#like yeah u right but you been here for 3 months what gave it away?

[sparklehoard]

Newest coworker invited me to carpool to the (bigger and better) pride over in a neighboring town

[mooodyblue]

venting abt unimportant things in da tags ignore me

[suguruplsr]

4:00 AM

✰ your boyfriend picking you at damn near 4 am leads to you two fucking. not your fault he’s fine..

,, toji x fem reader , fluff + nsfw , some plot , loosely related to this , masturbation (m) , clit rubbing , he cums on your pussy , grinding , you ride his chest , use of “daddy” , body worship ? , light nipple & cum play , dirty talk , pet names (baby , mama , my lady , princess but jokingly , ) , mentioned that toji stole ur panties before (consensual)

“same city, same hoes, can’t move sour”

“at this hour, it’s 4:00 am with you now what?”

“it’s ‘bout to go down”

“yeah, you left your crew, now what?”

“it’s ’bout to go down”

“shorty, what you wanna do?” - Pistashios, Brent Faiyaz

you stood outside of your local bar, light clothes with a puffy bubble coat, worst choice of clothes to wear considering you stayed with your whiskey all night. on the rocks of course.

maybe you’ve overdone it, it was so damn early in the morning, and you got there at 11 pm? maybe even 10. all you remember is your friends deciding to gang up together, who’ve probably left you by now, to make your night better than that trashy 9 to 5 job you work at everyday. well, worked. stupid old crusty men with their favoritism. you let it slide for a few months after he was appointed as your manger at the little boutique down the street. but even with the disgusting and not-so-smooth tone of his voice, you were pretty— no, hella fucking underpaid. and of course men like him switch up the second you question their behaviors.

at least toji wasn’t like that.

toji. oh fuck. you remember telling you’d let him know when you’d get home. which you clearly have no way getting to. especially after he gave you an eye roll, on the phone, when you gave a last second call to just tell him where you were. he swears you called so late because you wouldn’t be able to handle his judgment for you going to go get yourself shit-faced. but really, you did forget the “caring” man had goal of always being able to keep you safe, or at least keep up with your location, in case of emergencies. something that’s a high risk within this dump of a city.

your shaky and cold fingers tap through your phone, cursing yourself when it hits something else than your messages, eager to just get away from the building.

Friday [3:32 am] y/n — cranky: can u come pick me up..

Friday [3:32 am] cranky — pretty loser: you better explain yourself.

damn. same minute, and a period? as much as you love that man, you cannot handle a sassy ass toji, and most definitely not when there’s still fizzes of alcohol in you. you don’t want to end up in the wrong, right, bed because of some stupid shit you may say to fight back his side eyes.

you walk away from the double doors of the bar, heading towards the parking lot. you lean against the brick wall, watching the coldness of your breath drift off into the air. rnb music played softly in your earbuds, few people roaming the streets in the dark night. you could lightly hear a few drunken men exiting the bar doors with slurred words and laughs, all patting each others back.

how can they be so lively at this time of night? must’ve been a celebration.

well you don’t have room to talk. a bit impatient, you checked the time, 3:38. five minutes. now that you think about it, you weren’t sure how far toji’s house was from here.

distracting yourself, you ponder over the, “calculations”, in your head of about how much time it’d take for him to get here. well, until you hear the familiar engine of his ford mustang, you wonder how he was even able to afford the latest model.

but considering his occupation, you lose the thought all together.

it took 12 minutes in total. the second the suspicious black card is parked in front of you, you’re walking towards it with a fast pace. almost opening the door until he’s opening his door and quickly locking the doors. “what the fuck..?” you mutter, glaring at toji as he walks around the car with a huff of annoyance.

oh.

okay maybe he has some gentleman qualities, you think, letting him unlock and open the door for you, suffering the pain of touching the cold ass handle. yet he still hasn’t talked, not when he got in, not when he got back on the road with a hand on the wheel and the other in your hold, and not when he’s sat at a red light, currently giving you judgmental glances that are more painful than the silence.

“i wasn’t checking the time.” “yea no shit.” okay, you can do this.. you hope. “sooo maybe you shouldn’t look at me like that..?” you sing, holding toji’s hand a bit tighter, it’s big and warm, a comforting warmth that you bring up to your lips with a soft peck. “well maybe you shouldn’t have shit friends.” he grumbles, pressing the gas as soon as the light changes, unconsciously nudging his hand closer to feel your soft lips.

“oh c’mon, we were hanging out for hours. they probably had too much to drink and forgot about me or something..” you hum, turning to him and leaning over the arm rest, running a hand along his arm as he brings his fingers up to your chin. “did they ever text you?” he scoffs, squishing your cheeks, yet his eyes don’t leave the road. even if he did want to give you a knowing look from the sound of your silence as your check your phone.

3:51 • [no new messages]

and your mood falls downcast. biting your lip in nervousness as he waits for your response, maybe they’ll tell you their excuse later in the morning.

“you can’t blame them, it’s almost 4 am” you murmur. and he tuts, keeping your head upright as soon as you put down your phone. you know this street, the last light that leads to his creepy stale neighborhood full of rich old folks. wait, his neighborhood?

you don’t even have the energy to question his route. you just hope you don’t see that one old hag who always nags you two about your relationship.

the red beam reflects in your eyes, all doey and flickering him with a tiny pout tugging your lips. “well i don’t like their lack of care for their dear friend. next time you should just go with me.. and weren’t you the reason why you all even went? tsk.” toji’s face scrunch up, disdain clear in his expression while you ponder over his words.

“nothing’s gonna change your mind?” “nada.” and you sit back defeated. he hand moves to your thigh, squeezing it firmly as a light of green flashes. you stay silent, fiddling with his fingers. which are crazily bigger than yours, and could definitely use a trim. maybe you could cut his cuticles too? is that even safe? he could use a spa day in general, plus a massage, you’ve seen the way he’s twisted his body in insane ways just to crack his back.

you’re shaken from your thoughts when the music in the background stops, car parked and off as he steps out his door. after earlier, you were well reminded to not even touch the door handles, how could you ever forget that? he’s always been adamant on that.

he’s opening the door, greeting you with a small grin, “does the princess need to be carried?” toji chuckles lightly, giving you a hand and guiding you out of the car. “very funny.” you roll your eyes, a smile on your face as he locks the car doors and fishes through his keys for the one meant for the front door.

you walk out the shower, exhausted. and before you can even think of getting comfortable on his bed, you’re distracted by the figure on it.

it’s not like you haven’t seen toji’s body before, far from that, but it’s just something about it. his shirt off with a pair of sweats on. he was laying back against the headboard arms spread wide on it for you to slip easily in them. all with his eyes closed and comfortable.

his muscles are defined, probably made by greek gods from how perfectly they’re structured. and he’s so broad, taking up over half of the space with his large shoulders. just the sight of his neck makes you ache, you’re not sure why that is. but the way he tilts his head back, adam’s apple sticking out, makes you want to sit on his lap and kiss all over it, hands traveling along his physique.

“your mind must be in the gutter. y’r eatin’ me up like no tomorrow..”

toji calls you out with a smirk playing in his face, head tilting towards you. and you saunter over to him without hesitation, oblivious to the way his eyes darken in realization to what you’re wearing.

you don’t keep much clothes at his house, so you usually find yourself wearing his shirts with panties. panties, that he steals off you every now and then. but today you opted for wearing a little white spaghetti strap with a pair of cute pair of matching lace panties. the less, the better.

his eyes are stuck on the way your breasts jiggle when you take your spot on his lap, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling yourself closer. “i can’t help it. i just love your body..” you coo with a playful pout, letting your hands swarm along his body. it’s slow, adoring every inch of his skin and sometimes griping his muscles.

“i can say the same baby.” toji mutters, breath hitching when your hands begin to run up and down on his stomach. he’s probably poking your thighs by now from how sensitive he feels when your fingers drag along the outline of his v-line.

“oh yeah?”

“fuck yeah.”

and you giggle, holding his face with one hand as you two enter a kiss. your lips fight against each other hungrily while your other hand reaches down between your thighs, feeling his hard length strain in his pants. toji grunts when you begin to rub your thighs on it, squeezing them together, and the friction makes him pull away from your lips, head thrown back.

“shit. gunna make me cum.” he huffs out, and it makes your pussy throb. it’s so attractive, the long of his neck, the way his muscles visibly tighten and he’s grabbing the headboard to stabilize himself. you move your hands back behind you, holding onto his legs, and keeping your hips up to grind on his hard cock with your legs spread around his body. it's fucking amazing, the way he could see and feel your clothed pussy, the outline of his cock dragging along your folds.

“wanna feel it on my panties daddy..” you give a whine, tucking out your lips and looking up at him so cutely. and how can he say no?

toji wastes no time rolling his pants down a bit, fishing out his cock and holding the base, directing it towards your white panties. you hold back a moan at the feeling of his tip nudging your bud through your panties. he gives a few tight and short jerks of his cock as you push your pussy impossibly closer. “fuckin’ dirty, bet ya want ‘em soaked all over. gonna cum on that pussy n’ rub your panties on it.” his words make you whimper, feeling his fingers push the cloth aside.

toji smirks at the sight of your soaping pussy, wet and sensitive to the cold air. his tip slips through your folds, gathering the slick on his cock. “tojiii, o-ohh..” you can feel your body aching to lay back, tightening your grip on his legs as he teases your entrance. you can’t even pull your eyes away from his cock. it’s so girthy, tip lightly red with veins bulging a bit. you can’t help but want to reach down help him, his pre cum was coming out in slow little blobs.

“do it really slow n’ hard, base up. i-imagine my tongue dragging under your cock, your cock flat on it.” you murmur out, turning into a whine when he follows your command, a deep groan escaping him, “f-fuck you know about this baby? feels fucking gooood.” toji heaves, slowly picking up the pace when your hole sucks his tip in.

“how do you think i suck you off so good?” you give a small grin when he’s letting out a low ‘fuuck’, quickly pulling back to let his dick sit on your folds, spurts and globs of cum spilling onto your pussy. his doesn’t stop his hand, trying to make your pussy as messy as possible, and gripping your thigh tightly with the other. then he snaps your panties back in place, making you squirm from the hot feeling of his cum spreading around your pussy.

“oooh, ya feel that? s’all mushy n’ warm, yea?” toji chuckles, his eyes watching as a patch of wetness slowly forms on the cloth. “mhm! love it so much, but i wanna drag it all over y’r chest toji! been thinkin’ about it..” your whimpers has his dick twitching again, mindlessly pushing your panties against your hole, feeling around it. “fucking spoiled.” he scoffs.

and now here you are, both of you bare and naked with hickies and marks all over each other, sitting on his wide large chest, pussy flush against his muscles. “you can do it yourself right? c’mon mama, you got it.” toji gives a small smile, arms behind his head as you hold onto his shoulders. “y-yea, i got itt.. mm” when your pussy drags along the line of his chest, you fall down to little mewls, feeling every muscle of his chest.

“you see it baby? look at you makin’ a mess on me.” his body vibrates with his chuckle, going straight to your pussy. you drag your cunny on his defined muscles, going all the way down to his six pack. you bite your lip at the sight of his chest covered in the slick of your mixed cum.

it'd make a good wallpaper, you think.

"makes you look pretty." you mutter, not even thinking as you drag your fingers along the stream, before gripping on his sides and pulling yourself up. but before you can admire his nipples, he's flexing his chest, making you hold onto his biceps at the feeling.

"cute n' all but i wanna see her squirt on me." toji grins, moving his arms and holding you body upright with one hand.

his fingers pull a whine out you when he rubs your clit, tilting your body back a bit so he can smack your cunt with the palm of his hand. "toji!" "nah, wanna hear what you said earlier." and your stomach twists, he likes being called daddy? that's a first.

"can you make me cum daddy? wanna make y'r chest drip with my cum." your voice it slurred, giving him a pouty whine and biting that pretty lip of yours in frustration. and he's grinning, holding your body firmly.

"whatever my lady wants~" he teases, pressing your thighs down as much as he can to make sure your pelvis is pressed tightly against his body with no care for the way your knees hurt, because the sounds of your incoherent moans are better. you’re clawing his chest, being dragged so slowly on it and its so antagonizing. he even reaches down with a thumb to play with your bud, making your thigh shake around him.

“cum on me baby..” he whispers, his eyes trained on your gooey folds as the coil in your tummy breaks. “daddy—!” you cry, all teary as he keeps guiding you along his chest, not letting you escape your high and you both watch how the cum and juices leaving your cunny trickles onto his chest. “so cute..drippin’ all on me..” he groans when you smear your juices on one of his nipples, a coy smile playing on your face and asking him what you’ve been desperate for in a sweet tone.

“can i have y’r cock now daddy?”

[juneberrie]

LOVE IS LIKE THE LOTTERY [ 🐍 ] DEUCE GORGON

summary ∿ deuce gets jealous when a guy tries to hit on you [ gn ! reader ]

after cleo and deuce broke up, monster high was desperately in need of a new it couple. and, a few months later, they found one: deuce and you.

deuce had always been popular, or whatever the equivalent was in monster high. by association, you became popular too. and, because you became popular, that meant you got lots of attention.

it wasn't a bad kind of attention; everyone at monster high (with the exception of a few ghouls here and there) was incredibly nice. but a few weeks ago, there was a new student joining. he was some cousin of torelai's and instantly became famous among the student body, particularly the ghouls, for his swoopy shiny hair and lilting voice. and his eyes. girls would swoon if he so much as gave them a cursory glance. but it was you he liked eyeing, and deuce didn't like that one bit.

walking through the maul hand in hand, deuce says, "wanna grab a drink 'fore we leave?"

you nod and the two of you make your way towards the coffin bean. deuce presses a kiss to your forehead, his snakes peppering little reptile kisses to your hairline. "go sit," he smiles. "i got your order, babe."

you thank your loving boyfriend and find a table for two. settling down in your chair, you watch deuce talking to the barista. your phone buzzes and you open it up to see a text from clawdeen.

clawdeen ♡ hows your date w/ deuce going????

y/n ✶ great <3 we're at the coffin bean rn

clawdeen ♡ oooo update me later bae

clawdeen ♡ kiss kiss love you !!

y/n ✶ love u 2 xoxo

hearing the chair scrape the tiled floor in front of you, you look up with a smile expecting to see your boyfriend.

its not. its torelai's cousin. he smirks lazily at you, one arm slung across the back of his chair.

"hey."

"uh.... hi? my boyfriend's actually gonna sit the—"

he waves you off, flashing another grin. "he won't mind, would he?"

"actually, i do mind, purrcy." deuce stands behind torelai's cousin, holding a steaming cup of coffee and a paper bag. "get outta my chair." the snakes on his head hiss at the werecat.

purrcy laughs, a hissy kind of giggle that makes every hair on you stand up. "can't i talk to one of my fellow classmates?" the way he said it made it clear he didn't think of you as a classmate. more as a . . . thing he wanted.

"yeah, well they don't wanna talk to you, dude," deuce snaps. his snakes start getting restless, a few even snapping in purrcy's general direction.

purrcy's head swivels towards you, still with that lazy grin. "well?"

"well what?" you ask. deuce had moved to stand next to you, putting the coffee down and gently placing a protective hand on your shoulder. it was comforting.

"do y'wanna talk to me, baby?"

deuce's fingers twitched on your shoulder. his snakes snapped at the air.

"no."

"see? go hack up a furball," deuce scowls.

purrcy's face darkens and he hisses, "asshole," as he pushes away from the table and stalks off. deuce lets go of your shoulder and moves his chair next to you.

"are you okay?" he asks, opening the brown paper bag and pulling out a pastry. he hands it to you, eyes worried through the lenses of his glasses.

"'m fine, deuce. thank you," you smile, accepting the pastry. laying your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, you take a bite of the delicious treat. he wraps an arm around you, taking a sip of his drink. he's quiet for a few minutes. you sigh and put down your half-eaten pastry.

"deuce. baby." you grab his face and gently turn it towards you. "i don't like him."

"i know," he says, sounding a bit defensive. he looks at you for a few seconds before slumping in his chair and pulling you closer towards him. "i just—" he sighs. "he's such a douche," he concedes.

"i know. but guess what?" you smile. his eyebrows furrow and one of his snakes cocks its head at you, curiously. "love is like the lottery, right? and i have you, so that means—" you press a kiss to the space between his eyes. "—i've won the lottery."

[darkeralmond]

can you do more rutger mcgroarty smut?? your last one was so good

THANK U SO MUCH!! ALSO THANKS FOR THE REQUEST!! I LOVE U

Not So Fake

Rutger Mcgroarty x fem! Reader

synopsis: you and rutger started fake dating to make your exes jealous. when rutger tries to “sell the part” it leads to more in his bedroom

warnings: 18+, smut, hickeys, rough kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, f! receiving, after care

word count: 2k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SO MUCH FOR 300 FOLLOWERS!! I LOVE RUTGER SO MUCH! i’m gonna miss him when he goes to the winnipeg nets tho 😞😞

masterlist | request info

It all started out with a deal to make both your exes jealous. You approached Rutger with the idea a while back at a Christmas party. “I’ll pay you $50 a month to be my fake boyfriend to make my ex-boyfriend jealous,” you confidded.

He cocked his head to the side with his eyebrows furrowed, “$50 for that? Dude, I’ll do that for free. I need to make my ex-girlfriend jealous too.” You were shocked with how open he was to the idea of fake dating you. You couldn’t deny that it caused your heart to skip a beat.

You had been fake-dating Rutger for a month or two now and your plan was working. Your ex started reaching out to you more and more, asking questions about how you met Rutger and why you even started dating him.

Even though it’s what you wanted, the idea of making him jealous slowly dissolved. You liked spending time with Rutger way more than you ever did with your ex, and it seemed like he started focusing on his ex-girlfriend less and less.

Now here you two were at a small hockey gathering with a couple of the other players and their partners. You, Rutger, and Gavin were squeezed together on a pretty small couch. It was obvious that the couch wasn’t meant to fit 3 people. On the other couch sat Ethan, his girlfriend, and another girl who you weren’t familiar with.

Everyone was talking while occasionally taking sips from their cups. You would nod your head and flash smiles, but you couldn’t even concentrate on the conversation they were having.

Due to the limited space on the couch, that meant your thigh and Rutger’s thigh were touching the entire time. The feeling of his warm skin against yours was super distracting.

What made it worse was that Ethan had to put the spotlight on you and Rutger, of course. “So, Rutger,” he said while grinning from ear to ear. “What’re you gonna do with Y/N when you have to go off to the Jets?”

Rutger glanced over at you and smiled. “We’ll do long distance. Then, she can come up and visit or I can go there.” He then looked back at his friends before adding, “Maybe she can move in with me when she’s done with college.” He placed his hand on your inner thigh.

Your cheeks instantly turned bright red at the contact, causing you to stare at him with a bug-eyed expression. He looked back at you then nodded his head to go along with whatever he was doing.

You then snapped back to the conversation and looked at Ethan. “Yeah! That’s pretty much the plan!” you nervously giggled before shooting a glare to Rutger. Luckily, he was the only one who saw the stink eye you gave him.

He just smirked in response and took a sip of his drink. He then went back to the conversation like it this normal, steering the topic away from your “relationship”.

Your mind went fuzzy as the tip of your ears flushed red. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening right now. He didn’t have to put his hand on your thigh, however he was for some reason. And for some reason, it was seriously turning you on.

You slammed his bedroom door shut, turning to him with your finger pointed right at him. “What was that?!” you fumed.

