between your legs. you knew sunghoon only did that high-pitched voice when you called. jungwon internally cringed..

“hi sunghoon ! what’s up?”

“not much, just checking on jungwon, he okay ? sounded like he was in pretty bad shape earlier.” he sounded genuinely concerned which made you feel a tad bit guilty— but not really.

“oh- he’s fine ..!”

now it was jungwon’s turn to take this time to put you in his shoes, he fastened the pace he put on your pussy, sucking, and kissing it’s clit before sliding his paired fingers in. he’s just getting his lick back, quite literally.

he watches you throw your hand over your mouth, arching your back at the feel of his fingers pushing into you.

“ah, good to hear then, i was thinking about coming over in a few, is that fine ? orr…”

it wouldn’t seem right if you said no, sunghoon was always welcome !

“i-.. sure, yeah ! mh.. you never have to ask.. you know that !” you felt your second high approaching, biting down on your lip to compress it..

“yeah well, i wouldn’t wanna disturb anything, i’ll be there soon, with takeout !”

“cool then ! call us when you arrive !”

“yeah, hopefully jungwon won’t be all up in your guts the next time i call, right ? ya’ll some freaks for real.”

he hung up after hearing you hum an awkward yes. you could hear jungwon laughing, retrieving his fingers from your wetness. “it’s not funny ! it’s not like you told me to stop when i went under your desk !” you whined.

“you didn’t tell me to stop either.” he looks at you with the most shit eating grin once he got closer to your face, peppering kisses on your cheeks.

“god you’re so embarrassing, and he’s coming over..” you’d rather hide in your closet until you could feel narnia arriving to snatch you from behind than see sunghoon face to face.

“it’s not that bad, at least he knows i treat you right !” he fails to make you feel any better, making you hit his chest, his laugh echoing through the room again.

“move you whore, i gotta pee.” you hear the doorbell ring, causing you to jump up and shriek. you quickly run into the bathroom closing it after yourself.

“i guess i’ll get it” the overall happy boy walks through the marbled floors.

once making it to the door, he’s met with sunghoon’s face, with some.. look ? plastered across it, whatever it was, jungwon bursted of laughter yet again.

i may or may not have got a teensy bit carried away w this one hehehe, also thnx sm for 130+ follows btww !! (⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠(⁠^⁠ ⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠/

[goldsbitch]

That one Christmas flight

summary: Y/N and Lando Norris are seated next to each other on a long flight. Innocent little Christmas tradition that Y/N does every year brings them just a little too close.

warnings: fluff, one-shot (whops a lie!), meet cute

Christmas. Y/N felt like an alien walking among people. It was impossible to avoid it. It was present in songs, in decoration, in fashion, online and on the news. Everywhere.

It's not like she was a grinch or anything. Nor was it because of some tragic incident causing trauma. Just pure fatigue from all the logistics and travel connected, which most kids of divorced parents faced every year.

Flying from Japan back to England, from her mother to her father, was a chore that seemed unavoidable. Her mother was kind enough to splurge on first class ticket for her, which her fancy Tokio job allowed. Ever since fours years ago, she continued a tradition that was introduced to her by a fellow Christmas traveller - the most stylish sassy French woman, who often spend the holidays on a plane. She would get herself and who ever was sitting next to her a glass of champagne and chat them up. Y/N has never laughed so much in her life like she did when she met this woman - so she took the tradition as her own.

Lando's plan wasn't to be on a flight from Japan to London on the 24th of December. He had so little time with his family and friends that this secret work trip to the Honda factory was really pushing him into staying with McLaren for the following years and not switching to a different team. This whole situation was like fuel for his current headache.

Y/N second guessed her tradition when a super gorgeous looking boy, who seemed to want anything but to be bothered, was sat next to her. She was used to having older people sitting next to her. Anyway, tradition is a tradition, so she eventually got up to order the classic. She nearly turned back at the thought that this guy was giving off some serious "I'm a dick" vibes, he had barely acknowledged her since she sat down. Luckily, she ignored this feeling.

When a glass of champagne appeared before Lando, he was sure it was a mistake.

"Well, to Christmas," his neighbor toasted. While he thought that she was a rather good looking girl, he was in no mood for a fangirl.

"I'm very sorry, um...I'll be happy to take a photo with you or something, but I am not in the best mood for a interaction with a fan."

She gave him a baffled look.

He continued. "Look, I'll be more than happy to sign anything. Or a photo, just as long you keep between un on which flight you saw me."

Y/N put her glass down, this was a first one.

"First of all, sorry for invading your private time. I have this stupid tradition of having a glass with whomever I'm destined to spend this Christmas flight. Guess I was mistaken. Second of all, I have no fucking idea who you are. So, calm down." She downed half of her glass. Of course this stupid year would include an asshole like this. Oh well.

Lando was confused for a moment and immediately after that he felt like an idiot.

"Apologies," he slowly replied, somewhat baffled. "I thought you were a fan and I'm just not in the mood for that." Y/N rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her champagne. "I'm Lando, by the way."

"Is that a stage name?"

"No, " he laghed. "I think it was a random decision of my mom."

"Interesting. Y/N," she introduced herself, without looking at him.

There was a weird tension in the air. Lando was determined to break it. Y/N was currently casually offended.

"Let me get you another one so that we can have a toast."

"Great, getting drunk is also an option. Hate flying sober," she joked.

Another glass was brought by a smiling flight attendant.

"So, how does this work?" Lando asked. Y/N was a person easily annoyed, however as quickly this came it also ended.

"Fine. There are rules, btw."

"Of course there are."

"Ehm, ehm, " she cleared her throat. "So, this tradition was started by Madame Tatanova and from now on, if you find yourself on a plane on 24th or 25th of December, you need to toast with your fellow neighbor passenger and answer the following: why and for how long-"

"I will have to write this down, I have a memory of a dead chicken."

"-I'm not finished! And then you follow up by your biggest regret and one thing nobody knows. The purpose of this is to gain or pass on wisdom and use the opportunity you'd normally miss by blasting up your headphones." She's done this for four times now, still the introduction was missing the "Madame Tatanova magic". Maybe one day.

"Ok..." Lando was not following yet, but he was keen on doing so. She raised her glasses, as did he.

"Cheers, to Christmas flights."

"Cheers, " he replied and they both sipped their champagne. "Wait, I have a question - what would you do if I did not speak English? Or if I was deaf?"

Lando was being his cheeky self and Y/N was not having it. She answered the question with a look.

"Got it! Anyway...what was the question?"

"Why."

"Why? Why is the sky dark or....?"

"Why are you on this plane."

"I'm trying to get to London from Tokio."

"I swear to god, I will ask to be seated somewhere else, Orlando."

"Lando, actually."

"If you say so..."

"Huuh, I'm going back from a work trip. And since you claim not to know me, I can probably tell you more than I should. Um, imagine I am in a band, right? I'm singing for a band and every few years they change their lead singer, one of the two actually, and I'm a the lead singer who might go to a different band now. But it's not clear yet and super secret actually. So, please keep it to yourself." Lando felt like someone who has just discovered speech and this was the first time he was using it. "Does that make any sort of sense?"

"Sort of I think. So you're cheating on your band?"

"Uhh, I'd say checking out options."

"Remind me never to date guys like you," she joked and immediately regretted that. Y/N was not good at flirting and did not want to appear creepy.

Lando passed on this comment, still not sure if he could trust this girl. "So, what about you? Why?"

"The curse of the divorced parents. One lives in London, the other one in Japan and I'm a package they pass each year," she said rather bitterly.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. I get to see mom twice a year and it's all always so planned and predictable. I would kill for spontaneity."

"Take me with you next time, I'm sure she'll be surprised." "Yes, she is a big fan of British guys, that's why she divorced one!"

"Great, happy to follow that route!"

Y/N started to relax a bit. This could be good, actually. "Ok, so now. For long are you staying in London, Lando?"

"Only few weeks. Then our music season starts. "

"Yeah, the one with all the singing, of course."

"Yeeah."

Y/N laughed a bit. He was suprisingly easy to talk to.

"So, how long?"

"A week. Then I'm off to Bologna."

"Uuuh, fancy that!"

"Yeah, I'm studying history there."

"Bologna is the one with the old university?" he asked, pretending he has never heard of that.

"No, not really, they just opened. Last year we did not have chairs, because the shipment got delayed," she replied with a dry tone.

"One does always study better while standing. I believe it was Socrates, who said it."

"Oh, yes. They teach you this at the singing music school?"

"Exactly. We were never allowed to sit."

They continued to chat all the way through the airplane dinner, getting few more glasses of champagne during that. Their laughter was interrupted by a flight attendant, who acted on a complaint from a fellow passenger. They both fell asleep watching a movie. Y/N woke up few times in the night and observed the boy next to her. Knowing this was the best Christmas plane encounter she ever had. Lando woke up as well, feeling strangely happy about the fact she was resting her head on his shoulder.

//

"Wait." Lando stopped her at the entrance to customs hall and pulled them both behind a column, so that they could not be seem by bystanders.

"Yes?" she turned to him.

"This might be weird, but can I kiss you?" Y/N looked at the boy in a hoodie standing in front of her, cheeky guy suddenly appearing nervous. He was absolutely gorgeous. She hated the fact he was random guy on a plane to London and not to Bologna.

"Yes. Must be midnight somewhere. So it could be like a New Years thing."

"Yeah. Just an airport thing." With that he kissed her. Just two young people having a little moment of silence. His kiss was a light slow brush on the lips. He cupped her cheek and her hand brushed through his curly hair. First kiss usually does not take long. For a person passing by, this would appear like kiss these two shared a thousand times before.

When they eventually parted, it all seemed a bit surreal.

"We never got to the second part of your Christmas interview," Lando commented.

"Well. Let's say that the one thing nobody knows is that I just kissed a random guy from the plane. And that my biggest regret is that we will never see each other again." For the first time, she was this bluntly honest with somebody who had just kissed her for the first time. It felt intoxicating.

Lando smiled. "See, I knew we had something in common."

Lando was usually not so open with his crushes, if he could even put her in that category.

"Don't worry. I won't search for you online or anything. I want to keep the mystery of Lando alive."

He kissed her once more, before they parted.

//

Their hearts felt a little more heavier than usual on midnight that New Years Eve. Both standing surrounded by their favorite people, yet with the one they would wish to kiss being impossibly far away.

part 2

_________________________

@superlegend216

[theyluvlyss]

𝐬𝐨, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞...

I literally just came up with this little drabble, and I'm sorry, but it's funny to me, so-

but anyway, two more shazam fics are on the way pretty soon (one freddy, one billy), and then I got a stranger things/mike wheeler request after that, so be on the lookout :) !

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝

《 ♡ 》 oneshot/crack-fic

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

reader loves it when billy showcases his power. billy loves showing off to his girlfriend. it's a win-win situation, to be honest.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!girlfriend!reader x billy batson - she/her/hers pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

post shazam!: fury of the gods

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

yelling/screaming (in a good way, dw) - lots of begging from reader lmao - billy being easily swayed bc he wuvs you🥰 - dang, this is kinda crazy sounding outta context, huh? - anyways - this whole thing is just very berry cute, methinks - good vibes only, supa good vibes only✨️ - shrek reference

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

"Do the thing!"

It was a sudden squeal, almost as if you'd been holding it back for a while. Not to mention, the walk back to his place had been comfortably silent the whole time before, your hand in his with both stuffed off in his coat pocket in order to shield them from the cold, winter weather.

Although, the squeezes you would give occasionally should've been somewhat of a warning sign. Billy just figured it was a silent, "I love you" of some sort, returning the action every time with butterflies in his chest that kept him warm.

He never would've guessed them as a sign for an incoming fangirl moment. And so, to be sure...

"What thing?"

Not that he wasn't genuinely confused, of course.

"Ya'know... the thing that I like?"

He looked down at you, met with your beaming smile back up at him that brought on one of his own. Still unsure, though, merely repeating the words you had jingled to him all of the sudden back to you in a tone of skepticism.

"The thing you like?"

"Yeah!" You chriped, waiting for him to catch on excitedly, only to be mildly disappointed when that moment never came and he shook his head in dismiss.

"...I don't know, I'm still lost."

"Billy, noo..." You whined, nudging him a bit with your side as the walk continued. "Pleaseeee?"

"What thing?!"

And before you could fully explain yourself, you saw a look in the emerald of his eyes that told you he was faking, the boy having caught on by this point and leaving you to huff and turn away.

"...Stop, you know what I'm talking about, you're just being mean."

Deep chuckles came from his chest, Billy nodding to himself in amusement after you had realized he was teasing you. And, because it was in his nature, he continued to do so until you would ask properly.

"You're right, I do know. I just wanna hear you say it."

"Mncht." You clicked your tongue but didn't give in to the vexing feeling of your boyfriend complicating the process, keeping strong at your pleads in hopes to simply just wear him down.

"Billyyy...please do the thing? Please?"

"C'monnnn..." He urged, nudging his shoulder with yours, and was satisfied with the roll of your eyes and his implied directions followed.

"Hmff... Can you pleaaase say the word? Please?"

"You want me to say the word~?" He repeated, this time with a tone of flirtatiousness that you willingly succumbed to, snuggling up to his arm almost too cheesy for your own liking as you gave an eager, "Yes!"

"Mmm, I dunnooo'..."

This boy and his need to taunt, you swore, would be the death of you...! And yet, it was charming enough for you to let it slide.

No, he was charming enough for you to let it slide. Shaggy brown hair and gorgeous green eyes and those cute dimples whenever he flashed you that winning smile...

Plus, you had been on the verge of geeking out the whole day out with him. Your boyfriend is a superhero for Christ's sake! Of course you'd want to randomly see the magic of it all from time to time! And it's not like you ever knew him to shy away from amazing you whenever he could. So...

"Please-please-please with a lot of maraschino cherries on top?"

Billy laughed at your specifics, already in the midst of guiding you towards a secluded area away from crowds and bystanders.

"Okay, okay, but only because you asked so nicely."

"Yes, yay-yay-yay...!!"

Your cheers and giggles of excitement went hushed by your own hands, waiting in anticipation as Billy took some safety steps back away from you and gave one last look around the area. When he was sure he was in the clear, he granted you your wish. Did just as you asked...

He said the word...

"SHAZAM!!"

...and with a thunderous crash of lightning and a blinding light for only a moment, he was transformed into his older, super-self, and you were laughing wildly through jagged gasps of amazement.

"AHAHAHAHA!!!"

A little bit of a crazy laugh, you'd admit later, but not the point-

"Yeah? How was that?!" Billy-... Shazam asked, his arms spread wide open as he walked closer to you.

"Super loud and scary!" You squealed, hopping around like a little girl who was seeing a fireworks show for the first time, the glowing emblem on his chest casting you and the entire alleyway in gold.

"Yeah?!" Shazam nodded in confirmation with a grin just as wide as your own.

"But it's so hot!!"

"Yeah, it is...!"

Billy's ego? Boosted.

Your fangirl levels? Off the charts.

Hotel? Trivago.

"Okay, now do it again, but back to you-you." You demanded requested, doing a small spin move with your index finger while Shazam dropped his arms to his side.

"Dude-"

"-Please?" You cut before he could provide any light scolds or reasons as to why he shouldn't. You were his girlfriend, and you were so cute looking up at him, expecting to see her boyfriend, now, and not some grown man version of him she... liked... but didn't truly care for.

"...Okay."

"Yay!" You clapped, moving yourself back this time to avoid a second lighting strike.