He leaned against the wall next to the door and crossed his arms. “What’re you talking about?” he cooed. He wasn’t taking this seriously. It made your blood boil even more.

“Your hand. My thigh. What was that?!” You needed answers. Not just for why he did it, but for why you enjoyed it so much.

“I was just trying to sell it,” he answered, still leaning against the wall with a sly grin. You rolled your eyes which led him to chuckle. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I saw you blushing.”

You scoffed, “I was not blushing!”

“Admit it,” he said, pushing himself off the wall as he started approaching you. You took a couple steps back before your back hit the wall. You looked back and saw the white wall before looking back and seeing him right in front of you.

His face was only inches away from yours, his hand rested on the wall right above your shoulder. “You like me.” Your tongue twisted, not able to get a single word out.

Your face felt like it was on fire, your breaths hitching. “See?” he teased. “Let’s just get rid of this growing tension between us and finally do something about it.”

“Like what?” You managed to ask that question, but everything else was blank. You had a feeling of what he was going to say, but of course he said something way out of left field.

“Like fucking,” he said. “Right here, right now.” When there were people downstairs? It wasn’t like a full blown frat party, people were able to hear you two from his room.

Your expression was haunted as you stuttered, “What if someone hears us?” Which meant you weren’t opposed to the idea. The answer no didn’t even cross your mind.

You glanced over at the lock on his door, seeing that it was still unlocked. His hand loomed under your chin, directing your gaze back to him.

His eyes darted down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Then we’ll just have to be quiet,” he said in a low voice. “Can you do that, sweetheart?”

Your chest rose and fell with your rapid breaths, you nodded your head quickly. “I can,” you answered.

“Good,” he chuckled before leaning in, placing his lips on yours. Your eyes shut at the sudden contact while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

His lips were soft and his breath tasted like beer. He pulled his hand away from beneath your chin and placed them both on your waist, pulling you closer to him desperately.

Before you knew it, he was slipping his tongue into your mouth. You let him do so, your body pressed against him. Your head tilted to the side in order to give him easier access to your lips. A small moan escaped your lips and into his mouth while you two made out.

You pulled away from him, attempting to catch your breath. The atmosphere around you was full of sexual tension and lust. You never realized how much you craved his body up until this moment.

You unravel your arms and place your hand on his chest. You looked down at the nice button up he was wearing, now wanting it off of him. You began undoing the buttons to his shirt while he chuckled.

You finished unbuttoning his shirt and helped him slide it off before throwing it across the room. You pulled off your shirt and tossed it to the same side of the room, now revealing your bralette.

Rutger stared hungrily at you and ran his hands up your back to unclasp your bra. You slipped it off, now completely exposing yourself to him. A smile grew on his face as he brought his hands to your breasts, cupping them.

You let out a gasp as you felt his cold fingers against your warm body. Your moans became louder while he kneaded them with his palms. He pulled one hand away and brought a finger up to his lips, signaling you to be quieter.

He gently kissed your jawline and traveled down to your collarbone while simultaneously massaging your breast. The sensations he gave you started spreading throughout your body. You were melting under his kisses and touch. All you could think was that this felt amazing.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, attempting to hold back any loud moans that were desperate to escape. He pulled his hands away from your body, bringing one of them down to your lower body.

His hand slivered down the hem of your skirt and into your panties. You gasped at the feeling, his mouth still marking your neck with hickeys.

His fingers moved down to your clit, playing with it by circling your sensitive bead. A quiet moan escaped your lips, your head hitting the wall behind you. It felt absolutely incredible that his hand was teasing you.

“Hmmm. Are you wet for me?” He sounded amused. “Such a needy girl.” His fingertips kept torturing your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your teeth sunk deeper into your bottom lip as you tried to ignore the tingling sensation that erupted through your body. He’s teasing, you thought.

You knew this wasn’t enough to make you cum and so did he, because after a few seconds, he stopped messing with your clit and stuck two fingers inside your wet cunt. His fingers curled inside you, feeling the warm wetness around his fingers.

You grabbed onto his hips in order to keep yourself sturdy against the wall. “Rutger,” you whimpered, your nails clawing into his skin. “Just like that!” This was too much stimulation for you but you still wanted more.

He pulled away and pulled his fingers out of you causing you to whine. You were right at your peak and of course he had to torture you more. You pouted your bottom lip, “Why did you stop?”

“I don’t want you to cum yet,” he simply stated. “Now take off your skirt and panties and lay down on the bed, pretty girl.” He took off his shorts, revealing the erection that strained against the fabric of his boxers.

“Please, baby?” His tone was husky, almost begging. You kicked off your shoes before taking off your skirt and panties before laying down on the bed.

He pulled down his boxers and locked the door before making his way over to you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. He already knew that you were on the pill since you were telling him stories about you and your ex beforehand.

With that, he aligned himself with your dripping wet entrance before slowly entering you. Your back arched as his length pushed through your tight walls.

He slowly rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting into you. You moaned out, “Fuck me. Make me come!” With a nod, he held onto your hips and he thrusted into you harder. You let out a small cry at how good it felt. “Holy, fuck! Rutger!”

“Shhh,” he shushed before letting his thrusts become faster. The struggle you had to stay quiet only fueled his ego and arousal even more.

Goosebumps broke out onto your arms as your mind became clouded. “Rutger, I’m gonna cum!” you cried.

He let out a groan and pulled your hips up slightly, making it easier for him. “You fucking better, Y/N. Do it for me, baby.”

Your orgasm crashed upon you and you threw your head back as your release poured out of your body. Your back arched as you did this, your eyes squeezing shut. Finally, your tense muscles loosened as you fell back onto the breath while breathing heavily.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbled as he pumped into you one last time. He then pulled out of you, his dick completely covered in a mixture of both your and his cum.

He took a couple deep breaths, running his fingers through his hair. “Holy, shit.” He went over to his dresser and grabbed a pair of tissues, wiping the juices off his dick. “You need some?” He handed the tissues to you while he crawled on the bed next to you.

“Yes please,” you answered before you wiped your wet cunt. “That was...” You couldn’t even describe how amazing it felt.

Rutger smiled and got under the blanket with you. “That was perfect,” he said. You threw away the tissues in the trash can near his bed, then got under the covers.

He pulled you close to his body and spooned you. You giggled as he placed a lazy kiss on the side of your neck.

You giggled at the feeling of his wet kiss. “I guess really we’re together now, huh?” you mumbled in a low voice.

He chuckled, “I guess so.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck once again, leaving you smiling happily.

[n4giism]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ dirty dancing by cody jon ࿐ྂ

blue lock x fem!reader

characters: yoichi isagi, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi (separate)

content: weird/bad habits they have

ari's note: i'll make a part two soon! let me kno who u want to see in the second part!!!

part 2. part 3.

yoichi isagi: folding the top corner of a book as a bookmark

"ichi! yoichi!" you called from the kitchen. you were currently baking some cookies that you wanted to gift to isagi's friend, bachira, for his birthday.

"come here and help me taste test the cookies, please!" you called again when you got no reply from your boyfriend.

a few minutes passed and still no reply from him.

"ugh, is he deaf? oh my goodness.." you sighed, rinsing your hands and drying them with a towel before going to his room to get him.

"yoichi! i've been calling you!" you snapped as you slammed his door open. isagi jolted in surprise from the manga he was reading as you suddenly opened his door.

he removed the earbuds from his ear and sighed softly, "oh, it's just you. you gave me a heart attack there.."

you rubbed your temples and heaved in frustration, "reading my manga again? goodness.."

he nodded happily.

"yes! thanks for lending it to me, by the way. could i borrow the entire collection? i want to read them at home when i'm free." he asked, returning his attention back to the manga.

"ah, sure. just take care of it, 'kay? those are expensive as hell." you answered and wanted to walk away when you remembered why you called for him in the first place, "oh! right. come and try the cookies i baked, ichi. need someone to taste them before i give them to birthday boy bachira."

he looked up at the mention of cookies, "oh! cookies?! i'm coming!!"

he folded the top page of the manga he was reading as a bookmark so he could go back and read it again later.

"h-hey! don't fold the manga page like that. oh my god! my manga! isagi, quick unfold it! hurry, isagi!" you wailed for your precious manga.

"h-huh?! what did i do?! unfold!? what?!" isagi panicked, not knowing the damage he had done to your precious, expensive manga.

"you idiot! you don't just fold the pages like that for a bookmark, isagi! use a card, or a random piece of paper, or something! don't just fold it! oh my god.. my manga... it's ruined..." you dramatically cried and isagi's eyes widened in horror.

"i-i'm sorry, y/n!! i'll... i'll get you.. n-new manga! please don't cry, don't cry!" isagi panicked, holding your folded manga in his hands like it was some dying animal.

"oh? new manga? okay, you said so, isagi. i'm expecting my new manga tomorrow." you said and got up, flashing him a playful grin and going back to the kitchen.

"what? hey! i thought you were crying, don't do this to me! y/n!" isagi shouted, chasing after you to the kitchen.

rin itoshi: leaving you on heard

you and rin were currently watching a movie in the living room. well, it was mostly you watching. rin just sat on the couch with you to keep you company. he was mindlessly scrolling through his phone, the sounds from the movie you were watching were merely just white noise to him.

"eh? isn't that the same actor in the series we watched a few months ago?" you gasped upon seeing a familiar actor in the movie you were currently watching.

no reply.

"rin?"

still no reply.

"hello, rin itoshi?" you called, eyes glued on the tv still.

"rinnie?" you kept calling his name until you were able to pull your eyes from the screen and look at your boyfriend, who you thought was sleeping since he didn't reply to any of your calls.

you looked at your boyfriend. he had one arm resting on the armrest of the couch, his head leaning on his fist, reading something on his phone. clearly awake.

you shrugged, brushing off his silence. maybe he's reading something important. you returned your attention back to the tv, forgetting about your question to him.

"yeah, i think it's the same actor." rin replied after 15 minutes, still looking at his phone.

you turned to look at him in confusion, "what? you took so long to answer, were you googling it?"

rin lifted his face from his phone and raised a brow at you, "googling? what would i be googling? i was reading this crime article i found." he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you gave him a puzzled look, "you know what? never mind. thanks for confirming, rin."

"of course. you're welcome, love." he nonchalantly replied and turned his attention back to his crime article as though he didn't just leave you on heard for a whopping 15 minutes.

seishiro nagi: drinking milk with ice

"hey, girlfriend? could you get me a glass of milk, please? i'm so thirsty." nagi called out while he was laying on the couch while you were in the kitchen.

"i'm busy, sei. come and get it yourself." you called back while washing the dishes.

"huhhh, but i'm sooo lazyyy. can you do it for me, girlfriend? pretty please?" he whined quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"ugh, fine. but only because i love you." you sighed, drying your hands and paused washing the dishes as you grabbed a glass and took the milk carton from the fridge.

you poured the milk into the glass and placed it on the coffee table in front of nagi, who had sat up from his lying down position on the couch.

he smiled cheekily at you, "hehe, thank you, girlfriend. i love you, you always take care of me."

you blushed and looked away, "whatever, sei. just drink your milk and come help me in the kitchen."

you walked back to the kitchen and resumed washing the dishes. it was quiet until you heard the fridge open again. thinking nagi was still thirsty and was just getting more milk, you ignored it and carried on with washing the dishes.

that is, until you heard the sound of clinking ice cubes. you turned your head in shock, and your mouth parted in surprise at what you saw.

nagi, adding ice cubes into his glass full of milk.

"nagi seishiro! what in heaven's name are you doing?" you said, shocked. nagi paused midway of grabbing another ice cube and looked at you, bewildered.

"what? i'm just getting ice. you forgot to add the ice cubes." he shrugged and resumed adding ice cubes to his glass of milk which was going to overflow from the amount of ice cubes he had added.

you shook your head in disbelief as you watched your boyfriend carry on with his weird habit, like he was committing a crime. but you said nothing, rubbed your temples and washed the dishes again. all while speculating about how you ended up dating a weirdo like nagi and how he even enjoyed drinking cold milk with ice cubes.

nagi bonus!!:

after cleaning the kitchen, you and nagi settled on the couch to watch a movie. he was still drinking his milk with ice cubes. you really wanted to question it but he seemed to be enjoying himself so you let him.

a few minutes into the movie, you heard crunching sounds and looked at nagi, thinking he had some chips or something to munch on. but to your horror, you saw your boyfriend chewing on the ice cubes from his empty glass.

"n-nagi seishiro! stop chewing on that ice!" you scolded, taken aback from discovering another one more of nagi's weird habits.

"oh, sorry. i'll chew softer then."

"t-that's not what i meant! y-you.. you idiot! your teeth are gonna be spoiled if you keep doing that! stop!"

"what! don't say that! my teeth are fine!"

end.

[athenaswrath]

Hello, I hope you are well ✨

I was wondering if you could write something with Sebastian Aho please, whatever you want.

thank u 🤍

@yangofyang I'm sorry it took a while to post I hope you like it🫶🏻

Fishy being engaged is so heartwarming, so here's a little something about that (kinda) and also Jarvy being his clueless self

Word count: 1,355

You knew before you started working in a coffee shop near the PNC arena that it was going to be packed at times. What you didn't know, was that the hockey team was going to be there daily, too. You never considered yourself a hockey fan, but you knew about them—city legends, after all. Even if you hadn't known them, they were hard to miss, most of them passing 6'0.

The first time I saw them, there were only three of them: Brady, Bunting and Sebastian, are the names they gave you for their orders. "You're new here, never seen you before" said Bunting while the other two turned to look at me. It was a very calm day so they were the only ones in the coffee shop. "Yeah, I'm new pretty much everywhere around here actually, I just moved in" I said softly. It was hard not to get intimidated by them. I wasn't exactly short, but they could make you feel like you were 3'5

"So you don't know who we are?" said Bunting faking a hurt tone "I mean, it would be hard not to know when your faces are all over the city." - "It's a pretty face though, isn't it?" he said in a flirty way. "You're so full of yourself, I swear" Brady told him while giving him a playful shove before adding "I hope you're liking it here so far, we're gonna be around here a lot so anything you need, let us know, right Fishy?" he smirked and gave Sebastian a side hug, Bunting laughed, Sebastian's face heated, and I felt like I missed something.

What started off as a simple thing became a daily occurrence, Sebastian now would go for a morning walk and stop by the coffee shop before making his way to the arena. He enjoyed his new routine, getting a coffee, talking to y/n, and having a smile plastered on his face as he walks back to his morning training session.

After a couple of weeks, Sebastian finally asked you out. He could tell there was a bit of hesitation on your part but after watching those cute eyes of his, you couldn't really say no to him.

"So who's got you smiling like that all the time now, Fishy?" Necas asked him one day when they were changing into their gear “Don’t start" is the only thing he said, “Oh c’mon, there has to be someone. Serious, sometimes grumpy Fishy, grinning like a fool every day?”

“There is no one” Sebastian said, but he could feel his face heating up, remembering last night's event with you, “Are you going to watch the game tomorrow?” he asked “wouldn't miss it” - “well, in that case, I'll need my good luck kiss, can't risk making a fool of myself” he teased. Closing the distance, you placed your lips over his, and when you went to pull away, his arm snaked around your waist, his hand finding its way into your hair.

Jarvy snapped him out of his thoughts when he said "You think Mr. Aho has time for someone? He's probably been coming up with new ideas on how to be the best in the team". Necas just raised his hands in defeat, but he was not the least bit convinced, at the back of the room Brady and Bunting looked at each other while trying to hold back their smirks.

You two have been dating for 3 months now. Sebastian was away for the last week, so the day he arrived, he asked to see you, to which you immediately agreed. What you weren't expecting was for him to formally ask you to be his girlfriend. He was the sweetest guy you've ever met, so your response was an immediate yes

Sebastian was sure you'd met everyone by now, and even when they didn't know you were officially together, they could see how much you meant for each other, especially because of the special treatment you receive from him. They knew Sebastian was a kind man, but he didn’t treat anyone else like this. So they would abstain from teasing him because you were just so good for Fishy, and they wanted him to be happy.

To say you were nervous the first time you went out with the team and their girls was an understatement, you weren't sure you were going to fit with them. The first to notice you was Jarvy, whom you could tell had already had a couple of drinks. "Oh, hey y/n, I'm glad they all invited you over." Slavin who was nearby, shook his head but immediately introduced you to his wife. After a couple of minutes of being introduced to everyone, you felt yourself starting to relax. All the girls were just as nice as the guys.

A couple of weeks later, you attended your first game with the wags, and everyone was delighted just by watching Sebastian being that happy. Some of the girls were there already, so he knew what you were going to be wearing, but the minute you entered the room with his number on your jacket, he felt himself fighting for air. He could see the blush on your face, along with that cute smile of yours, and he promised himself that he would do anything in his power to keep it there for the rest of his life.

Jarvy, entered the room at that moment and stopped for one second after he noticed you, "huh, I thought only their girls got to wear that, but you look great" he gave you a thumbs up and left the room with a bunch of snacks in his hand.

After what probably was their best game of the season, you rushed to meet Sebastian after he was ready to go home. "Hei rakkaani (hello my love), let's go home, yeah?" Sebastian said, giving a peck to your lips. You were almost outside the room when you heard a confused Jarvy say, "Wait, are they dating?"

...

5 years have passed since you started dating Sebastian, and you remember every single minute you've spent together, from the moment you saw him for the first time; when he asked you out, and you hesitated, worried that he wouldn't take you seriously or that you wouldn't be enough for him, even though he's spent this entire time showing you how much you really mean to him.

There were rough periods where those thoughts came back, like a couple of days ago you two were laying in bed, and he could feel the tension pouring down your every pore, so he said, "I don't get how you are the only person who does not see how amazing, how kind, smart and beautiful you are. I see it, the team sees it, everyone who's been lucky to meet you sees it, and still I find you doubting yourself over and over again."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to come out as ungrateful..."

"No, rakkaani. I didn't say it to make you feel bad; I'm saying it because you are my world. But I promise I'm always going to be here to reassure you, and to give you all the love you deserve"

You couldn't stop the tears running down your cheeks, or the smile breaking through your face. You swore this man couldn't make you any happier, but then he looked at you in the eye and said "Marry me, please"

...

When everyone on the team saw your ring, they couldn't help but be the happiest for you. They knew the moment they met you, that you and Fishy were perfect for each other; they've never seen him as happy as he was when you were close to him.

"What are we celebrating?" asked Jarvy. When you showed him your ring, he took your hand and said, "Oh, it is a nice ring indeed; I didn't know y'all guys were into jewelry", the group broke into a fit of laughter, and you just hoped Jarvy realized what was really going on before he got the wedding invitation

[romancingdaffodils]

Pictures and portraits

ARTIST!WILBUR U MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME I AM UR BIGGEST FAN

sort of out of character wilbur but it’s okaayyyyy

AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

they r gonna be so cute just u wait JUST U WAIT.

NAMED BY JADE !!!!!

2.1k words let’s go raahhhh

Wilbur was perched on the edge of a bench. Leaning forward, tilting his head and moving his legs, he was trying to get the perfect angle. A new painting. A gorgeous willow tree hunched over a deep green pond, the long hair like branches tickling the surface of the water. His sketch was going okay, it was the first time he had experienced true motivation in months. All was well until an oblivious passer by stopped right in front of him. He groaned, not loud enough for you to hear, but loud enough to voice his own frustration. However, what he hadn’t realised was the depth you added to his new piece. A person, who he had to admit looked very sweet, stood examining the same beauty he had seen. He was no longer angry. He began rapidly sketching, it wasn’t quite right to draw a stranger. However, he pushed that to the back of his mind; he’d go over and ask you once he’d finished this. He didn’t need to move, you simply came to him after about 20 minutes. Unaware of his plan, you strolled over the bench to check the pictures you had taken. Nodding at Wilbur, you silently asked ‘am i alright to sit here’. He nodded in return, allowing you to do whatever before he spoke. Quickly, you checked the pictures you had taken. A few had been on a disposable and the rest on your actual camera. Deleting any that weren’t from the right angle, you looked over to Wilbur as you heard him clear your throat.