"SHAZAM!!"

And with that, he was back to himself, your Billy Batson, standing with his arms still open in hopes he'd impressed you the way you had assumed he would.

And god, did he go above and beyond.

"AHAHAHA, YOU'RE SO COOL, I LOVE YOU!!!" You nearly screamed, voice rasping over from the sheer amount of pressure you were putting on your throat.

"I love you, too! C'mere...!" He laughed, admiring your excited figure and the way you were already running towards for him to catch you in his arms in a warm hug.

It lasted for longer than you both expected, but was clearly needed as you enjoyed each other's presence and touch.

"You know what you reminded me of, lowkey?" Billy murmured, no need to be any louder when he was right by your ear.

"Hmm?" You hummed, face pressed into the crook of his neck, cold nose tickling his skin.

"...Do the roar."

You pulled away very slowly. Your face went about as cold as your feet were right now, staring deep into Billy's eyes with a look of pure disbelief.

He stared back. Grinning, head nodding as if to say, "Yeah? Right?" like a puppy.

"You know what?" You hummed gently, returning the smile softly while your vision trailed his features and then down to his chest.

"Yeah?"

You pointed directly to his heart.

"You...are amazingly talented..."

":D!?"

"...at ruining nice moments between us."

":0..."

You nodded, satisfied with yourself at the light tease.

"Mhm, yeah :)."

𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐬-...𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭...𝐢𝐬- 𝐈-...

is it obvious I have such a BAD crush on billy, and this is lowkey shamelessly self-indulgent, or nah🧍🏽‍♀️?

you said nah?

awesome, cool, thanks /ᐠ-⩊-マ.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

me🤭

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

1,132 words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

[inkyvendingmachine]

Avedone With All of This Season 4, Episode 4

💀 Call of Cthulhu: Haunted Hijinx Masterpost 💀 Call of Cthulhu Season Four Masterpost (Coming Soon)

Warning: This campaign is an edited version of  a Call of Cthulhu scenario from the Tales of the Crescent City book. While a lot has been changed, there IS spoilers for it throughout these posts.

GUESS WHO FINALLY SHOWED UP!!! and also a lot of other stuff happened. I'm sorry, this one is very long because I didn't take notes, and struggle to leave out details when I'm writing from the records instead of the notes.

Art Credit: @inkdemonapologist : sketching + inking @inkyvendingmachine : concept + colouring

Somehow Jack’s car, with all its original passengers and no extras, manage to make it back to the studio. Joey immediately rushes into the studio, to go rant at Bendy about everything that happened… and possibly to go fuse with Bendy because he feels utterly helpless now after completely draining himself with panicked magic. 

But it’s probably just the first one.

Sammy and Henry arrive as well to find Jack and Peter quietly picking glass out of his broken car in something like shock. Upon getting no responses from Jack about what happened, Sammy storms off to find Joey.

Joey is all too happy to start his entire rant over again for Sammy as he works on fusing with Bendy. They were just following Peter’s leads and driving from location to location and then all of the sudden this ASSHOLE shows up out of nowhere and just stands in front of the car. Busts the car, terrifies poor Jack, and then on top of that tries to break INTO the car and abduct Peter?? It’s a good thing Joey managed to blast him out, but they weren’t even DOING ANYTHING that would have possibly summoned him NOTHING AT ALL... And on top of all that, being an absolute PRICK as he’s doing it! 

… Anyways, how was the moooob?

Sammy updates Joey on everything that happened with Johnny Nero, which is pretty much just that he had seen the Yellow sign, that Henry removed it, and that Nero was pretty intent on getting his hands on whatever the Phantom wants first. Which like… yeah, if you wanna solve all our problems and fix this mess, go ahead! But Joey’s pretty sure that’s not going to happen, so he goes back to working on his ritual.

Sammy leaves to go back to Jack, and right as Joey feels ready to start the ritual his phone rings. The special one. And it’s… Avedon??

Avedon immediately starts info dumping on Joey about everything that’s been going on already… like, all the information Joey already knows. A lot of flat “yeah?”s in reply as Avedon rambles on, until he mentions that it’s already gotten to Norman. Wait, what?? But Avedon doesn’t stop, telling Joey to meet him at his hotel room in NYC so they can go over more information. Before Joey manages to get any clarification, he hangs up. 

That’s Joey’s thing!!!

Joey is the one who hangs up on others!!!!!!!

Frustrated, Joey does try to call Norman, and… Yeah, Norman is talking in weird riddles and speech that doesn’t fit with the Normal Norman Vibes. That call is also ended with little information gained… but at least it DOES seem like Avedon knows what he’s talking about this time, so Joey’s willing to meet with him, even though he’s also feeling done with him already.

Joey finishes the ritual and merges with Bendy.

On his way downstairs, Sammy is still turning over the car event he just heard about… and the increasing evidence that Peter might actually be the Phantom’s target?? Why else would he be trying to drag him out of the car?

Sammy approaches Peter, who has since started exchanging information with Henry as they all get the last of the glass shards out of the car, and says that he wants to see if Prophet can tell anything about what happened. Sammy looks distracted for a moment, and [lack of surprise because it was actually somewhat communicated beforehand,] Prophet is here!

Prophet concentrates, and with no hesitation, mushes his hands all over Peter's face. 

The good news is that, while Prophet can tell that Peter’s been grabbed by the Phantom recently, that’s actually all that he can detect. No additional eldritch stuff, he’s not possessed, he’s not weirdly marked or damaged in a way that can’t normally be seen. Great!

But Prophet can’t tell if Peter is the target or not. For his part, Peter has been muttering that it seemed like the phantom was trying to pull information from Peter on someone else he was looking for, someone who “followed us out”, but there’s nothing Prophet can sense to confirm that… but he realizes he can sense the distortions to reality increasing throughout NYC. They’re in the air, moving about… getting stronger.

Henry can feel it too.

But that’s all the energy Prophet has, and he unfortunately misses Joey showing up and dumping his new plan of action on everyone. He, Henry and Peter are going to go find Avedon’s dumb hotel room and figure out what’s going on with him, while Sammy and Jack are going to go check up on Susie and Norman because Norman is definitely acting weird now and he’s not quite sure if Susie is in over her head or not…

Nobody objects to the plan. And with NYC losing more and more of its reality to the yellow mist rolling in, it seems important that they do something.

Henry, Joey and Peter do make a detour to Henry’s house though to make sure all is well there. The car is gone, the lights are out, things seem as they should if Linda managed to follow through and get the kids out of the city. Peter is concerned when he notices some of Henry’s wards, but don’t worry, those are supposed to be there. Henry checks them over, and they all seem good. Bendy finds a bucket of clay he and Henry's kids had played with before, and brings it along to entertain himself on any following sleepovers, since that is a thing that will probably keep happening. For once, it seems like everything is actually left alone? 

Until they look out back and find the treehouse Henry built for his kids is gone. Actually, it’s almost like all the landscaping and such in the area was just… cleared away? Or never happened. Joey meanwhile is tabbing through Henry's photo albums and makes sure everyone is still there, which they are. But the treehouse isn’t. And, perhaps even worse, there’s also an extra guy in the JDS staff photo now? Joey pockets it, since this guy seems to be in the music department according to the photo, but Joey is sure he’s never seen him before. And it’s not Alan. So. Hopefully the music boys can shed some light on this.

Henry grabs some supplies and his gun, and Joey turns him around to fix his outfit and make sure the gun is properly hidden. Avedon is 2 trigger happy, we don’t want to say our hellos by instantly showing off the weapons we brought.

Meanwhile Jack and Sammy’s drive to Norman’s is more fraught than the previous ones. Not only has he moved house again, (though at least this time they have evidence of his new address from the junk mail they took last time) but… many other roads are starting to move too. Also Sammy is driving, so, speed has been cut in the engine department too… don’t need to hit two things in a single day with all this mist building up, and any sort of navigation trouble puts even more delays in.

At least they do manage to find the place and head on in, with hope that also maybe now that Avedon has arrived Norman will stop being so “sticking it out in a house that keeps wandering off apparently.” Things seem kinda fine at first at least, like they’re not immediately shooed out or attacked or have any weird monsters hanging over the house waiting for them to try the door… But upon Sammy questioning Susie while Jack goes to find Norman in the back, the music boys find out that things are very much not fine.

Susie is… very confident with a knife all of a sudden, and very confident that she will be able to just stab the Phantom when given the word to go out and hunt him down. Y’know just… stab the guy who couldn’t be damaged by a 2 ton vehicle slamming square on into him. And when Sammy tries to argue this logic, it just becomes more and more obvious that Susie and Norman are both… in character. Susie’s speech cadence is even reminiscent of when she’s performing rather than talking normally. But they don't seem aware that their actions seem more scripted than decided.

Jack finds Norman in the back, with a hatchet and a very similar plan to Susie’s. But whatever is happening isn’t strong enough to make them completely forget themselves, and with some facts being pointed out and reminders of who they are, the boys manage to get these two actors back to themselves... kind of. There's still some weirdness going on, and this also doesn't answer the question of what could be done to prevent this happening again?

Neither Susie nor Norman really realized when it started to happen, and it took some serious outside convincing to snap them out of it at all… Do they need Henry to expel something to truly get back to themselves again??

ALSO, IF THE PHANTOM CAN’T BE HARMED WITH A CAR, WHAT ARE THEY GONNA DO ABOUT THAT TOO?? THAT SEEMS CONCERNING!!!!

Meanwhile, Henry parks near the hotel they were directed to by Avedon, and the trio look upon it in… concern. First of all, it doesn’t even look like a hotel, or look like it belongs in NYC. And the entire place is surrounded by a yellow mist… and while they could wait it out or try to somehow call Avedon and tell him to come out, it just feels like the longer they wait the worse it will get. 

Really, it’s starting to feel that way for a lot of things.

But even though everything about this feels bad, they press on and enter the “hotel”. What should be the hotel lobby is abnormally empty, and when they start up the stairs… well, that’s not normal either, the stairs just keep going. Joey is flipping any rugs he finds though to make sure they don’t have stupid destabilization spells underneath them.

After a few rounds of strange rooms, weird hallways, some alien screeching outside the windows, and Henry noticing that NYC is not the city outside said windows, he stops everyone out of worry that they’re walking into a trap… and Joey agrees. But not that this hotel is specifically a trap.

All of New York is a trap.

It doesn’t matter where they go next, the longer they don’t solve this issue, the more of a trap everything will be.

They just gotta press on.

…

Aaaaand start yelling for Avedon because clearly they aren’t gonna be just walking up to his hotel room at this point.

Good news! Avedon replies! Bad news!! Only Henry can hear it for some reason!! And… Avedon can hear Joey but not Henry?? 

It’s all very confusing. They find Henry’s reading glasses on a table. Those were in his pocket how did they get there excuse me. All of this isn't fine actually.

But after a few rounds of Avedon Polo, they finally stumble across each other in a… garden. In the middle of a hotel. And of course, the first thing Avedon says is that they need to leave immediately. He didn’t know it was going to be like THIS, he just stepped out to get a coffee and suddenly the whole place is weird??? Well, now that they’re here, time to immediately leave because YEAH THAT WAS THE PLAN FROM THE START. 

Going through another door leads out into a familiar courtyard, at least familiar to Joey. He had been here a few nights ago, while invading Y’s dream, and indeed, right where he’d expect, he finds the Y twins chatting amongst themselves. Marching up to them, Joey demands to know what they’re doing and what’s going on.

They respond by addressing him as royalty.

✧･ﾟ: *Joey Drew, as Your Highness･ﾟ: *✧

Normally, this would probably inflate Joey’s ego! Currently, it sinks like a stone into his stomach!! He does not want to be part of the play!!!

Unless…

Joey suddenly wonders, because it’s the same courtyard, if they are in a dreamscape of some sort… Does he appear different than himself… and that's why they're addressing him this way?

But no, he looks like Joey, and Henry looks like Henry, and Peter looks like Peter, and Avedon is still here… except Joey also notices some of their hands are starting to turn transparent…………. That's probably fine.

He still doesn’t want to be part of their play.

The Y twins try to get Joey to go somewhere with them, and he makes up a story why they need to not do that rn, so that the group of normal fading humans can attempt once again to leave this place. 

Since it's all weird here, Joey tries his little will-what-he-wants-into-reality trick and… well it doesn't work. Instead, he finds a throne room?? and realizes that they aren’t just in Carcosa, they’re in the castle where the Yellow King’s play takes place. And Joey manages to follow his intuition from here to find some kind of portrait hallway, covered with familiar faces… all labeled as characters from the play. Not recognizing all of them, Henry starts drawing them so we have a record of it later.

But there's a few he doesn't have to draw.

One is Alan Leroy, the guy that they're becoming sure is the target of the Pallid Mask. Part of the royal family, apparently. He's a slender man, black hair slicked back, young looking, quite pretty … kinda looks like Joey…

Which makes more sense perhaps when the portrait of the eldest son in the royal family is none other than Joey himself. Guess this is why he was being addressed as royalty… but that means the Y twins are not quite in their right minds, and anything he finds them doing here is probably just play nonsense.

Also Denis is the youngest prince but who cares about that guy.

What they DO care about is the fact they’re getting more and more transparent, so the boys go to find Avedon, who is oh so helpfully knocking shit over and muttering in french, and Joey manages to get his door trick to actually work this time; he opens the door and there’s…

STAIRS!!

Everyone starts running down them, managing not to get turned around when they start making twisty turns, and get to the front door of this stupid castle in a hotel lobby.

They peek outside.

Sure enough, on the side of the building, there’s a shadow shaped suspiciously like nothing they can really identify, so it must be some sort of angel monster or something.

At this point, there’s really only one option they have: try sneaking to the car and hope it’s looking the other way, and if not, run!

Everyone agrees that this is a great plan.

And then they do that.

There’s a bit of fumbling in the middle, but the car was parked outside of the yellow mist for once, so the creature just fades out as soon as it leaves the mist to chase them. 

Well! Okay then!! That problem is solved!! Let’s go deliver Avedon to Norman so that he can take responsibility for his mad man and then maybe stop hiding at home or something!

Henry drives off, and things seem fine for now…

Until Joey swivels around in the front seat to question Avedon, and out the back window, sees something flying after them, only visible whenever it passes through the mists…

Problem… not solved.

[razorblade180]

Catching a Vibe

At the home of The People of the Springs, Aether finds himself calmly on a surfboard. Dawn has barely broken and the waves are calmer than his thoughts; although that wasn’t exactly a hard task. His mind flowed like the currents underneath him and his eyes stared off into the horizon so much he didn’t notice the tribe’s most famous guide paddle up to him.

Mualani:Ah, so you’re the brooding type. You and Kinich are going to hit it off.

Aether:Huh?! Oh, h-hey. What brings you out here.

Mualani:Shouldn’t that be my line. This entire place is practically my backyard. Where’s Paimon?

Aether:Asleep. I wanted to practice my surfing. She’s not exactly a swimmer and gets anxious when we’re separated.

Mualani:Ah, how kind of you. No worries can happen when her head is full of dreams. Also to answer your question, I’m out here because someone was wading in the water at the crack of dawn all alone.

Aether:That’s not normal here?

She gestured to the entire area. Aside from a few fishing boats in the distance, there was a definite lack of people in the water.

Aether:Hehe, I guess not.

Mualani:It’s one thing if you were in a hot spring, but open water is another thing entirely. Not that I’m particularly worried for ya. I imagine Fontaine has made you quite the strong swimmer.

Aether:*shudders* Honestly I think it’s the only reason I find it normal to be out here right now. Anyways, I’m fine. I’ll head back in a little while so if you have anything you need to do…

Mualani:I got nothing that can’t wait for actual sunlight. Staying out here isn’t a problem. Also…*leans closer* between you and me, a certain floating companion asked me to keep an eye on you a couple days ago.

Aether:…Haha, man, I guess I can’t get past her.

Mualani:I won’t disclose details but I will say I pretty confused at first. From what I could tell you seemed to be managing. But…after everything we’ve been through recently I think I understand a bit better. Things sure got complicated fast.

The surfer let out a chuckle and a wary sigh before shaking off the feeling.

Aether:Things really got crazy for you. Need to vent?

Mualani:Nah I’m good. At first it was… a lot. Still is, but I’ve processed the situation more or less. No need to sweat it. I’m actually grateful. From the moment we met your vibe felt a little out of wack in a way I couldn’t explain. Now I’m sure it’s because you’ve been dealing with crisis like this often, right?

Aether:Did you just call my vibes horrendous?

Mualani:You get what I mean! Paimon sure would.

Aether:I…can’t argue that.

Mualani:Don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to and I won’t pry.

Aether:So what exactly are you hoping to accomplish.

Mualani:Hmmmm…

She takes her pointer fingers and places them on the corners of Aether’s mouth, raising them up to make a smile to…well…smile at. She removes her fingers to pleasantly see her work stay as Aether looked at her with mild confusion.

Mualani:Uh huh. Just as I suspected. Your smile used to be way bigger I bet. That’s probably what Paimon is worried about. It’s gone into hiding, hasn’t it?

Aether:I-I wouldn’t know. I’m pretty sure my smile has been the same so… sighs

Mualani:See? Can’t even convince yourself. Never a good sign. I don’t know when you lost it; only you can really answer that. Your friend misses it, and I honestly would love to see it. Not to say your smiles so far haven’t been wonderful, but now I’m invested. Kind people always have the best smiles. They really light up a room!

Aether:Haha, you’re right about that. Kachina really knows how to make a person want to do their best.

Mualani:I know right! She’s so adorable. That smile means so much to me. I can also tell yours brought her a lot of comfort. Seriously, thanks for sticking your neck out for her. It means a lot. Kinich typically reins me in whatever someone is bothering her. It was quite the interesting change to have someone also want throw down against those jerks slandering her.

Aether:I don’t know if we should call that solitary or enabling.

Mualani:Hahaha! Either way, I’d say we’re thick as thieves now. More importantly, war buddies. I couldn’t ask for anything better.

Aether:Heh, funnily enough, I seem to make war buddies left and right. Never thought it would be as common as it is. Although…this time is a little different. You’re different.

Mualani:Oh?

Aether:Natlan is pretty amazing, and the way of your people, the way you act is refreshing. I know I said something about solidarity earlier, but honestly it’s more like I’m catching your vibe. Instead of worrying about my journey and the things ahead I’m just…taking things as they come. No use worrying about it all, right? Thanks Mualani. *smiles* You’re pretty cool.

Mualani:*smiles* Oh hehe, thank you. *holds fist out* “No one fights alone.” From here on out, we have each other’s back. How about tomorrow I can teach you some really epic surfing tricks. If you can keep up that is.

Aether:You’re on.

He bumps fists her proudly as the horizon makes the water shimme. For the first time in what felt like awhile, the Sun emerged in full force.

[ma1dita]

'en route' - i. imaginary friend

pictures are not mine, 3rd is a photo concept by @geloyconcepcion on ig

read along here (will update) : part ii, part iii, part iv

song of the chapter: revolution 0 by boygenius

en route playlist: here

words: 3.9k

summary: pt ¼ of ‘en route’. You and James are kindred spirits. Fighting in the First Wizarding War just seems to be your only escape.

warnings: no use of y/n, religious iconography sprinkled here and there, depictions of loss/war, angst, unhappy(?) marriage, fake marriage, twin flames vibe, they’re just kids they should be at the club bro

a/n: setting the scene is always so hard LOL. i love writing morally grey characters, please feel free to comment if you want to be added onto the taglist, or scream at me <3 thanks for the patience, you won’t have to wait as long for the next part lol

(posted 12/28/23, might come back to edit)

—

END OF MARCH 1980

There’s not a lot of things you like to remember about the year 1980. The memories blur together, highly repressed in a busy corner of your mind, and if someone held you at wandpoint to ask about what happened, you’re not sure where to begin. You don’t talk about it much anymore, but if you did, it wouldn’t be sufficient to put it in a few simple words.

And maybe if you did, the remembering wouldn’t hurt as much. With little physical things to hang onto, however—holding onto this hurt reminds you it was real.

From what you can remember anyway, it all started on his birthday.

You felt eyes on you as soon as you stormed into the room. In this congregation of people trying to save the world, it was easy to feel unseen in your struggles to keep moving forward. A pair of kaleidoscope eyes meet yours for a small moment, and that’s when you knew it was risky. It’s easy to hide in a crowd of Aurors enjoying the reprieve from the reality of the world outside of headquarters’ protected doors, fading into the background.

But he saw you, and that was terrifying–to be perceived.

Frank Longbottom pours you a pint, and you nod your head in thanks, taking a long sip before settling down into a chair at the bar. The same pair of eyes see through you, past your hunched frame, down to the core of your grief. Something about it resonates with him deeply, and the boys notice his attention is away from the conversation they’re having in the living room.

“She's pretty, yeah? French, I think. Never says more than a few words to anyone though, I tried. All business,” Sirius mumbles to his best friend over a glass of firewhiskey.

James looks up at Sirius from his position in the armchair, his head tilted to one side in curiosity at the way you fold into yourself.

"Yeah, I guess," James replies reluctantly. "I've never properly spoken to her, but I can tell she's very... mellow."

“Heard she lost people. The war hasn't been kind to her like it has to a lot of us. Don't know if she'll budge, Prongs. Some pages are best left unturned,” Remus says, shuffling a deck of cards between his scarred fingers. Sirius grunts in response, not caring for the conversation as he takes another sip of his drink.

James knows now what he recognizes within you. Grief has been looming over him too, latched onto his spine, weighing him down as the responsibilities grow by the day. His eyes flicker to his wife’s baby bump as she stands near the window laughing at something Marlene and Peter were acting out. Lily falling pregnant was his sign to get his shit together, because if he didn’t, who would?

Like a shadow, you shy away from the light and laughter that fills the room. But there was no escape once he started walking in your direction. There was no grandiose introduction, no heart-stopping, earth-shattering moment. Both consumed by grief unseen by most, two people sat at the bar in silent reverence of each other’s breathing, daring the other to say something.

“Didn’t know I was crashing your birthday Potter. Seems I don't have a gift,” you say suddenly, words rushing out as your eyes trace his profile.

A beat passes.

His head bobs up and for a second you think you’ve said the wrong thing until you realize he’s smiling. He looks up grinning like the devil, eyes meeting yours with a smile you could only describe as radiant. It stirs something deep within you, and you watch your hands reach toward your butterbeer to avoid his searing gaze.

“Terrible time to have a party anyway. I think it’s more for them than it is for me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you scoff lightly, and his head jerks towards you as you continue, “You’re a bit too happy for my liking.”

“Oh?” His body turns to follow, knees bumping against yours under the bartop.

“How come you know so much about me then? You don’t give any of us a chance with you.”

James says this jokingly, but a part of it rings true like a punch in the gut. You were so impressionable, left soft and malleable by the grief that became you that you found it quite infuriating that someone like him could be so happy in the middle of a war like this one.

A noise of acknowledgement leaves your throat and he watches your fingers clench around the glass. Too much? Change the subject.

“What’s the ‘T’ necklace you have on?”

The chain swings against your chest as you adjust yourself on the barstool, becoming aware of the weight of it.

“What?”

“What does it mean? Must be important to you, whoever this fellow is. See you wear it every day,” he says adamantly, before backtracking and realizing how stalkerish that sounds.

“Potter, have you never met a Christian?” Your eyes dart between him and his hands on the bartop, more glaringly, the platinum wedding band on his left hand. Surely, anything should be more interesting than conversing with a stranger at his own party.

“A who? Who’s Christian? Are you?”

The beginning of a smile breaks onto your face like daybreak. It’s refreshing, he thinks. He doesn’t think he’s made someone smile like that in a while.

“You idi–,” you exhale, “It’s not… Muggles don’t have magic like us, so they have belief systems. Higher power they believe in. Weren’t you Head Boy at Hogwarts, how did you pass Muggle Studies?”

“Elective. Do you believe in that stuff? God and what not?”

Your calf brushes his pant leg accidentally. Why can’t you stop fidgeting? He makes you nervous, all these questions, and then you blurt your response out in rapid succession that he’s almost unable to catch it.

“No. Maybe. My parents did, and God was important to them, so I wear this necklace because of it. They’re important to me. I used to before I found out I was a witch. Used to pray that God would save me, make me something other than mundane—well, here I am now. Not quite sure if he heard me.”

It hits you that the last time you’ve been able to speak about your parents like this was at their funeral two months back. Right before you joined the Order, and sitting here in front of James suddenly feels stifling. You roll your jacket sleeves up, hyperaware that he’s watching your every move.

He keeps his tone light, but the smile on his face is kind as he mutters, “You think some bloke up top is calling all the shots for everyone?” James says this without judgment and your breath quivers.

“I don’t know, but I think things happen for a reason. I’m still trying to find out what that exactly is.”

His pinky nudges yours on the sticky bartop, and his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head in thought.

“Did. Is the believing past tense?”

You’re not sure what’s changed in the past few minutes that’s made you comfortable in his presence, but you crack a joke before you think too hard.

“My parents are. Past tense.”

Laughter spills out of you like the bubbles on your refilled pint glass, and James scrunches his face, holding back until his shoulders are shaking from the effort.

“Merlin….yeah. Mine too.”

Oh.

You look at him through your eyelashes, silence filling the space between you two as the rest of the party goes on in the background. James clinks his glass with yours, and there’s a silent understanding that bridges between you, connecting you together.

—

END OF APRIL 1980

“You know if we’re gonna be friends, you should probably call me James.”

The two of you were left sitting in the den to deliberate on the mission you were being sent at the end of this week. Three whole months with James Potter could be a nightmare. But it could also be quite fun, you think, watching him flick through the mission files with a quirk in his lip that can only signal mischief. Signing away your life wouldn’t be so bad if you had him to keep you company. You’d never tell him that though.

“Will we be? You don’t seem that excited.”

“Excited to be shipped away from everyone we know is definitely a statement, love.”

“I’m not eager if that’s what you’re insinuating. Just feel obligated, especially if it helps the cause. That’s why you’re here, right?” Right. In a war like this one, ordinary people like you and him pay the highest price. But nothing seemed ordinary about you, like a complex puzzle he was constantly wracking his brain to figure out. There are aspects of your personality that come to light the more he talks to you over these past few weeks, almost luring him in so he can unveil the secrets you hold. Why do you put yourself on the front lines like this, mission after mission? Who do you have in your life that makes you want to fight against the odds? What do you think of to keep you going? Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

He blinks, before looking at you, “S’not that I don’t want to go with you, and do my duty, I just…”

“You love it. I can see it in your eyes, you were trouble at school, weren’t you?” James’ smile gets wider, thinking back to the last few years, before everything went to shit. Back when it was easier, just him and his three friends, and his biggest worry was getting Lily Evans to look at him.

“Just a lot to worry about. People to take care of.” His mind falls back to his wife sitting at home, probably wondering why he isn’t back from the Order meeting, getting more agitated by the minute. He thinks of the nursery he still needs to set up, and the legal affairs he’s left behind after his parents’ death. He thinks of checking in on his boys, who barely know how to take care of themselves if they don’t come over for dinner, and finally, he exhales.

“You?“

It’s an honest question, and by asking it, he extends himself to you, an insight into the burdens he carries with him daily. The difficulty and complexity of having a large capacity to love is carrying the weight until you cannot.

“Just me and my rucksack. Gives me something to do.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, busying yourself with packing the supplies Dumbledore gave you two earlier. Vials of Polyjuice Potion, two golden wedding bands, magically enhanced IDs— it was like playing pretend. That’s all this has to be. Easy enough.

James looks at you and understands a bit more. You need this job. And if he’s being honest, so does he.

“I still wonder what would happen if it doesn’t work out, don’t get me wrong. But then I think, what if it does? What if no one else has to die?” A noise of agreement rises from his throat as he straightens his posture on the couch.

War shouldn’t be an escape, much less a distraction to two people grieving. There are countless muggles and wizards alike losing their lives to a genocide of people undeserving of a fate dictated by a person who plays god. But when you’re fighting for your life before you can even legally drink in some countries, there are two things left to consider when making a decision: to choose something difficult or to choose wrong.

And neither of you have ever found anything easy. Not in this life at least.

He sighs. James really needs to get home.

“Well…We will be friends by the end of this. I’m sure. Already gonna be married to you anyways,” he jokes.

“Don’t get used to it, what a pity that would be for your ego,” you gripe, but a trace of amusement is present on your lips as you watch him stand up to leave.

“We’ll see about that, love.”

He apparates home. Onto the next difficult thing.

When James told Lily that he’d be on a mission for the latter half of her pregnancy, she didn’t take it well. But to be honest, with everything going on, James couldn’t help but feel exasperated. How bad is his marriage that he’d rather risk his life instead of tending to his family’s needs? James sits at the dining table listening to her yell, and he feels extra heavy today, wondering how he feels so ancient at 20 years old.

Years ago he dreamed of this, a wife, kids, a pretty townhouse. But this isn’t what he quite imagined. He looks at his wife as she paces around the room, hand on her bump, red hair spreading little fires as she goes. She’s his everything. Truly. He spent years trying to even find that spark in her, dedicated his life to her, and gave up everything to take care of her—but she struggled a lot these past few months. Her pregnancy brought on incendiary words falling upon him like lashes as she blamed him for moving too quickly. Blamed him for the fact they’ve felt like strangers in this little house. But with his parents both sick, getting married seemed like the next right thing.

An owl flits to his kitchen window once Lily storms out again, leaving nothing but ashes of her disappointment in her wake. Ashes, ashes… James wonders where his spark has gone. He hates to disappoint.

Just wanted to owl and check in. I found myself thinking about you and wanted to make sure you’re okay, with everything changing so quickly. Hope you and your wife figure it out, I’ll be on the 11 AM Knight Bus tomorrow outside Diagon Alley regardless. See you.

He thinks of you, so brave and filled with a spark he used to recognize within himself. This isn’t wrong, he reasons, just difficult. But he won’t admit that taking his wedding band off before settling onto the couch was easier than he thought it would be. He feels lighter. As he takes off his glasses and stares at the ceiling of his living room that night, James wonders how much longer he can ignore his problems by not looking at them properly. How much longer does he have to carry the weight? When will someone help him carry the load?

For now, he tries to sleep. One step at a time, James. Like always. There’s a mission he has to start tomorrow. And he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

—

You’re not surprised when he turns up to your meeting point the next morning, not addressing him when you stick your wand hand out to summon the bus. He bites back a smile, knowing you were right and thinking you see right through him. Now look who’s the eager one.

After paying eleven sickles each, you lead him to a window seat, ignoring the babbles of other passengers as you look out the window.

“You ever think about all these people, with their little lives and everything they have to do?” you pipe up, head against the glass. James scoffs, “I always think about other people. Sometimes I wonder if anyone thinks of me like that. If anyone worries as you do over strangers.”