“Photography?” he said, looking back at you. He gave you a small smile, but he was still trying to figure out how to ask if it was okay he had included you in his art.

“Yeah! You’re an artist?” you replied, gesturing to the pad in his hand. You returned his smile, turning your whole body to face him as you spoke.

“That’s right. Actually, you stepped in just as I was sketching. I hope you don’t mind.” Wilbur quickly turned around the pad as he spoke, revealing the sketch. It was so gorgeous. You looked beautiful, the rough pencil drawing had complimented you more than any camera. You were stood in the centre of the drawing, he had captured you at a 3/4 angle. The disposable camera was visible in your hand, and some how he had managed to enhance your feature’s charm by 1000. Not to mention the immense detail in the background, how perfectly he had captured the scene. You were in complete awe. How could one person have such talent?

“I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all, it’s gorgeous.” you continued to stare at the piece, your eyes only left to look up at Wilbur. “Oh, I don’t know your name. I’m y/n, wow. I cant believe you, like, made that. It’s so pretty, you made me so pretty.” you added, going off on a slight tangent after introducing yourself. You couldn’t help it, the sketch was just too incredible.

“I’m glad you like it.” he responded, his eyes not leaving your bewitched face. “Wilbur,” letting out a soft laugh, he looked down at the pad. He wasn’t sure what had you so hooked, but he was glad. It was good. You had made it so much better.

“Wilbur is a nice name. Are you going to paint it? Or?” you said, finally drawing your attention away from his art. You looked at him, giving him a big smile.

He couldn’t help but return the smile, looking down at you. “Thank you. Yeah, I’m going to paint it. Actually, I’d quite like to take it home. Would you mind, giving me your number or something? I can show you progress. I mean, only if you want to. Maybe so you could send me the pictures you took, so I can get the colouring right. Again, only if you want to.” he was a little proud of his cover up, he just really, really wanted your number.

You had practically started glowing as you reached down for your phone, you showed him your number. “I don’t know it off by heart, sorry.” you said, laughing slightly “And, of course I’ll send over the pictures. I’d be happy to help, you’re so talented.”

He nodded his head, in an attempt to distract himself from your constant compliments. He also retrieved his own phone from his pocket, he typed in your number and sending a quick text to check he had it right. The notification popped up and he smiled, content with successfully having your number. You had returned to admiring the art, eyes flicking between him and the sketch pad.

“You like it that much, huh?” Wil said, tilting his head as he kept looking at you. He couldn’t understand why someone liked his work so much, not that he was complaining.

“You make everything seem so irresistible. You see the world beautifully. How are you able to: capture everything through drawing it’s so incredible?” you sit back after subconsciously leaning closer to get a better look at this piece, and Wilbur. You wouldn’t admit that though.

“I’m not sure, if I’m being quite honest. I’ve been struggling for motivation recently, hated everything I painted, and sketched. So, thank you, for walking into my view because I don’t think I could ever hate this one. Even if I royally fucked it up.” he watched you move back; he sat the sketchbook back in his lap. His eyes flicked around the view he originally had, making sure everything was perfect in his sketch. You almost scream, he doesn’t hate it because you’re there. “Well, I think it’s perfect. Especially the background, you must’ve been here for hours.” you replied, looking back at your camera. Not the disposable, the professional camera you’d spent your life’s savings on. You pick out the best of the pictures and turn to show Wilbur, “How’s this?” you asked, looking over at him.

“Perfect. Thank you. Would you like to go for a walk? I need to stretch my legs. I have been here for hours.” he offered, placing all of his equipment into his bag.

“Yeah, sure.” you replied, pulling your camera over your head and the disposable into your pocket. Your phone was safely tucked in your other pocket, your phone that now had Wilbur’s number saved in it.

He stood up, then offered out his hand to help you stand. He felt a bit stupid, but kept his hand out. You took it as you stood. You looked at him, looked up at him. “Christ, you’re tall.” you laughed lightly as you spoke, shaking your head.

“I get that a lot. 6’6” he said, smiling down at you. He started to walk, his steps far bigger than your own. You picked up the pace to keep up with him, though you didn’t really mind.

“6’6, jesus christ. Sorry. You must get this all the time.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. You’re a photographer? What else do you photograph?” he responded, turning the conversation in a different direction. He craved your voice; he wanted to know you. Slowing down to match your pace, he thought about the way you had complimented his work before. Phrased so beautifully. So genuine. It brought a soft smile to his face.

“I, I work for the newspaper. I go round, and I take pictures whenever I’m wanted. Sometimes I do photoshoots for others - like weddings and stuff, they pay decently. But, I like to take pictures of things I think are pretty. Let me know if you ever want a photoshoot done.” you said, smiling back up at him. Anyone would’ve thought you were a couple, everything felt so natural. You had a feeling Wil would be one of those people you instantly clicked with and would never ever let go. To be honest, from the forty minutes of knowing him, you didn’t want to let go. You’d put across a bit of light flirting, where was the harm. You were semi sure he wouldn’t confront you about it, you were wrong.

“So you think I’m pretty, y/n?” he quipped, his smile had turned into a smirk. He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for your response.

“Um, uh. I-“ you started, quickly being cut off by his soft laughter. “You’re a cunt!” you complained, this caused him keel over with laughter as he kept walking. He shook his head.

“Y’face was a picture. Maybe I’ll paint it.” he joked, turning back to you after his fit of laughter. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re quite pretty too.” he added, eyes boring into the side of your skull.

You were sure you could die in that moment.

“Do you sell your artwork?” you asked, trying to deter the conversation away from the situation. He smiled; he knew exactly what you were doing, but decided he’d go along with it.

“Yeah, I have a little group I’m in. We set up exhibitions, and sell our art. It’s more like a club, we meet up every Wednesday to share our current artwork.” he said, tearing his eyes away from you and looking ahead. He’d probably crash into something if he stared for too long.

“That’s a really cool idea. You make much money?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, I’m kidding. Depends who’s buying, sometimes we bring in a lot. Sometimes we don’t.”

You nodded as he spoke, you understood that. You continued to walk down the gravel path through the park, talking about anything that came to mind. You dreaded the walk coming to an end.

It had been two hours since you met Wilbur, and you were developing the largest crush you’d had since seeing Damon Albarn in the 90s. Your worst fear became a reality, the walk ended. You were stood at the gate to the park, a foot between you. Wil smiled. You smiled.

“It was lovely to meet you, y/n. Can I see you again, tomorrow maybe?” he asked, covering his nerves the best he could. You didn’t notice the way he brushed his knuckles against the palm of his hand. You did notice the little shake in his voice.

“I’d love that. Where do you want to go?” you questioned further, a permanent smile plastered on your face.

“There’s a lovely cafe, not too far away from here. I’ll message you the address. But, is 3 good with you?”

“3 is perfect. I can’t wait.” you said, still beaming up at him. He couldn’t help but return it.

“You’re going to ruin me.” he mumbled to himself, you barely heard it. You tilted your head, obviously confused. He then spoke again, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Bye y/n.”

“Bye Wilbur.”

Neither of you moved, this caused a cacophony of laughter. You pointed and said, “I’m going that way.”

“Let me walk you home.” he replied, he decided he should’ve offered that in the first place.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. You don’t have t-“ you were cut off by him beginning to walk the way you had pointed. You ran a bit to catch up to him, shaking your head. “Rude.” you said, looking up at him.

“Sorry, dove, I won’t walk you home next time. Let you get eaten by a cannibal?” he responded, placing his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah? Where’s this cannibal? I’ll fight him off myself.”

“He’s right next to you.” he said, sarcastically.

You feigned shock and placed the back of your hand to your forehead, gasping. “Noo! Please!!!! Don’t eat me?! Where’s my knight in shining armour?! I am but a fair maiden in need of rescue!”

He laughed, you laughed.

“I lied. I won’t eat you. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I’ll be on the look out for being eaten though.”

“Probably for the best.” he said, watching as you turned a corner. He was walking on the outside of the pavement, closest to the road. He felt like a gentleman.

“I hope you’re not going to stalk me now you know where I live.” you said, jokingly. You were admiring him and it was a little obvious, you didn’t mind though.

“No promises.” he joked back, readjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Do you even live anywhere near here?” you asked, turning another corner as you spoke.

“Yeah, not too far.” he wasn’t lying but he wasn’t exactly telling the truth either, it was about a 40 minute walk from where you were walking now. Fortunately, you had made it to your building.

“This is me.” you said, looking up at him as you stood on the step.

“Flat?”

“Yeah. Everything’s way expensive here.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow. Good bye y/n.”

“Good bye Wilbur.” you said, waving him off. He waved back before strolling away. You sprinted up to your flat and immediately collapsed on the couch, screaming into a pillow. You had never been so happy.

[haknom]

A COMPLETE GUIDE TO DANCE (AND DEFINITELY NOT LOVE) — NISHIMURA RIKI (TEASER)

SYNOPSIS: Niki felt his world crumble after hearing his doctor’s words—he wouldn’t be able to compete in his biggest dance competition. After an incident that left him injured with the need of 4 months to recover, life was considered terrible. When he receives the news that you, a newcomer, would be taking his spot he knew he had lots to teach you. Starting with putting you in your place.

PAIRING: dancer!niki x dancer-fem!reader (ft. soobin from txt, mentions of dino (chan) from svt and jisung from nct dream)

GENRES: highschool au, dance au, (kinda) enemies to lovers, unrequited love, romance, some angst, and lots of humour.

WARNINGS: mentions of injuries, niki is quite mean at the beginning, soobin placed u on the spot (😭)

WORDCOUNT: 751 words (est. 14k).

TAGLIST (it’s closed): @soov @redm4ri @ox1-lovesick @urszn @feeeli @taejays @hanniluvi @dakkisz @dimplewonie @ddeonudepressions @xiaoderrrr @ja4hyvn @mmaplepastries @essmarye @w3bqrl @jennaissantes @yenqa @yeokii @yyunari @wvnkoi @flwrshee

wanna read the full fic? click here!

Riki packed away his container into his backpack, unaware of Soobin’s tall figure approaching him. “Riki!” He called from a few steps away from him. He looked up at the sound of his voice, flinching once he noticed Soobin standing right in front of him. 

“Yes, coach?” He asked. “So, I understand you won’t be able to participate in the final competition…” Soobin started as Riki’s eyes lit up. “Oh, about that. My doctor informed me that if I rest a lot my ankle may heal in 3 and a half months instead.” He said, causing Soobin to ‘ah’ in understanding. 

“But either way would you be ready in time?” He asked the boy who sat before. Riki pondered for a moment. He wanted to say yes but if he was being honest, he didn’t want to perform.

With his injury holding him back, all his team members would improve their dancing to perfection while his would look sloppier than ever. He would be behind.

“I wouldn’t,” he said with a frown. Soobin gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. The way he felt was understandable. Once known as one of the team’s best dancers and ended up as the ‘worst’ in a blink. 

“That’s okay.” Soobin reassured him, feeling even more terrible. He wasn’t sure if he should still tell him about the news or keep it to himself. “But enough of that. What is it that you wanted to say?” He asked as Soobin hesitated. 

“I mean, you seemed like you had something to tell me when you first arrived in front of me.” Riki said as Soobin shook his head. “Well, since you’re incapable of performing…I was thinking of having someone take your spot,” he started as Riki nodded. “Yeah I was thinking that was going to happen. I was thinking of someone like—”

“Y/N.” 

“—Chan or Jisung—what?!” He exclaimed at his words. It’s not like he didn’t know who you were, it was only because of how long you’ve been on the team.

“Why her? There’s way more capable people on our team who have been here way longer than she has. Are you even sure she has enough potential and is prepared?” He asked, leaving Soobin quite offended by his choice of words.

“First off, be nice. Second, you guys are practically the same people. Your talents are similar and your desires to complete tasks perfectly are the exact same.” He said, Riki’s face contorted in discomfort.

“Although she’s only been on our team for a month or two, she was still able to show her true skills and determination which is why I think she deserves to be qualified for something like this.” Soobin finished his sentence. What nonsense was he even talking about?

Riki couldn’t argue back. Soobin was his coach and whatever he had ready to say back wasn’t anything nice. “Okay,” he mumbled, “Go ahead, it doesn’t bother me.” He said in a convincing unbothered tone.

That was a lie.

It bothered him a lot. It felt like he wasn't being appreciated for his skills. Yes, he was jealous. How could he not be after losing his biggest opportunity to someone he wasn’t even acquainted with? 

If it was given to someone he knew or had incredible talent that he had seen before, that wouldn’t have bothered him as much as you did. 

Soobin smiled and nodded while clasping his hands together. His actions infuriated Riki even more but he held back his anger and watched Soobin walk off to gather the group of dancers in silence. 

“So, as you all may know, one of our dancers is terribly injured and won’t be able to participate in the final performance.” Soobin said as they all nodded with frowns displayed on their faces. “No worries! Riki and I had come to an agreement that someone else will replace his spot in the competition. Y/N, congrats!” He cheered while clapping, alone.

Everyone gasped, eyes wide as they hastily looked over at Riki who seemed more furious than ever. You, on the other hand, stood in confusion. Who was Riki and why were you chosen to take his spot? 

Suddenly all eyes were on you, some shocked, scared, and confused but one face in particular caught your attention. He didn’t show a physical reaction to Soobin’s words. Instead his eyes showed it all. It carried many emotions, specifically sadness, jealousy, and most of all, anger. 

What trouble did Soobin put you through now?

© haknom 2023 - do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work on other platforms!

[lesbians4kurt]

when you know, you know

happy holidays, @luckynumber4 @ronald-speirs @lena-basilone idk which one to tag :3 i was ur secret santa, here to feed u sledgefu!!!!!! i hope u like it :D

word count: 13.4k

summary: Eugene, a burnt-out Ph.D. candidate, finds himself carpooling with Snafu, a complete stranger, on their way to Burgie's wedding.

The humid evening air of May had long since swept over Auburn as Eugene pages through countless notes, the sound of rustling paper permeating his apartment. It’s month three of researching for his Ph.D. dissertation, and although he knows this is only the beginning, that in a year he’ll most likely still be working on it, he’s already experiencing all the warning signs of burnout. He’s managed these past few months to follow the strict schedule he’d created, keeping himself fully on track with every scrap of discipline he possesses, but an itching restlessness had begun burrowing itself in the back of his brain last week, and his concentration has been off ever since. He needs to find a new angle, take a little break, and approach the daunting process with new eyes. He just needs to hold out for another week: Burgie’s wedding. 

Burgie is a close friend from Eugene’s undergrad days, they had even shared an apartment for a few semesters. They meet up every few months for a drink and catch up, texting every other week or so. Eugene wishes they could meet more frequently, but he hardly has time to see his family, let alone friends. Burgie had gotten engaged about a year ago, and Eugene is looking forward to his upcoming wedding as a chance to wind down. He’s happy for Burgie too, of course; no one deserves happiness as much as him, the most kindhearted person Eugene knows. 

Eugene closes his eyes and sighs. He can’t stay focused at all. He just needs to hang on to his last thread of motivation for a little longer, but every task seems impossible. He sits back in his chair and rubs a hand across his face, figuring he’d close his eyes for a moment before continuing. Maybe he’d take a break for a snack in a minute, drink some water, turn on a meditation… 

Bzzz. 

Eugene jolts awake 40 minutes later, curled up in his chair, back stiff. He silently thanks whoever is texting him. That was stupid, if he had kept sleeping he might not have woken up until his morning alarm. He almost drops his phone trying to unlock it and squints his tired eyes as he tries to read the screen. Weirdly, the text is from Burgie. It’s well past midnight and Eugene has never known him to stay up so late. If it was someone else, he might ignore the text, but he decides to open it.

Hey, call me when you see this.

Oh? Eugene’s skin prickles with worry and he immediately presses the call button. 

Burgie spares Eugene’s nerves by picking up immediately. “Hello?”

“Hey, what did you need?” Eugene asks, hoping nothing has gone wrong with the wedding.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.” Burgie’s cadence is upbeat, melting away the icy worry that had frozen over Eugene’s chest.

“Sure, anything,”

“Okay, so, one of my best friends lives in New Orleans, and his car gave out on him a few days ago. I was wondering if you could pick him up on your way here. I assume you’re driving?” 

Burgie’s right, he would be driving. Eugene has had an extreme phobia of airplanes ever since childhood, making the numerous family vacations he went on a humiliating ordeal. He would get sick or start hyperventilating a few minutes after take-off like clockwork. Logically, he knows he’s safe, but fear isn’t logical. The combination of heights and confined space is just too much for him to handle. Despite his phobia, his mother insists on going on trips that require a plane ride and is offended that he refuses to go on these vacations in adulthood.

“Yeah, I’ll be driving,” Eugene half chuckles before getting more serious. “So, who is he?”

“His name’s Snafu. Well, it’s Merriell Shelton, but we all called him Snafu, anyway,” Burgie says, a fondness so strong taking over his voice that Eugene can recognize it even over the phone. “He can’t really afford a plane ticket. I know it’s probably out of your way, but it would mean a lot to me if you could drive him.”

Eugene has to keep himself from sighing. He knows this detour will add about an hour or so to his drive, and he’ll have to drive over eight hours from New Orleans to Fort Worth with some guy he doesn’t even know. What will they talk about? Will it be awkward silence all the way? Will he have to drive him back too?

“Of course, Burgie. I’ll drive him for you,” Eugene ends up saying before thinking about it any further. The favor is simple, really, and he wouldn’t want Burgie to be missing one of his best friends at his own wedding. Plus, Burgie has been an amazing friend to Eugene, never giving up on him no matter how busy he is and never letting things become awkward between them. 

“Thanks, Eugene! Really, thank you.” Burgie sounds elated, putting a soft smile on Eugene’s face. “I can’t wait to see you. We’ve barely talked since you started your dissertation research.”

“I’ve barely talked to my own mother since I started,” Eugene jokes. “And you know how she is about phone calls.”

Burgie laughs and Eugene is reminded of how much he misses just talking to him.

They chat for a few more minutes before Burgie decides he needs to get to bed. After hanging up the phone, Eugene stretches before standing up and pacing for a few minutes. That short nap and talking to Burgie rejuvenated him, and despite it being past one in the morning, he decides he has enough energy to continue working for another hour before going to sleep. He pours himself a glass of water and grabs a few crackers before sitting back down at his desk, resuming. 

The next few days pass similarly: Eugene eats every meal at his desk as he researches and researches and researches, staying up late every night. He leaves his apartment every morning to meet with his professors or attend a class, but otherwise, he spends every waking moment on his research, his newfound motivation from the phone call sticking to him. He’s almost disappointed now that he’ll be leaving for the wedding soon as it will interrupt his productivity, but he reminds himself that upon his return he’ll probably be even more inspired. 