“I thought we were friends,” you say coyly, still not looking at him, and his heart skips a beat. Probably nerves. “You think Dumbledore cares that he’s sending off two teenagers to fight a war and save the wizarding world?”

“I’m an adult, thank you very much.”

“We’re kids, James,” You look at him, and he blinks at the sound of his given name falling from your lips that he almost loses the next part of your sentence, “we’re kids working towards a bigger picture of world peace. Isn’t that fucking insane that this what our lives amount to?”

He couldn’t agree more, but his forehead creases at your tone.

“Why do you act like your best years are behind you? There’s a lot to live for still,” he murmurs knowingly.

He pats your thigh and the only thing you notice is the tan of his hand against his missing wedding band. Soon it will be replaced by one that binds him to you, temporarily, but it’s jarring all the same. You shake off the uneasy feeling that rises in your stomach.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

James is doing that thing again, the whole savior complex bit that you notice is one and the same with his trying hard to be carefree personality. But you’re coming to learn that James cares. A lot.

—

“Apartment 11B?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Two swigs of Polyjuice Potion did the job once you stepped off the bus and walked through town to the place you’ll inhabit for a fourth of the year, and quickly, you both become unrecognizable to even each other. A blonde eyebrow looks at you under James’ glasses at your hesitation, so you clear your throat.

“For Mr. and Mrs. Fawley. We just got married, you see. Newlywed jitters.” His voice is lighter and more posh as his hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder.

“Hmm, yes. Harry—er…Henrietta and Draco–” the receptionist squints at her paper, and you sigh at how pretentious the names sound together. Not in this life. You ought to wring Alice’s neck. That girl loves to make stories, and the more frilly your personas she created, the more difficult it’ll be to upkeep.

“No need, Etta and Drake are fine, love,” you say with a more confident grin, leaning against your faux husband.

The keys slide across the countertop, and you walk to the elevator, hand in hand until you’re out of sight. As you approach the door, James crouches a bit and puts his hands on his knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Jump up. Gotta carry you over the threshold.”

“Shut up, Drake,” reminding yourself to use his false name in case someone’s watching, but he looks at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Exactly. Just in case. Come on, just indulge me.” You shake your head in disbelief but hop onto his back all the same. Not exactly traditional, but it stirs up a feeling in you that you haven’t felt before. He carries you through the doorway and spins you once, twice, three times before you squeal and he giggles, placing you gently onto the sofa. It’s a cozy apartment with enough space for the two of you, cream walls, and a small kitchen with an island overlooking the entertaining space. The hallway leads to what you presume is the only bedroom, and there’s a nervous energy that sifts through the air as you both place protective charms everywhere, to ward off prying eyes and ears. How intimate. James falls back onto the sofa with a huff, sitting next to you, and both of you are unsure of what to say.

“I can take the sofa,” he says into the silence, and you turn to look at him incredulously.

‘For three months? James, I can't ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“You’re gonna be hunched over by the end of the week. What if we rotate?”

There’s no disagreement, feeling the springs in the cushion beneath your bottoms already. James perks up, leaning over to grab something from his bag, and by the time he leans back up, he looks like himself again, the small dose of Polyjuice wearing off. You can feel your hair go back to its original shade and texture, and he smiles wider when he sees your face.

“Look what I got. Remus gave it to me back at Hogwarts but I never really used up all the film. Thought we could take some pictures and look back on this one day.” It’s sweet, how he loves his friends like they’re an extension of himself. You reckon you don't have anyone like that, smiling at him fumbling with the tiny camera in his hands.

“It’ll take a while to develop. Gotta keep it safe if we’re making it out of this,” you say, taking it from him and throwing yourself back onto the backrest leaning against him to point and shoot one of yourselves in this moment, disheveled and domestic. The flash goes off and he looks like a deer in headlights, making you cackle.

“You miss them?” He’s not sure who you’re referring to, so he rattles on anyway. He loves talking about the people he loves.

“The boys…Just miss being kids at Hogwarts, y’know? The end of the world back then was not getting enough O’s on NEWTs. You?”

“Mhm. None of them are in Britain though. They came for my parents’ funeral, and they always say they’ll visit but…That’s my fault too, I guess.” You tuck your leg underneath you, turning to face him, and he’s cuddled up against a throw pillow.

“Your parents were awesome. Didn’t know them well besides your dad being in the Order and stuff, but they were really brave. Your mom hugged me at my parents’ burial and I think that was the first time I let myself cry after they died. That’s one of the few things I remember from that day.”

A breath of air escapes your lungs at his anecdote. It’s been a few months since they passed but you’ll never stop missing them.

“I don’t remember a lot from theirs either. It’s all kind of been a blur since. I think I remember you and Sirius smoking in the back and him offering me a cigarette.” He laughs silently at the memory of his best friend.

“No one ever talks about how much there is to do after your parents die,” he says, and you roar with agreement.

“Yes! I’m still battling out their assets in court! It’s difficult to live life alone, thinking they’ve set you up for the future, but feeling like a rug’s been pulled out from underneath you. I just wish…They left this world together, y’know? And that’s great, but sometimes I feel selfish wondering what will happen to me.”

James nods slowly, taking your words in. He’s never had anyone to talk about this with, people pitying him instead, or acting like it didn’t matter, but it’s been almost a year and he can’t go to bed without thinking about how his parents died a week apart because even in death, they couldn’t be away for long. James wonders if you’ve noticed that he hasn’t talked about missing his wife, and the selfishness you mentioned prods at him. He smiles grimly, and takes the ring box from your bag, asking for your hand.

“Hey. You’re never gonna be alone again, alright? Not if it’s up to me.”

You roll your eyes as he flips the cover open, revealing the two gold bands, yours with a sizable diamond in the center.

“Do you think I’d give you that much power over me, James? This is all fake.”

“Fake marriage, but a true promise. I think you might, eventually.”

He slides the ring onto your left ring finger, sealing it with a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

—

“The first time you caught my eye it was not love at first sight. Instead, a quiet curiosity was planted in my chest and I knew it was only a matter of time before you sunk beneath my bones and nurtured this deep-seated familiarity into a love so fierce that I would question if I had ever been in love before.” - Lyra Wren

general taglist: @jsjcue

en route taglist: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @babyclea @idkman5335 @timhalamet @ttulipwritezz @lilylovesu @thatonedogwithablog @lovemerigt

[dropthedemiurge]

So I went to see the Korean version of Angels in America today, and Taevin was amazing, as expected!

I don't feel too good to leave a full review (seriously, going outside in 35 degrees heat should give me a sick leave for work) and it was only Part 1 (3 Acts) so I'll just talk about Taevin briefly, and if anyone's interested in hearing more, I can come up with another post comparing original and Korean versions later...

Anyway, LEE TAEVIN. I was so right to fall into him (the way he acts, but also I'm in love with his voice who knows why). He was very emotional, very bold, captured original Louis so well (and delivered such fast and complicated rants nicely xD) and also - yes, we had gay kiss and implied fucking on stage as well 👀 In Asian country, talking and showing AIDS stories - it felt very unusual but as an outsider to both cultures and histories, I don't have much ground to speak on.

Also of course, some wordplays were lost but some were added, but mostly the translation was sticking to the original almost perfectly (if only I was more fluent in Korean, I could tall about it even better but I'm really glad I watched the original play first so I knew the story and what they were supposed to say (huge thanks to @dragonsareawesome123 for providing me links!). But I could tell the difference where jokes in English were supposed to land and which comedic moments in Korean striked the best instead xD It was fun noticing. But the loudest laugh (twice at that) was during Louis x Guy hookup on street lol (yes I still can't believe I watched Taevin getting "fucked" on stage the guy really chooses the most queer and bold and interesting roles in the beginning of his acting career)

And there were slight changes in decorations and costumes, and I liked some things more than original, but some original moments got lost.

There are two actors for Prior and tbh I went to see the more popular one because everyone said he's been acting in dramas and other cast worked for me but... I didn't get enough tbh x) Like, Yoo Seungho was good and he was also emotional and delivered lines well - but I guess, I just didn't get the Sick Gay Drag Queen vibes as much as in the original xD I mean, man was so toned and had abs! But the actor himself is thin so it can't be helped Ig, Koreans aren't pale :D

Plus, he was supposed to be contrasting to Louis and Joe but he was less flamboyant so I guess that's the only flaw I can point out. I'll go watch second actor in the second part of the play to compare acting between Korean versions and not with western one, it's going to be interesting.

But still, Seungho himself did a good job with acting with his body and emotional delivery, I'm merely comparing to the original play. He was also very sweet when he came out to the fans after the play ^^

Anyway, the rest of the cast was great as well, the explicity from original - in both language and portrayed things - stayed there and only details ended up more smoothed iut (more Asian style?)

The Art hall was almost full on Sunday, which I was surprised to see for such story, and I saw a lot of couples and people in their 30-40s and nobody left mid-break which to me is a good sign xD

That was a nice experience, it was my first time seeing or knowing about Angels in America too, I'm definitely gonna go for Part 2 because that's where the most of the fun is :D

Tagging @doyou000me @non-binarypal7 who were interested in my review (if you watched the original, I can share more about the actual lines and moments xD)

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 1/10

12k+ Hangster AU. Updating 2-3 parts per week and will be finished by 31st January 2024. (Each part is ~1500 words).

Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.

(Note for later parts/chapters - Ice uses sign to communicate at home, I’m typing it like sign is English despite the fact that I know it isn’t (while NZSL is my third language, I have no working knowledge on the grammar useage in ASL).)

PART ONE

                The 12 hour trip has given him plenty of time to think. He doesn’t know what possessed him to accept Mav’s offer; quiet place you can just get away from everything. When faced with the idea of going home and seeing his family, not being able to answer questions versus being offered a solitary retreat into the woods for a week or two or however long he could stand his own company… Well, he’s never spent very much time alone before and he guesses the novelty had held a certain appeal. He knows he might not actually be alone when he gets there. Mav had mentioned that his son might still be there, but that he’d be leaving to get back to school. It had made him sound young. But Jake’s seen photos, knows that Bradley has at least graduated from some form of college judging from the photos in Mav’s office and hangar, proud moments documented with pictures. 

                Sure enough when he pulls in front of the cabin there’s another truck out front, music blaring from somewhere. He steps out of his own truck and can now hear someone loudly singing along. He follows the sound around the house and yep, definitely the same guy from the photos (the flash of moustache is the clincher). He’s cutting wood, axe swinging easily in time with the music and Jake takes his time to just watch. He’s tall, maybe a bit taller than Jake and he hadn’t been expecting that with how tall Maverick was not. Shirtless, skin tanned and gleaming with sweat from the combination of summer heat and exertion of cutting wood. Jake swallows, letting his eyes run over the scene appreciatively because it’s been a little while and this right here is… nice.

                “Baby can I hold you tonight?” Thunk. “Baby if I told you the right words.” Thunk. “Ooo, at the right time.” Thunk. “Would you be mine?” Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. “Baby can I hold you tonight?” Thunk.

                As he watches, he assesses; Bradley looks around the same age as Jake and the other Dagger squadron members. Not young at all then. No wonder Mav had been so insistent about getting them all home, dad-vibe just morphing to encompass them all. He’d never had imagined a man with Maverick’s history to be a family man. That somehow, somewhere along the line, Maverick managed to raise a small human into the tall drink of water in front of him. Jake doesn’t know why he feels surprised, Mav is a good-looking man despite his age but he still doesn’t see much of a resemblance between him and Bradley. He shifts on his feet, not wanting to interrupt a man holding an axe, especially one as attractive while doing so… he licks his lips, wishing for a toothpick or some gum just to have something to do with his mouth and his lips twitch as he thinks about other ways he could occupy his mouth with the man in front of him. He startles, realization hitting him hard and fast. This is Mav’s son.

                Fuck.

                He cannot, under any circumstances, fuck with this man. Literally or figuratively. Maverick would kill him. He’d find some way to make it look like an accident, or just commit outright murder and then hide the body. And there would be no shortage of volunteers to help him do it. It’s only for a couple of days before Bradley apparently has to leave, Jake can be on his utmost best behavior. And it’s not like he’s in any fit state anyway. It’ll be fine.

                “Fucking shit!”

                Jake jumps at the yell, staring into the wide eyes of Bradley Mitchell, because there cannot be that many people with that moustache in the world. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, knows he’s going to have to refrain from so many comments about that distracting caterpillar of facial hair.

                “Sorry!”

                “Jesus man, you scared the fuck out of me…”

                The urge to bite back and tell him he shouldn’t be cutting wood by himself, or have music playing so loudly he can’t hear vehicles come up the road are on the tip of his tongue but he bites them back. Best behavior he reminds himself. And when did he become such an old man? Ugh.

                “Sorry,” he starts again. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I’m Jake. Lieutenant Jake Serensin.”

                The other man’s face goes pale under his tan, eyes going wide.

                “Fuck. Is Mav okay?”

                Shit.

                “He’s fine! Totally fine. Sorry. Again. I didn’t mean to worry you. You’re Bradley though right? Mav’s son? He said you’d be here, told me he’d let you know to expect me.”

                A look of relief is quickly replaced by chagrin and Jake bites his lip, because he’s definitely not expected.

                “Shit, I dropped my phone in the lake yesterday. Haven’t checked in with anyone. Obviously you’re welcome though, any friend of Mav’s is a friend of mine,” Bradley says. He’s smiling, reaching his hand out to shake and Jake gives himself a mental slap. He’s not sure if he should correct him on the whole friends with Mav front, because he’s pretty sure the older man merely tolerates him. And this is the son of a superior officer and he’s a guest and he will remember his manners if he doesn’t want to deal with the certain Southern guilt that will settle on him later. Best behavior. Which is also why he won’t go asking questions about why Bradley calls his dad by his fucking callsign.

                “Nice to meet you.”

                “Likewise. Sorry I wasn’t expecting you. You obviously know Mav, and who I am. I figure you’re not a serial killer. Let me just, uh, grab my shirt and then I can help you with your bags.”

                He wants to tell him not to bother, that he’s enjoying the view plenty, but even something as benign as ‘don’t put a shirt on on my account’ would come out heavy with the (intended) innuendo so he keeps his mouth shut and nods before realizing he doesn’t need any help with his bags and says as much, biting back another comment about the floral Hawaiian shirt that the other man is shoving his arms through but still leaving completely unbuttoned and okay, he’s thankful for small mercies. He’s going to look, he’s not a fucking saint.

                “It’s fine man, come on. Let me show you the guest room. Did you bring groceries? I hope Mav warned you to bring food, because unless you like hunting and fishing you’re shit out of luck.”

                Fortunately Mav had warned him and Jake had organized groceries. He carries everything inside with Bradley’s help; front door opening into a large living space with a kitchen and dining area to one side, a large wall-mounted TV on one wall and then a fireplace taking up the central inner wall, clearly used for heating in the cooler months. Down a short hallway Bradley points out Mav’s bedroom, his own and then the guest room where Jake drops his duffle.

                Heading back to the kitchen he takes in the few photos, not many personalized ones, but plenty of ones of different types of aircraft and something in him feels a little more settled just looking at the pictures of the planes in the air. The piano and guitar make him pause and he wonders if either belong to Mav or Bradley. Obviously one or both of them play, although he can’t imagine Mav playing either. Then there are the books. So many books, some look like heavy texts and Jake wonders who the hell comes away on vacation to read textbooks that are thick enough to be classified as weapons. He can imagine Mav reading them over playing the musical instruments though. Bradley is putting the chilled items away in the fridge, offering him a beer and Jake takes it gratefully. One won’t hurt.

                “So how was the drive?”

                “Long.” Too long considering he’s meant to be taking it easy but he’s done worse.

                “Where did you drive from?”

                “North Island.”

                “Shit. I thought you’d just come from Fallon.”

                “Huh. No. That would have been much closer, but I needed to get away.”

                He almost expects Bradley to ask, but he guesses growing up with Mav he knows some questions won’t get answers so lets it slide and Jake’s grateful.

                “So you saw Mav yesterday?”

                “Yep, sure did. He made the offer a few days ago and just reminded me of it yesterday and I thought… sure. Why not.”

                “Did he give you a list of jobs?”

                “No. Should he have?”

                “He must like you,” Bradley laughs and Jake’s eyes catch the column of his throat as he tips his bottle to take a drink and he swallows roughly. Okay. He looks away and hums, shrugs. Doesn’t want to mention the concussion and bruises he’s still recovering from. He’s meant to be taking it easy and Mav knows it.

                “So, what do you do? Or is being a lumberjack a fulltime gig?”

                “Ha. No. I’m a… teacher.”

                Jake quirks an eyebrow because that answer had waivered as an almost question. But it tracks with the summer break and the whole getting back to school thing Mav has mentioned. And it’s a good a conversation as any, although it is quickly turned on him, with Bradley asking him about his flying experiences, looking a little wistful when Jake mentions going through Top Gun and he wonders if it would be impolite to ask why Bradley didn’t join the Navy like Mav. Definitely. Obviously his face still asks the question, because Bradley is offering up information freely.

                “My mom asked me to not join the Navy. Not quite her dying wish, but pretty damn close…”

                Well shit. He winces.

                “I’m sorry –” Jake starts and Bradley is already waving his hand.

                “It was over twenty years ago, you’re good. I’m good. She just wanted me safe. Of course, telling a teenager he can’t do something isn’t usually the best approach. And keeping Mav from teaching me to fly was never going to happen. I got my solo license when I was sixteen and haven’t looked back. I love flying.”

                “That is something I can agree with,” Jake says, tipping his beer bottle toward Bradley.

                “To flying.”

                “To flying,” Bradley repeats, his smile wide and friendly.

PART TWO

[lewkwoodnco]

Heyy:) I just wanted to request a George x fem!reader one shot :P I totally understand if you don't want to write it or if you don't like the idea or anything but I was thinking a fic inspired by "wildest dreams" by Taylor? Just some silly teen romance vibes you know🤭 (and please no Angst or anything, I can't take that shit atm😔)

Wildest Dreams - George Karim x Reader

A/N: going to be taking a break from the requests in my inbox to work on my 12 days of fics series! (but will get back to them after im done heheh) I might have completely butchered this ask im so sorry BUT I made it as fluffy as I think it gets (w George at least), just had to do the 77 thing i have no self-restraint, also this poem is soso beautiful one of my absolute favesss but idk whats up with the formatting :(((, wc 3.3k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Subtle Bridges

Walking with me, you'd once pointed to the fragility and ingenuity of a spider's web. Subtle bridges, you said, On bridges some men hang. A warning that has stayed While I read history traced in blood and tears of men. I was caught in the end with a nest of books. They burned anyway, and now I bend to build an emperor's endless wall. Like a thread of longing the border runs in loops and bends, and along it we root the gravestones of nameless men. A king's metaphor, This is, history raised from ash and bone -- a symbol Of its vast futility, or of eternity. Which it is I do not know, But since leaving home some things have come clear. No one literally breaks from loss, not even here. And some ties won't give. I sometimes dream of you, and walking, in gardens where love and knowledge hang.

By Yvonne Koh

She was at the Kensel Green Cemetery with the rest of her team from Fittes, after being called down by DEPRAC because of a robbery. They had spread out over the building, looking for any sign of the missing relic or the culprit, when she heard a slow, grinding noise from inside the hall. She quietly crept in to the silhouette of a shadowy figure bent over the casket.

"Can I help you?"

The boy's head snapped up immediately, painfully slamming against the stone shelf behind him. She let out an involuntary gasp, briefly wincing at the hollow thunk.

"Didn't do it," he groaned, steadying himself against the wall. "...whatever it was that...someone did."

She squinted at him using the little light spilling in from the corridor. He couldn't have been more than a year or two older than her. Against her better judgement, she kept her voice down.

"This is a crime scene!" she hissed at him.

"I - what?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm not a thief, or a relic man. I promise."

Her eyes swept his scruffy appearance critically. "Why would I think that?"

"Ms L/N?"

She turned, momentarily speechless, barely registering the rustle of the boy stealing away into the darkness. She blinked against the brightness of Inspector Barnes' torch, glancing back to check that he really was gone.

"Everything alright?"

She paused for a moment longer, as if willing him to rematerialise in the corner he had been crouching in just a moment ago. Nothing. Her eyes narrowed. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.

"Must have been the wind."

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

George was staring out the kitchen window glumly, lazily stirring his mug of tea. The weather was as pleasant as it got, and Lockwood had roused them all at the crack of dawn for a breakfast picnic, to 'boost morale.' Of course, George should have known better than to hold his breath, especially when loud angry voices had started to shake him awake when he had been halfway through groggily packing their picnic basket. Now, he sipped his cold tea through thin lips, listening to the slow, steady footsteps approaching the kitchen and the wan face belonging to them.

"Let me guess. You and Lucy are no longer in the mood for a picnic?"

Lockwood sombrely shook his head. George sighed, picking up the picnic basket. Seemed like a shame to let his slaving away go to waste. And he was still very much in the mood for the strawberries and cream he had packed inside. Which is why George had been heading out for a solo breakfast picnic with enough food for three when he heard a foreign voice stop him.

"George Casper Karim."

He looked up from the doorknob in alarm. It was the girl from Kensel Green Cemetery. He hesitated, trying to gauge her expression.

"Ex-employee of Fittes Agency, fired after six months for insubordination, currently a researcher at Lockwood & Co."

"Brilliant. Astonishing, really, how you've repeated my own job history back to me."

She frowned. He relished the stab of satisfaction. He'd had a shitty morning and was likely going to have a shitty day, so really, having a go at someone was probably going to be the highlight.

"There's no need to be rude."

"I think I'd know where I've been the past couple of years, thanks very much. Forgive me for not being more impressed."

Still looking a little disgruntled, she pressed on, firmly clutching the waist-high gate. "I've got a bone to pick with you, if you don't mind."

He eyed her warily, and decided against approaching her any further. "You can pick it just fine from over there."

She looked mildly peeved, but he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her. After a few long, tense seconds, she relented, not that she was happy about it..

"So...you were right. You're no relic man."

That was quick. "Thank you. Have a nice day." He closed the distance between him and the gate in a few quick strides, pushing against it, but she pushed right back with a steely look in her eye.

"Don't know about the other bit, though."

He didn't like the look in her eye; the look of someone knowing something he didn't. His mouth went dry.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Might be more convincing if your associate hadn't mentioned a talking skull. Awfully difficult to contain a visitor without a ghost jar, wouldn't you say?"

He swore under his breath. "Fucking Lockwood can't keep his mouth shut."

"I don't expect DEPRAC takes kindly to thieves or hooligans-"

He let out a bark of laughter. "Hooligan? Me?"

"-or strange boys who break into places they shouldn't be-"

"You can't prove it was me."

"Wanna bet?"

A challenge. A dare. His mouth was already open to call her bluff when the self-satisfied smirk curling at the corner of her lip gave him pause. Lockwood wouldn't be much pleased if he gave DEPRAC another reason to steer the agency dangerously close towards closing. He wasn't like Lockwood or Lucy - he was careful, very careful. Too late George wished he had been a little more careful all those years ago in covering his tracks - but, to be fair, he had no reason to think anyone at Fittes would have been capable enough to put two and two together.

Until now.

"Look, why don't we...talk about this, like civilised people? I've got strawb - you like strawberries and cream, don't you?"

She sneered again. George was beginning to think that was just how her face looked.

"You want to bribe me with...strawberries...and cream?"

"It's not bribery. Just...a friendly chat. Agent to agent."

Which was how they ended up on a grassy hill at one of the meadows at the outskirts of London. He had never been there before, but Lockwood had remembered it as a prime spot for cosy family picnics.

"So what else do you know about me?"

She chewed a bite of scrambled eggs thoughtfully before responding.

"You're obsessed with the Problem. An obsession that made you an asset, initially."

She had heard that he was the one who had identified the visitor, Edmund Bickerstaff, but what she had had difficulty wrapping her head around was how he had managed to do it with only the vast yet imprecise volumes of the Archives at his disposal. Imagine what he could do with the carefully curated library at Fittes. She stared at him, trying to figure him out. There was a gentle breeze blowing and the slight movement made him look marginally more affable but not any more comprehensible. She let out the breath she was holding.

"You must have really screwed up for Fittes to have let you go."

He shrugged. "It was a long time coming. Fittes never really was the type of company I was interested in working at, and I was never the type of employee Fittes was interested in keeping."

"What about now? Have you ever considered leaving?"

"Why would I?"

"I've taken a glance at Lockwood & Co's financial records. You can't be making much, if anything at all."

"And go from being broke to being broke and homeless?"

"Homeless? What about your parents?"

"I visit them, occasionally, but they're a right piece of work. Last time I saw them was my grandmother's 77th birthday. I think there was a row but I can't be completely sure because I was a little, er, sloshed. The party ended, and I expect the champagne went flat, and my aunt was the last to leave. She was sitting on the floor with a merlot in her hand, and her voice was ringing through the halls. The curtains were burnt, my parents didn't talk to each other for a week, and one of my brothers had broken his hand. But I could never forget sitting in that empty dining hall, holding those sodden, scorched curtains, listening to her saying nothing lasts forever, nothing lasts forever."

The sunlight had a diffused quality to it, at least the little of it that managed to pour through the layer of clouds blocking the sky. The ashy light threw a powdery glow on George's face, and for a moment she felt as though she was in that dining hall with him, listening to those same laments. He glanced at her, and she felt a sudden, foreign uncertainty grip her heart.

"Now I feel really bad about lying."

His hand slipped, missing his mouth by a good couple of inches, nearly sending the contents of his glass down his shirt.

"Lie? What lie?"

"I kind of haven't, not really...actually spoken to any of your associates."

He chokes on his laughter, and when he throws his head back she wonders if she's ever seen anyone laugh as freely as him. It's a ridiculously enticing sight.

"Touché. Touché."

He looks at her in the eye, unabashed, with an unnaturally casual intensity. It almost feels impolite.

"So...yeah. Maybe I was suited to be a Fittes agent, once upon a time, but not anymore."

"That's a pity."

He looks at her weird, and she hastily changes the subject.

"Do you do this often?"

"What, taking strangers out for breakfast?"

"No. Bring a girl out here, feed her some strawberries and cream, maybe a Shakespearean sonnet or two..."

"I don't set much store in Shakespearean sonnets. I'm not...I'm not much of a poetry person."

There's something reserved in his face that makes her feel terrible for asking.

"I've really only read one worth remembering. Subtle bridges, you said, on bridges some men hang. Some ties won't give. I sometimes dream of you, and walking, in gardens where love and knowledge hang."

He bites into a strawberry, which stains his lips a bright red. She looks away a second too late.

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

After reluctantly agreeing to keep the matter of the stolen ghost jar between the two of them, she never expected to see him again. And yet, as fate would have it, they crossed paths again roughly a week later. She and one of her teammates had been assigned to a Church to handle a relatively weak Type Two, when she heard a scuffling sound from one of the rooms whose door was ajar. Her teammate froze, and she didn't feel much braver either. They approached the room cautiously, rapiers at the ready.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

"Y/N?"

The glare from their flashlights blindly darted over the room before it settled on the floor, illuminating a bleeding George looking the worse for wear, hissing at the harsh florescent light.. She visibly relaxed.

"Oh. You again."

Lockwood and Lucy exchanged a look.

"Do you two know each other?"

A silence followed. George looked to be at a loss of words and she, too, couldn't quite find the right answer.

"We've...met."

They helped George up while Lockwood smoothly explained the situation, and how they would never dream of intentionally From the derisive eye rolls of his remaining, uninjured associate, there was clearly more to their presence than he was letting on, but she wasn't paid nearly enough to go through the trouble of finding that out. Apparently, they had already dealt with the Type Two, so she filled out her report as vague as she dared to be, while they wandered out to flag down a cab.

George lingered behind briefly, dabbing at his nose experimentally while she put the finishing touches to her file.

"We can't keep meeting like this, you know."

"Like what?"

She shook her head, surprisingly having to bite back a smile. "You're incorrigible. If you keep sneaking around for much longer I'll have to report you one of these days."

He pulled his face into an exaggerated sulk and ducked as she tried to smack him with her case report.

"Alright, alright!"

True to his word, their less-than-ideal meetings came to an end. Instead, they continued to occasionally meet at that serene, refreshingly Edenic sloping hill. She'd return from a client meeting or from scoping out a location and the front desk would have a message waiting for her, from one vaguely snippy anonymous man. Sometimes he'd be waiting at the hill with snacks, which she'd ravenously dig into, though he was less generous on the biscuit front. He tells her about the happenings of 35 Portland Row and his research and bounces his latest theory on the origins of the Problem off of her. She tells him about her week, and the bothersome, inept people she works with, and on their joint cases he's snarky towards all the right people. It makes her feel special.

On one such evening, they were lazing on a picnic blanket, and a pleasantly warm breeze was toying with their hair. George was looking at the severe, fragile branches encroaching on the powdery blue sky through heavily-lidded eyes. She was absent-mindedly fiddling with his surprisingly soft fingers, distractedly breathing in the faint, antiseptic smell of ammonia that clung to his clothes. She was thinking about how sharp he was and how quickly he picked up on details on their joint cases. No matter how many times she saw him pick apart a case with a carefully perfected elegance, she felt like a part of her would forever be in awe of his beautifully intricate mind.

"Sometimes I feel like your talents are so wasted here. Imagine what you could do with access to all of Fittes' resources."

"i don't need Fittes's resources to be a good researcher."

She watches the yellow daffodils tossing their heads back just inches in front of them through her eyelashes.

"i know you don't. It can't hurt, is all I'm saying."

"Why do you care?"

She paused. Why did she care? She cared about him, sure, but it was no different from how she cared about her teammates, her friends, but with George...it somehow felt more personal. She sighs irritably, releasing the bubble of frustration lodged in her throat all week. She just wanted what was best for him. It takes her a minute to come up with her hesitant response.

"I...don't know. I don't care. But sometimes I can't help but wonder...what if this was what you needed to uncover the root of the Problem?"

He half-laughs, but stops short at the sight of her face as she lifts her head off his chest. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"Y/N...statistically speaking -"

"All I'm saying is the answer could very well be in the Fittes library and you might be the only one who'd know where to look."

She lies down again, and whispers to the trees rather than George.

"Just...something to think about."

As time went on, their relationship began to bleed into more public spheres. She dropped by Portland Row occasionally, and they even had tea at her apartment once. On this particular afternoon, they were in George's room at Portland Row. She was looking through the titles on his alarmingly tall bookcases while he was at his desk, copying some runes from a book while telling her about his latest experiment with the skull. Her eyes roved over the titles restlessly, unseeingly, in a futile attempt to distract herself from her upcoming assignment. She let George's voice wash over her, pleasingly varied in tone and comfortingly familiar, soothing the itch in her brain. After a moment or two, she realises he's stopped talking, and looks up to see him staring at her with a frown on his face.