Four days before the wedding, Eugene realizes he hasn’t bought gifts yet and spends six frantic hours online shopping. If there’s one thing he’ll be eternally bad at it’s picking out gifts; he spends hours overthinking every purchase only to feel the gift he chooses is shallow and impersonal. Of course, this time proves no different. He buys Burgie and his bride-to-be, Florence, a set of matching watches and a bottle of champagne. He knows people normally buy small kitchen appliances or home decor, but he eats TV dinners every night and the white walls of his apartment are blank, so he’s not very experienced in either of those departments. Plus, he has no idea what they already own or what they might need. As he plugs in his credit card information and confirms his purchase, he sighs and thanks God for two-day shipping. He lays awake in bed that night wondering if his gift properly conveys his love and appreciation for Burgie, and frets about it until the early hours of the morning before deciding to write a heartfelt card for good measure, drifting off to sleep. 

The following night, Eugene finds himself increasingly curious about this Snafu character he’ll be driving with for eight hours. Merriell “Snafu” Shelton, huh? He bites his lip as he opens his computer, quickly googling the name. The only relevant result is from one of those sketchy phonebook websites, and he immediately feels stupid and guilty. But not guilty enough to stop him from stalking Burgie’s Facebook for any signs of the guy. Again he finds nothing, and the wave of shame hits him again. He should be working anyway, but his curiosity is slowly morphing into anxiety and he really wishes he had asked Burgie a few more questions. He calms himself by rationalizing: Burgie wouldn’t be friends with some insane weirdo. Everything will be fine. He closes the tabs he was using for stalking and continues his work.

Two days before the wedding is the day Eugene decides to depart. He knows his mother will be upset if she finds out that he drove right through Mobile without stopping by, so he’ll visit his parents first and spend the night there. Tomorrow he’ll leave Mobile, drive two hours to New Orleans, and then drive eight hours to Fort Worth, so he better be well rested. He spends his morning and early afternoon packing up a suitcase and waiting for his parcels to arrive in the mail, practically jumping the postman when he rounds the corner. He wraps them carefully in gold paper before placing them in a gift bag, then struggles to write a heartfelt card for about 40 minutes. He’s ready to leave the house at 3 PM and packs the gifts into his backseat, perhaps being overly cautious when he buckles the bag in with the seatbelt. As he sits down in the driver’s seat, he thinks he should probably call his mother to let her know he’s coming. He quickly shakes this thought out of his head, knowing that any phone conversation with her gets strung out for several hours and ends with him nearly tearing his hair out with stress and annoyance. Instead, he shoots his father a text as a warning and puts his phone on silent in case his mother ends up calling him in response before starting his car and taking off. He’s the type of driver others get angry being behind, the type people assume are old ladies and scream at angrily as they pass. He likes to say he’s meticulous and cautious, but any passenger he’s ever had groans at his slow pace. It occurs to him that Snafu will probably complain about it too, and the thought somehow embarrasses him even though he hasn’t even met Snafu yet.

He arrives in Mobile four hours later, mentally preparing himself to face his parents as he pulls into the driveway. The house of his childhood stands before him in all its grandeur. It’s an old manor house built in the 1800s, with the rest of Mobile slowly rising around it. It stands only one story high, but to Eugene, it’s always been an imposing structure that never quite felt like home. There’s no denying it’s a beautiful house; tall willow trees frame the wraparound porch and its accompanying Greek revival-style pillars, and large flowerbeds color the ground below. A large, freshly mowed yard stands between Eugene and the front door. He takes a deep, shaky breath before taking the first steps. He never likes visiting here, everything is so suffocating.

As he approaches the large, mahogany door he has the same debate with himself he always does when he comes here. Does he knock or just walk in? The further removed he becomes from living here the more the answer to that question becomes knock, but his mother always makes a comment about him knocking, about how this is his home. Regardless, he decides to knock and waits anxiously as he hears rushed footsteps approach the door. It swings open aggressively and there his mother is, a huge smile splitting her face in two, every tooth on display. Before he can even tell himself to smile back, she pulls him into a tight embrace. He drops his bag to the floor before awkwardly wrapping his arms around her and squeezing his eyes shut. It begins.

“I’m just so happy to see you, Eugene,” she gasps into his ear, and for a moment he’s scared she’s going to cry. She pulls away from him and brings her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“I missed you too, Mom,” Eugene says sheepishly. It’s not that he doesn’t. She can just… be too much. Too hot and cold.

She rubs his arms a few times before taking his hand and leading him through the door. “Well, let’s get you inside. You look exhausted. I can tell you haven’t been eating properly, Eugene. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

He doesn’t reply and merely lets himself be dragged inside, resigning himself to his fate. She’d probably make him eat three meals worth of food now. 

“You didn’t have to knock, Eugene. You’ve come home,” she says, clasping his hand a little tighter as she speaks, leading him through the hall. 

Eugene suppresses an eye roll in response. Of course, that comment. It’s like clockwork.

She stops once they enter the dining room where his father is seated at the head, reading a newspaper as he waits for dinner. A genuine smile softens Eugene’s face when he sees him.

His father puts down the newspaper. “Hey, Fritz!” he says, standing and making his way up to Eugene to properly greet him. Fritz is an old nickname from when Eugene was a little boy. He’s not sure where it came from, or when it started, but his father has affectionately called him that for as long as he can remember.

“Hey, Dad,” Eugene says softly, pulling his father into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, son.”

They hold the hug for a good minute, just swaying back and forth with the occasional pat on the back. If this house isn’t home, his father’s embrace is. He’s filled with a sense of comfort and ends the hug with the strength he needs to get through the rest of the visit.

“Dinner’s just about ready, Eugene. Have a seat and I’ll be out with it in a minute,” Mary Frank says, rubbing his arm again before walking off toward the kitchen.

Eugene turns to his father, who holds out a hand toward the table. They both take a seat, Eugene to his father’s left, the same place he always sat as a boy. His mother will sit across from him to his father’s right. The table is already set and Eugene feels a little bad that he interrupted their dinner preparations, or that he didn’t arrive early enough to help. 

“So, Fritz,” his father begins. “How’s the research?”

“It’s been… overwhelming,” Eugene replies earnestly. “I enjoy it and everything but… The fact that it’s been three months and I’ve barely even started…”

“I know, it’s a long road ahead of you. I remember those days myself.” His father reaches out and places a reassuring hand on Eugene’s own. “I know you’ll make it through. Just keep persevering.”

Eugene’s soft smile from earlier returns as his eyes almost glaze over with tears. He hadn’t realized, but he’d needed to hear those words. Especially from his father. To feel like someone was proud of him.

The moment is gone when his mother returns, placing a shepherd's pie in the middle of the table. “I wish I’d known you were coming earlier, I would’ve cooked more,” she says. “We need to fatten you back up. Remember when your brother first lived on his own? He didn’t eat right and almost landed himself in the hospital!” She’s exaggerating. Sure, Eddie hadn’t been eating properly, but he just felt lethargic and lightheaded. He hadn’t even gone to the doctor, let alone the hospital.

“Mom, I’ve lived on my own for the good part of a decade now,” Eugene deadpans, pushing his food around with his fork.

“Has it really been that long? And still no girlfriend?”

Oh. Now she’d struck a chord.

“Mom,” Eugene says firmly. “We talked about this.”

She doesn’t look up at him, merely takes a bite of her dinner as she answers, “Well, I haven’t accepted it.”

“Now, Mary Frank–” his father begins.

Eugene all but throws his fork down on his plate. “I’m gay,” he seethes out through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, do you have to make an argument out of everything, Eugene?!” She slams a hand on the table, making her plate clatter in its place. “Am I not allowed to hope for your happiness?”

“But you’re not! And you started it!” Eugene can feel his face flushing as his hands clench painfully into fists. “I…” He makes brief eye contact with his father and wills himself to calm down, knowing this isn’t worth it. She’ll never understand. She doesn’t want to. “I can’t… I’m gonna go out to Deacon’s spot.”

Eugene wipes his mouth with a napkin and has to force himself not to throw it down on the table. As he stands, his mother calls out to him to finish eating, but he ignores her as he makes his way out the back door. He shuts the door behind him and takes a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the evening air. The sun is setting, painting the sky a beautiful pink, and he can smell the bay in the breeze. Even if he doesn’t miss this house, he does miss Mobile. The flatlands and plains of northern Alabama just don’t hold the same charm as the gulf. He turns his gaze from the sky to a group of willow trees across the expanse of the backyard and begins walking toward them. As he approaches, a small bench comes into view, along with a sizable rock that protrudes from the ground: Deacon’s grave.

Deacon was Eugene’s childhood dog, a birthday present from his father the day he turned nine. He was the best dog anyone could have asked for. He slept in Eugene’s bed, comforted him when he was sad, and followed along when he went on bike rides. Leaving him behind when he went to college was one of the hardest things Eugene’s ever had to do, no matter how silly that sounds. Deacon was hit by a car two months into that first semester and Eugene was devastated, not leaving his dorm for anything but class. Burgie spent weeks trying to cheer him up enough to go out and have fun again. Eugene went home a few weekends later, and by then his father had buried Deacon under the willow trees. He spent nearly the entire visit just sitting at the grave. The next time he visited, his father had placed a bench there. Eugene’s never thanked him for it, an unspoken favor with unspoken gratefulness. 

“Hello, boy, it’s me,” Eugene whispers to the ground at his feet. He sits on his haunches for a moment, stroking the grass in front of the stone with a hesitant hand, before sitting on the bench. He lets silence overtake him and tries not to think of the argument at the table. He wishes he hadn’t risen to his mother’s comment. He wishes she hadn’t said anything at all. He wishes he never came. Guilt burns in his chest for admitting that thought, but he knows it’s true. Everything will be fine. He can go to bed early, and tomorrow he’ll be on his way. It’s fine.

Too soon, Eugene hears the back door swing open and footsteps approaching. When he looks up, he sees his father, and his shoulders drop a little. Small mercies. 

“Fritz… Eugene, I’m sorry for what your mother said back there,” he says, sitting down beside his son. “I just spoke to her, and–”

“It’s okay, Dad,” mutters Eugene. “I know how she feels. It’s never going to change, no matter how many talks you have with her.”

“I’m not sure that’s fair, son. She’s making progress–”

“No,” he interrupts. “No, Dad. It’s been years. I don’t want any excuses anymore. All I want... All I want is for her to just love me. Love me without all these conditions.” Eugene’s voice cracks a bit on the last sentence, and his eyes lock on Deacon’s grave, not daring to look at his father in case the tears in his eyes are obvious.

They sit in silence. Eugene hears his father’s mouth open a few times as though to speak, but it closes again after a few seconds each time. Ultimately, he places a hand on Eugene’s shoulder in comfort, and they just sit in each other’s presence for a few moments. Eugene feels numb. The tears have gone from his eyes and an empty cavity opens in his chest like quicksand. His father couldn’t deny anything. A small part of him, an inch of his being, had hoped that he’d been wrong, that he’d just been misunderstanding his mother, that she loves him fully and has his best interest at heart, just with a funny way of showing it. But no, he was right all along, and this silence is all the proof he needs. 

As the silence sinks into awkwardness, his father squeezes his shoulder and stands up from the bench. “Give me a minute, I’ll be back with a check for you.”

“Dad, that’s really not necessary. I–”

“Just let me do this.” His father turns away without another word, walking back toward the house.

If there’s one thing Eugene dislikes about his father, it’s his generosity. His parents are paying what scholarships and grants don’t cover for his education, and his father insists on paying half the rent for his apartment. Eugene has tried to tell them that between his stipend, tutoring, and being a teaching and research assistant, he can pay his own way now, but they refuse to listen, especially his father. He’s a grown man, and it makes it uncomfortable to think he’s still dependent on his parents. 

His father returns in a few minutes, check in hand, and Eugene reluctantly accepts it but makes a mental note to shred it without depositing it later. He doesn’t want to take any more of his father’s money. Afterward, they say a tense goodnight, and Eugene finds himself staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. It’s early, only around 9 PM, and he feels restless, especially in this environment. The room is mostly barren, picked apart over the years. All the books on the shelf had been donated or taken to his apartment, all his old clothes given away, and some of his furniture sold in a yard sale. The room he used to spend all day in couldn’t make him more uncomfortable. 

Eugene tries to concentrate on falling asleep, knowing he has a long day ahead of him. He tosses and turns for what seems like hours before his thoughts land on Snafu. Oh, yeah. He almost forgot he’s supposed to pick him up tomorrow. Will they get along? Being trapped in a confined space with someone you can’t stand for eight hours seems grim, so he hopes for the best. What does he look like? What did he get Burgie as a gift? Will it make Eugene’s gift look stupid? These thoughts carry him to sleep.

Eugene’s mother wakes him the next morning, opening the bedroom door and calling out his name. He sits up and rubs his eyes before making sleepy eye contact with her. She gives him a weak smile before walking away. He groggily pries himself out of bed before getting ready for the day. It’s early, just past 6 AM, meaning he’d slept for maybe eight hours after all of that tossing and turning. He can’t fathom how his mother wakes up this early every day. She’s always had this habit for as long as he can remember, waking up with the sun and making breakfast. He can smell it now, the savory scent of eggs frying as he dresses himself. The thought of sitting down to eat with his mother is daunting after the events of the previous night, but he figures if she’s dead set on pretending nothing is wrong, he can play along.

Eugene greets his mother as he sits down for a breakfast of over-easy eggs and cheesy grits. It’s one of his favorites, and he figures maybe this is her way of apologizing. He’s grateful for the food, of course, but he has no appetite. Regardless, he takes a bite, determined to avoid giving the impression that he’s still upset. The two eat in silence until his father enters the room, sitting down at the table and pouring himself a mug of coffee. 

“Good morning,” his father greets, and the two murmur replies between bites of food. “Eugene, you mentioned in your text you’re headed to a wedding today?”

“Yeah, my friend Burgie’s wedding. From college,” says Eugene, staring down at his food. “He lives in Fort Worth, so it’s quite a ways.”

“Why didn’t you fly? It would’ve saved you some trouble,” his mother chimes in. She’s entirely serious and Eugene once again has to battle an eye roll.

“I’m terrified of flying, Mom,” he says flatly, taking a brief moment to close his eyes and quell the rising anger in his chest.

“You need to get over that childish fear, Eugene,” she almost snorts. “It’s a plane ride, not skydiving.”

“I felt like a drive,” asserts Eugene loudly. He bites back the argument that’s attempting to claw its way out of his throat and goes back to eating.

“Alright,” is all his mother says in reply, and the three of them lapse back into a silence that continues for the rest of the meal.

When 7 AM rolls around, Eugene decides it’s time for him to leave and is filled with relief. He can’t stand the stuffy atmosphere of this house for much longer. Even the idea of being in a car with a total stranger is more appealing than spending even one more minute in his mother’s company. He gathers his things and meets his parents at the door, bag in hand.

“Well, I’ll be off,” he says, discomfort clear in his voice. 

His father hugs him first. “I love you, son. See you soon.”

Eugene leans into the hug, calmed slightly by the embrace. “I love you too, Dad.”

Eventually, they separate, and Eugene is forced to face his mother, whose eyes appear to be filling with tears. She hugs him abruptly, sobbing into his shoulder, and he’s left frozen in place.

“Come visit more often, Eugene. Please,” she whispers, a fist full of Eugene’s shirt, squeezing him so hard it hurts. “I love you.”

He’s not sure how to react and merely rubs her back, forcing out a numb, “I love you too.”

They say their final goodbyes, Eugene’s mother still sobbing, now in his father’s arms. He gives them a wave and steps outside, quickly shutting the door behind him. His stress is immediately alleviated after leaving his mother’s presence, and he is left with a bittersweet longing for human connection. For someone who will understand. He finds solace, however, in the bright morning sky as he steps back across that large yard, toward his car. Time to get this shit done.

Eugene opens his texts from Burgie and plugs Snafu’s address into the GPS on his phone. Once he begins, he can fully concentrate on driving, still at his cautious snail’s pace. Focusing on the road and the directions keeps him from thinking about the visit with his parents, his mother’s crying face, and how the two of them will never understand each other. Well, maybe he thinks about it a little and has to shake the thought from his head, but he mostly focuses on driving. 

The drive goes smoothly, except for when Eugene struggles to stave off a panic attack crossing over Lake Ponchartrain. He hates driving over any body of water, let alone on the five-and-a-half-mile-long, 30-foot-high Twin Span Bridge. He pants for air as he inches forward toward the high-rise section, cars beeping behind him. His sweaty palms clench the steering wheel tightly as the road elevates beneath him, gritting his teeth. Once he’s over the hump, he breathes a sigh of relief and feels a bit better about the remainder of the bridge. He drives on smoothly but wishes the water would stop reflecting the sun into his eyes. At least he wasn’t forced to go over the Causeway. He considers that bridge a deathtrap and has always avoided taking any route that includes the nearly 24-mile-long monstrosity.  

Once Eugene is past the bridge, he continues down I-10. He’s officially in New Orleans East. Slowly, the area around the road transforms from unkempt trees and shrubs to a neighborhood. Duplexes with chainlink fences roll by, some surrounded by empty lots. The area had clearly never fully recovered from Katrina all those years ago, as Eugene remembers taking a day trip to an amusement park that was in the area as a child. The GPS announces that he’s arriving at his destination on the right, and he pulls into the driveway. The house is identical to many others he’s passed by, with white panels that could use cleaning and a porch covered in chipping paint. A lump of anxiety rises in his throat, which he swallows with guilt. How childish to judge someone he doesn’t know based on where they live. He double-checks his text message from Burgie to confirm that this is indeed the correct house and to find out which apartment in the duplex is Snafu’s. Knocking on the wrong door would embarrass Eugene so thoroughly that he might never recover, so it’s worth it to be sure.

After quelling his anxiety with a few deep breaths, Eugene steps out of his car and heads up the stairs of the porch, cringing as the steps creak loudly under his feet. He stands in front of Snafu’s door motionless for a second, gathering courage, before knocking. He waits and waits, ninety seconds passing with no response. He battles with himself internally on whether or not it’s too soon to knock again before deciding he has to as there’s been no noise from inside. He thumps the door louder and longer the second time around, hoping that doesn’t come off as rude. There’s no response again and Eugene begins to doubt himself. Maybe he had read the address wrong or the apartment number, or maybe he hadn’t been loud enough. Just as he raises a fist to knock again the door flies open and he jumps back, heart racing. 

The man at the door is approximately Eugene’s age, a few inches shorter with dark, curly hair. His eyes are squinted and his face is puffy, and his tan skin is on full display as he’s shirtless. Eugene’s knocking must have woken him from a deep sleep. He blinks slowly a few times before grumbling out, “Who the fuck are you?”

Eugene shuts his mouth, which had been left agape, and straightens himself out. “Um, I’m Eugene Sledge, Burgie’s friend. You’re Snafu, right? I’m here to pick you up.” He reaches out to shake hands but avoids eye contact. In fact, he avoids looking at the shirtless man altogether and feels his cheeks burning a dusty pink. He hopes he doesn’t seem like an idiot. God, why does he always have to make a fool of himself around attractive people?

Snafu looks down at Eugene’s outstretched hand for a moment but ignores it, instead replying, “Yeah, that’s me.” 

Eugene stands in silence for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets clumsily when he realizes his handshake has been rejected. Still staring at a spot behind Snafu, he waits for him to continue speaking. He doesn’t, and Eugene's skin crawls with discomfort. He clears his throat and makes accidental eye contact with Snafu, whose eyes are now wide, gazing directly at Eugene’s face with a smirk. Eugene’s mouth goes dry under that gaze, those piercing blue eyes making him feel small. He’s not sure whether Snafu’s smirk is playful or cruel, but either way, he’s sure the intention is to make him uncomfortable.