"Er, sorry. Drifted off there for a while."

"I guessed."

He studies her with an inscrutable expression and she's been caught too off-guard to come up with anything other than the letter burning a hole in her desk.

"You alright?"

She sits on a chair next to his and rests her chin on her knee, feeling oddly wooden. After getting to know George, she had taken the comfort of being able to somewhat predict his mannerisms for granted, and the thought of heading into this blind made her nervous.

"My team's been assigned a case outside of London."

"Oh. When?"

"We leave this weekend."

He looks too stunned to ask the question weighing on both their minds.

"It's for a month."

"A month," he echoes distantly, as if not quite sure what to make of that piece of information. His face remains impassive and she waits for a reaction which never comes. "What about that celebratory dinner?"

"We leave after it."

"Oh."

For someone who usually always had so much to say about anything and everything, his current conversational skills were desperately wanting. Say something. Be affected, she begs internally. She needs to hear him say it. She needs the sickness in her chest to be real, to be founded.

"It'll be...different without you." The careful look on his face makes her feel like he's picking out her emotions from her face and engineering an optimal response. "I'll miss you."

It doesn't comfort her in the way she expected it would. Suddenly, she can't even bear to look at him.

"You don't have to."

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

Either George had decided that she needed some space or he was just as pissed as she was, because she didn't see one sign of him over the next few days. Good. She hardly noticed. The thousand times a day he crossed her mind were only out of relief, and nothing else. But as much as she pretended otherwise, by the time the celebratory dinner rolled around, his absence had taken a toll on her. She couldn't tell if she was hoping or dreading seeing him again.

She was on a balcony on the upper floor, looking miserably into the radiant foliage of the gardens below, where unfamiliar faces flitted with a lightness of heart she envied. Their shadows are tall and intertwine ceaselessly, making her dizzy. Her bags were packed, her ticket was waiting on her mantle, and all loose ends were tied up. Even her one chance at happiness for the rest of her life.

There's a rustle behind her and she turns to see George standing a considerable distance away from her. He's only marginally closer than the first time they met, properly, when he was standing outside their front door and she was pacing behind the garden gate. She wants to cry in relief. Instead, she finds it in her not to look away. Maybe it's the confusing lighting, but there's a soft edge to his face.

"I thought I saw you come up here."

She doesn't say anything; she's too happy to. And yet, a part of her is still deeply unhappy with the sight in front of her.

"Have you...tried the food?"

"...it's not as good as yours."

"You must be leaving soon."

"Tomorrow." The thought makes her want to rip her face off.

"You'll be back in a month."

She drummed her fingernails against the marble railing, carefully choosing her words.

"What if things change in a month?" What if, she wanted to say, you meet someone else who loves you better than I can?

"It's only a month."

"A whole month."

"I don't understand. Why are you so afraid?"

"Because - because you'd forget me. You'd forget me, and our memories would sink six feet under, and you'd move on and my heart would break and...you wouldn't care."

She's never felt this way about anyone before, and she doesn't know how to express how badly she needs him to stay.

"I don't want to go back to not knowing you, George."

The setting sun burns into her neck and all of a sudden, she feels unbearably hot. Her hair is plastered to her forehead and her hands feel clammy. Her face is flushed and she feels ridiculous in her dress. But he's here, and she's said it, so she lets herself dream, if only for a moment.q

"I think about you every day. One month, two months, three months...I'll wait."

TAGLIST: @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[theoneandonlysemla]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @thequeenofthewinter and @skyrim-forever

Tagging: @ladytanithia @ladytanithia @tiredela @dirty-bosmer and anyone else, I'm tired and can't really think.

So, I'm back from my vacation in Denmark with renewed loathing for my work ( @did3lphis knows what I'm talking about). I'm so awfully tired, could do nothing but sleep and can't find any motivation to write on my chapter or anything else. Also, vibes are off.

Totally unrelated: Does anyone have recommendations for music to write an assassination scene (like witnessing one) to?

Anyway, I did fabricate something in Denmark and have a longer part (because we need context) for you to read. Little info on that: Morotar has arrived at an Inn in Shore's Stone (that I totally made up) and is glad to get a bed after over a week of camping. The inkeeper is not that glad to have a Thalmor in his tavern. Anyway, great chance for Morotar to show that he is, in fact, an ass:

This taproom too was deserted, not a sign of guest or even the innkeeper. A bar stood on the gable end of the dwelling, so he crossed the room, spying into the darkness and strained his ears for any possible sounds. Nothing, only a child’s doll, lay in a corner. Reaching the counter, he peeked around the corner. Light filtered through the gap in an ajar door, a sign of life.

“Hello?” he spoke into the silence, hearing nothing in return.

His hands rested on the countertop, the fingers of his right drumming with impatience. Unconsciously, he lowered his eyebrows and wrinkled his mouth. He wanted nothing more than a warm bed and having to wait now was driving him mad. “Someone there?” His voice echoed in the emptiness of the taproom. A chair scratched over the floorboards; steps sounded. The light strip between door and frame disappeared for a brief moment, then the door swung open. A man stepped out, his hair thinning and his nose the form of a misshaped potato. As his view found his new customer, he stopped and eyed the Altmer before him, eyes narrowed in animosity. “We don’t serve vermin like you here,” he uttered hoarse, mucus stuck in his throat. Morotar closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Was he going to have to have the same discussion in the east of Skyrim every time he wanted to rent a room? Long ago he had given up trying to reason with the tavern owners and explain his situation to them. Only clear words were of any use with those kinds of people. Instead of reacting to the man’s offence, he pulled up a barstool and sat down. From under his hood, he glanced at the man. It was difficult to put a finger on, but he may be Imperial of origin. Too short for a Nord, the tone of his skin a touch to much of an olive undertone. “I’d like an ale, if you don’t mind,” he said, his voice bordering on monotony but still housing a friendly undertone. “Piss of to Riften and see if the thieves will give you any,” the man spat, still standing in the frame of the door. “Careful,” he warned him, turning his head to stare directly in his eyes. “How’s the wife? The girl?” All colour left the man’s face and he became as pale as a ghost, staring aghast at the Altmer. It had been easy to make that guess; the doll was a clear indication. But that, the man did not know, and he now thought Morotar knew things about him. That the Thalmor knew about him and his family. “Good,” he breathed and finally got going. He rummaged under the bar, pulled out a bottle of ale and placed it in front of Morotar. As he did so, he kept his distance, his hand trembling. “My, thank you!” He flicked the cork out of the bottle and took a sip. Bitterness and the flavour of hops caressed his palate and he looked at the bottle with satisfaction.          “Anything to add?” he continued, piercing the Imperial with his glare.

[youremyheaven]

U GUYYYSSS storytime:

So I got talking to a guy a little while ago and we vibed realllyyy well. He's lowkey the textbook definition of everything I'm looking for in a guy. He's 6'2, well to do (not rich but does veryyyy well for himself), BULKY BROAD SHOULDERED, Venusian etc

The synastry of our charts is insane 🥵 He had Mercury atmakaraka (remember my Mercury DK?? 😌)

He has a Venus Moon and stellium and he's the most Venusian guy I've ever met,,, he LOVES beauty, art, the female form etc and appreciates it. The way he spoke about it was so hot to me ngl,,, mf was so poetic,, he really knew how to speak sensually without ever being creepy or vulgar

His Mercury AK was in Purvabhadrapada and he had a puppy like softie Jupiter guy personality. I loved the fact that he looked like a WWE boxer (bulky af 🥵) but had the personality of a golden retriever. LITERALLY ALL MY DREAMS seemed to be coming true.

I knew his birthday but not his rising sign. Yk what they say about "if something's too good to be true, then it is" ??? yeah, i just couldn't brush off the feeling that something wasn't right. But I couldn't straightaway ask for his birth time, esp since he's Hindu and will know what's up 🤭😂 ANYWAAAYYYS we're talking and everything and this man is love bombing me HARD and I know it because:

a) I'm a retired love bomber myself

b) This is not my first rodeo

and anyways this 🧔🏻 is talking marriage and babies, he's calling me wifey 😭 (kinda cringe bc he's known me for dayyys but good lord handsome men can get away with anything 😤) and he refers to himself as "husband" 😭😭😭 like "husband's proud of you" and "your husband doesn't want you to apologise" 😭 (ew but he's hot 👉🏻👈🏻) and I let myself have my delulu moment and try to give him the benefit of the doubt bc literally he checks every box 🥹and he's soooo completely fond of me. We used to run in the same circles like 10yrs ago, even though I had no idea who he was and never interacted with him then, he told me that he remembered me from back then and thought I was cute 🥺 and later I took a looooong break from social media and he told me he'd wondered where I was all those years 🥹🥹and then I apparently showed up in his "suggested for you" on IG a few months ago and he instantly recognised me and followed me etc 🥺🥹 he's been tryna hmu for monthsssss now but I was with my ex 🤡and then I was recovering from my ex 🤧 so I didn't pay much attention to it. When he told me all this, it kinda made me melt 🫠 how he kept trying to talk to me even though I repeatedly ignored him etc

And he did everything right. I could text him rn and he'd reply in 5 seconds. He always asked me how I was, remembered things, always sent me like 20 different messages until I replied, showered me in compliments (Venusian men love to pour you with their attention, it can even be annoying lmfao) etc like there was nothing in his behaviour, his tone or his words that was giving me 🚩 he genuinely seemed sweet, caring etc and he loved babies 😩 and sent me videos with his nieces and nephews (man's was manipulator pro max) but YK ME 🤪 when I have a gut feeling ☝🏻 I can't ignore it 🤓 so I was very much waiting for the ball to drop and watch him fuck up somehow 💀 initially I felt sooo overwhelmed by all his love (bombing) that I felt like the bad guy for not reciprocating it or feeling that kind of "love at first sight" thing 🤡 BUT

one day he said "I can't believe I found you after 10 years, that means no matter where you are after another 10 yrs, I'll find you then as well" and I was like 🤨 I thought you wanted to marry me and make me your trophy wife 🧐 huh 👀 and he was all 😂😍haha yes ofc I'm just joking bbg 😍😂 but I knew there was more to it

Finally I got his birth time AND GUESS WHAT???

He's Hasta Rising 💀💀💀💀

Idk if you know already but I don't like Lunar men 🤡 and the minute I found out, I was SCREAMING bc 😭 why would God play me like that???? Put the most perfect guy, astrologically and otherwise, in front of me, I literally have him wrapped around my pinky and HE'S A LUNAR??? why God why 😭

But him & I had come too far for me to dump his ass for no reason 😬 (can't tell him it's bc the sus vibes I got from him was further bolstered by him being Lunar 🤭) so I was praying to God to give me an opportunity where he fucks up so that I can walk away 🚶🏻‍♀️from this situation before things get out of hand

AND GOD DELIVERED 😩

I was texting him the other day and he spoke about how he wants to spend as much time with me as he can before we go out to chase our dreams (move away from this city basically) and I was like 🤨so you're looking for a short term relationship?? And he was like 🥺 no never and I was like why tf would you say you want to marry me and have babies (1 boy and twin daughters 😭🤡💀) if you already know you cannot commit???? And he was like "because we could meet again in a few years and it would be nice to have this plan ready" 💀💀💀💀 HE ACTUALLY SAID THAT AKSKKSJSJDIID brother thinks my IQ is in the negatives bc WTF sort of explanation is that 😭 and i told him "this manipulation might work elsewhere but not on me, good luck tho, bye, I'm done here 💅🏻" and he went 180 and said "I'm so sorry, I was just trying to be funny, please give me another chance, all I meant is that we never know how things go so we can try to work things out but there's no guarantee, please I'm so sorry" 😂😂 and he called me like 3 times and finally said "Can we atleast still be friends? i can't lose you like this" AJSJJSJSJ THE AUDACITY 🤡💀🤡💀

but I just want to say thank you God for showing me his true colours and for giving me the opportunity to exit with grace and dignity and making him feel like a fool 😌✨

[sillybayo]

A Winter With You

(Originally posted on fanfiction.net......yesterday!)

A krusie fic with fluff and only a small amount of discomfort. Trigger warning for small mentions of global warming, poisoning, and then a slightly more in depth discussion about sex and child sexualization. NO smut is in here, they're teens.

Kris asks Susie what she likes more; winter or summer. This question leads to something neither of them could predict.

~~~

Susie was invited over to the Dreemurrs house again for dinner and pie. Kris and her decided to not go to Castle Town today, after they convinced her that they really needed to go ahead and work on their group project…though, they seemed just as reluctant as she did. So after they finished planning out and getting a good start on their work, they ate Toriel's steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans, and then a warm apple pie to top it all off, to reward them for their hard work. Well, it wasn't that hard once they understood the assignment better, actually sat down, and plotted out what they wanted to do exactly. But Susie thought of the meal as a bonus nonetheless.

Now, they sat on the floor in Kris' room, leaning against the side of their bed. The sun was setting, and the light coming from the window became dimmer as the clock ticked. Susie just said she'll sleep in the guest room tonight, since she didn't feel like going home again. But in the meantime, the two chatted all evening about various things: school food, virtual idols, whether they would eat dirt if there's no other options or not, all the good stuff. Then, Kris came up with another;

"Which is better, summer or winter?"

"Summer, obviously! There's no school and you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, and nobodies bossing you around like a smartass!" Susie beamed as she went on, "And there's ice cream, burying nerds in the sand, stepping on the hand-ass shells when you get deeper into the ocean, the heat from global warming—summers literally the best!"

They snickered. "You make it sound sarcastic."

"Well what do you like best, nerd?"

"I always liked the wintertime…"

"But it's cold as hell! And you're forced to go to school! The pain isn't even enjoyable or anything!"

"Yeah, but don't you like the little jingles? The commercials? All the lights around town? And counting down the days until you rip open your presents?"

They seemed to drift further into a daydream when listing some of the things they liked. Now that Susie thought about it…while they definitely are mischievous, they do like things with a certain elegance and sentimentality to it, huh? She always found that interesting about them, one moment they could tie a rubber band around the sinks sprayer, and the other, they'd be playing a melancholic tune on the piano.

"Well, yeah, I guess that's nice or whatever. Oh, but what about snowboarding?! Or sledding? Skiing?"

"I was always scared of it." they giggled to themselves, "One time, my dad brought me and Asriel to this snowy hill, right? He went down first with his little baby sled. But when he picked up speed, he flipped over face first. I clinged onto my dad and begged him to not make me go down…" they continued to smile and laugh recalling the memory.

"Ok, but without any of that, winter is just plain boring. Sure, you have the vibes, but so what?! Where's the fun in that?"

"Where's the fun in sweating your ass off?"

"Sweat is a sign of endurance!" Susie shoved them a little, making them lose balance and having to prop themselves upwards with their elbows to stop them from falling all the way down. But they laughed anyway. She found herself getting lost in the sound a little, but went right back to the argument.

"Ok, but with summer, you have swimming pools. There's nothing risky about that unless you're dying from the baby waves at Great Wolf Lodge."

They stifled their last few laughs while sitting back up. "I never learned how to swim."

"How?! Swimming is literally the best!"

"My parents never knew how themselves. I guess it's because their fur is too heavy. So I never got the chance."

"Dude." she placed her hands on their shoulders. "I need to teach you how. As soon as possible."

"You don't have to…"

"Of course I do! How else will I convince you that summer is better than winter?!"

"There's no way to convince me, my mind is set."

They sounded so matter-of-factly that she felt like she had to humor them, at least a little. "Ok then, then enlighten me without the cheesy Hallmark stuff."

"There's baking cookies…"

Well, cookies are nice. Chewy ones with melty chocolate chips are her favorite. And letting them soak up milk to get extra soft to the point it's crumbling? Absolutely perfect. It's just that whenever she tries to bake some, it never turns out right! She'll follow the measurements and follow the steps the best she can, but they always come out too thick and not as sweet as she wants them to be.

"Nah. I'm more of a taste tester myself."

"Why? Because you're a bad bakerrr, hmmm?"

Damn it! "I-I'm not bad. It's just too complicated for me."

"Cookies are too complicated? I can always teach you, silly. The trick is combining the ingredients in a specific way and order. Unless that's truly too hard for you…"

"It won't be! I just didn't know the steps were like that, I just gather the ingredients and pour them all into the bowl!" though, the idea of Kris teaching her does sound pleasant. They can watch cool movies while relaxing on the couch when they're done cleaning up the kitchen, covered with warm and heavy blankets, waiting for the oven to go off. Then they can eat them together, laughing their worries away until they fall asleep…however, she'd gladly do the same with Ralsei, or Lancer, or Noelle, or Berdly. She's sure of that. Because that's what friends do! And Kris is her best friend, and that's why she always thinks about them. But…there was a feeling alongside that platonic joy. Eh, it's probably nothing though.

"...Ok, you can teach me, if you want to that badly. But just know I'm only in it to eat the raw batter." she flicked their forehead.

"Sure sure…" they pondered for a moment, then returned to the original topic. "I also like snowball fights. Those aren't too bad, and it seems like your constantly-searching-for-action-and-pain-ass would like it."

"Hey!"

"Where did I lie?"

"Just for that, I WILL steal every last cookie that you plan to eat for the rest of your days!"

"Careful, I might put nastyyyy things in there…like weed…laxatives…poison…" their expression turned more and more sinister—grin getting wider and wider, and the eye that peeked through their dark brown coils gave off a negative aura. But it was playfully so.

"Oh please, as if a wimp like you would do that just to trick me!"

"Oh really?"

Ok maybe she was wrong. "Then I'll poison you back! As revenge!"

"Alright, if you say so, Susie-Wusie." they poked her twice in tune with her new nickname, and she responded by taking their wrists and making them hit themselves. Kris attempted to break free and poke Susie more, but her fists were too strong, and both of their play fighting and struggling led to them laying on the floor and laughing so hard that Susie's chest ached and she found it hard to breathe. But she didn't care at all. God, she loved every moment of this. When the laughing died to giggles to silence, she could see Kris laying sideways and smiling sweetly at her in the corner of her eye.

"...A snowball fight with you wouldn't be so bad." she finally responded, facing them. "I…like them too."

"So you admit winter is better than summer?" they said in a tone that was in a complete contrast to their earlier expression.

"When the hell did I say that?! Summer still rules, no matter how fuzzy you make me feel!"

"Fuzzy?"

"Well, yeah? Isn't that how best friends feel about each other? With your stomach trying to kill itself and your blood pumping to your face and shit?"

Kris' eyebrows shot up. They just looked at her for a moment before saying "I-I guess. To some extent…"

"What are you acting so weird for?" Susie squinted. "Shouldn't you be flattered that I think of you so highly?"

"I-I am! I am. It's just…c-could you tell me more about these 'fuzzies'?"

"Well," she looked up and thought about all of the things she felt recently. She couldn't help smiling a little. "I like the thought of sitting or lying comfortably with you. Probably in warm covers and blankets or something." she also recalled the moment a few seconds ago. "I also like hearing your dorky ass laugh, and playing around with you. Why are you so curious about it?"

"It's nothing." they said as they flipped onto their back. Distant as ever, she thought. For someone who's flattered, they sure as hell aren't showing it. Maybe they don't get compliments often? Well, it makes sense. They're the weird kid who's quiet half the time and who's the only human in the entire town. People probably think they're ugly or something like that, but Susie never thought that. Not even when she bullied them. The way their coily brown hair reached their shoulders, the way their wide nose scrunched when they smiled, the way their brown skin complimented it all…

Susie couldn't help but to admire them. That's just a normal best friend feeling, right? Why is Kris being so damn doubtful and quiet about it?

"You give me the fuzzies too." they admitted softly out of nowhere. "A lot of fuzzies…it means a lot to me to hear you say that."

"No problem, dude. But uh…what do the fuzzies mean to you? You've been acting all weird."

They stayed quiet. Again. Of course they did. Kris does keep secrets often, like how they feel about being a human, and what was up with them after they fought that puppet guy, and what happened in the bunker. But this was a secret relating to her. And she didn't like it. Seriously, what could the fuzzies mean? All she said is that she liked being around them to the point it feels weird yet pleasant at the same time.

…

…

…

Hold on.

"YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON ME?!" she sat up and looked right at them. That only made them flip their laying position so Susie couldn't see them. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"You're the one with the crush on me…" they said, still refusing to look at her.

"Well how was I supposed to know!?"

They groaned and laid on their back again, facing her with an unreadable expression. They seemed a bit frustrated, but she knew they wouldn't be mad at her over something like this. Maybe she saw a bit of a darker brown flushing their cheeks, but it was hard to tell.

"You said," in their best Susie impression, "'I like the thought of sitting or lying comfortably with you. I also like hearing your dorky ass laugh, and playing around with you.'"

"I don't sound like that!"

"Ohhh, but you dooo~" they laughed to themselves for a second. "But you're right. I…like you a lot, Susie. I just never thought this would be happening so soon, or even at all. You said it so bluntly."

"W-well you can just forget about it if you want to. Uhm, I don't really know how to do relationship stuff that much. I'm not sure if any of it would even fit me…"

They rolled over and over so they'd be touching the side of her leg. "We don't have to date if you don't want to. But if you do, we don't have to do any of the typical stuff either. We've always kind of did our own thing together anyways."

Hearing that brought relief to Susie. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to cuddle with Kris. And play with their hair…if they'd let her. "Susie, if anyone tries to touch my hair, bite them for me please." they said to her once.

But she already cemented herself as someone tough, cool, and violent. There's no way someone like her would hold someone's hand…

But Kris was kind to her. Undeservedly so. They treated her like the greatest friend they could ever have. They knew how gentle Susie could be. The idea of having them so close to her heart made every inch of her sing. So maybe…maybe…

"I-I uhm. I wouldn't mind hugging you right now, if you want. Move over and let me lay down."

"On the cold hard floor?"

"Kris!"

"Sorry, sorry, just trying to ease your nerves. Here," they sat up, leaning against the side of the bed. Whilst intertwining their fingers into her claws, they laid their head on her shoulder.

Their hand was much smaller than hers…and soft and warmer, too. "Ha! Look at your little baby hands!" is what she thought about saying. But it felt as though her and their soul were merging, and that she was starting to melt away. Warmth was rising to her cheeks, God, they smelled so much like apples. Maybe a bit of cinnamon too. She has never felt so speechless before, and they weren't even doing much.

She felt so sleepy…she wasn't even that tired before. She wanted to yap all night, and sneak into the living room so they could watch movies until it's time to go to school. But the weight and comfort of Kris felt so nice. She felt so safe. Though, it's a little scary imagining how things are going to be from this night forward, all of this is going to take some getting used to.

How would everyone react to the mean and brutal Susie being extra soft to Kris of all people? Maybe Ralsei wouldn't mind, he probably saw it coming more so out of everyone. Lancer wouldn't care either, he would probably call Kris his sibling in law or something funny like that. Noelle would DEFINITELYYY be happy for her. Yup. Without a doubt. Berdly too.

But the rest of Hometown? She's not so sure…it's probably best to keep it all a secret. She never really liked how people talked about relationships anyways. No one can spend alone time together without "Ooooooo…"'s and shit. It made her want to vomit. Hopefully no one said anything when her and Kris disappeared into the closet and went out to the Card Kingdom. She liked them, sure, but never that way. Even if she did, it would still feel uncomfortable as hell. So yeah, she's definitely making sure the romance between her and Kris remains private for the most part.

Susie let out a loud and long yawn. God, what time is it? It feels like they've been sitting here forever.

"I should really go ahead and put my bonnet on…" Kris murmured as they got up, waking her up a little. She suddenly felt cold and light again, and the floor felt a lot harder. She watched as Kris' dark silhouette placed their tight curls inside of the green silk cap. No wonder why their hair is always so pretty…they definitely do some touch ups in the morning—it is a bunch of hair, after all. But to look so flawless with only half a bit of effort…

"I can feel you staring at me." their accusation startled her. "It's fine though. In fact, do you want to lay in bed instead? I don't want to sit on the floor all night."

"B-bed? With you?"

"Just to cuddle. You know I'm not like that, Susie-Wusie. You can sleep in Asriel's bed instead though, it might be more comfor—"

"No no no! I…I'd like that. But I snore. Really loud. I kind of stink too. And I hog too much space."

"It's cool. That's what I like about you." they walked over and sat on the bed, making a soft creak. Hesitating a little at first, Susie followed and made the bed complain louder due to the weight of two people on the surface. Their covers felt homemade with love, she wouldn't be surprised if Toriel sewed it herself. Maybe she should pick up some lessons…ripping up her clothes feels cool until they're ruined and basically unwearable.

Midthought, Kris took her waist like a teddy bear and looked up at her, as if searching for any signs of discomfort. It caught her off guard for a second, but Susie relaxed. They guided her down onto the cold pillows and hugged her closer, becoming as small as possible. Yeah, this is definitely new. 100% not a part of her nightly routine. But she supposed she could subject herself to it while she's…drifting off…to sl—

"Winter is still better by the way."

"Oh, FUCK you."

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly 2. The Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w., r.b x n.w.

SERIES MASTERLIST🎤

Previous Chapter🎺

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: Sexism, Murray Bauman

***

NANCY: Nancy Wheeler, former keyboardist for The Downsides.

  I had been playing piano since I was eight, it was just one of those things my parents signed me up for to make me more well-rounded for college applications but I ended up loving it more than they had hoped.

I auditioned for the band on a whim, I was going to Indiana State at the time, getting my teaching degree but I loved playing the piano more than I would ever love being a teacher. To be honest, when I auditioned, I didn’t think they were going to take me, not even after I saw they had another girl in the band. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I had the talent for it, I just didn’t necessarily give off Rock and Roll vibes, but they accepted me anyway.

  I had a feeling Steve liked me from the moment we met, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him then. He’s Steve Harrington for God’s sake. Girls had posters of him up on their walls for the better part of the 80s. I just—I didn’t want people to think I got the spot because I was involved with the lead singer. I wanted people to know that I earned my place through talent. Steve was really disappointed when I turned him down, but he was always really respectful about it.

  That didn’t mean he stopped being interested or that I didn’t feel his eyes on me during every rehearsal in the summer of ‘81.  

1981

Of course, you knew that when you had been signed to Starcourt Records it wasn’t completely because of your talent.

You had started to wonder, however, if Starcourt had given you a shot because they didn't want to risk litigation or maybe because those record execs had seen your name floating around in a magazine or, more importantly, your picture.

The more you thought about it, the more insecure about your place you had felt, like an imposter among others who had earned their spots. But, after one week of rubbing shoulders with the musicians over at Starcourt, you realized that to be able to make it, you were going to have to ooze confidence, even if that confidence was fake.

***

NANCY: We started playing gigs together around the Midwest. In the beginning, we mostly played covers but eventually, we started writing our own music. I’m not a great songwriter and, to be frank, neither is Steve, so a lot of the stuff we were coming up with was pretty simple but it worked for us. We went from playing weddings to actually getting gigs that paid money. I mean it was barely enough to cover gas to get there but it was something. I guess, for the sake of transparency, there is one more thing I have to talk about while we’re talking about this time in the band’s life.

Steve and I spent a lot of time writing music together. It was great, being able to get close. I thought we were becoming friends. He was still a bit hung up, though and one night, when we were up late writing at his tiny apartment, he kissed me. And I kissed him back.

The next day, I told him that that couldn’t happen again. I gave him my reasons and he respected that but still, I could tell he was crushed. I think that between the kiss and us having this talk, he had begun to hope that something would happen between us.

I think that’s what made me and Jonathan hurt him so much more. 

1982

You didn’t necessarily like Murray when you first began to work with him but you did trust him. In the professional capacity at least. He never tried anything with you, which you appreciated although that bar was abysmally low.

You hadn’t known what to expect on your first day in the studio but you had a feeling that as far as the music was considered, you were in decent hands.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

The moment you had stepped into the studio, Murray had handed you a stack of music, all unfamiliar and definitely nothing you had written.

“What’s this?” You had asked, eyes crinkling in confusion.

“A few contenders for an EP. The team over at marketing came up with some branding concepts and this is what we landed on.”

He then pulled out a thick folder overflowing with pictures of what you assumed the studio had wanted to mold you into. It was all bubblegum and teased hair and not at all what you had envisioned.

“Wait, Murray, I don’t understand.  I have a brand, one that I've spent a lot of time curating along. This isn't me and this is definitely not my music.  You said I could sing the music that I’ve written.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Murray hummed, condescendingly, “I never said that.”

“Well, if I can’t sing my music then I just won’t sing at all.” You were the full image of a petulant child, arms crossed and lips dangerously close to a pout.

Murray feigned concern for a moment before hunching down so that he was at eye level with you.

“You signed a contract,” he spoke slowly, “Starcourt owns you, and if you don’t like it, then talk to a judge.”

He turned away from you, leaning against the mixing console. He speaks again after what seems like an eternity.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not saying it’s ethical or right, but if you want to make it in music, you got to play the game. You can’t come in here, swinging your metaphorical dick around, calling the shots when you haven’t proven you can rake in the dough.

“Sure, you’ve got talent, but who doesn’t? Right now, there’s a line of girls around the block who can sing and write and are probably better at following directions, waiting to take your spot.