“Um, did Burgie not tell you I was coming?” Eugene finally says, licking his dry lips, not looking away from Snafu’s eyes. He feels trapped in the eye contact, almost hypnotized. 

“He did, I’m jus’ surprised you’re here so early,” Snafu replies. His smirk dissipates as he lets out a catlike yawn, fully exposing his angular jaw. 

Eugene swallows hard, finally looking away from Snafu’s face. “Well, um, long drive ahead of us,” he says. “Burgie wants to get together for dinner tonight anyway, so we should get going.”

“Okay.”

Before Eugene can even contemplate a reply, Snafu slams the door in his face. Not sure what to do, he reaches for the doorknob before realizing that’s probably a bad idea; he can’t just walk into the guy’s house. He hears a faint rummaging from inside and slowly presses an ear to the door, curiosity getting the better of him. Snafu must be packing up, and by the sound of it, he’s in a hurry, smashing things about. After a minute or two, the noise dissipates, and hasty footsteps take its place. Eugene jerks away from the door, nearly taking one too many steps backward and falling down the stairs behind him. As he regains his footing, the front door swings open, and he pretends to be examining one of the porch columns intently.

Snafu emerges, fully clothed now with a duffle bag over his shoulder, and raises an eyebrow as though Eugene is the crazy one. “Let’s fuckin’ go. I thought you were in a hurry or whatever,” he says, pushing past Eugene toward the car.

Eugene stares at his back, confounded at Snafu’s audacity. As he follows behind, he realizes this drive might be even worse than he realized. Out of every possibility he had considered, he never imagined Snafu being this rude. Or attractive, but mostly the rude part.

“Where should I put my stuff?” Snafu asks once Eugene reaches the car, waving his duffle bag in front of him. 

“Just a second,” Eugene says. “Let me pop the trunk.” He feels Snafu’s gaze on the back of his neck as he unlocks the door. He feels awkward like a kid having to read aloud in class. Can’t this guy look at anything else?

Snafu snorts. “You were standin’ a few yards away from your car the whole time an’ you still locked the door?”

Eugene just lets out a shaky fake laugh, not sure what to say. He’s an anxious person who locks his car when he pumps gas. He presses a button and hears the trunk pop before getting up out of the car.

“Typical,” says Snafu under his breath, and Eugene can hear the smirk on his lips. It’s like Snafu’s provoking him, but Eugene has no idea why. Maybe just to be an asshole.

Eugene helps him find a spot in the trunk for the duffle bag, having to shove aside his own giant suitcase. Once they finish, they get settled in the car, Eugene in the driver’s seat and Snafu sitting shotgun. As Eugene buckles in, he realizes Snafu didn’t seem to have a gift with him, unless it was in the duffle bag. Maybe he just got them a gift card. What if Burgie asked for no gifts and Eugene just forgot? The anxiety surrounding gift-giving consumes him for a second, and he even considers asking Snafu about it before reconsidering.  He discreetly turns to look at Snafu, who’s staring blankly ahead as he bites his thumbnail. Eugene shakes his head with a sigh, starting the car and the GPS route. Forget that notion he had about Burgie not being friends with any insane weirdos, there’s one in the seat right next to him.

Eugene backs out of the driveway and they begin the long drive to Fort Worth, the car filled with an awkward silence. After Snafu’s behavior at the house, Eugene hadn’t anticipated him keeping his mouth shut like this. The silence is crushing and unbearable and Eugene is almost tempted to start some small talk, but then figures that it might be for the best that they stay quiet. Snafu is off-putting and Eugene can’t read him at all, has no idea how to respond to him. Yeah, silence is best.

Around ten minutes into the drive, Eugene sees Snafu move in his peripheral vision, and the car radio begins playing. Snafu flips through the stations before landing on 90.7 and turning it up. The smooth beats of an RnB song fill the air and Snafu slumps in his seat.

“Hey,” snaps Eugene, glancing repeatedly from the road to Snafu. “I don’t like listening to the radio when I drive. It’s distracting.”

“I’ll turn it down real quiet,” Snafu says, hand already reaching for the dial.

“No, this is my car.” Eugene reaches over and turns the radio off himself, bumping Snafu’s hand out of the way. He can take some rudeness and maintain cordiality, but distracting him while driving is where Eugene draws the line. 

“Jesus, then, okay.”

They lapse into silence again, and, if he didn’t know any better, Eugene would say Snafu is pouting. He pulls his legs on the seat with him, hugging them with one arm, the other propping his head up as he stares intently out the window. As Eugene peeks at him, he realizes in horror that Snafu has taken off his shoes, but decides not to say anything. As long as he’s not being distracting, it doesn’t matter. Eugene just needs to get through this drive, then he can come up with some excuse later as to why he can’t drive Snafu back. Maybe he’ll say his mother is seriously ill or something.

“Listen,” Snafu starts, and Eugene almost jumps in his seat. “I can’t handle sittin’ here for eight hours in silence other than that damn GPS, so…”

Eugene groans internally as he realizes Snafu is about to make conversation. Great. “So, what?” he grunts in response.

Snafu snickers, puzzling Eugene. “How d’you know Burgie? Let’s start there.” Eugene doesn’t have to look to know that smirk is back.

Eugene sighs, resigning himself to his fate. There’s no way he can avoid talking now. “Um, we went to college together. What about you?”

“We served together when he was on active duty. Both got stationed in Australia,” Snafu says. Eugene should’ve guessed this. He’s been wondering how Burgie would’ve been such good friends with someone from a different state, especially someone this weird. The Marine Corps makes perfect sense. Burgie had attended Auburn on an ROTC scholarship and paid it back with four years of active duty service, meeting Florence along the way during his time in Australia. And Snafu, apparently.

“Wait, have you met Florence, then?” Eugene asks with genuine curiosity, the dread that had previously been present in his voice gone. “The timing was never right for me. I’ve gone to visit him and vice versa, but I didn’t get to meet her yet.”

“Oh yeah,” says Snafu. “I was there when they met. She’s real sweet, her and Burgie are perfect for each other.”

Eugene glances at him again and sees a soft, pure smile gracing Snafu’s face. The earnestness of it is startling, starkly contrasting with the grouchiness and arrogance of before. He’s beautiful.

Realizing he’s been staring, Eugene clears his throat and looks away. “I’m really glad Burgie met his person. He deserves it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Snafu says, and Eugene can feel his eyes again, but different this time. No smirk.

Silence returns, this time with a different flavor of awkwardness. Snafu is just staring at him, his body fully turned to face Eugene, and Eugene has no idea what to do. Snafu had been leading the conversation before, perhaps he’s now expecting Eugene to continue it?

Eventually, Eugene can’t take it anymore and caves. “So, um, what do you do?”

“I’m a truck driver,” Snafu answers. “Y’know, I just got home from four days on the road this morning. Y’woke me out of a dead sleep.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Eugene mumbles, cringing internally. “You can sleep now if you want…”

“Naw,” says Snafu, leaning closer to Eugene over the center console. “Then I wouldn’t get to find out more ‘bout you, would I? What d’you do?”

Eugene blushes, not sure where this change in attitude is coming from, why Snafu is suddenly so interested. Also, he knows he’s about to sound like a rich kid, which he is, but still. He tries his best to edge away from Snafu without obstructing his driving, saying, “I’m working toward a Ph.D. in botany. I’m going to be a professor.”

“Oh, so you’re smart, okay,” says Snafu.

Eugene clenches his hand on the steering wheel, wanting to change the subject.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Snafu continues. “I could barely finish high school, I hated it so much.”

“Oh, well, I just really love botany,” says Eugene, trying to relax. “Once I started learning more I didn’t wanna stop.”

“So you’re gonna be a doctor, huh? Doctor Eugene?”

“Sledge, Doctor Eugene Sledge.”

Snafu merely hums in response, and Eugene feels strange. He really can’t tell what Snafu’s thinking, his asshole façade is impenetrable. Eugene can sense something underneath, but it’s well hidden. “Snafu.” Not Merriell. What does Snafu mean anyway? Eugene wants to ask where the hell that nickname comes from, but doesn’t want to come off as offensive. Maybe he’ll ask Burgie later.

“Can I smoke in here?” Snafu asks nonchalantly, jolting Eugene from his thoughts. 

He glances over, making brief eye contact, and Snafu shakes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter at him. “Um, sure,” Eugene responds without really thinking, taken aback by the sudden question.

Snafu rolls his window down and lights a cigarette, taking a long drag. Eugene has to stop himself from wincing at the smell, instantly regretting his quick decision. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on the road, but it’s ten times more distracting than the radio. At least maybe this will make Snafu like him. Not that he gives a shit. He glances at Snafu only to find the other man staring back, smoke spilling from his nostrils.

“You smoke?” he asks, holding up the cigarette box again.

“No,” says Eugene. There’s a beat of silence before he decides to attempt humor, “I would be a bad almost-doctor if I did.”

Snafu snorts. “That’s bullshit; you’re gonna be a fuckin’ plant doctor.”

“Hey, a doctor’s a doctor,” Eugene says, smiling without even realizing.

“Ain’t smoke like plant food anyway? And ashes fertilizer?” 

“Not if your cigarette butt catches plants on fire.”

“Who the fuck’s doing that shit? I never burned no plants down.”

Eugene gives him a look, a grin still on his face, and they both laugh, and Snafu doesn’t seem like such an asshole. It’s like when he was talking about Burgie; his smile lights up the whole car. Eugene has to remind himself to look away, eyes back on the road. The banter feels good.

Silence returns, but this time more comfortable. Well, aside from the suffocating cigarette smell. Snafu continues chainsmoking and Eugene is all but retching. The smell has always been something that easily bothered him, even passing a smoker on the street sometimes makes him nauseous. His temples pulse with a fierce migraine, which worsens with each passing minute, not aided by the fatigue of his early start this morning. When it becomes too much to bear, Eugene suggests pulling off the highway to eat at a rest stop and fill up the tank. Snafu agrees, and they drive another few miles to the next exit.

The rest stop isn’t very big, just a Popeye’s, a McDonald’s, and a local chain gas station Eugene doesn’t recognize. 

“Where d’you wanna eat?” Snafu asks as Eugene pulls into a parking space.

“I don’t eat McDonald’s,” says Eugene.

“What d’ya mean you don’t eat McDonald’s?” Snafu sounds almost offended.

Eugene looks over at him in confusion as he shifts the gear to park and turns the car off. “I’ve never eaten there. Ever. I just want to keep my streak.”

“Somethin’ about that jus’ feels classist,” Snafu says. “I don’t know if I can trust someone who thinks they're above McDonald’s.”

Eugene has no idea if he’s being serious. “If you really want to eat there it’s okay, I’ll just get a pretzel from the gas station or something.”

Snafu snickers. “Naw, I’m jus’ playin’. I don’t even want McDonald’s anyway.”

“Then.. What?” Eugene shakes his head in confusion before sighing. Why bother? He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand this guy’s sense of humor. “Anyway, so, Popeye’s then?”

“Sure.”

They cross the parking lot and enter the fast food joint. Eugene’s legs feel stiff and weak after all that sitting, and he tries to shake the pins and needles off without making it obvious. He fails, and Snafu stops to ask if he’s alright, causing him to flush in embarrassment. At the counter, they order their food. Eugene glances at Snafu out of the corner of his eye. He really is attractive. With the proximity, he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, but now, really looking at him, it doesn’t smell so bad. Suddenly, Snafu looks back at him with those startling eyes, and Eugene realizes it’s his turn to order. He sputters for a second, tripping over his words as he tells the employee what he wants. 

“Somethin’ on my face?” questions Snafu as they walk to the pickup counter.

“No,” Eugene answers, face beet red. He doesn’t turn to look at Snafu, he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. And he knows that smirk is back on Snafu’s face anyway, he could hear it in his voice.

Once their order is ready, they pick up their trays, Eugene letting Snafu lead him to a table. They take the first few bites of their food in silence. Eugene feels strangely shy about sitting face-to-face with Snafu now; they haven’t been properly face-to-face since they spoke at the door, and that seems like ages ago.

Snafu takes a loud slurp of his soda before asking, “So, where are you from? Burgie mentioned you drove out from Alabama.”

Eugene immediately swallows the food in his mouth, despite having not properly chewed it. He narrowly avoids choking, but his voice is still weak when he replies, “Oh, I’m from Mobile. I live in Auburn, though. Drove from there to Mobile yesterday, then down to New Orleans this morning.”

Snafu raises an eyebrow at his strained voice, but nods, continuing to eat.

Realizing it’s once again on him to continue the conversation, Eugene returns the question. “What about you?”

“I’m from New Orleans East. Lived in Baton Rouge for a while, y’know, after the storm, but… That city has a way of calling people back.” There’s something bittersweet and melancholic about the way Snafu speaks about his hometown, captivating Eugene. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt that strongly about Mobile.

“I haven’t spent much time in New Orleans,” says Eugene. “I’ve only been on a few day trips as a kid, to museums and stuff.”

 “I love it,” Snafu says without a pause, shrugging. “Shitty place, but… Yeah, I love it.” That glimmer is back on his face, the serene expression reserved for Burgie, banter, and now New Orleans. Eugene wonders how many other things can make him smile like that, and a part of him wants to try to find out.

“You must have missed it when you were in the Marines,” says Eugene.

Snafu laughs, “Let’s not get dramatic now.”

Eugene feels immediately embarrassed for asking, turning to look at the food on his tray and picking at it. He wishes he could throw a chicken tender at Snafu for being so annoying. Or that the booth would swallow him whole. Either one.

“Yeah, I did.”

Eugene looks up. “Huh?”

“I did actually miss New Orleans, though. Me and Burgie used to jus’ sit around on base and talk ‘bout home. Used to go to the grocery store and look for hot pockets, y’know. Somehow, they made us feel less homesick.” Snafu has a far-off look for a moment, then catches Eugene’s eye and they share a laugh. 

“Burgie and I used to have similar conversations in college,” Eugene says, smiling again. “Neither of us left the South, and I wasn’t even that far from home, but everything was still unfamiliar. Now I haven’t properly lived in Mobile ever since, and Burgie’s been all over the world...”

“Time flies, huh?” Snafu sighs.

“Yeah,” Eugene says. “Feels like yesterday and forever ago at the same time. And now he’s getting married!”

Snafu hums again, the same hum he gave in the car, and Eugene’s chest feels light for a reason he can’t place. They continue eating in silence. Eugene feels Snafu’s eyes on him repeatedly but decides not to return the eye contact. He wishes Snafu would at least stare less blatantly. He’s been doing it all day, just looking at Eugene. He’s not even trying to hide it; he doesn’t care that Eugene knows, it’s almost like he wants him to. Any normal person just looks away when they’re caught staring, but not him. Snafu’s just odd, and his behavior keeps Eugene on his toes. 

Once they’re done eating, Snafu reaches into Eugene's space and transfers the garbage onto his own tray. Eugene is puzzled by the unexpected favor but doesn’t dwell on it. They stop by the trash cans and make their way out to the car. The tank still needs to be filled, so Eugene backs out of the parking space and drives up to the gas station.

Before he steps out of the car, Snafu stops him. “Hey, why don’t I drive the rest of the way? You look like shit, you could use some sleep.”

Eugene’s heart drops. Does he look like shit? Is that why Snafu was staring at him this whole time? Does he have huge, ugly eyebags, is that all it was? He comes back to reality. He can’t let Snafu drive his car. “Uh, no. I’m fine,” he replies.

“C’mon, I don’t mind. Go ahead and sleep,” Snafu insists.

“No, uh, my car can be um. It can just act a bit weird, it’s best if I drive.” 

Snafu raises an eyebrow and Eugene can tell his words are less than convincing.

“Do y’think I’m a bad driver or somethin’?”

Okay, maybe Eugene does, but it’s only because of Snafu’s off-putting demeanor. He just seems like the type of person to tailgate someone and flash his high beams at them. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but Snafu cuts him off, saying, “I drive for a living. I’m a truck driver, remember?” 

Oh, yeah. Eugene had forgotten that detail. He can tell by Snafu’s tone of voice that he’s offended, and Eugene doesn’t blame him. He feels bad for assuming but is still apprehensive. “I don’t like other people driving my car,” he says. 

Snafu rolls his eyes obnoxiously. “Whatever, just don’t fall asleep at the wheel or some shit.” He sinks into his seat, pouting again. “You drive like my grandma, by the way.”

Eugene glares at him before finally stepping out of the car to fill the tank. He thought Snafu was going to spare him the grandma quip but he should’ve expected otherwise. As he stands at the meter, his eyes ache with fatigue and he feels a little woozy. The food has done nothing to help his tiredness, and all he wants is to curl up in the passenger seat and wake up in Fort Worth. Snafu’s offer almost seems tempting, but he only met the guy a few hours ago. It’s out of the question to trust him to drive Eugene’s car, even if he’s Burgie’s best friend. He jumps at a noise behind him, realizing he’d been closing his eyes and dozing off at the pump, with the tank already full. Snafu has stepped out of the car and is standing next to him now.

“Oh, alright,” Eugene gives in. “You drive the rest of the way.”

Snafu has an insufferable smug look on his face and immediately sits down in the driver's seat. Eugene returns the nozzle to the pump and makes his way to the passenger’s seat. Once he’s seated, he takes his keys out of his pocket and waves the one to his car at Snafu menacingly. 

“If you have even the slightest bit of road rage, I’m taking over,” he says, making direct eye contact.

Snafu snatches the keys from Eugene’s hand and rolls his eyes again. “Oh, please,” he grumbles under his breath. “I’m gonna get us there a lot faster than you would.”

To Snafu’s credit, he actually is a good driver. He’s completely focused on the road, finally using those big eyes of his for a good cause instead of just harassing Eugene. Snafu clicks on the radio again, still playing 90.7. The voice of a female soul vocalist floats through the car and Eugene’s eyelids grow heavy. He doesn’t want to leave Snafu’s driving unsupervised, so he attempts to fight sleep by repeatedly blinking, but it’s useless, he’s too tired. He’s had a long past two days. Weirdly, he feels more comfortable falling asleep in a car being driven by a stranger than in his childhood bedroom. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he gazes at Snafu, all jaw and tan skin. From this angle, Eugene can see the firm muscles of his arm as it rests on the steering wheel, his other lying on his thigh. He could feel Snafu’s eyes earlier; can Snafu feel his now? Does Snafu know that he looks back? His thoughts become foggy and he’s sleeping soundly within minutes.

He wakes around five hours later, 5 PM, with a severely dry mouth. He licks and smacks his lips as his eyes begin to focus. He tries sitting up and groans at his stiff neck, turning to the backseat to reach for a water bottle. 

“Hey, sleepin’ beauty,” Snafu laughs, turning and grinning at him. “We’re in Texas now. Gettin’ real close to the finish line. Only ‘bout an hour left.”

Eugene ignores him in favor of chugging the water, pausing every few seconds to swish it around and wet his lips with it. His mouth tastes terrible and he hopes his breath doesn’t stink.

“Y’know, I was thinkin’ while you were asleep,” Snafu prattles on. “Why d’ya have a gas car? Ain’t you all obsessed with nature? Shouldn’t you have an electric car or some shit? Lovin’ the Earth an’ stuff?”

Eugene scoffs internally but keeps ignoring him, choking as he downs the rest of his water. He hacks out a cough as his throat burns. Snafu keeps talking, not even taking notice. Tears fill Eugene’s eyes as he attempts to breathe normally. He clears his throat loudly in a final attempt to get his lungs working again.

“Are you okay?” Snafu finally stops ranting.

“Oh, I’m just great,” Eugene says shakily, rubbing at his watering eyes.

“I got super fuckin’ bored while you were asleep,” Snafu says. “Once we got to Texas I turned off the radio ‘cause none of the stations were playin’ soul no more.” He turns to Eugene and fully looks at him for the first time since he woke up. “You got a red mark on ya face from the seatbelt.” 

Eugene is too groggy to be embarrassed and feels around his face for the indent, massaging it when he finds it. “You crash into anything while I was asleep?”

“No,” Snafu deadpans, not taking the bait. Clearly, he doesn’t like this line of humor. 

“Shocking,” Eugene returns in the same flat tone. “Do you want some water?” 

“Sure,” Snafu says.

Eugene tries to hand him a bottle, but he waves it away with his free hand.

“Open it for me.” Snafu’s not asking, it’s a command. 

Eugene looks from the water bottle to Snafu a few times before complying. He tries to hand it to Snafu again, but instead of grabbing it he puts his free hand on the steering wheel and opens his mouth.

“No,” Eugene says with a sigh, not even bothering to be shocked at this point.

“Was worth a try.” Snafu turns to him with a smirk, reaching for the water bottle. Their fingers graze as Eugene hands it to him and Eugene is forced to consider if he’s doing this on purpose. Is all this weird behavior Snafu’s way of flirting? The staring, the smirking, the teasing? Snafu takes a long gulp of the water and Eugene watches as a droplet rolls down his chin and onto his throat. It wouldn’t be so bad if that was the case.

The remainder of the drive to Fort Worth is uneventful, just some casual banter here and there as Snafu follows the directions of the GPS. As they close in on their destination, Eugene realizes that he has no idea where Snafu is staying. 

“Wait, the GPS is set to my hotel,” Eugene says. 

“Okay,” Snafu replies blankly.

Eugene rolls his eyes. “Well, where are you staying?”

“With Burgie.”

“Let me change the destination, then.” Eugene hopes with every fiber of his being that they don’t have to backtrack too much. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Yeah, Snafu’s hot, and he… doesn’t mind him, but being trapped in a tin box with anyone for this long would drive him insane. He needs to be alone. Luckily, the change of course only adds about twenty minutes to their ETA, and Eugene pats himself on the back for having the foresight to book a hotel close to Burgie’s apartment. He shoots Burgie a text to let him know they’ll be arriving soon.

As they approach Burgie’s apartment, Eugene wonders about Snafu. He must be closer to Burgie than Eugene himself. He’s staying with him, it seems like he didn’t get a wedding gift, and Burgie went to all this trouble to ensure Snafu was able to come. Some part of Eugene is sure that Burgie might have driven out to New Orleans East himself to pick up Snafu if Eugene wasn’t able to. It’s not jealousy, but there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s disappointed, filled with the dismay that comes with realizing the person you feel closest to feels closer to someone else. It’s silly, the kind of thing a kid gets upset about, but he can’t help it. 

When they arrive, Eugene quickly exits the car and walks to the driver’s side, ready to switch places with Snafu.

Snafu’s laughing as he opens the door. “You look like some kinda butler tryna help me out of a carriage standin’ there like that.”

Eugene snorts, then feels awkward as they now stand face to face. He’s not sure what to say or if they should shake hands. “Uh, see you for dinner later, then,” he ends up saying.

Snafu grins a real smile, the one reserved for Burgie, banter, New Orleans, and now, Eugene. “‘Course,” he beams and gives Eugene a pat on the shoulder before walking away. 

Eugene stands, frozen, and watches him be buzzed into the apartment building. If he feels Eugene’s eyes, he doesn’t react. Once the door closes, Eugene snaps out of it and sits down in front of the wheel. He plugs his hotel into the GPS and hazily drives his way there. Once he’s safely inside his room, he smacks himself down on the bed and lets out a sigh. It feels good to properly lay down after all that sitting. Alone and staring up at the ceiling, he still can only think of Snafu. If he was flirting, was Eugene doing it back without realizing it? I mean, he was immediately attracted to him, so maybe subconsciously… He wonders if it’s wise to entertain this flirtation. It might be a good distraction from all the pressure of his dissertation. It’s just flirting, it’s noncommittal. He wonders if he made the whole thing up in his head. He tries to clear his thoughts but instead starts imagining his mother meeting Snafu. He snickers at the thought. They would hate each other.

He feels himself getting drowsy again and bolts upright. He’s supposed to meet Burgie at the restaurant in only about an hour, he can’t let himself drift off. He checks his breath and his suspicions from earlier are confirmed. He definitely needs to brush his teeth before he leaves. He hopes Snafu didn’t notice. He checks himself in the mirror to make sure his clothes don’t look too wrinkled. He decides to change from a t-shirt into a button-down to look a little more proper before freshening up in the bathroom. He’s ready a little too early, so he kills the rest of his time by rummaging through his suitcase and reorganizing it.

He confirms the address of the restaurant with Burgie, picking out a route on the GPS, and stands, ready to leave. Of course, as soon as opens the door, Eugene’s anxiety decides that he must pee before getting in the car. Luckily, he decided to leave early, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s on his way in a minute or two, stepping out of the hotel into the humid, late spring air. The sun isn’t setting yet, but it’s circling its way around the horizon, getting ready to descend. 

The restaurant is only thirteen minutes from the Comfort Inn Eugene is staying in, and he arrives 10 minutes before the agreed time. He looks around the parking lot, searching for Burgie’s car, but he can’t remember what it looks like for the life of him. Does Burgie have a truck? That would seem in character. But maybe it was a hatchback? Or a sedan? Maybe he should go inside and say Burgie’s name as the reservation. But he can’t get there first and be alone at the table, that’s weird. Two figures crossing the threshold interrupt his thoughts: a sturdy frame he immediately recognizes as Burgie and a curly head that can only be Snafu. They seem to be laughing about something, and Eugene’s chest feels light. He’s so happy to see Burgie after so long, he’d missed him so much. And Snafu’s face… If he’d smiled when talking about Burgie, he was beaming now. The look on his face is infectious, and Eugene finds himself smiling despite being alone in his car.

Eugene waits a few minutes for the pair to get settled inside before getting out of his car and following behind. The restaurant is a typical steakhouse with a bar and TVs playing various sports on every wall. He searches the tables until he finds Burgie, who makes eye contact and starts waving. He tells the hostess that his friends are waiting before walking toward them, trying to maintain a normal pace despite his excitement. Burgie stands, grinning, and gives him a warm hug, patting Eugene’s back firmly a few times.

“I missed you!” Burgie coos into his ear. 

“I missed you too,” Eugene says as they part, face glowing. 

Burgie turns and holds out an arm toward the booth.  “You’ve already met Snafu.”

Snafu gives a mocking wave and smirks. “Oh, yeah. We know each other very well now.”

Eugene blushes. What’s with this guy? Why’s he making it sound weird? All they did was talk! Burgie gives Eugene a look as they sit down and he has to stop himself from explaining that nothing happened, it wasn’t like that. 

“So, uh, who else is coming?” he says instead, clearing his throat.

“Just a few more guys, friends of mine from work,” Burgie replies. “They should be here soon. Anyway, I didn’t get to properly talk to you on the phone last week, how have you been?”

“Well, nothing much. Just my dissertation,” he shrugs. It seems evasive, but it’s the truth. Eugene’s life is boring, all he does is research these days.

“Nothing new?”

“Honestly, no.” He gives an empty chuckle before continuing, “It’s exhausting. It’s like I’m working on something impossible to finish. I’ve been really burnt out lately…”

Burgie reaches across the table and gives his arm a quick pat. “I know you’ll succeed,” he says. “Just remember that you love botany. Return to that passion, the reason you wanted to do this in the first place, then you’ll have the strength to persevere.”

Eugene smiles. “You sound just like my dad, he said something similar.”

“Well, he’s a doctor, he must be right,” says Burgie with a laugh.

There’s a lull in the conversation and Eugene becomes aware of those eyes boring into him yet again. He’d almost forgotten Snafu was there, which is odd. In Eugene’s experience, he’s not usually such a silent person. Eugene glances at him. He’s just sitting there, curled up in his corner of the booth, observing with those wide, blue eyes. His expression is blank, but he slowly grins as they make eye contact. Eugene looks away, back down at the table, but he knows Snafu hasn’t and is continuing to stare. 

Burgie’s friends arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and they have to get a waiter to push another table up to the booth. There are three of them, all working at the same contracting company as Burgie. They’re loud and rowdy, watching and reacting to the sports on the TVs. Eugene only meets each of them briefly to shake hands, but he can immediately tell that his nature doesn’t mesh well with theirs. The three steal away Burgie’s attention throughout their meal, leaving Snafu and Eugene alone together on their end of the booth. 

“You don’t like them,” Snafu states as he eats his steak. 

“It’s not really that I just… I don’t know how to talk to them,” Eugene says between bites. “They’re not my type of people.”

“D’you know how to talk to me?” Snafu says, not looking at Eugene but instead focusing on his steak. He’s attempting to hold the entire thing up with his fork and rip the meat off with his teeth instead of cutting it.

Eugene watches him play with his food with slight disgust but ignores it. “No, I don’t. You’re weird.”

Snafu snorts at this. “Am I not your ‘type of people’ then?”

Eugene’s face splits into a playful grin. “Hm, I don’t know. Maybe if you stopped playing music in the car.”

They both laugh but are interrupted by louder laughter next to them. Burgie and his work friends have all ordered shots. They offer some to Eugene and Snafu, but both decline.

“Designated driver?” Eugene asks.

“Somethin’ like that,” Snafu replies vaguely, avoiding eye contact. He’s abandoned his plate by now and is leaning over the table with his chin in his palm. 

Eugene can tell that he’s approaching a sore spot, so he changes the subject. “So,” he starts. “Did you get all settled at Burgie’s apartment?”

“Yeah, it’s like my home away from home or whatever.”

Eugene nods, unsure of what to say next. He doesn’t know why Snafu does this, letting the conversation die. It’s like he wants to put Eugene on the spot. 

“I’m goin’ out for a smoke,” Snafu says, interrupting Eugene’s thoughts. He stands slowly, then asks, “Wanna come?”

“Sure,” Eugene says, looking up at him. In the dim light of the restaurant, his features are even more harsh and pronounced.

They maneuver their way out of the booth, trying not to bump into Burgie and his friends at the adjoined table. The others don’t even notice they’re leaving, too invested in a drinking game. Outside, the sun has fully set. None of the stars are visible in the sky, and there’s no grass for fireflies to blink in. Eugene doesn’t like heavily urbanized areas like this, where nothing lives but people. He needs the plants and the birds and the stars to be happy. 

Snafu reaches into his pocket, retrieving a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He offers them to Eugene, who again refuses, before lighting one up and taking a long drag. His eyes close for a moment, seemingly in some sort of bliss, as he holds in the smoke, before exhaling away from Eugene. The odor hits Eugene’s nostrils and he has to keep himself from making a face. He distracts himself by watching Snafu take another drag, sucking on the cigarette, cheeks hallowing slightly. At least he looks pretty, even if it smells.

At this moment, Eugene feels oddly close and familiar with Snafu. Maybe it’s their proximity throughout the day, or how attractive Snafu is, or the smoke messing with Eugene’s thoughts, or maybe just the moonlight. He thinks about his antics in the car and how they seem almost charming in retrospect, despite being annoying at the time. Maybe they were charming then too, but Eugene was too obsessed with feeling awkward to realize.

“I have a heart condition,” Eugene says out of the blue.

“Huh?” Snafu says, eyebrows raised. In a few seconds, a look of understanding washes over him, and he drops his cigarette, stomping it out. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I don’t wanna kill you or somethin’.”

“No, no!” Eugene’s cheeks are flushed red in embarrassment. What is he doing? “I meant, that’s why I’m not drinking. Not just because I have to drive. I don’t drink. Sorry, I don’t really know why I’m telling you this.”

Snafu laughs again with that earnest smile, and Eugene almost doesn’t mind embarrassing himself if he gets to see that face. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, boo?”

Eugene’s chest warms at the pet name. He normally hates when people call him things like that, but somehow Snafu is an exception. “Sorry, I guess I was just thinking about it because of earlier.”

“You’re funny, Eugene,” Snafu says, looking serene in the moonlight.

They’ve inched closer toward each other throughout their conversation, shoulders almost touching as they stand side by side. Eugene, slightly taller than him, can look down at his face from this angle, and he looks perfect. Suddenly, Eugene knows that if he doesn’t reach out to Snafu now, he’ll regret it later. He can’t let his anxiety or apprehension get in the way of his own happiness. He bumps his hand against Snafu, knuckles grazing, who turns to look at him. Their faces are only two shoulder widths apart, and Eugene can see every eyelash, every freckle on his face. He takes Snafu’s hand fully, entwining their fingers.

Snafu smirks and turns so they face each other.

“Why do you keep smirking at me?” Eugene whispers. “All day, that smirk.”

“For an almost doctor, you’re so stupid,” Snafu says with a roll of his eyes.

Eugene is about to respond but is interrupted by Snafu cupping his neck with his free hand and kissing him. His eyes flutter shut, hand drifting to Snafu’s jaw. The kiss is sweet and warm, and when they part they leave their faces close for a second, just breathing in each other’s air, before returning to their shoulder-to-shoulder position. 

“I’ve been flirtin’ with you all day,” Snafu says, and now the smirk in his voice doesn’t seem so evil. 

“I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you were just being an asshole.”

“To me, that’s flirtin’.”

Eugene snorts. 

They stay out there for a few more minutes, just chatting and basking in the moonlight and each other’s presence. The barrier Eugene had set up, that fear of awkwardness, had melted away. He’s not sure where this thing with Snafu is going, or if it will go anywhere, he just knows that right now, it feels good, and that’s what matters. He spends too much time worrying about his past with his parents and his future with his dissertation; the two press against each other until the present is all but gone, a sliver of its former self. It’s time to finally live. They kiss again before reentering the restaurant, this time more lingering, parting with a smile. When they sit down again it’s like they share a secret, something only for them to know, and they can’t help but knowingly grin at each other from across the table.

By 10:30, Burgie and his work friends are all at varying levels of intoxication. Burgie is the least drunk, mostly just buzzed, to avoid a hangover on his wedding day. The three others are properly drunk and talking about continuing at a bar down the road. Eugene frowns at them, finding it difficult to hide his disdain. Aren’t they going to the wedding tomorrow? He makes eye contact with Snafu who looks as disgusted as he is. 

They say their goodbyes to the three, which for Eugene is just a curt nod of the head. Burgie pays the bill, which Eugene protests but Burgie insists the host should pay. Snafu keeps entirely out of the conversation, but looks off to the side guiltily when Eugene glances at him. He’s able to convince Burgie to let him leave the tip, placing a fifty-dollar bill down on the table. The poor waitress had a lot to deal with, a huge order and three annoying, rowdy drunks. They make their way out to the parking lot, Snafu now walking with Burgie, and Eugene trailing behind.

“It was so good just to hang out,” Burgie says to him, pulling him into another hug. “Sorry I wasn’t able to talk much, those three can be overwhelming.”

“It’s okay, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Eugene gives him a tight squeeze before letting go. “I can’t wait to meet Florence.” 

“Speaking of which, I should go call her and warn her I’m coming home,” says Burgie, smiling softly. “I’m sleeping in the living room with Snafu tonight. Don’t want any bad luck.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Eugene pats Burgie’s arm, nodding him off. “Don’t keep Florence waiting.”

Burgie walks off, phone in hand, leaving Snafu and Eugene alone again. Their previous goodbye had been uncomfortable at best, but all of that was gone now. 

“Guess you’ll see me tomorrow too, huh?” Snafu drawls, each word glazing over Eugene like honey, hand reaching out to palm Eugene’s shoulder. 

“Guess so,” he replies, mirroring Snafu’s movement before pulling him into a hug. “I’m glad I decided to pick you up today. Even if you were a little insane at first.” He brings a hand up to Snafu's hair, petting it softly and running his fingers through the curls.

“Sorry about that,” Snafu chuckles, leaning into the touch slightly.

They part and say their goodbyes, Eugene turning and walking toward his car, this time Snafu watching his back disappear. Once alone in his hotel room, Eugene can hardly believe himself. He doesn’t regret anything, but normally in social situations, he feels overwhelmed, especially by people like Snafu who are hard to read. He finds it difficult to act in such situations, to do anything. Today he acted, and he was happy with the result. He goes to sleep thinking of Snafu and what the next day may bring. He won’t need to lie about his mother suddenly becoming ill now; he’ll gladly drive another eight hours with Snafu being annoying in the passenger seat as long as it means they get to kiss again. 

When the morning comes, Eugene is buzzing with excitement. He feels slightly ashamed that this is mostly because of Snafu and not his friend’s wedding, but he can’t help it. He arrives early, sitting alone in one of the church pews behind those reserved for family and the procession. Only a few others are here so early, and he sits in contemplation, the excitement from earlier suddenly washed away. Churches will always remind him of his mother. Maybe he should feel bad for his outbursts two days before, but he can’t force himself to. She chooses to never understand. She wants him on that altar with a woman one day, saying his own vows. She’ll never get that. He’s filled with a melancholic feeling as he stares at the cross.

He sits there, unaware, for an hour as the church fills around him. His wallowing is interrupted by the sound of the pianist playing a precursory song. Within a few minutes, the procession starts. First Florence’s mother, then Burgie, who looks nervous. He takes his place at the altar, and Eugene tries to find his eyes, to give him a consolidating look, but Burgie’s gaze is fixed on the aisle. Next, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, Burgie’s three brothers, walking arm in arm, with the maid of honor and… Snafu at the end. For some reason, Eugene didn’t expect him to be the best man and almost feels offended that he wasn’t offered a spot as at least a groomsman. This is all quickly forgotten when he gets a proper look at Snafu in a suit. His hair is neat and gelled back, a grin on his face. He meets Eugene’s eyes with a smirk as he walks by. Florence is next in the procession, and she looks beautiful. Eugene has seen pictures of her before, but they couldn’t do her justice. She is radiant in her gown, and he sees Burgie’s face light up as soon as she begins her walk down the aisle.

The ceremony proceeds without a hitch, Burgie picking up Florence and spinning her around once the pastor tells him to kiss the bride. Everyone makes their way to the reception hall, with what would normally be a ten-minute drive turning into a twenty-five-minute drive with all the traffic. Eugene puts his anxiety-inducing gift down on the table designated for presents then finds himself a table in the corner, waiting for the wedding procession to be introduced and the party to start. 

When they arrive, the dancing begins, and the food is set out. Eugene grabs himself a plate and is moving down the buffet when someone touches his shoulder, He nearly jumps, but turns and sees Burgie, giving him a half-hug with his free hand.

“Congratulations, Burgie,” he says. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Burgie beams at him, then steps to the side, revealing Florence, who leans in to give Eugene a half-hug as well.

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” she squeals. “Burgie just loves you! Thank you so much for coming!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Eugene says. “Congratulations, Florence!”

“I have to go greet the others, but I’ll talk to you later, Eugene. Bye!” She turns and walks off, a bounce in her step.

“She's lovely. I’m so happy for you, Burgie.” Eugene actually feels like he might cry. In a strange way, he feels like he’s saying goodbye to Burgie today. With him married and Eugene getting his Ph.D., they’ll have even less time to see each other. But Burgie means the world to him, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep their bond from fading.

“So, how did you feel about Snafu?”

“Huh?” If there was anything Eugene was expecting Burgie to say, it wasn’t that.

Burgie looks at him knowingly. “I just thought you might like to know that he’s playing for your team, that’s all.”

Eugene sputters, “Did you plan this? Is that why you called me in particular?”

“I just thought you two might click,” laughs Burgie. “And by your reaction, I’m guessing you did?”

“Well… maybe a little,” says Eugene, unable to stop his cheeks from dusting themselves pink.

“He’s right over there watching us, by the way. I think he’s waiting for you,” Burgie says, motioning his head behind him to where Snafu is standing in a corner. “I won’t hold you up.” He begins walking away but then turns back. “Oh yeah, don’t worry, I sneaked a look at your gift and I love it. I know you’ve probably been letting that torture you the whole time.”

Eugene snorts and Burgie gives him a clap on the back before going to join his wife. With him gone, Eugene can clearly see Snafu across the room. He shakes his head, smiling as walks over.

Snafu – no, Merriell greets him with the usual grin. “Wanna dance?”

fin.

p.s. i also made this playlist of songs i think snafu would listen to in the car :)

[1-800-rh]

(In case anyone wanted a pt 2 . Here is the second chapter to my Rodrick X Fem!Reader , you can find it on wattpad 😊My account is Bylersss!)

"YOU still not talking to them ?" Y/n took a sip of her smoothie. She quickly put it down & latched onto the passenger handle as Rodrick was driving on the sidewalk - in the opposite direction of traffic. "Ehh , sort ofish . Have you heard anything from your parents?"

She shrugged & pulled out her pink Motorola flip phone. "Hey Y/n ! We miss u & just wanted to let u know that we are now traveling to Miami concerning our new product. We may be going home in a month or two. Luv Mom XOXO." She snapped it shut & put it back into the pocket of her jacket.

Rodrick kept silent for a bit then finally spoke up when they'd come to a stop. "My parents are taking us to Roarin' Rapids next weekend. We leave on Friday , I was wondering if you'd like to come ?" He then nonchalantly shrugged. "If you want. Greg is bringing the Hamburglar so thought you might want to come."

She chuckled at the one of many insults he had for Rowley. She nodded & grabbed the handle once more. "Yeah for sure . Sounds awesome."

Y/n fiddled with her fingernails as they pulled into the Heffley residence. Rodrick quickly noticed it & decided to speak up about it . "You nervous or something?" She gave a heavy sigh & shook her head .

"No I just have lots of things going on in my mind."

"Seems like it might be something more."

She tightened her first & watched him pull the key out of the ignition, frustration was scribbled all over his face . "You know you can always talk to me right ."

Y/n looked around for anything to withdraw the attention off of her & onto something else . That's when she saw Greg & the familiar chubby boy. "Looks like Rowley's here again !" She smiled as they both exited the car & made their way to the tweens.

"Hey turd face , I told mom I'd give you some drum lessons in exchange for mom bucks. Follow me to the garage." He paused & gave the chubby kid an up & down examination, disgust written all over . "And bring Salad Dodger with you."

Rowley , the bowl cut haired kid, pointed to himself & whispered a , "Is he talking about me ?" to Greg. Y/n chuckled & nodded , following after the three boys.

She found herself sat on top of a cooler reading a magazine, Rodrick played away at the drums . Rowley & Greg both had confusion written on each of their faces , sharing a glance at one another here & there before looking at Rodrick & then back down to the bowls in front of them .

"When do we get to play the real drums ?"

Rodrick removed his headphones & chortled . "Like I would ever let you touch them!" Greg rolled his eyes & through the utensils he held on to the ground. "I'm sick of this. Let's go play Twisted Wizard , Rowley."

Y/n peeped over her magazine & looked at Rodrick , who was putting his drumsticks away. "Mom bucks ?"

"It's this dumb thing my mom came up with . Basically we bond as brothers & we get play money we can exchange for real bucks."

She dipped her head to indicate she understood. "Well how much have you made ? You can barely stand him."

"Haha . Funny. But I found the fake money in an old board game , so in actuality I don't really have to bond with him." He said . She chuckled & fished for her phone in her jacket.

"I gotta run , I made plans with my friends to catch a movie. Come with ?"

He walked with her down the set of stairs & shook his head. "Nah , the bands coming soon to practice for the talent show."

"Sucks. Alright then I'll see you tomorrow!" She leaned in & gave him a quick hug before pulling away & heading out front.

•

"What were you guys thinking ?! I asked for you to be civilized just for a bit !"

Rodrick groaned the moment his mom started going on about Sunday's incident, again. It had been 3 days since it happened & yet she kept going on & on .

However, it seemed like Frank had gotten a new job & had reduced his drinking - making him the only parent that was tolerable for the moment being. He couldn't wait to talk to Y/n, with the punishment came getting his van taken away & phone away. They lived next to each other but because part of his punishment was also not being allowed out of the house equaled no Y/n . He couldn't even talk to her in class as they would get too busy & by the time he tried talking to her class was over.

He cursed under his breath as he headed towards the domicile. His dad called out for him the moment he hopped out of the vehicle. "Rodrick , come here."

Rodrick spun & slowly made his way towards his father . He awaited for a whole ass lecture but to his surprise received his keys & cell phone back. He had obviously given Frank a weird look before the older man began to explain himself. "Your mom is upset , obviously. But she had asked me to give these to you. I know the new drums aren't the best but I felt bad about the last set & decided to buy you those."

Rodrick felt himself smile but he was able to contain it & only said "Thanks." before heading to his home.

He flipped his phone open to see multiple missed calls & texts from Y/n , Bill , Drew , & Ward. First & foremost he went ahead & gave a call to his band members.

Once the call had concluded he called Y/n , there was no answer. He tried again.

Nothing.

Then one more time .

He had felt worried & quickly went to his window that faced her room. He felt his heart drop as he watched her walk out the house , hand in hand with Carter Samuels. She paused to adjust her shoe lace & quickly reached for his hand again , the biggest smile was spread on her face.

Rodrick quickly shut the blinds & tossed his phone onto his bed . He gritted his teeth before punching the wall . He then could only sigh & tossed himself onto his bed.

[sbwrites]

after work: s.h

Sypnosis- picking up Steve turns into waiting for 3 hours, he rewards you for waiting with his fingers {fingering, a bit of making out}

it was 5pm when you pulled up to family video ready to pick up steve because you had dropped him off that morning, steve came outside when he heard you pull up. “ hey honey i’ve still got some stuff to do, do you mind taking robin back for me?” he kissed your forehead whilst leaning into the car. “sure i’ll come get u after” you smiled starting the car as robin walked out of the store. 

“dude i really appreciate you taking my extra shift this date is really important” robin started rambling, “you’ve liked her for months i know, be a gentleman you’ve got flowers right?” he finished smiling as he practically pushed her in the car. “yes sir” she laughed saluting jokingly.

“you ready rob?” you asked putting the car into gear, “of course, i got a new tape can we listen its tears for fears i think you’ll like it?” she asked pulling it out of her bag. “of course, so a date? is it vickie or the new girl?” you started as the tape played in the background.

the drive went by quickly as you talked about robins date and her new tape, “remember the flowers, kiss her cheek when you get her and be sweet, girls love sweethearts” you remined her as she got out of the car. “yes ma’am” she laughed as she unlocked her front door. “ok be safe rob call me if you need anything” you half shout out the window as she walks inside “i will bye!” she shouts back “bye rob!” you shout back turning the car around to head back to family video. 

it was 5:30 when you got back to family video, picking up some snacks for the night. you walked in and found steve with a whole new delivery of new stock. “so youve gotta organise all this by genre and alphabet?” you asked walking over, “not all of it keith said he’ll be here later to cover the rest of the shifts, wanna wait out back we finally got a heater & you can watch a movie if you want” he replied. 

“sure how long til keith gets here?” , “uhhh an hour i think not too long sweetheart” he smiles handing you your favourite movie to watch. “ok just let me know when you’re done” you say walking into the back.

it was dark from what you could see from the small window in the staff room when you woke up from a nap, you walked back into the front to find steve at the computer “stevie?” you sighed rubbing your eyes, “oh hey sweetheart, we can go soon keith cancelled said something came up or whatever he’s probably just going to get high again” he said walking over to you pulling you into a hug. “probably, what time do you shut?” you grumbled, “ at 8 which is in 20 minuets sweets wanna order pizza when we get to mine, ill drive back” , “yeah as long as i get a kiss”. “ok” he sighs happily pulling you into a kiss.

 as it escelated he caged you between him and the counter as you burried your hands into his hair slightly moaning to his mouth as he slipped his tounge through yoyr lips. he pulled away to catch his breath, a string of your spit still connecting your lips, he pulled you back in quickly to break it. “you taste so sweet baby” he humms as you rub your thighs together, “must’ve been the jolly ranchers rob gave me” you sighed still clinging onto him.

 “yeah you seem needy baby need some help?” he commented slipping his hand between your thighs cupping your pussy. “your fault” you mummbled into his neck, “yeah baby? its daddy’s fault huh?” he half jokes in that voice. you whimper as he cups your cheek waiting for a response. “y yeah” you stutter under his gaze. “can you wait 10 minuets baby then my shifts over yeah? go get your stuff and wait in the car for me” he says into your ear slowly running his fingers over the top of your jeans as he lets you go.

“ok stevie” you mumble going to get your stuff from the brake room. After that You made your way to the car turn on the heater and radio so you’d have something to do while you waited.

Steve made his way to the car 10 minutes later putting his stuff in the boot. He gave you a kiss before getting in the car ready to drive off “you ok there sweetheart? I’ll take care of you when we get home yeah?” “Ok stevie” you replied putting on your seat belt.

you got to Steve’s house and made your way in and to his room getting out of your clothes and putting on one of Steve’s t shirts before he came in. “Aww look at you honey ready for your reward?” he asked taking off his t shirt crawling over to you on the bed. “Yes please daddy” you sighed as he took of your panties and spread you legs so he could sit between them.

He ran his finger down your slit gathering up some of your slick as he went, you moaned slightly as he circled your clit then your hole before slowly putting one finger in. “Feel good baby?” He sighs looking up at you, “more please” you moaned as he started moving his finger his other hand moving to circle your clit.

“As you asked so nicely baby” he smiled putting in another finger and thrusting them faster into you. His fingers combined with the pressure on your clit built up. With a few more circles on your clit and a few more thrusts of his fingers had you falling over the edge. “Feel good baby?” he asked pressing a kiss to your forehead as he moved his fingers out of you. “Yeah thank you daddy” you sighed giving him a kiss”, “my pleasure baby”

[montammil]

i'm a real sucker for all this. i have a little writing request if those r still open too!

can we mayhaps see lawrence taking marshall on a shopping trip? maybe marshall gets lost in a crowd somehow, or manages to slip away from lawrence :0? take that what you will! and thank u so very much for sharing these wonderful stories <3!!

Here you go, thank you so much for your patience XD

CW: Parental whumper, failed escape attempt, infantilizing behavior, kidnapping, panic attacks, ableism (not really but just in case), manipulative behavior, implied violence, parental issues, past homelessness

...

When Marshall woke up that morning to hear Lawrence wanted to take him to the mall, he was shocked. He has been trying his hardest to go along with everything Lawrence has said, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't care about him at all, but he definitely didn't expect him to take him to the mall.

Marshall fiddles with the sleeve of his hoodie in the car. He wonders if Lawrence has ulterior motives here, since this is their first actual public setting he'd be taking him to. He doesn't know if he'd run if he got the chance since... where else would he go? On the streets again?

No... he's sure his parents would take pity on him and let him live with them again, but he didn't want that, either. He didn't want to go back to being judged for everything, to go back to being yelled at and ridiculed.

A voice catches him off-guard, making him wince. He looks over at Lawrence who's staring at him. "Uh, did you say something?"

Lawrence nods. "I asked if you were okay."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Marshall replies. "I'm just... I dunno, nervous."

"Of the mall?"

"Yeah, it's just that... what if people recognize me from the news?"

"That won't happen, bud," Lawrence says. He grabs some glasses with thick frames and hands them to Marshall. "These'll help. Try them on."

Marshall does, and he's surprised when he sees himself in the mirror. He doesn't look like himself. It's been at least four months since his disappearance so he's sure no one's looking for him as much anymore, but he still does have a slight hope. His mind is constantly fighting with itself between wanting freedom and wanting to be with Lawrence, so he doesn't really know what to do with himself.

In all honesty, he feels guilty for wanting both things. He feels guilty for wanting to leave, almost feeling like if he did, he'd be betraying Lawrence, but to want to give into Lawrence's delusion makes him feel more humiliated than anything. He wishes he could just have a break from everything and everything could just be okay.

Lawrence puts his hand on Marshall's head and ruffles his hair, making Marshall flinch and look over at him.

"We'll be fine, kiddo," Lawrence says. "And I don't want you to worry about anything. If anyone asks about you, I'll tell them I'm your dad, okay? And if anyone asks, your name is Isaac Keyes." He gave him a fake ID.

Looking down at the fake ID with wide eyes, Marshall asked, "How long ago did you plan for this?"

"Not long ago," Lawrence replies. "Just a couple days ago, actually. Anyway, let's get going. Maybe after I get what I need, we can stop by the food court. Would you like that?"

"Y-yeah, sure," Marshall replies, but he doesn't feel as enthusiastic as he wants to be.

"Great," Lawrence says. "Let's go."

As they walk through the mall, Marshall keeps his head down and walks slowly behind Lawrence, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He glances around the area as he follows Lawrence to a store he knows he won't like, and he's proven right when he sees the first thing in the store is a pair of jeans. Ugh.

"Get something you like," Lawrence tells him as he goes over to look at the men's jackets.

Great. Marshall looks around, none of this stuff meeting his criteria for things he likes. He's a little shocked Lawrence would let him choose anything here, given none of it is really that childish. He awkwardly shuffles through the racks, keeping his head down, and finds himself picking up a hoodie with a print of a snake on it.

It isn't cute or childish, it looks genuinely cool. Marshall smiles to himself, knowing as soon as he gets it, he'll be quick to replace it with this pastel hoodie with the bunny print on it.

Marshall glances over when he hears Lawrence's voice. He sees him talking to the cashier about something, they seem all friendly with each other, so he assumes they know each other. Because of course they do. Marshall can hardly go anywhere where Lawrence doesn't know someone.

They seem pretty invested in their conversation. Marshall looks out the store. It isn't extremely crowded, but there are some people here and there. He feels a hint of jealousy when he sees the millionth group of friends pass by the store, laughing and having fun, just hanging out together. He hasn't been able to do that in so long, he just misses it.

He wonders if he got out of here... could he manage to turn his life around? Would he even be able to find a job? He knows he wouldn't be able to do anything that would pay much.

Marshall spares one more glance towards Lawrence. He's still talking to the cashier. He puts the hoodie back on the hanger and takes a step back. And another step. And another step.

Through it all, he expects Lawrence to look his way, to notice him inching towards the exit of the store. But he doesn't. He doesn't even look his way.

His hand shakes as he slowly backs away from the store. He stops when he gets to the doorway. He can't believe he's actually doing this. Is he? He kind of hopes Lawrence will stop him, but he doesn't. He takes one more step, and when he's in the hall of the mall, he darts right.

Marshall trips over his own feet as he makes his way to the stairs to go down a level, to get out of here, maybe find help. He knows he has to be quick about this before Lawrence catches him, but he can't help but slow down to look at all the stores and the people walking around. He looks for someone who can help him, but he's afraid no one will believe him.

He picks up his speed again once he's out of the crowd of people, heading right towards the exit of the mall.

There's no going back.

It's too late to think about what he's doing, to think about what Lawrence would do to him if he got caught. The memories of being stabbed and left in the cold, lonely basement keep him from returning back to him. He shakes his head to get rid of the thoughts, but it doesn't work.

He's already almost at the exit of the mall. The exit doors are right there. All he has to do is walk through them. He looks behind him, as to see if Lawrence is in sight, but he isn't. He's starting to have a panic attack, he can feel it. Maybe he already is, judging by all the weird looks he's getting.

"Are you okay?" A security guard, wearing a worried expression, puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Just breathe... there you go. What's going on? Are you hurt?"

She's talking to him like he's a child. Marshall cries at that realization, because he knows he looks like one right now. He shakes his head, choking out, "Lawrence."

"Lawrence?" She furrows her brow, still keeping a hand on his shoulder. "Who's Lawrence? Is he your guardian? Do you know where he is?"

He tries to explain that he kidnapped him, but he's breathing so heavily he's sure he's hyperventilating. Should he tell her? He doesn't want Lawrence to get in trouble... no, wait, he does. He kidnapped him. So why is he finding it so hard to tell her the truth?

The woman shakes her head, then says, "Okay, look, I need you to calm down. Just take deep breaths, okay? Do you have asthma?" When Marshall shakes his head, she helps him up. "Come on, I'll take you to the security office."

He tries to tell her no, he doesn't want to go to the security office, he wants to go home. But his voice is shaking so much he's afraid he won't be able to be understood, so he follows her anyway. At least if Lawrence comes, she'll protect him.

When they get there, she helps him sit down, and he rests his head in his hands as he tries to calm down. She's saying something to him, but he can't make out what.

He manages to say, "Lawrence-- Lawrence, he... he..."

"What did he do? Did he hurt you?" She grabs a phone.

Just as he's about to tell her what happened, what's been happening, he hears a familiar voice that makes his face pale.

"Oh, Isaac! Are you okay!? I've been looking everywhere for you, you worried me sick!" Lawrence rushes in and kneels down, cupping Marshall's face. "What happened?! Are you hurt!?"

"Sir, I need you to calm down," the woman says. "We're trying to talk, can you wait outside the office?"

He looks up at her, Marshall can see a hint of anger in his eyes before he sighs. "Look, Isaac has many mental issues, this isn't the first time this has happened. I'm his father, look." He gives her his ID, then grabs Marshall's from his pocket.

"Charlie Keyes," she reads, giving him a look of suspicion. "Listen, sir, I'm not doubting your words are true, but you need to understand that there are certain protocols I have to go through before I can take this further. Please wait outside the office for a moment."

Through it all, Marshall wants to interject, but he doesn't. He opens his mouth, but Lawrence squeezes his shoulder tight as if warning him to shut up.

"Mr. Keyes, it's not that your his father I'm doubtful of, it's--"

"I know, you think I'm abusing him. Call Glenn, I know him, he can tell you this isn't the first time this has happened. I have all of Isaac's medical information saved on my phone, Glenn can validate that for you."

She seems hesitant, but she nods and takes out her phone. "If you don't mind waiting a few minutes, I'll give him a call."

"I'm sorry for the hassle," Lawrence says with a smile. "Thank you for helping him, I'm just glad he's okay."

The woman smiles back and nods before standing up and leaving the room.

Lawrence knows if she ends up calling the police, he can just make up more false evidence. Since she's still within earshot, he coos to Marshall, "Oh, Isaac, honey, this is the fourth time this month. Maybe we should get you on stronger meds, hmm?" His smile, which can be mistaken for caring and sweet, is really just mocking and taunting. In a quieter voice, Lawrence says in his ear, "If you don't go along with everything I say, it won't end in your favor."

Marshall knows it won't end in his favor either way.

Lawrence is the one in control of their situation. He always has been.

Eventually the woman comes back in and apologizes for the inconvenience, then she leaves them. "I'm sorry for the wait," she says. "You're free to go. Again, I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"No problem," Lawrence replies. "As said, this isn't the first time this happened. Come on, kiddo, let's go home." He helps Marshall stand up and leads him out of the security office.

As they leave the mall, Marshall glances back and sees the woman watching them leave. He wants to say something, especially because he knows what's coming for him as soon as he gets back to the hellhole Lawrence calls their home, but he doesn't. He keeps quiet and lets himself be dragged through the parking lot.

As soon as they get in the car, Lawrence looks over at Marshall. He looks pissed. Marshall looks away.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was, Marshall?" Lawrence scolds him. "You can't just take off like that! What if something happened to you!? You could have been hurt! I trusted you to come with me because I thought you learnt your lesson from last time, but apparently you haven't!"

Marshall shrinks back in his seat, staring at his lap. He can hear his heart beating loudly in his ears. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what he would say if he did.

"I told you I wouldn't hesitate to punish you if you ever disobeyed me again," Lawrence says. "Do you remember what happened last time? Do you want to relive that?"

Tears roll down Marshall's eyes as he shakes his head. He wants to say he's sorry, that he won't do it again, that he'll be good, but the words get caught in his throat. It seems the pathetic display of tears has helped Lawrence to ease up a little bit, because his tone softens.

"Oh, sweetie," Lawrence sighs. "I know you don't mean to disobey me. I just wish you understood that I only want what's best for you. It's hard to help you when you refuse to listen."

"I'm sorry," Marshall manages to choke out. "I won't do it again."

"That's what you always say," Lawrence replies. "And yet here we are again. Maybe I need to come up with a better punishment for you."

"No, no, no, please, no more," Marshall pleads. He can't stand the thought of going through that again.

"You know how this works, Marshie. You've got to learn your lesson or you won't learn anything."

Marshall whimpers and hangs his head. He knows there's nothing he can say to Lawrence to change his mind. He's been through this too many times to try again.

"Oh, kiddo," Lawrence says softly, "Don't cry, please don't cry." He pulls Marshall into his arms, holding him close. It's an uncomfortable position since Marshall can feel the center console digging into his stomach.

Lawrence continues to coo at him as he holds him in his arms, rubbing his back, brushing his hair out of his face. His voice is so soothing and calming, it's almost as if Marshall can forget how dangerous he is. Almost.

"I know you think I'm a monster," Lawrence says, "but you must understand how much I care for you. You're my little boy. I know I'm protective, overprotective, even, but...." He squeezes Marshall so tight he winces. "I only want the best for you. Where would you go to if you left? Not only would you leave your dear old dad heartbroken, but you'd be homeless and alone on the streets again. You wouldn't know how to get by without me, you wouldn't have any money to survive. Is that really what you want?"

Marshall shakes his head.

"I didn't think so. So you have to understand why I'm so protective of you. I can't risk losing you." Lawrence kisses his temple. "You're my world."

Marshall keeps his head down and tries not to think about what Lawrence just said. He tries not to think about how his heart skipped a beat at that comment. He craves to hear those words, but not by Lawrence. Not from this monster.

When they get back home, Marshall is convinced Lawrence will let it slide since he seems much more calm now. That is, until Lawrence tells him to follow him to the basement. He doesn't have any strength to fight him anymore, so he follows him obediently, trying to hold back tears as he goes down the stairs.

"So!" Lawrence claps his hands together as he shuts the door behind them. "Now that that's over with, lets talk about your punishment."

[fanficwriter284]

Saw ur post about having writers block, maybe i can help?

What if u wrote about BarcleyPierce ? Like nica and andy slowly falling for one another i think that'd be cute

OOO!!! I've never written about the two before!!! But I certainly have thought about it!!! Now this gives me the perfect excuse! Hehehe And yes it would totally be cute!!! Thank you!!

It had approximately been 2 months since she met them. Andy Barclay and Kyle Simpson. They were nice enough to let Nica stay with them. Since Nica had no place of her own, so the trio hid away from the world, in a cabin. And due to that red-headed fiend, they had no homes or family...they didn't belong in society anymore...They were outcasts.

Nica had gotten along just fine with Kyle...but Andy? She couldn't say she didn't because the man never uttered a full sentence around her. Any dialogue that came from his mouth was either, inaudible mumbles or a single word. He was a rather awkward and distant man, unlike his sister. Nica didn't mind his coldness and often found conversation with Kyle. However, she did find it a bit rude at his reoccurring dismissiveness and negativity the man possessed. Kyle would often apologize for her brother's distant behavior, and fill Nica's head with lighthearted stories about the two growing up, hoping to shed a positive light on Andy. Kyle never opened up about her home life before meeting Andy and being placed into the foster system. It was rather a sensitive topic for the blonde. Nica never pushed forward on the topic, seeing the immense discomfort it brought Kyle, she kept quiet as she too had a sore spot when it came to her home life. So, she kept asking questions about Andy. At first, she didn't care all too much and only brought him up to make conversation with Kyle, however over the course of time she stayed with the two of them, she grew to look forward to their little talks about Andy.

"And there was this one time when I was doing the laundry and the kid took my cigarette and inhaled that thing! Oh wait that reminds me! Andy's birthday's tomorrow."

Hearing that had caught Nica's attention. She tossed back her hair, combing a loose strand from her face, and tucking it to the side.

"Why don't we do something for him?"

Nica noticed a sudden change in Kyle's demeanor. Once jolly and bright, now turned grim and sad.

"What's wrong?" She questioned, curious to find the reasoning behind the sudden mood shift.

"On his sixth birthday...he well...his gift was the fucking doll....the thing that ruined his life....and after that....he never really did birthdays...Well...not his..."

Nica felt herself sink into her chair, saddened by the thought.

"Well...maybe we can change that....how about something small. Just a cake. His favorites vanilla right?"

"Yeah how'd you know that?"

Nica felt herself blush a tad bit.

"Oh, you told me when we were chatting"

Kyle let out a find grin, letting out a small chuckle, crossing her arms.

"Alright I'll head to the bakery, there should be one close by"

Nica raised a brow, the three of them were in the middle of nowhere, there was no sign of civilization for miles.

"No there isn't"

"Yeah, there is, it's like 3 hours away though. Considering we're out in the damn forest, I consider that close Nica. When you've been here for as long as I have, 3 hours is nothing."

Nica gave a slight shrug, taking Kyles's word for it. She had watched her friend take her black leather coat off the hanger and make her way to her car. Once Kyle began to drive off, Nica waved goodbye, wishing her safe travels.

...

Andy Barclay had been wallowing alone in his room. He'd come to the realization that it was his birthday tomorrow. The day that caused the hell he was living. Somedays he felt there was no point in getting out of bed. He had no reason to. Except for Kyle. She made sure he left his room, that he ate, and that he slept. Without her, he was as good as dead...Sometimes he'd wonder about death. Why it didn't come and take him when it had the chance. It had no issue taking his mother. Oh, how he missed her. Each night longing to be held by her soft warm embrace. Her reassuring voice telling him that it was going to be okay, and soothing his nightmares. But that was all gone now...it perished with her. And so did his remnants of innocence.

...

Nica had felt like she needed to get Andy a gift. Though she couldn't conjure up much. She had no money and no contact with the outside world. So, something homemade would have to do. There was no paper to making a card was out of the question. And not a since pen or pencil insight. She couldn't cook anything since all the food they had was instant and microwavable.

Her search around the house had proven to be useless, and quite a bit challenging, with her wheelchair bumped into corners and the rug getting caught in her wheels.

"Damn it"

"Need some help with that?"

The poor girl jolted upwards startled by his sudden presence.

"Ya really snuck up on me there"

"Sorry...I'll give ya a warning next time"

Before Nica could respond, she felt herself being pulled away from the corner and guided to her she had a bit more space, so she could move freely.

"Thank you"

"...You're welcome..........Hey....Where's Kyle?"

Nica blushed at his question, but answered with a minor fib, to keep Andy's surprise a secret.

"Kyle? Oh she said she was gonna go get something"

"What thing?"

"Don't know she didn't say"

Andy let out a faint grunt, and headed back to his room, remaining there the rest of the evening, quiet as a mouse.

Eventually, Kyle finally returned with the Vanilla cake, showing it to Nica. It was a rather simple cake. With frosting and rainbow-colored sprinkles, with Andy's name in the center of the cake, written in creamy blue frosting.

"Looks good!"

"Had to get the center redone, the damn fuck misspelled his name. Like how the fuck do you misspell Andy?"

...

After the cake had been hidden at the back of the fridge, where Andy wouldn't find it, Nica went back on her quest to find Andy a birthday present. Only to find nothing. After a long while of looking she stumbled upon, the jacket he lent her on the first day they met. Nica had found it in one of her drawers, with it neatly tucked away safely. The jacket was in perfect condition, with not a stick or loose string in sight.

"That'll will work"

...

6:30 Am

Andy was more miserable than ever. He had been dreading for the sun to rise, marking the day that all hell started. He thought about just staying in bed till the day passed, but he knew Kyle would barge in and force him out of his cave. So he kicked off the covers, and shuffled his way the to door. Grumbling with each step.

Surprisingly the house had been quiet. At first, he thought he was the only one awake, but Kyle always woke up at 5, so his original theory was false.

"What the hell? Hello?"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY"

"..."

Andy could only remain silent. He could only stare at the cake in front of him. With the giving warmth to his frosty arms.

"Come on sport. Blow 'em out! Make a wish"

The man blinked a few times before leaning in and blowing out the flames. Kyle cut the two pieces of the cake and placed each slice on paper plates she had purchased at the store.

"Here ya go"

"Vanilla. You got my favorite"

The blonde smirked elbowing Andy in the side playfully, causing the man to stifle to the side bumping into Nica, causing her to drop her slice.

"I am so sorry."

"No no it's fine!"

"Here I'll pick it up"

Kyle handed her brother a packet of paper towels and watched him scoop up the delicious pastry and toss it in the trash.

"Oh shoot...ya kind got a bit on your face. Hang on..."

Andy almost instinctively, grabbed another towel and wiped off a bit of frosting from Nica's cheek, causing the woman to blush once more.

"...Oh god...I should not have done that....sorry that must have been really weird for me to---"

"Andy! It's fine!!! Really! And besides it was only a bit of frosting...And here I got you a gift."

Andy froze examining the think box.

"I didn't have time to wrap it...sorry about that"

"T--This....I---Is for me?"

"Yeah, it is your birthday. Open it"

Slightly hesitant he lifted, the top of the box, revealing his jacket.

".........My jacket"

"Yeah sorry it took so long to give it back to you...."

"....M--My mom gave me this jacket....Thank you Nica..." He whispered struggling to hold back tears.

"You're welcome Andy. I'm glad you liked it"

"...I love it"

...

From then on the two began to chat more often amongst themselves. Becoming more and more comfortable on the other's presence.

[regenderate-fic]

When I Run Away (You're Who I Run To): Epilogue

main post read on ao3

Word Count (Chapter): 1,190

NOTES: sorry to make you all wait so long for this… but behold! epilogue!

this is by far the longest fic i've ever finished, so thank you to everyone who's read this far <3 it's been really fun to see people's responses every week, and i hope you like this as an attempt to tie it all up.

i have a bunch of other ideas in the works, too, although some of them are pretty far off from this! but keep an eye out if you want to see the roseyazclara disaster throuple fic OR the tenrose figure skating au <3

UPDATE: I (30F) might be in love with my roommate (29F). What am I supposed to do? - u/throwRAjustgoodfriends

Okay, I’m mostly here because everyone else involved thought it would be funny to see the responses. If you don’t remember my last post, basically I thought I was straight but had just realized I had a thing for my best friend (“Lily”).

First of all, there’s not much point in the pseudonym, considering the “friend” whose place we were staying at (hi, Penny) found the post and figured out who I was talking about right away. So I’ll just call her Rose, considering that’s her name.

Second of all, thanks to whoever crossposted to Instagram, because Rose doesn’t use Reddit. But she saw it on Instagram, and long story short, everyone was right. She was totally into me, had been for years, and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. (Rose and Penny both want to “enter into the record” that *they* can believe it.) Not much about our relationship has changed, to be honest, but it feels really great to finally understand how I feel. And the extra cuddling isn’t half bad, either.

That’s not where it ends, either. Somehow I’ve gone from someone who couldn’t admit I was into women to someone who has two girlfriends? We’d been spending a lot of time with Penny (she owns the shop across the street, and she was going through a rough time), and I suppose you might say one thing led to another.

All of this is to say that everything in my life has gotten much better in the last six months. I didn’t really realize this was possible when I posted. Thank you to everyone who commented on the first post, but especially Penny, of course. And if you’re ever in London, check out Bad Wolf Body Shop (and TARDIS Bakery)! 

Yaz leaned back, lifting her hands from the keyboard. “Good?” she asked.

Rose and Penny leaned in on either side of her, scanning the words on the screen. Rose nodded, but Penny gave her a sidelong look. “Where’s the bit about how incredibly sexy your newest girlfriend is?”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m posting.” 

“No, wait!” 

But it was too late: Yaz had hit the post button. She wrapped an arm around Penny’s shoulders until Penny fell across her lap, displacing the laptop—fortunately, Rose had the presence of mind to move it to the coffee table before leaning her head on Yaz’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Yaz smiled. 

“Time for bed?” she asked. 

They were still all piling into Rose’s bed most nights, even though the necessity was no longer there—Ace had gone and filled one of the rooms in Bill’s flat after one of Bill’s roommates broke their lease. She still came over most afternoons, of course, but she slept somewhere else, and theoretically Yaz could’ve slept in her bed again. In practice, though, she’d gotten used to sharing a too-small bed with Rose and Penny, and then Rose had caved and found them a bigger bed. So tonight, they sprawled out, one of Yaz’s arms flung across Penny, brushing against Rose’s side, and one of Penny’s legs slung over Yaz’s hip. Yaz pulled the blanket up to her chin, reveling in the knowledge that not only was she sitting in such coziness, but she was used to it. She borderline took it for granted. 

She fell asleep quickly, and woke up slowly. She blinked open her eyes and turned her head to see the summer sun, shining through the curtains, turning Rose’s hair gold. Penny was gone already: she’d gone back to her full time hours a couple months ago, and on days she worked she was out of bed first. Sometimes Yaz would wake up to her alarm, and she’d give Penny a bleary kiss before rolling over and falling back asleep; today, though, she’d missed it. 

She checked the time on her phone. There were five minutes before her own alarm went off. That was the best sort of morning. It meant Yaz could roll over, cuddle up next to Rose, and shut her eyes again for just a little longer. 

Her alarm went off, and Yaz sat up. She poked at Rose and laughed when Rose batted her away.

“Get up so we can get coffee,” she said. 

Rose groaned, but she pushed herself up on her elbows. “Fine.”

Ace was behind the counter when they came in. Her jacket had a new patch, Yaz noticed, a cartoonish “BOOM!” design. 

“D’you like it?” Ace asked, looking down at the patch. “Bill gave it to me. Said she had an extra.” She turned her grin on Yaz and Rose. “Penny’s in the back.”

“I’m where?” Penny had appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray of muffins on the hand not holding her cane. When she saw Yaz and Rose, her confused expression turned to a wild grin. “Oh! You’re here! D’you want a muffin?”

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to sell those,” Yaz pointed out.

Penny rolled her eyes. “Fine. D’you want to buy a muffin?”

“Dunno,” Rose said. “What’s in ‘em?” 

“Chocolate, mostly,” Penny said. “Bit of cinnamon, for the kick. Ace mixed the batter.”

“Yeah, all right,” Rose decided. 

Penny grinned. She slid the tray into the display case before using tongs to pluck a muffin off it. Before she could drop it into a bag, she looked up at Yaz. “Yaz? One for you?”

“Okay.” 

Penny put two muffins into the bag and slid it across the counter, and then she came around the counter herself to plant a kiss on each of their cheeks. 

“Good service around here,” Yaz noted, barely suppressing her grin.

“Only the best,” Penny promised. “See you later?”

Yaz and Rose both nodded. And Penny made good on the promise: that afternoon, Yaz finished a tattoo and walked out into the waiting room with her client to see Penny sprawled across three seats, trying to convince Amy that brightly colored feathers were going to be the new fashion trend. 

“Maybe for you,” Yaz said, tapping at Penny’s legs until she swung them to the floor, leaving room for Yaz to sit down. “I think I’ll be keeping my wardrobe feather-free.”

Rose’s head popped into the room. “Oh, are we having a party?”

“You’ve got a client in fifteen minutes,” Amy told her.

“That’s loads of time,” Rose replied. She sat herself down on Yaz’s lap, just like she always had—only now she was in the habit of slinging her arm around Penny’s shoulders, too, which always made Yaz feel like she had fit herself snugly into a three-person puzzle. It was strange: Yaz’s life had only been like this for six months, but somehow it felt like the only way it had ever been, the only way it could be. Here, in her shop, with the people she loved. 

She let her head rest on Penny’s shoulder, let her arm tighten around Rose’s waist, and felt a smile sneak onto her face. If she was lucky, she thought, she would have this forever.

[festiveferret]

brooklyn for the wip tag game? <3 (i typed this all in caps because i was so excited and then went back and retyped it so i wouldnt scare u hahah)

Hahaha, I take the all caps in the spirit with which they're intended XD

Brooklyn has been a WIP for literal years, but I just finished another one of those started around the same time so I'm deeply convinced SOMEDAY I'll get it done.

It's set pretty early in canon, slightly divergent. After Avengers 2012, Fury sends Steve and Tony on a modified sleeper quinjet on a journey around the world to hunt down Chitauri weapons being sold on the black market and re-collecting them. It's mostly just 50k of Steve and Tony who don't really like or trust each other yet stuck on a tiny aircraft for months on end. It's called Brooklyn, because that's what they end up naming the quinjet!

(guess what: they end up falling in love omg)

An snip:

“Say no, Tony,” Rhodey said, “Don’t let your guilt drive you. This isn’t your responsibility to fix. Fury will find someone else. Besides you don’t want to be stuck on a ‘long, away’ mission with Captain Rogers do you? You guys hate each other.”

“We don’t. We politely and professionally disagree with each other on basically everything one can disagree with. Also he has stupid teeth and obnoxious hair.”

“Right. Very amicable. I’m sure that’ll go swimmingly.”

“Yeah…”

“Say no, Tony. Go to bed. I can come to Malibu next week if you like? I’ve got some time.”

Tony’s eyes were drawn back to the line of Iron Man suits. Sometimes they scared the crap out of him. Looming up there. He half expected their heads to turn, eyes to light up, stare him down, rush him. They leaned towards him in the dark. He put his hand back over the arc reactor, clenching his fingers around the metal ridge. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t work without him. He was the battery. He gave them life. He controlled them.

“Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“Go to bed. It won’t seem like such a big deal in the morning. You’ll tell Fury to fuck off and go back to normal life, okay?”

Tony’s eyes dropped back to the phone in his lap. “Yeah, okay. Thanks buddy.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

JARVIS disconnected the call, but Tony didn’t move. The air in the workshop - his sanctuary - was heavy, keeping him pressed to the floor. Why was this such a hard decision? Pepper thought he needed to save the world. Rhodey thought he felt guilty. What did he really feel?

It felt a lot like nothing…

Black, gaping, endless, nothing. That’s what he felt. The vastness of empty oblivion yawning at him, pulling at his insides, ripping the air out of his lungs, and squeezing his heart. If he stayed here, he would get lost in that. He wasn’t very self-aware, but that much, he could see. The black hole in the centre of his life, one trip, a little balance lost, one shift and he’d be gone. It called to him, wanted him. 

He didn’t want to do what Fury told him to. He didn’t want to be stuck in a cardboard box with Steve Rogers for god knew how long. He didn’t want to leave behind his bots and his tools and his friends. He didn’t want to go.

But he was going to.

Thaaaank! ❤❤