"Plus, I read the songs you sent over, you have some good lines but there's not a single song worth attaching Starcourt's name to. Take this as an opportunity to learn, to be better, to actually work for something for the first time in your life. You have nothing right now, so nothing is below you, not even this pop dribble they're giving you to sing.

"I’m not saying it’s always gonna be this way, but you have to prove to them that you can play before they take you seriously, and then if you got what it takes, you can start writing your own music. Hell, if you make them enough money, they’ll let you play the fucking didgeridoo and go out in a nun’s habit… well, maybe not the habit, but the point stands. So, can we stop acting like the spoiled princess we are for just one afternoon and get to rehearsing?”

You snatched the book of songs from his outstretched hand and with a smile on your face, tore it down the middle before stomping off.

It had taken five days of Murray, along with various other executives at Starcourt, pounding on your door at the Chateau Mormont—the hotel that was your permanent residence since you had turned 18— before you had even considered setting foot in Starcourt again.

All it took was a gift basket full of Champagne and half a dozen threatening letters from their legal team.

***

NANCY: Jonathan came on as our second guitarist. I remember when he came to the audition he was this quiet, super shy kid who barely managed to make eye contact, but once he had a guitar in his hands, he had this way of coming alive. He wasn’t a showman like Steve, but he was electric when he played.

We—I never meant for things to turn out the way they did but with Jonathan, it wasn’t much of a choice. I know this sounds so cliche, but we were drawn to each other. I remember, during rehearsals, even before we really knew each other, he and I would lock eyes from across the room and I would know exactly what he was thinking.

Soon, we were sneaking around together. We were getting more and more serious, it was only a matter of time, honestly, before the others found out. Jonathan wanted to come clean early on, he could tell it was causing me so much stress, but I didn’t want to tell anyone else. Part of it, was Steve, of course, but also, what Jonathan and I had felt precious and personal and ours. I wanted to stay in this bubble we had built for ourselves.

Of course, it was Steve and Robin who eventually caught us, making out in Jonathan’s car after rehearsals one day.

To say that Steve took it hard is probably an understatement. He skipped rehearsal for five straight days and when he showed up he had this new song he had written, this ballad called, “Regret You”.

“If I never had you, then why can’t I forget you / I hate myself because I could never regret you.”

Yeah, that was an awkward one to rehearse but, to his credit, it was a great song. It was the song that got us noticed.

1982

You had spent months recording your first EP, a five-song collection the studio had decided to name “The Setlist”. It was meant to be a play on your groupie status, or at least that’s what some intern over in the marketing department had claimed, a little too proud of himself for your liking.

While you couldn't ignore the sense of accomplishment that bubbled below the surface, you mostly felt empty. 

The whole thing made you think of your father, whom you hadn't spoken to in years but had a very staunch view on artistic integrity. He despised artists who 'carelessly churned out poor imitations of real art for money'.  "To make art is as close as one can get to being god," he had explained to you once, with self-important tears in his eyes, "why would anyone sell that off? Art should mean something to the artist. Otherwise, they are a peddler of fake divinity." 

Your father had never had to worry about money a day in his life. 

That empty feeling was only exacerbated when, the Friday after you had officially finished recording, Murray had invited you to lunch with a particular proposition in mind.

“No, Murray, not gonna happen. Over my dead body and all that,” you spat from across the table.

“Listen, I don’t want to pull the contract card on you, but I will,” he warned with no real heat as he swirled his gin martini in one hand.

“Nice try,” you mirrored his pose, martini and all, “but the contract doesn't cover this, only original work. Not duets. You know that, I know that, so why don’t you try again and give me one good reason why I would even consider a duet with The Letterman’s.”

Murray gave you a look you had come to familiarize yourself with—one that was equal measures of pride and annoyance. It was the look he gave you whenever you bested him.

“How about the fact that they’re one of the hottest acts right now and being on a track with them would guarantee you a spot on the charts which is a great place to be at any point in time, but especially when you’re about to release an EP?”

Your face dropped in the way it only did when you knew Murray was right about something you didn’t want him to be right about. A look he had been starting to familiarize himself with.

"Fine, I’ll do it, but I want to spend as little time as possible with Jason. He’s a pompous ass.” “No disagreements there, sweetheart.”

The day you were scheduled to record with Jason and the rest of his band, he was an hour late. You hadn’t doubted for a moment he had done this on purpose.

When he finally had shown, he pretended not to know you, a game you had quickly caught on to, and made sure to respond with, “It’s so nice to meet you, Jackson” after he made a show of introducing himself to you which made the rest of his band and Murray guffaw.

Jason narrowed his eyes at you, his voice struggling to stay level, and said, “Watch it. We’re the ones doing you a favor here, remember?”

“I did you one first,” you responded, your eyes meeting his gaze, “remember?”

It had taken 20 minutes for his bandmates to calm him down, but eventually, the two of you got into the booth.

Your only priority had been to do your best job in as few takes as possible because you did not know how much longer you could tolerate being in Jason’s presence.

In the end, after a two-hour session, Murray had sent you both home, either happy with the finished product or at his wit’s end with the tension. Either way, three weeks later you had a duet with The Letterman’s called “It Was You” and just as Murray had predicted, it was quick to climb the charts.

You were getting noticed.

***

NANCY: Not long after Steve wrote “Regret You” we got noticed by a scout from Starcourt Records. I think at first we thought it was some sort of scheme, but it was legit. They had us record a few demos and in something like six months, they moved us to a house in Culver City.

The whole thing had felt like some sort of fever dream. I had to quit school and tell my parents. They didn’t even know I was in a band. Or seeing anybody. Needless to say, they didn’t take any of it well. When we got to LA, we did more test recordings and they even had us playing some shows at a few clubs on the strip.

Like I said: total fever dream.

But, when you’re under the thumb of a label like that, there are certain stipulations. One of the first things they told us was that they wanted to make our sound more modern and pop. We kinda

had an alternative, experimental sound back then. They said synth was going to be the new thing so they wanted Robin to learn how to play the synthesizer which meant that on certain songs, Jonathan would have to take over for bass. Also, they wanted Steve to be more of a frontman and less of a guitar player. Steve could always work a crowd, and they wanted to use that, especially with this new sound they had envisioned for us. All of this meant we needed another guitar player and, believe it or not, the label already knew who that was going to be. Eddie Munson.

NEXT CHAPTER 🎸

Taglist: @rexorangecouny

[slasher-male-wife]

Howdy! I absolutely love your writing!

I was wondering if you could write for Bo Sinclair, Michael Myers, Billy Loomis, and Stu Macher where they think their s/o did something and they get into an argument. Hurtful things are said/done and the slasher later finds out that their s/o didn’t do it. Hurt/comfort vibes, that kind of thing.

Wether you do or not, have a great day!

-♠️

Omg a new anon hiii it's good to see you welcome in. Ok but I cant totally do this for you. This might be a bit angsty because that's how I interpreted it but whatever I'm so happy to have you here. Anyway I hope you enjoy this.

Slashers apologizing to their s/o

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Michael Myers, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher

Warnings: Strong language

Bo Sinclair

You're outside the church late into the night. Your face is red and puffy from crying, your head is pounding from the tears. They've slowed down but still are coming. Bo came to you with a broken picture frame of his parents and accused you of breaking it. He knew you were cleaning earlier and he thought you broke it and never told him. The truth is you've never seen that picture before. It was in his fathers office and you've made it a rule for yourself to not go in there out of fear.

The two of you yelled back and forth for a good ten minutes about how you didn't do it and him not believing you. He told you to get of the house and you gladly did. You don't like seeing him get angry, you've seen what he did to tourists who got on his nerves. You're quietly crying into your hands when you hear gravel crunching. You wipe away tears and look up to find Bo walking over. You sniffle and look away. He's quiet. But you're still scared to find out what he's gonna do to you.

He takes a seat on the steps next to you. There's a few moments of silence between you two before he finally speaks, "I uh didn't know Lester was in the house earlier," He says pulling out a cigarette, "He told me he was the one who uh broke the picture on accident," He lights it and takes a puff, "I should've listened to you darlin. I don't think I've ever even seen ya in the office."

"I try to avoid it," You palm away a few tears and move your head forward, still not looking at Bo, "I told you I didn't break it. If I did I would have told you."

"I know that honey. I just don't know what I was really thinking," He puts a hand on your thigh, "I guess I'm tryin to say I'm sorry." You look over at him a little surprised.

"Well thank you Bo. I accept your apology."

Michael Myers

It's a few days away from Halloween and earlier in the day Michael came to you seemingly upset. But you could never tell with him. He signed to you that he was missing one of his masks. You told him you never touched any of his masks but he never really believed you. Things got scary when he cornered you in the kitchen and you pulled out a pan to defend yourself. But thankfully he didn't touch you. He simply left out the back door and hasn't come home since. It's dark out now and you assumed that he was gonna spend the night outside.

When you heard something plop on the kitchen table you knew he was back, you just prayed that he didn't bring back any dead animals with him. You get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen. Michael is there, on the table is a bag of Halloween candy he must have gotten from a store. It also happened to be your favorite candy. You noticed the missing mask in his hand. You wanted to tell him that you were right, that you didn't touch his mask, but you knew better than to tap the glass.

"Thank you Michael. I appriciate this." This is the closest you'll get to an apology from him, you both know that. But it's still sweet to you. You open the bag of candy and take out two packets. You hand the second to Michael. He takes it and lifts up the bottom of his mask. You're just glad the fighting is over.

Billy Loomis

You're in bed, face wet with tears after Billy accused you of stealing his mask. You swore up and down you never did but that didn't stop him from yelling at you. He's never hit you but sometimes his words really know how to get you deep. That was hours ago now and you just want the night to be over. You're wondering if he's going to break up with you, or worse. You hear your phone ring on your night stand and you pick it up.

"Hello this is y/n. I'm sorry to say but I'm a bit busy right now. Can I call you back?"

"I can clearly see you're not busy babe," It's Billy. You sit up in bed and look out your window. Billy's outside waiting for you. You hang up and open your window to let him in, "Thanks doll. Look I want to apologize alright? Stu borrowed the mask without letting me know before hand and I shouldn't have yelled at you."

" I know Billy. You need to be more careful with what you say you really hurt me."

"I know and I'm so sorry baby. I hope you can forgive me." He holds open his arms and you accept his hug. You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh.

"Just promise me you won't yell at me again ok?" Billy holds you close and rubs your back.

"I promise I won't. I love you Y/n."

"I love you too Billy boy."

Stu Macher

You got very concerned when you got an angry call from Stu asking why you ruined his 'good blade'. You were totally confused as he ranted on about how is good knife was ruined now because of dents and rust from someone leaving it out. You were messing around with it, with his permission but you always put it back where he kept it. You told him that you didn't do anything to it but he wouldn't listen to you. So you decided to just embrace the sadness tonight. You put on a Cassette of The Cure and turned off the lights.

Your eyes grew red and face hot and wet from crying. You're clinging to your pillow when there's a knock on the door. You pause your music and wipe you face off with your hands and go answer the door. When you open it you're greeted with Stu holding a VHS tape in his hand.

"Y/n hey I'm sorry about yelling at you. Billy borrowed the knife and didn't tell me until tonight and I feel really bad," He holds up the tape, " I rented that cheesy slasher movie you. I just thought it was the least I could do." You can see the regret in his eyes. A small smile grows and you step aside to let him in.

"Thank you baby. I forgive you. Now I'll go make some popcorn for the movie." He walks in and presses a kiss on your cheek.

"I love you babe." He says

"I love you too." You reply.

[bullet-prooflove]

Sunglasses - Neron 'Creeper' Vargas x Reader

A companion piece to A Perfect Moment

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @est1887 @mysoulisasunflower @drabbles-mc @alexxavicry @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

You still have his sunglasses; Neron realises that the next day when he’s preparing for a run up to Stockton. It’s a fourteen hour round trip and it’s a fucking bright outside, so bright it fucking stings his eyes when he steps outside of his house. The light sensitivity is one of the things that comes with recovery, the long-term cocaine usage has damaged his eyes, not enough for it to cause any real problems, just enough to give him a fucking migraine if he doesn’t shield them.

He thinks it may be too early to drop by the tattoo parlour but he swings by anyway just in case. The door sign says closed but he can tell you’re in, he can hear the music through the door when he raps his knuckles on the glass underneath the gold cursive writing.

The song is something by Lindsey Stirling, he wouldn’t expect anything less. You have that vibe. He’s thinking about the cover she did of Radioactive. The hair, the eye makeup, the energy. Your implement of choice a pencil instead of a violin.

You open the door with a smile that makes his heart rate increase, he swears it gets wider when you see it’s him. He can’t help but break into a grin because your sunniness is infectious. He doesn’t think you realise that you have this ability to put people at ease, it must serve you well with your clients.

The bell above the door jingles as he closes it behind him. It’s the first time he’s been in your shop and he finds himself drawn to the artwork on the walls, beautiful sweeping images with stunning flourishes, highlighted with colour. He thinks this is how you see the world, in shades of vibrancy. It’s a contrast with the sleek darkwood furniture. He runs his hand over the top of a sideboard, admiring the staining of the wood. It’s old, an antique he suspects, possibly an heirloom. He can almost feel the history thrumming through the piece.

You’re in the middle of setting up for your first client but you pause to watch him. There’s something about Neron, his mannerisms, his interest in the world around him, it makes him a joy to be around. He seems grounded, connected to the space around him, living each and every single moment. You admire a person like that, someone who knows exactly who he is and exists purely in the present.

“I’ve got some time if you want to get in the chair.” You tease him, jerking your head towards the seat.

He looks at it almost regretfully. There’s an intimacy when you tattoo someone’s skin, a connection that’s forged, it’s fleeting, a matter of hours but it’s there. The act itself, of committing a piece of someone’s soul onto their flesh is spiritual in a way. People tell you their darkest secrets in the chair, their woes, their happiness. It’s a confessional for those who don’t feel welcome in church.

“I wish, I could.”

He means it you can tell. He’s already a stunning collection of artwork, you know every tattoo has a story, it shows an aspect of your history and personality. You want to ask him about his, you want to trace over each and every piece and learn everything there is to know about Neron Vargas.

“Next time maybe.” You tell him before picking up his sunglasses from the counter you’d set them on. You’d worn them in this morning, a reminder of the man you had met yesterday, the one that made you lose track of the time, that made you laugh, that seemed to get exactly where you were coming from when you explained how you worked. “I’m guessing you came by for these.”

He looks at the sunglasses in your outstretched hand. He doesn’t want to take them; he wants them to be a gift but the truth is he needs them. They’re tailored for his particular type of problem, a similar one to what he thinks you’ve had too.

“My eyes.” He explains gesturing to his face. “I get light sensitive sometimes. It’s an aftereffect…”

He trails off before he can say the words. He’s upfront and honest about his addiction issues but he knows how people perceive it, he’s not a safe bet in the long term, at least that’s how his girlfriends have seen it in the past.

“…of substance abuse.” You finish for him, and he nods, averting his gaze to the ornate panelling of the reception desk. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment in your eyes, the pity, he knows he’s fucked this up with you.

“Seven years.” You say into the air between you. “I’ve been sober seven years.”

He tilts his head towards you, meeting your gaze. He doesn’t know what he expects to see because you’ve surprised him. You seem like you have your shit together, he assumed you always had.

“Alcohol.” You tell him. “I used to get so fucked up…”

You don’t finish the sentence and he gets it. It’s a bad place to go back to and he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to tell him anything. You don’t owe him anything for his disclosure.

“Cocaine.” He says, his hand rubbing over the back of his neck. “I’d have a drink, and then a line… Now I don’t do either.”

“Shit, well I guess the both of us are the boring ones at a party.” You say and he laughs because fuck if that isn’t true. He prefers to sit and play cards these days.

“I’d love to stick around.” He tells you earnestly, his sunglasses clasped in his hand. “Shoot the shit some more…”

“But you have stuff to do. I get it.”

And you do, you have a client turning up in thirty minutes and you still need to print off the design onto transfer paper. As much as you would love to prolong this conversation, you need to get moving too. You pluck one of your cards from the top of the reception desk and scribble something on the back before handing it to him.

“My private number.” You tell him. “In case you wanna shoot the shit again.”

He looks down at it and smiles, his thumb tracing over the numbers like they’re braille.

“I’m away in Stockton for a couple of days.” He tells you, tucking the card into the pocket of his kutte. “But I’d really like to see you again when I get back.”

“Send me a text or call me.” You say. “We’ll work something out.”

“Ok.” He says, his cheeks colouring just a little as he toys with his sunglasses.

It’s fucking adorable.

You watch through the window as he leaves, his thighs straddle that bike before he pulls out his phone and then your card, thumb sweeping over the touch screen.

Your cell chimes from behind you, you pick it up as you hear the roar of an engine outside before it fades off into the distance.

My number :) N x

Love Creeper? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee