#one of my friends in secondary school once asked a teacher if he could write an argumentative essay on the position that I was secretly a | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anna1306 · 2 years

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This idea was stuck in my mind too strongly not to write it c:

Rule

Poly!Ghostface x Reader

Warnings: discussion of death, death of secondary character, blood

Being new wasn't an easy deal. It didn't matter whether you were new in school, work, company or anywhere else. In any case there would be side-eyes, whispers and a lot of interest on you.

You weren't exactly used to the attention. You were from small, quiet city where something loud happened obviously, but it was only from time to time. And still your family decided that you should try it out there, in bigger town, with more opportunities. You didn't oppose to that, but it was something completely new. You had to redo your whole lifestyle practically.

You parked your car near the school and sighed. It would be okay. It would be alright. You could do that. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. You should at least try. There was always an option to return back to your family after all. Finally you gathered your thoughts and left the car.

On your way to school you met with couple of strange looks, but tried your hardest to dismiss them. You met with the teacher that was assigned to show you around and it turned out fine, you almost remembered everything. The last stop was your first class. While teacher was introducing you, you looked at your new classmates. Couple of them caught your eye, but you still didn't let your gaze linger on them for long. Even if they were pretty. Even if one especially hot brunette returned your look, and then turned away to whisper something to his more giddy blonde friend.

But the lesson was normal. Everything was pretty much normal. It scared you to some extent. Normal... wasn't your thing. You were paranoid and you started to overthink that these silent looks were holding something behind them.

So you decided to calm yourself down and distance yourself from all the noise. Noone had introduced themselves to you yet, so you could sit alone without awkward interactions. On the lunch break you went out of the building, sitting under the tree. Sandwich in one hand, book in the other one, you finally managed to calm yourself down.

"Hey there!" You jumped in surprise, looking at the girl in front of you. There were two of them actually, but the one who greeted you, stood a little bit closer to you. Blonde one with wide smile and bright clothes. "I'm Tatum. Mind if we sit?"

"Uhm... No, not at all." You smiled sheepishly, coughing from the sandwich that got stuck in your throat. The girl with dark hair passed you the bottle of water.

"Sorry if we scared you. I'm Sidney." She offered you a small smile.

"Y/N. It's fine, I was too invested in the book." You shook your head, forcing yourself to relax a bit. You were ought to have at least couple of conversations, you just had to not look freaky during those.

"What is that?" Tatum asked, biting an apple. You smiled, closing the book.

"Poetry. My elder brother gave it to me before I came here, so I decided I should give it a try." They looked cool and easy-going. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard fitting in here and all you worries were up for nothing.

"That's boring!" You jumped in surprise once again, when tall blonde guy from your first class that day plopped on the grass near Tatum.

"If you can't read, Stu, that doesn't mean that it's not interesting for everybody else." Tatum scoffed and looked at you. "Don't mind Stu, he can be a lot sometimes."

"I have a lot of something, if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows, looking at you with a smirk.

"I have never heard lamer pickup line... " You mumbled to yourself. But the company heard you pretty well, Sidney giggled, while Tatum loudly laughed.

"You are gonna fit just fine. But don't worry. He barks, but not bites." She winked at you. You smiled a bit in response, distracting yourself with more sandwich.

"I am deeply wounded." Stu playfully put his hand to the forehead, pretending to be hurt. You couldn't lie, he was cute. And funny to some extent. But he was too much, you weren't used to that. Oh well, another new thing for you.

"Can I look? Or is it too personal?" Sidney asked, motioning to your book. You moved it closer to your side, shaking your head. There were so much notes from your brother, most of it were filled with your inside jokes or personal things. You didn't want anyone to even get a glimpse of it.

"Sorry, no." You smiled awkwardly and quickly changed the theme. "I meant to ask, I am still bad with directions here, as I am obviously new. I have biology next, maybe you could help me to get there?"

"I can!" Stu grinned, excitedly raising his arm, as if he was volunteering at something. "We have the same class!"

"Lord, have mercy on your soul." Sidney joked, making you smile a bit.

You sat there a little longer, the girls making sure to know you a bit more and vice versa, as you gave each other bits of your personal life. You didn't want to spill it all, you were closed person, and your family wasn't a simple one, but still you told them that you liked poetry, movies and rock music. Stu occasionally insert his opinion, making the atmosphere lighter and even leading the talk into completely other direction.

"Finally, we are alone." Macher smirked, when you both parted your ways with the girls. You smiled awkwardly.

"You are way too flirty for someone with a girlfriend." In the past fifteen minutes you learned that this was just how Stu was, now you getting used to it was just the matter of time. The boy scoffed.

"There is no fun in being sad and serious all the time, you know?" He was light, almost jumping with every step. You smiled at this, trying to remember the way to the class at the same time. None of the people you knew before had the same lightness to them. "So how is our citadel of boring knowledge? Different from your past one?"

"I... I was home-schooled, so... I honestly can't make comparison." You admitted shyly. Stu suddenly gasped and stopped right in front of you, looking at you with wide eyes. You stopped with him.

"No way! You have never been to school before?!" You shrugged, not understanding his excitement.

"Yeah... We... I am from small town, our school wasn't big enough, so I was at home." Macher laughed excitedly, grabbing your shoulders.

"You are so lucky!!! Tell me more about it. Who was your teacher? Your mom?" You shivered, anxiety slowly crawling back into your soul, as the loud boy definitely drew attention to you and standing in the middle of corridor wasn't the best place for flashbacks. But before you could say anything else, someone suddenly smacked Stu on the back of his head.

"You are annoyingly loud, dude." You looked to the side and saw a brunette, that caught your eye from earlier. He looked you up and down. "I hope he didn't scare you."

"No... Just... Too much. First day and everything." You breathed out with a nervous smile. The boy nodded.

"I know the feeling. Billy. Billy Loomis. And you are Y/N. I remember the introduction." Strange, but you felt more at ease with his presence. Stu got quieter, rubbing his head and letting you go, looking between you and Billy, but he didn't try to be loud anymore. That sudden change of character was a bit weird, but... You set the thought aside.

"Good to meet you. Uhm... I think the class is starting soon."

"Yeah, let's go, we don't want to be late because of someone's never shutting mouth." Billy glared at Stu. They exchanged looks and suddenly Macher went back to being his loud, overreacting himself, bickering with his more calm and silent friend back and forth, as you were following them to the class. Something here was fishy. They were strange, even if you couldn't explain what it was exactly. But that was definitely better than quiet normallness of this place.

***

"What the hell did you do with it?" You straightened up, looking at Stu. He was too busy whispering something to Tatum. Probably something lewd, knowing him. "Hey, earth to Stu!" The boy raised his eyes to look at you.

"Huh? Yes, my lovely mechanic?" He smiled widely at you, probably being concentrated on Tatum in his arms still.

"What the hell did you do to your car that it's so broken, but still running?" You looked at him exhasperatedly. You were regretting the decision to tell the guys that you know your ways around cars. The minute Macher heard about that, he asked you to take a look at his car. And it was awful.

"Magic fingers." He smirked, wiggling his fingers. You rolled your eyes, turning back to the car. What did you expect from him? Serious answer? It had been couple of weeks of you in this town, you should have get used to his persona.

"You are really good with it." Sidney noticed, sitting in the chair, warming under the sun. The garage door was open to let the warm air in, and music was playing, but she spoke loud and clear for you to hear her. "I mean, car stuff." You scoffed.

"My brother is... Kinda a mechanic. He usually took me with him to the repair shop, when I was younger. And I picked a thing or two... How in the living hell this is connected?!" You groaned, disconnecting the wrong tube. If your brother was here, he would be so angry at Stu for doing this to his car. Thankfully, you weren't your brother. Only tiny bit like him.

You were too concentrated on your work, figuring out what was wrong here and what to do to fix it. Even if Stu could drive just fine, it would still be easier if the car would be repaired. You could almost hear his whistles and screams, when the drive would be fast and smooth. And honestly, you couldn't wait to see him excited like that.

"Y/N, maybe you should..."

"Fuck off while I'm busy!" You cursed at the sudden interruption and pushed someone who came closer to you before you could realise what you were doing. And when you did understood what just happened, you raised the eyes to see Billy. With an empty glass. And wet t-shirt. "Oh my god, I am so sorry. I got so into work I forgot everything. That was so rude of me."

"It's... Fine." He muttered, looking at your face. Something in his eyes made you shiver. Something that was too familiar, but still unpredictable. Something that almost made you check the garage for ways around. "Just thought you got overheated and needed a break."

"Yeah... You are probably right." His face softened, but the glint of something you saw in his eyes stayed somewhere in his face. You just knew it. You could almost feel it. "I will fix your t-shirt, so sorry again."

"Wow, someone wants to see Billy without his shirt." Stu whistled, breaking your strange eye contact. You looked at him, noticing his too satisfied smirk. Like he was enjoying the situation. These two from the start were the only ones who didn't look normal to you. To others - maybe. But you knew all to well to look behind the scene.

"If I wanted to look at the man, who's taken, I would search movies with Tom Cruise." You blurted out without thinking. In a second the garage was filled with laughter and Tatum's discussion on the theme of hot actors, and the feeling of something weird in the air disappeared. But when you went back to the car, you could feel eyes on the back of your head and on your hands.

***

"Who's Casey?" You asked Tatum, as you were walking to the school. The whole town it seemed, was full of talks and whispers. And the more information there was, the harder it was for you to understand what was really going on.

"The girl Sidney was sitting in English with. And her boyfriend was the captain of football team." She answered, watching Prescott joining you both. "They say that they both were gutted, like from side to side."

"They say a lot of things, but what is the truth?" You sighed, walking with them, mind filled with thoughts. You didn't know that your move here would result in you finding yourself in this events.

"Who knows? Police won't tell us the truth. But if you are curious, I can bribe Dewey."

"Don't... All of it is clearly enough to get the basic idea." You shook your head, somehow feeling sick to your stomach. Your mind was convinced that you were smelling sweet, rotten scent in the air. Hotness rolled of your skin, like you were in a stuff place or near candles. Your mind wondered somewhere else. Suddenly there was rough voice in your head telling you to follow the rules, so you wouldn't get hurt, to stay back and don't interfere.

"...just imagine." You shivered, realising you were in the classroom already. You were too gone in your own head to remember how you got to your desk. Stu was turned to you, grinning like crazy. Like always. He probably was mumbling about something for quite some time.

"Sorry... What?" You asked him, looking at him puzzled, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I said, imagine yourself on her place. It must be awful." He giggled. Horror fanatic. You shook your head absent-mindedly. You knew the rules of surviving. You knew how to not attract the attention and live through this. You shouldn't be worried about it, but you couldn't help it.

"I have a knife from my brother." You answered quietly, looking away from him. Stu whistled, licking his lips, his eyes are burning with genuine interest.

"Don't tell cops that." Billy scoffed, sitting at desk in front of you with a huff. "They asked me if I was a hunter." He added.

"Come on, Billy, it couldn't be our Y/N. Look at them. They can't hurt a fly." Stu put a hand on your shoulder, shaking you a bit.

"Yes. I have never killed a person. I can't kill." You scoffed nervously, too deep in your thoughts again, not noticing the glare from both of the boys.

***

"Why the fuck this dick wasn't at his home." Breathed out Stu. Billy shushed him, adjusting the gloves.

"It doesn't matter. Jason will get what's coming to him. But his girlfriend should go down tonight." He whispered, checking the voice changer and going over every detail of their plan for today one more time. They were near the house of one of the most rudest bitches Billy had ever met. And he wanted to teach all the town a lesson. Even if it would be through hands of Stu. Loomis would gladly just watch the scene go down. He called the number, they both were ready to start.

"Yeah?" Loomis froze for a second. That was definitely not Britney's voice in the phone. But he was sure that she would be alone, he and Stu learned all about her day beforehand.

"Can I hear Brit?" He still asked with changer near his mouth. If there was only two of them, there shouldn't have been any problems.

"Oh, no, she's busy. Bye." He could swear he heard a giggle, before the phone died. And not like someone just hung up on him, but like something happened to the phone itself.

"Dude? What is it?" Stu looked at him nervously. He couldn't just sit there and wait. He was ready to pounce at any moment, but Loomis was concerned and shook his head.

"There's something wrong. Come on, let's get a closer look inside..."

There were three victims already. Two of them died on the same night. There were too much talks. Too much noise. And it was never-ending. After failed attack on Sidney and Billy's arrest and quick freeing of him you only grew more nervous. With the situation, with yourself... Besides, family on the other side of the rare phonecalls you had with them, weren't pleased to learn that you or even them could be in danger. You had to talk with them for a long time to convince them to let you stay there, as you didn't want to go back to old and small town. Yet. But also you had to find the way to get all of your emotions out and not just in chit-chat with Tatum. You had to find the exit to your anger, home-sickness and anxiety. It was just...

"...too much, you know?" You said quietly, rocking in the kitchen chair. "I am used to one lifestyle. And then I moved. And got used to quietness here. And then this. I'm just going crazy, do you understand?"

"I can't..." The girl before you whimpered. You sighed, that was called an ungrateful listener. Billy would have listened and even answer something or give an advice. But he was too pretty and had a lot on his plate to talk with him like that.

"Look, all I am saying that even if I missed this... Adrenaline rush, screams and blood and tension, I never expected someone to be so absorbed with one theme for days. It is tiring to hear about murders and never getting a rest from it, you know?"

"You did all of that!" She suddenly screamed. You rolled your eyes tiredly. Even Stu listened better, and he had an attention span of a toothpick.

"Damn, I get that you are blonde, but I don't think that you are that dumb. And last time I checked you weren't deaf." You stood up, noticing how she immediately tensed up. It was surprisingly nice - feeling such kind of power over people. You made two slow steps to her. "Casey, her boyfriend and that boy from two days ago - aren't my victims. I don't kill people. I don't kill them at all, that is the rule."

"You killed Jason!" You laughed at her face in response and looked at the lifeless body between you two, bending to it.

"No. You did." You answered with a laugh, shaking your head. "I just hurt him, wounded him with a knife. He could have made it with quick medical assistance, if you didn't pull the knife out so roughly."

"You sick fucker..." She whimpered, sobbing. Tainted with blood on her hands, face and blonde hair, she almost looked pretty. You guessed you could see now where your brother was taking inspiration from.

"Aren't we all?" You licked your lips, enjoying the emotional relief maybe a little bit too much.

"I will tell everyone."

"No, you won't." You scoffed, stepping away from the girl, as you straightened your posture. "Firstly, you won't live long enough to tell the story, you will kill yourself. Secondly, everyone will think that this was Ghostface doing, not mine. No one will think about two killers at the same time at the same space, there isn't even such cliche in horror movies. Thirdly..."

She suddenly launched herself forward. Grabbing the bloody knife from the counter, she raised her hand for a strike, but... You stepped back, hiding behind the table. In attempt to chase you, Britney ran after you, but... She stumbled in the slippery pool of blood. Trying to soften the fall, the girl instinctively put her hands before her, forgetting about the knife. She fell on the floor with a loud thud. With her face on the blade.

"Great. Why the hell they never listen?" You laughed out tiredly. You weren't lying to her one bit. You didn't kill a soul. Always playing the luring role, always on the background, while others were doing their work. But you knew how victims were. How they behaved and what they did in situations like that. It didn't change one bit. Never did.

You sighed, looking at the now lifeless body, going around the table. You had to turn the girl on the back to take out the knife from her head. After all it was handmade by your brother. More so, if you were using the cover of Ghostface... He had never left the weapon behind.

Now it was your time to go. There was always a timer in your head, when you should show up, what should you say and when you should hide.

You stopped at the door though. You could swear you were being watched. But it felt almost like you were back at home. You weren't in danger. Just someone was overwatching you. Still, you were tense by this, making you remember all of the other rules. So many mixed signals...

You shook your head, going out and closing the door behind yourself, only then taking off your gloves. All that mattered was that now you knew how to let all of your emotions out. You snickered to yourself, walking away from the property. You really took after your family.

"Oh my god... Did you see that?" Stu laughed, hysterically and excitedly at the same time, closing his mouth with his hand.

"Yes, and I heard most of that, you ask me this for the fifth time." Answered Billy, watching from the open window of the kitchen, how you walked out of the house and went away, like nothing happened. They hid near it almost for entire ordeal, not entirely believing what was unraveling before them.

"We definitely have to pay them a visit, dude. For shits and giggles, for scares, I don't know. I just want them." Stu rarely got this excited, even if he was giddy all the time. But this whole scene made him all more interested in you. It made him look at you from the other perspective and rethink all of the strange moments with you. You were pretty, funny, with silver tongue and witty comebacks. He knew there was something more, and he was right. And Billy felt it too. And they both wanted the same thing now. Loomis smirked, and his wicked grin resembled one on Stu's face.

"Of course we visit them... I want to see what else our dearest Y/N Sinclair is capable of..."

#the scream #scream #the scream 1996 #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher #ghostface #poly!ghostface #ghostface x reader #scream imagine #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral #house of wax #sinclair #house of was imagine

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awooga-llama · 2 years

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Homework pals

GeorgeNotFound x AMAB! reader

High school AU

Warnings: Typos, EXTREMELY LONG!

Annabelle's Homework Inspired this, nighttime drabble I did with the thought of me having to get up at 3 am to get ready for work :p

I was sitting in my usual spot when his friends approached me. Normally nobody would even hint at knowing I existed so when Sapnap and two others walked up to me before trigonometry began I was flabbergasted. I tried to clean up my place in a hurry to get out of their way, stuffing things into my backpack except for my homework and the book I was reading.

"Hey (Y/N), hold up a second!" Sap called from down the hallway. I was prepared to give them my lunch money and anything else they wanted just so they wouldn't beat me to death. Behind him were Quackity and George. When they reached me at my sitting spot by the water fountains he crouched down to my level looking me dead in the eyes.

"How ya doing there buddy?" Sapnap asked me, putting my bookmark in the crease of my book and closing it. I was confused but decided to answer.

"I'm doing alright." I quietly mumbled, sweating slightly from my nerves. He and his friends sat on the ground, Sap and Quackity in front of me and George on my left.

"So (Y/N/N), can I call you that?" I nodded and he continued. "Anyways, (Y/N/N) we’ve been looking for you, nearly missed you, if it weren’t for Niki pointing us in your direction when we asked her, we would’ve never found you. Gogy here was wondering if you'd help him with the classes you two share. He tends to fall asleep or text the group chat during the lessons and his parents are threatening to take away his gaming privileges if his grades keep dropping." I already knew these things that Sapnap was saying and saw where this was going. I didn't want to say yes but I couldn't say no because my heart told me to go with it. You see I've had a crush on George since the beginning of secondary school but never was cool enough to talk to him.

"Come on man, Gogy needs your help bruh. It'll just be until he catches up Hermano." Quackity added in. George stared at me with his big brown doe eyes, his dark hair swept over them slightly, making me lose all train of thought. Before I knew it the word "yeah" slipped through my lips. The three boys all cheered and had a mini celebration then got up, patting me on the back and headed towards class. George stood above where I sat, waiting for me to collect my things so we could walk to trig with each other.

‘This is your chance (Y/N), you can finally get closer to him and see where it leads!’ I thought to myself, smiling a bit. I got everything in my backpack and George stuck his hand down to help me up, I gladly took it looking down though to try and conceal my face and the fact I was grinning like a fool. My cheeks were warm but I could always blame it on the scarf I was wearing due to the school’s heater being broken. Once on my feet, we began walking toward room 3013 where our math class is held. I was sad when I had to let go of his hand but my brain agreed that it would be weird if I never let it free.

The teacher wasn’t in the room yet giving everyone some free time, I quickly headed to my seat in the front of the class near the window where I spent most of my time daydreaming and occasionally writing notes. Little did I know that George followed me and sat in the normally empty seat. The brunette let out a cough to catch my attention, every fibre in my body was tense and I just wanted to scream in happiness.

“Yea George?” He looked me in the eyes, his brown ones sparkling under the bright white lights. He had a goofy smirk on his lips before spitting out what he wanted to say. He licked those same lips slowly.

“I just wanted to say thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime, ya know, get acquainted with one another. I could even introduce you to the crew, I just don't like seeing you by yourself all the time.” My brain went blank and I didn’t know how to respond just bobbing my head with wide eyes looking like some crackhead going through withdrawals. I never noticed him looking at me anytime, so how would he know I was alone almost all the time? Well, maybe all the time is a bit exaggerated because I hung out with Minx, Nikki, and Jack usually when Minx wasn’t skipping school, Nikki wasn’t sick, and when Jack wasn’t in trouble with the teachers for attacking Tommy. Now looking at it, I was alone quite a bit.

George laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder right as the teacher walked into the room greeting everyone with a good morning smile and a stack of papers in her arms.

It was no sooner than 15 minutes into the lesson when George fell asleep. His head rested on my left arm, mouth threatening to drop drool onto his math textbook. Without waking the boy, I took the book away and put it in front of him on the edge of the table, grabbing his assignment. I began to fill out all the questions that were still blank, trying to match his handwriting as close as I could and let me tell you, it was pretty close. The teacher didn't notice a thing, and if she did then she did a great job of hiding it. George softly snored beside me, occasionally mumbling something, his head snuggling closer to my arm making me blush but continued writing notes and filling out both of our papers.

His breathing was like a melody only I could hear and it really helped me focus well. It mostly helped me. There were a few times I thought he was dying because his snores would sound like he was struggling to breathe, I patted him lightly on the back and that seemed to fix it. Sometime before independent work time his head fell off the table and onto my lap, to me it looked uncomfortable but I left him like that.

The bell rang and I had to wake the sleeping boy. It was difficult but it happened. I shook him for ages before saying, "George, hey, it's time to get up buddy." He woke up after that, he almost fell over so I helped him by being his support letting him lean on me. We took the papers to the front and put them in the complete basket to be graded. I told the teacher he got hit in the head this morning by a frisbee and it was affecting him, and the nurse said he'd be fine. Of course the teacher believed me.

We made it to the hallway where Karl took him, George looked a bit disappointed and while the two walked towards the gym Gogy turned to give me a goofy grin over his shoulder waving lazily.

For the rest of the morning I had the biggest smile on my face, even if I had double homework to do tonight it'd be wort it because it was my ticket to being around my crush more.

I got through my next two classes feeling like I was floating on cloud nine and in the blink of an eye lunch came by, George was waiting for me outside of my biology class looking more awake than he did this morning.

"Well hello there (Y/N/N)! Ready to eat with the lamest group of people ever?" He asked clearly being sarcastic when he said lamest. I gave him a sheepish grin, looking down at my dirty trainers before responding quietly.

"I need to go to my locker first and meet with Niki." Gogy wrapped his arm around my shoulders pulling me closer it was like he was protecting me from all the people in the hallway.

"Then let's go to your locker, I'll make sure nobody bumps into you." He must've known about me being bullied.

He kept his promise not letting anyone get near me, giving all the people something to whisper about and handing out death causing glares when he would hear anything bad about us shutting the rumours down right then and there.

Niki waved at me when we got there, she had my locker open and was writing on my mini whiteboard. She had written some words of encouragement and drawn little frogs everywhere, giving them red/blue sunglasses like Jack's and some had purple spots on them matching Minx's hair.

"Jack is in detention again, he threw a paper airplane into Tommy's eye during art class." She said to me George turned his back on us and crossed his arms over his chest putting himself as a wall between me and the hallway traffic.

"Of course he did, when will he learn?" I laughed stuffing my books and bag into the mediocre sized metal box. Niki motioned towards George and raised her eyes brows suggestively, she had the biggest toothy grin on her pretty face. I shook my head and mouthed back there's nothing going on.

She hummed sacastically but dropped it. I closed my locker and tapped my body guard on the back. Then the three of us walked to the cafeteria exchanging small talk and jokes.

I sat squished between Ponk and Niki, George sat acrossed the table next to Dream and Sapnap. I learned that they, basically everyone at the table played video games together after school most days instead of doing sports. I became friends with Bad, Hannah, Sam, and Techno. Niki was getting along with everyone nicely but she mostly talked to Wilbur and I could feel the chemistry between them. I sat most of the time listening to the conversations rather than participating, George noticed and bumped my knee from under the table, he kept doing that turning it into a foot fight between us until he accidently hit Ponk who was trying to enjoy his yogurt. I bursted out laughing as the two boys argued soon everyone was fighting under the table with their feet.

Lunch ended on a good note, I got a few of their phone numbers and discord users so we could keep in touch. George, Punz, and I headed towards the Geography classroom happily. George's hand was linked in mine not bothering to let go as he talked to Punz about their minecraft server.

I sat in the middle of the class Gogy on my left, Punz in the front because he was a troublemaker. Mr. Schllat droned on about the continents George was playing with the trinkets on my backpack rather than paying attention so that's what I was doing for him. He was content with going through my things and I was fine with doing his papers.

The end of the day came too quick Gogy walked me to the front of the school where Nikki and Jack sat waiting for me. He gave me a high five and some finger guns as he walked away towards Quackity heading the opposite direction of me towards his house.

"Alright spill the tea man, what's happening between you and heartbreak central?" Jack asked a few minutes into the travel.

"What do you mean 'heartbreak central' and there's nothing going on were just friends. I do his homework for him until he gets his grades up after that happens we'll probably stop talking like before." I replied playing with my lanyard.

"The man's known for being a player, I can't even start to list the names of people he's used his pretty privilege on without running out of fingers and don't think like that, maybe he'll actually settle down with you. I can already picture the wedding, it'll be the best gay marriage of the century, the classic tale of brains and looks happily ending up together." Niki silently agreed with the bald man bumping my side softly.

We walked to the seven eleven, our favourite snack place since elementary. The welcoming buzzer sounded and Jared the cashier waved at us before looking back at his magazine. Jack went to the slushie machine to get us our designated drinks, Niki went to the chip section and collected everyone's favourite savoury/salty treats and I got candy for everyone.

"(Y/N)! They don't have blue raspberry, do you want something else?" Jack hollered from the back of the store. The buzzer went off again, but that just meant more people were in here. I dashed through the aisles doing a Narrato run, sneaking up behind my bald friend. He never suspected a thing, I jumped on his back and covered his eyes, the two of us went tumbling backwards Jack screaming like a blonde chick in an 80s horror film. I laughed maniacally through the pain. Niki came rushing to our location, Jared behind her, Wilbur, Techno, Tubbo, and Ranboo right after him.

"OH MY GODS YOU STUPID PRICK I THOUGHT SOMEONE WAS KIDNAPPING ME!" Jack slapped my thigh hard. Niki helped us up off the floor, Jared shrugged and walked back to his station. The four boys who showed up late looked super confused.

"Is everything alright?" Ranboo asked rubbing the back of his neck. I couldn't speak my stomach hurt from laughing. Jack picked me up bridal style and spun me around making me dizzy. The buzzer to the store went off again, two voices could be heard. George and Quackity poked their heads around the corner seeing the commotion.

Jack stopped and set me back on the ground, I wobbled around like a drunk person still giggling my face was flushed and I looked insane. George walked up behind me and held me stable while my friends finishing getting our snacks.

"What are you doing here Gogy?" I asked when I had finally calmed down. We were waiting in line to pay for our things.

"Quackity wanted some snacks before we started playing so we came here and then saw you almost dying." I looked down slightly embarrassed he picked my chin up making me look at him.

"I've never seen you like that, you've always been a quite lad." He continued his voice an octive deeper. Luckily it was my turn to check out. He kept talking to me but I only nodded when finished paying I went out of the store, running to catch up to my friends.

Months passed, George and I got closer and I could feel myself falling harder for him daily. He would come to my house and we'd study together. Gogy would lay his head on my lap while I would play with his hair doing his homework, carefully writing his name across the corner of the page in his handwriting style.

Thoughts of him lived rent free in my brain, some nights the thoughts would go dirty and I'd have to deal with it myself. Jerking off was awkward because I would usually get a boner during our studying time, he'd leave, amd then I would "go to bed" early.

Then one day I worked up the courage to tell him how I felt. My therapist encouraged me, Niki and Jack helped write what I would say on my hand, and even the teachers (both of them caught onto what was happening) said go for it. The day went by so slowly, I stayed distant towards the brunette for a whole week. He caught onto what was happening.

George was standing by my locker at the end of the day waiting for me.

"(Y/N/N) have you been avoiding me?" He asked, his sparkely brown eyes were dim and held confusion. My heart was beating so fast, my stomach doing flips. It was now or never, I was nervous because there were so many people in the hallway but I had to say it.

"Yeah, sorry about it Gogy. I've been trying to deal with some feeling lately and didn't want to bother you with them." I nervously said, my voice cracking on a few words. He looked me right in the eyes in that moment of time it was just the two of us. The Brit put his hands on both of my shoulders.

"Tell me about these feelings, I mean if you want to." I took a deep breath. 'You miss all of the shots that you don't take.'

"I'll tell you. George... for the past couple years something has been manifesting in me, whenever I'm around you I'm the happiest person in the world, I feel like I can't breathe when you're gone. George I like you a lot. Actually alot more than just like." I looked at him my face showing that my words were genuine and true. He looked back at me stunned for a couple seconds before he bursted into laughter.

George patted my shoulder laughing his butt off, getting everyone's attention.

"That's a great joke man, you almost had me going for a second. I thought you might actually be in love with me." My heart shattered I tried to hold back tears. I gave the man a forced smile and threw my backpack over my shoulder. I had to get out of here everyone was laughing, it was all too noisy. Their voices bounced around my brain. I dashed through the crowd to the front doors tears falling. George just watched me from my locker.

That night I spent my time crying and talking to Jack. He tried to make me feel better, but I couldn't handle what he was saying. What was supposed to be cheering me up was only tearing me down. I used the excuse that my phone was dying and hung up on the bald man. I had so many messages from George, most saying '(Y/N/N) I didn't know you weren't joking, just text me back.' Or 'Can we talk about this alone on Monday?' '(Y/N) please stop ignoring me, I still wanna be friends.' Sapnap, and Quackity also sent messages apologizing for their friend’s behaviour trying to get me to talk with him. I threw my phone against the wall breaking it. My hands went to my hair and pulled it screaming from the top of my lungs. My parents weren't home and my neighbours didn't care. I stayed in my bed for the next three days not doing anything.

The fourth day my mom made me go to school. Jack, Niki, and Minx (she was filled in on what happened) stayed by me all the time, Minx shot spitballs across the room at George and his friends in the classes she shared with them. We ate lunch in the courtyard. When Geography class came around I saw George sitting with a new girl smiling and flirting. I could hear him asking her to help him with the homework and I sadly shook my head looking out the window.

What that girl didn't realize that I now did was Only to discover it's not worth putting your time into.

Doesn't matter how many papers they'll write end of the equation won't equal the two of them together and then they'll just be another who got hurt doing George's homework.

#georgenotfound #dsmp fanfic #oneshot #cute fluff #gnf x reader #georgenotfound x reader #dsmp gnf #fanfic #x male reader #highschool au #fluff to angst

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claraswritings · 4 years

Text

You’re My Best Friend

Pairing: Eggsy Uwin x Reader

Warnings: Language and also written on mobile. First time writing Kingsman stuff.

A/N: Been having this rattle around in my head for ages...Its set during the first film and yes, the title and some parts are inspired by You Are In Love by Taylor Swift.

Earlier that day, Merlin had briefed them on their task. Each of the remaining three agents would have to attempt to seduce a target. It was useful to be able to quickly make a target feel at ease, to be able to get someone on side in a matter of minutes. Trust was one of the most important weapons, they’d been told.

It wasn’t until a few moments before the task that they were informed that their target was actually someone significant to one of their fellow candidates. Roxy had been given a picture of Charlie’s twin sister, Eggsy had been given a picture of Roxys ex-girlfriend and Charlie...had been given a photo of you...Eggsys childhood best friend.

The two of you had been close friends since before either of you could remember.

You’d lived next door to each other when Eggsy’s dad had been alive, having regular play dates set up when you were both toddlers and you’d been close ever since. Once Lee had died, your parents had become Michelle’s support, helping her out with the odd bill and babysitting when needed.

You went to the same primary school, both clever but often laughing in the corner, so much so the teacher, Ms Griffin had to separate the two of you. You were more art and drama, he was more PE. It was an unlikely friendship to everyone but you both.

Not long before you’d both started secondary school, Michelle got a job as a barmaid at the pub and started dating Dean, a regular at the pub...and the police station. They moved out her house next to your families of your nice but modest suburb and into Deans small inner city flat.

Eggsy hated Dean and you’d often have him sleeping over at yours after Dean had kicked him out. Even if you were tired you’d stay up listening to him rant and until you both fell asleep resting on each other’s shoulders.

On more than one occasion, he’d come over with a burst lip or a black eye, and you’d wished you could do something. Multiple times you’d asked him to stay with you and your family, there was a spare room after all...but everytime he’d brush it off saying he couldn’t. Even as a teenager, you knew it was because Michelle would get it twice as bad if Eggsy wasn’t around to intervene and take it for her. You didn’t push him, you knew he didn’t want to say it out loud. It got to him. He’d never show it...but it did.

You covered for him when Deans goons started sniffing around the next day, saying you hadn’t seen him and because you were seen as the kind to avoid trouble, they’d buy it. Why would a nice girl like you get involved in their business. You were too sensible, too smart for that in their eyes.

You’d been the one to give Eggsy the Marines flyer, not wanting your best friend to become like his Deans dumb friends and get in over his head with petty theft and shit. However when he’d quit midway through basic training, knowing how much Michelle worried. You didn’t push or pass any judgement. You knew how difficult it must have been for him.

Even when you’d went to Uni, you stayed close, visiting each other until you returned home, degree in hand and settled into a job, still seeing your best friend every other day. He’d usually meet you after work and you’d take his new baby sister out to the play park or you’d just go to the pub for a few drinks.

One day when it was just getting cold, you, Eggsy and two of his mates all went to the local pub for drinks and few shared plates of food.

“When are you going to tell [Name] that you like her,” his friend Brandon would ask when you left the table to buy a round.

“What?” he’d insist when he elicited no response “Everyone knows it, mate...except her, just ask her out,”

Brandon got no response other than a kick to the shin from Eggsy opposite him as you slid back in to the booth, drinks in hand and resumed chatting about whatever the topic had been before, none the wiser.

Of course he loved you. How could he not. You’d been a constant in his life since before he could remember.

He loved you when you were a dorky kid with cartoon plasters on your knees, skint from climbing over walls, and your hair in long plait down your back, way before either of you knew what liking someone was.

He loved you when you were an awkward teenager with thick rimmed glasses, biro doodles over your arms, and bedroom walls full of quotes from movies he’d never seen.

He loved you now. Your plait was down, you wore contacts and your biro doodles had been replaced with colourful tattoos, the quotes were now in frames but you were still the same girl.

You still had the same dirty laugh, so loud that if you went to the cinema he’d have to elbow you to shush you. You still pinched at your skin when you were nervous and you still chewed on your straw whenever you had a drink, much like you were doing right now.

Outside of the bar, you perched on a bench, just away from the smokers. Your friend Grace had abandoned you to go attempt to pursue Michael, a guy she’d had a date with four weeks ago. You’d told her you were fine with her leaving you in the smoking area to go dance with him and reassured her you could use the air. You weren’t expecting her to still be gone half an hour later. You took another sip through the paper straw and chewed it a little as you did so, drinking slowly so you wouldn’t have to go back in and buy another over priced drink too soon.

You hunched into your small jacket, buttoning it up to try keep warm as considered calling a taxi and going home. Flicking your bag open, you peered down at the lit up screen of your phone. 10:40PM. Christ that was depressing. Not even 11 and you were considering getting out of there. Suppose you were always more of a pub girl than a bar hopper. You noticed your battery was on 20% and put off scrolling.

“Hello, darling,” a smooth voice came from beside you and you felt the weight of the bench change. Inwardly you braced yourself for some drunk guy asking you for a lighter.

“Sorry I don’t smoke, Im just waiting on my mate” you spoke, not bothering to look over.

“No problem, darling. Names Charlie, I just had to say...you’re so pretty. I was wondering if can I get you a drink,” he offered in a voice that signalled he was not exactly a regular at this bar.

You’d met boys like him before. Privately educated, well mannered and...utterly, utterly dull. Your university had been full of them.

“Thank you,” you declined, politely but firmly. “but no, I’m with my mate, she got my drink,” you gestured with your half full cup, straw wobbling, ice clinking. “i’m fine”

“Well I’ll wait until you’ve finished that one and buy you one. Something more upmarket than a house spritzer.” He shot you a wide smile, which you guessed he thought was vaguely charming

He was persistent you’d give him that. Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you turned to him, resigning yourself that you’d have talk to him just until Grace came back. She’d come back, sense your discomfort and help you out...surely...

Inside the bar in a tucked away booth, the other two recruits had tuned into the comms to hear Charlie’s attempt, having both been unsuccessful in getting anywhere with their respective targets.

“What a bold outfit you’re wearing,” they heard Charlie comment on your outfit “Is it designer,”

“No, I got it online,” you laughed a little awkwardly.

“No way, it has to be designer,” he pressed.

Roxy rolled her eyes. “Can’t believe he’s trying out negging...has that ever worked?”

Eggsy just hummed in acknowledgment of his friends reassurance. He knew Charlie wasn’t your type, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

“She looks really nice,” Roxy commented and then tapped your photo. “She’s pretty”

No response.

“Hey” Roxy placed her hand on his knee to stop him bouncing it. “If this girl is half the girl you’ve told me about...she won’t buy into it for a second, stop worrying,”

Charlie had been going on for at least five minutes straight. He wasn’t bad looking, quite the opposite, he was handsome but my god was he in love with himself...you’d heard all about his dads business, his family estate, his Bentley and his two boats.

“Maybe if you like I could take you out on it, we can go down the Thames...It’s quite romantic at night...”

You raised your eyebrows “Didn’t they pull the body of that missing guy out of there last weekend. Don’t know if i’d call that romantic, I prefer dates where bodies haven’t been found,”

Back in the booth, that caused a laugh from Roxy.

“I like her. You’ll have to introduce us” she said but Eggsy was too focused on listening in to your conversation.

“We can go wherever you like, babe. Paris? Or maybe we could go...back to mine,” the pair heard Charlie offer over the comms.

“I’m flattered but I’m married” you lied smoothly.

“Lucky man...shame really... but what they don’t know won’t hurt. I know how to treat a woman. I’d take you out, buy you designer clothes...then I’d take them off you,”

He’d escalated to sleazy in one sentence.

Upon hearing that, Eggsy stood up from the booth. “I ain’t letting him away with that,”

 Roxy’s arm pulled him back down into his seat beside her with force.

“Don’t.” she mouthed. “Don’t do anything stupid. Charlie isn’t worth it,”

Before he could answer, a loud bang sounded and they could hear Charlie wince.

Your voice was loud over the comms. “Yeah I did...he’s a creep!...oh i don’t care if you ban me! It was worth i...okay I’m going I’m GOING,” you were obviously conversing with one of the bouncers who stood outside and witnessed the altercation.

There was a few minutes of muffled shuffling before Charlie approached and slid into the booth beside them, clutching his cheek. He dove a hand into the ice bucket and pressed some of the cubes into a napkin and rested them on his face.

“Went well then,” Roxy smirked.

“Ah, that friend of yours has got some back hand Eggy,” Charlie muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric “Married is she,?”

“Nah but she’s way too good for you, anyway bruv,” Eggsy leant back into the chair and narrowed his eyes at the man across the table. “Snobs ain’t her type,”

Charlie lowered the makeshift ice pack “What and you are?” he scoffed “I know girls like her”

“You don’t know anything about her,” Eggsy bit back defensively.

Charlie smirked. “Tell me, if you like her so much, why aren’t you with her? She not into you?”

“I swear, Charlie, man, if you don’t shut up-“

“Oooh touched a nerve, have I”

“Fuck off,”

Roxy aiming to distract the two, poured all three of them a glass of champagne.

“Enough. Let’s leave it, Shall we have a drink?” She quickly poured the three glasses letting the boys have a sip first before taking a drink herself.

The group had barely had half of their glass when Roxy began to feel like the room was tilting. She wondered if maybe she’d had too much or if the champagne was off.

“Is it me or does this taste off?” she remarked.

Before anyone could answer the three had collapsed into their seats, the effect of the drug taking hold.

By the time wrapped up their track tests, the adrenaline had settled. Charlie had been left to untie himself after his failed loyalty and Eggsy and Roxy allowed a day before they were to report back.

Eggsy had headed straight to yours. Your family were out and you’d sent him a message asking him to come over and keep you company. By the time, you’d already kicked off your heels, thrown a hoodie and leggings on and had the kettle boiled.

You returned, a hot mug in each hand and settled, sitting cross legged on the sofa.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands, you took a long satisfying sip before putting it down.

“Hows the tailor thing going” you asked, casually to your best friend beside you.

“Uhhh, yeah fine, hopefully won’t be long until I find out if i’ve got the job” Eggsy brushed over it, with a stretch. He hated lying to you and didn’t want to focus on it so he changed the subject.

“How was your night,”

“It was alright, this posh wanker wouldn’t leave me alone though,” You took another long gulp of your drink.

“Oh” he tried to conceal his expression as he knew the outcome. Biting the side of his cheek to prevent the smile spreading he continued “How did that go”

“He tried it on, I slapped him, then had to leave incase he grassed...Didn’t want to be thrown out,” you placed your mug down and toyed with the chain on your neck.

“Grace wasn’t happy with me, she’s been trying it on with that Michael guy for ages...”

Despite already knowing, the way you candidly explained it made him laugh.

“I mean come on, if you’d have heard him”...you paused, preparing yourself to do an terrible impression of Charlie’s wellspoken posh voice “Hello beautiful, what a bold outfit you’re wearing, you know my daddy owns two yachts and twelve horses, my watch costs more than your car, my mum drives a Ferrari and yet daddy couldn’t buy me a personality. Want to shag, babe?”

You dropped the impersonation and flopped back onto the couch with a flourish “Honestly, what a twat,”

“Yea he sounds it...” Eggsy laughed “sorry he ruined your night, love.”

You rolled your eyes before throwing your cushion at him.

“Don’t be daft, I’d rather be here with you any night of the week”

There was a moments silence in which the TV even sounded silent, and you realised you couldn’t place the expression on his face.

“You’re my best friend” he said after a pause.

Before you could respond in kind, his lips were on yours and his hand was in your hair, the other wrapped around your waist.

With that kiss, it was like everything clicked into place. It felt normal. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. You almost couldn’t believe you hadn’t been kissing each other for ages. It was obvious.

Only a second later and you were kissing him back just as feverishly as he pulled you into an embrace.

“Me too,” you muttered out between kisses “I mean...” you laughed “I feel the same but what’s brought this on?”

You were glad he said it but couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted this sudden outburst.

Eggsy paused for a second, thinking back to Charlie in the bar. He wondered how he could tell you about it without telling you everything.

“Just...just something someone said,” he settled on before pressing another kiss to your lips

#kingsman imagine #kingsman fic #eggsy unwin #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy x reader #fanfic #eggsy x you #kingsman secret service

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thiamfresh · 3 years

Text

One trope that always annoys me is the "poor person doesn't take charity'. To me it pretty much always comes off as 'rich person writes poor person but they have to be #independant because that's the only acceptable way to be poor.'

When I was 6 my friend started giving me his sandwich everyday for lunch. At first he told me it was because he didn't like the filling and I believed him. But then it happened so often I realised something was up and I asked him why he was doing it and he told me it was because he could eat the rest of his lunch and if he was really hungry he could just get a snack after school and he didn't didn't I could do that (he was right. Those sandwiches were like everything to 6 year old me)

Evey year my junior school had mandatory food drives and every year me and my brother had to forgoe dinner to bring in some cans for people in Haiti and every year I hated the school for it. I hated sitting by this giant ass tower or food hearing how it was going to people who needed it when there were people who needed it that room and I wished someone would do the same for my family and give us a big bag of food so I could have my own lunch (by this point my friends mum found out he was giving me his sandwiches, banned him from doing it and made the teachers watch him eat to make sure he didn't give any away)

When I was in secondary school a kid who bullied me saw me picking up some change he'd thrown away on the walk home and after that he'd wait outside the shop to give me his change because "I won't use it but you will."

He still ripped the shit out of me at school but we always had a true on the way home where he'd give me his change so i could buy something to eat by the end of the week.

My clothes were full of holes and so my friend stopped throwing her clothes out and instead put them into a bin bag and got her sisters who didnt ven know me to do the same thing and then when it was full she'd give it to me so I'd have 'new' clothes.

My other friends mum would buy veggie food specifically so I would eat when I was there because she knew I didn't eat much at home.

What I have learnt, from growing up poor is that charity is a huge part of being poor and its not just receiving it. Its giving it.

It's giving your friend the £5 you got from your uncle so you could buy new pens so they can buy some electricity because it ran out and their mum can't afford more at the moment.

It's splitting the sandwich you were given because you don't have lunch with the person you know also doesn't have lunch because no one else has noticed they're not eating either yet.

Its finding 20 quid on the street and splitting it with your brother and your two friends because that way all of you get to eat, or do something fun for once.

Its letting your friend come round at 1am to finish an assignment because they can't pay the Internet bill but yours is still working.

It's babysitting the neighbours kid and feeding them even though you know you'll have less because if you don't you know they won't have anything because they're mum will lose their job and because you've had nothing and know how shit it is you don't want other people to have to deal with that.

It's giving your last pound to a strangers kid when you see them drop their ice-cream and their parent can't afford a replacement.

Its pouring half your pint of milk into a plastic bottle for your friend to take home because because can't afford it but should be able to have a cup of tea/bowl of cereal before their next paycheck.

Don't get me wrong there are of course a lot of people who do say "I don't want charity" and I've said it before. When the situation for giving me money or help feels wrong, or you know the favor you'll owe them won't be worth whatever it is they're offering.

But I just.. I want poor characters who are allowed allowed lean on eachother. Who don't have to be completely independent to feel like they're still worthy of respect. There is nothing wrong with accepting help when you need it and this idea that all poor characters will be insult when offered help is infuriating.

I've had moments in life where someone has offered me something I need and can't afford (like an old new coat) but before I can say "Yes please." Have been interrupted by some middle class fuck talking over me and saying "she's mot a charity case."

Like no. Im not, but there is nothing wrong with accepting help when you need it. There's nothing shameful about being given something someone else doesn't need anymore because you can still use it.

I want to see characters who work together. Who don't turn their nose up at an offering most people in that situation would gladly take because the writers think that them accepting help will make them seem pathetic, or weak.

Let poor people be fucking poor and show the generosity that flows in the lower class circles rather than making 99% of poor characters assholes who would stab someone for a slice of cheese or too proud to accept the help that most of us would take (even if it's reluctantly with a thousand 'I'll pay you backs' tagged on)

#idk im ranting #poor people #stop making accepting help look like a baf thing im begging you #stop making offering help look like an insult

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hillnerd · 4 years

Note

Au headcanon where Ron is a squib and Hermione is a muggle?

so had a couple thoughts about it- here are the random bits- i definitely could have explored so much of this deeper- but eh- anyways! Here we are! :D Sorry this is like, months and months later.

A PERFECT FIT

Ron had never quite known where he fit in the world.

One by one he watched his brothers get their letters and go to Hogwarts. He waited with anticipation for the year he’d get his own letter. Each year he got closer to being eleven, the hope and anticipation grew thinner. His brothers had grabbed wands and performed spells when they weren’t supposed to, and when Ron grabbed a wand nothing happened. It just sat in his hand like a stick. He’d had some awful scares, and no magic had come from that either. Everyone else could see the fairies in the yard, and only if he tried his hardest could he even catch a glimmer of them.

He turned eleven in March, and when it was time for Hogwarts letters that summer he waited. And he waited. And the final day of July came and his father came home with a grim look on his face.

‘Ron… Your mother and I need to talk with you,’ he said with a careful deliberation, in a careful tone he’d never used around Ron before.

‘Is… Is it about my Hogwarts letter?’

Tight mouthed his father nodded.

His mother was smiling at him in comfort, but there were tears in her eyes.

They went to his parents room, where they sat him on the bed and told him.

The Hogwarts letters had gone out two weeks ago. They contacted the school to be sure.Ron wasn’t magical. He was a squib.

‘You have a little bit of magic, darling,“ his mother assured him. “That’s how you can see bits of fairies and ride alright on a broom, but it’s not the kind of magic that can do spells and everything else.’

'I’m… I’m not good enough,’ Ron had managed to say before tears clouded his vision that he fiercely scrubbed away.

'It’s not about being good or bad, Ron,’ his father told him, almost fiercely. 'You know how much I love Muggle things? Well, I can’t use a lot of them or my magic interferes. You can! You can do all sorts of things we can’t.’

Ron nodded, but bit his lip to hold back the fierce horrible things he wanted to scream.

He didn’t give a whiff about Muggle things. He wanted to got to Hogwarts like all his brothers! He wanted to do spells, and play REAL quidditch… but he wasn’t good enough! He knew he wasn’t.

He knew he was a disappointment long before the news of being a squib.

His mother had wanted a girl, but instead she got Ron.

His siblings wanted someone cool, but instead they got Ron- the brother they were always trying to get rid of.

His parents had wanted all their kids to be magical, but then they got Ron.

'Tell you what,’ his father said. 'I’m going to take you to some Muggle parts of London and we’ll get a good look at it, and you can see all the great things you’ll get to do.’

Ron didn’t want to go. Honestly, in that moment, he didn’t even know if he wanted to breathe. His dad and Mum were looking at him like he might break, and the thought made him immediately jump to his feet.

'Yeah… Yeah let’s do it…’

'Excellent!’ said his Dad.

And they were off to London.

He’d never been in the Muggle spots of London, and found the straight grey lines of all the buildings off-putting, but then they went to the cinema, and tasted the sweets, and went to an electronics store. It was when they took static photos in a photobooth that Ron realized he was spending more time with his dad than he’d ever gotten to before, just the two of them.

When they got home, he put the photo strip next to his Canons poster, and went to bed with a smile on his face.

—

Hermione had never quite known where she fit in the world.

Every year she’d go to school hoping this would be it; this would be the year she’d get a friend.

She’d shine her shoes, straighten her clothes, have extra pencils, pens and paper for them to borrow should they need it– and she’d come home at the end of the school with plenty of school supplies and no friends.

She finished her secondary schooling with some acquaintances, and straight teeth after years of braces, but no real friends. She went to University, and as she packed her bag for the first day of classes she agonized over whether to bring extra pens and pencils.

Her first language arts class was good. They didn’t bother doing introductions and immediately were learning, when she felt a tap at her elbow. She turned around in her seat to see the most handsome boy she’d ever seen. Alright, well, technically she’d seen people who were more handsome, but this one… there was something entrancing about him. Everything from his bright red hair, to his bright cerulean blue eyes, to that little wry grin he had, and the freckles and– oh no he’d asked her something!

'Pardon?’ she whispered.

'Do you have a pen or pencil I can borrow?’

'Yes!’ she excitedly whispered back, smiling to herself as she rifled through her bag. She wanted to chastise him for not seeking a writing implement earlier. Class was half over! But he’d wanted one of her school supplies! As he took the pencil from her their fingers barely brushed, and she could barely keep her eyes facing forward the rest of class. She could barely take notes. It was ridiculous. She knew she was ridiculous to be so flustered. At the end of class she didn’t dare look back at him, but after a moment she felt him tap her shoulder.

'Yes?’ she asked, trying to comport herself.

'Wanted to return your pencil,’ he said. He stood up and towered over her.

'Oh no! No, you keep it! You’ll need it later, won’t you?’

'Yeah, I guess so, thanks,’ he replied, putting it behind his ear. 'What direction are you headed after this?’

She nearly shouted 'new friend!’ at him, but very skillfully didn’t.

'I’m going to the library. I don’t have class for another hour, so I figured I could get started on the paper the lecturer described.’

'The one that’s due in November?’ he asked with a quizzical lift to his brow.

Oh drat! Well, there went that opportunity. Dammit, Hermione! She knew she should have known better than to look like such a lame swot.

‘Well… I mean it was just to pass the time…’ she lied. ‘I don’t know anyone here yet so…’

‘Well, you can know me. I’m Ron,’ he said offering his hand to her. ‘Ron Weasley.’

‘I’m Hermione Granger.’

They walked to one of the green commons amicably chatting when she spotted the library and felt it pulling her. It really was lovely, with beautiful gothic windows and pointed arches.

‘You want to head to the library, don’t you?’ he asked with a discerning look.

‘Only a bit…’ she said looking at the building with longing. ‘We don’t have to study or anything!’

He let out a sigh, but then he smiled at her. How could he be so tall, but still be looking up through his fringe in that charming way?

‘Well, let’s get in before they sell out of books.’

‘That’s not how libraries work.’

‘I was joking, Hermione.’

Oh. Jokes. She wasn’t very good at those. But she could try!

And she did try. For months she worked at it. Over time she found Ron could make her laugh, gasp, be horrified and exhilarated all at once at the things he’d dare to even think let alone say!

There was something special and perfect about Ron Weasley.

—

Ron had never felt special much in his life. He could count it on his fingers.

The day he’d found out he was a squib, and his dad took him to Muggle London.

The day he’d gotten new school supplies, for the first time in his life, because he needed Muggle supplies.

The day he became Keeper for his football team.

The day he became Head Boy at his school and his mum had cried from happiness.

The day they’d won the cup.

The day he’d gotten his acceptance letter to uni and his siblings had all cheered him on.

The day he’d met Hermione Granger and she’d smiled at him and blushed, like he was someone to blush about.

—

Hermione had always been told she was special. She couldn’t count how many times she’d been told.

She was told she was special by her parents.

She was told she was smart by her teachers.

She was told she was gifted by her school.

She was told she was a brain by peers (sometimes derisively.)

She was told how very special and perfect her mind was.

It used to make her feel special, but soon that soured and turned into pressure. Oh, so she’d proven to them she was special and smart NOW… but what if she had just been working harder than everyone to make those good grades? What if they realized she wasn’t special? What would be her worth THEN.

Then she went to Uni and a boy borrowed her pen. He might have said she was brilliant all the time, but half the time it had nothing to do with her brains. He’d laugh with her. He’d look at her and she’d feel warmed all over and special in a way she never had before.

—

A boy and a girl had never quite known where they fit in the world. They found they fit together.

#ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #my writing #fanfiction #ficlet #squib #muggle #alternate universe #au

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge

A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.

Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+

Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.

Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.

You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.

“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.

She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.

“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.

She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.

She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.

“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”

You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…

“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”

You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.

He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.

The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.

Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.

“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”

“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.

You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.

“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”

“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”

“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”

“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”

His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.

“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.

Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.

“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.

“What are you all doing for work now?”

Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.

“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.

“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”

Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.

“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.

“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”

“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”

She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.

“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.

“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.

She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.

A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.

“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.

He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”

What a mystery.

“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.

“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.

“Well, no… just surprised.”

“Astonished.” another pipes up.

“Isn’t that a big word.”

You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”

“Don’t call me little man!”

“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”

They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.

“Hey beautiful,” you greet.

“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.

“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”

“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”

Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.

“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”

She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”

There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.

It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?

“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.

“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”

She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.

“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”

She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”

“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.

You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”

“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.

You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.

“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.

She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.

She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—

“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.

You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”

You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.

The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.

“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.

“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”

You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.

“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”

But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.

“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.

“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.

You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”

“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”

Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”

“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.

It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.

“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”

Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.

“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”

“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”

The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.

“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”

“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”

“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.

Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.

“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”

Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.

You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?

In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.

“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”

Not again.

“Wife; this is Liz.”

“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.

“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”

Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.

“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.

“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.

“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”

“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”

“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.

People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.

“y/n y/l/n!”

Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.

“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”

Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?

“Oh, why?” he asks.

“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.

“Oh!”

The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…

“By the way, that’s totally fine.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”

“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”

“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.

Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…

“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.

“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.

She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.

“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.

A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.

When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”

You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.

“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.

Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.

Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.

“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.

“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”

Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”

“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”

“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.

“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.

You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.

She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.

“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.

You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.

The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”

“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”

“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.

Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.

“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.

“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”

Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.

“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”

You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.

You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.

“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.

“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”

Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.

“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.

Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.

“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.

Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.

You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.

“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.

Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.

“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.

Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.

“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”

She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you

“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”

Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.

The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.

She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.

“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.

Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.

She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.

You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”

Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.

“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.

You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.

First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.

Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.

Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.

“C’mere,” you coax.

The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.

“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.

“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”

You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.

“Ready to blow this place?”

“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”

She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.

“Should we text your brother?”

“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”

She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.

“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.

Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.

You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.

“y/n!”

You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.

“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.

“And you, Miss.”

“Who’s this?”

Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.

“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”

Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.

“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”

“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”

“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”

Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”

“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”

“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”

Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”

You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.

“I love those earrings, by the way.”

“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”

“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.

“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.

Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.

“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.

“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.

You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.

‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’

‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’

These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.

#night manager jed #elizabeth debicki #liz debicki #elizabeth debicki avatars #vita & virginia #elizabeth debicki imagine #elizabeth debicki fanfic #elizabeth debicki x reader #elizabeth debicki smut #elizabeth debicki fluff #elizabeth debicki angst #elizabeth debicki x you #elizabeth debicki tom hiddleston #wlw imagine

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vivisextion · 3 years

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I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

#Joey Jordison #Slipknot #Murderdolls

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mortedeveles · 4 years

Text

broken bones & broken hearts.

SUMMARY: At the end of the day, you realize that as best friends or lovers, Oikawa Tooru and you are never meant to be together.

PAIRING: Tooru Oikawa x fem!reader.

THEMES: ANGST- just angst, romance, childhood friends to lovers. [ONE-SHOT] [CUPID’S ARROW WRITING EVENT]

WORD COUNT: 5.7K (around 5744 words)

TAG’S AND TW’S: mental health issues, angst themes, breaking up, relationship issues, neglection, mentions of injuries & blood, somewhat suggestive content (sex is mentioned like once)

before you read (!!!): This one-shot is part of the writing event, Cupid’s Arrow!! You can find the masterlist as my pinned post on my blog :) If you’re interested in more Valentine’s Day themed works, please make sure to check it out!!

SUPPORT YOUR CONTENT CREATORS! REBLOG! <3

You should’ve known that falling in love with Oikawa was a clear mistake. It was written in harsh bold letters, a dreadful red that was anything but forgettable. Before becoming your lover, he was your friend. And you should’ve kept it at that.

But then again, you weren’t the quickest at sensing danger; from pulling your hand away from the roaring flames. You lingered, and waited, didn’t move until you felt the scorching heat of the fire on your delicate skin until you were burnt, the pain spreading throughout your body, like venom seeping into your veins.

You were his friend for years. You should’ve known how committed he was to volleyball, what extent he’d go for the sport. He poured his entire life, sweat, tears, and blood into it. Volleyball was his priority; but so were you. Or at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

But as volleyball began to consume his life, spreading like a wildfire throughout his mind, the Oikawa you knew began to change.

The beautiful and mesmerizing roses that adorned his soul began to rot and fall until all that was left were dozens of thorns, deadly and painful. Leaving you to cry over rotten petals. He would spend less and less time with you, postponing dates and forgetting important events. And suddenly, you weren’t a priority in his life anymore.

Left you tugging at the other side of the rope, tugging with all your strength and willpower, only for him to drop the other end completely. Abandoned in static silence, with nothing but heartbreak and tears.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Tooru was never good at keeping promises.

I’ll make it to tonight’s date, I promise, he told you with a brief kiss before heading out.

He didn’t make it. Left you sitting alone in a fancy restaurant, dressed up because you wanted to impress him tonight, only for him to never show up. You lost the count of how many times you checked your phone’s clock that night, or how many times you called or sent a message. They all went unanswered.

‘’Where were you?’’ you uttered once the lights flickered on. Sitting in the living room in the dark, you raised an eyebrow when the door swung open. His parents had been out for the weekend, and you had already informed yours that you would spend the night at your boyfriend’s.

Oikawa jumped, before giving you a nervous smile. You quickly assessed his appearance, unsure how to feel. He was in his volleyball uniform, forehead slick with sweat, sporting some bruises on his legs and arms. You didn’t miss the way some of his fingers were taped together, or how his knuckles were stained with dried blood.

‘’You….’’ were at a loss of words. ‘’You ditched me for the tenth time just to...practice volleyball?’’ Your words were nothing but honest, and yet, they were harsh whips of poison on Oikawa’s wounds. He cringed slightly, before swallowing nervously.

‘’I’m sorry, baby,’’ he murmured, ‘’I was going to make it- I swear I was going to, but then I lost track of time and well…’’

‘’This happened.’’ You finished the sentence for him, crossing your arms over your chest in disapproval.

He sighed, lowering his gaze to the floor. ‘’I’m sorry.’’

Eyeing his bloody knuckles, you frowned. An exasperated sigh left your lips. With a gentle tug on his upper arm, you took him to the bathroom. He watched you with a questioning look on his face but remained silent.

‘’Your knuckles,’’ you explained. ‘’We need to get them patched up.’’ His eyes softened.

‘’No, it’s okay,-’’ he held out his hands in protest. ‘’I’m fine. Besides, I should be making it up to you, not like this. Don’t fuss over me, let me take care of you.’’ The determination was clear and loud in his words. A sad smile hung on his lips.

Pursing your lips before breathing deeply, you insisted on him sitting on the toilet. He sat down with a reluctant frown, eyes following your movements.

‘’You can make it up to me,’’ you agreed. ‘’But after I patch you up, m’kay?’’

‘’Okay,’’ he hummed in agreement. Within a few minutes, you pulled out a medical kit and began to gently dab at his knuckles, kneeling between his open legs.

The night was quiet, almost gentle, after your small argument. Oikawa merely hummed a song you couldn’t recognize while you mended his hands. After spending a few minutes in silence and being almost done cleaning his wounds, you felt Oikawa’s lips press a kiss on the top of your head. You raised your head, meeting his warm smile and soft eyes.

‘’Thank you,’’ he murmured. ‘’I know I haven’t been paying enough attention to you… and I’m sorry about that. You don’t deserve that. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’’ his hand settled beneath your chin, slowly pulling you closer until your lips met.

His warm breath fanned over your lips, every stroke of movement fueling your heart with such intense fondness and familiarity that only Oikawa possessed. His hands cupped the back of your head, fingers rubbing at the base of your neck, while your own crawled and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. Lips kept moving, tugging and dancing, until the two of you ran out of breath, slowly breaking apart with heaving chests. His forehead leaned against yours gently.

‘’I love you,’’ he murmured while rubbing his thumb over your lips. With a content smile, you wrapped your fingers around his thumb, squeezing it tightly.

‘’I love you more, Tooru.’’ And you meant it.

His lips returned to yours, this time attacking with much more fervor and neediness. Within a few seconds, he had your legs locked around his waist, holding you in the air as he sought towards your bedroom.

And for a few moments, in those moments where your lips couldn’t bear to leave him, when all clothes left your bodies and nothing but soft moans and loving whispers were said, you allowed yourself to forget. Forget all the broken promises, all the disappointments. Forget all the thorns that had stemmed in your relationship, inevitably hurting both of you. Oikawa was in your arms, he was with you, and that was all that mattered.

You could deal with the ugly thorns later.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

He first asked you out on Valentine’s Day. Now that you look back at it, your heart squeezes at the memory. You loved Oikawa with everything you had. He hadn’t rearranged his priorities yet- volleyball was a part of his life, but had yet to overtake all of it.

It was a hot, sizzling summer. The two of you were nearly done with secondary school and were soon on the way to high school. Specifically, Aoba Johsai. The high school of Oikawa’s dreams. As loyal best friends, you decided to follow him, to support his dreams- and the school also offered a handsome looking program of a career you were highly interested in pursuing. It all worked out.

Today’s holiday loomed over you like a dark and suffocating cloud. After witnessing Oikawa politely reject several girls- while hopelessly pining after him, it was safe to say your mood wasn’t the best. But he was quick to notice, and since the two of you had no romantic dates for the holiday, decided to go to the local carnival as friends. Just like old times, as best friends and nothing else. Everything troublesome shoved to the side, just to cheer each other up.

‘’Y/N-chan!’’ He called out to you, waving and sending a wide smile. You grinned in response, quickly walking away from the junior high’s building, and racing towards the entrance gate, where Oikawa stood, leaning against the gates.

‘’Took you long enough,’’ he said teasingly. ‘’Now c’mon, let’s go,’’ without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, the close proximity leaving you to walk along with him with burning cheeks. Not that he noticed, his eyes were on the carnival that was a few minutes away from the school.

‘’I didn’t take that long!’’ You protested, shaking your head. ‘’My teacher was holding us back because we didn’t answer the last question he gave us,’’ you pouted, and the boy laughed loudly. His hand squeezed your shoulder, and your heart thumped loudly at this. You wondered if he could hear it, beating too fast for its own good, desperate to leap out and land in his hands. Wanting to be his.

To your sides, you heard some of your classmates giggle, and felt dozens of eyes on your hands. Despite what everyone in your school thought, Oikawa and you weren’t dating. And as much as you’d like to, that wasn't your reality.

The two of you simply were affectionate and close with each other, having known each other since the fourth year of elementary, the two of you grew up like a pair of troublesome siblings. But you didn’t see Oikawa that way- no, your heart yearned for him. But anytime your hopes got up, they would immediately be crushed to the ground.

He saw you as a sister, you were sure of it. Heard him talk to Iwazumi, about how you meant so much to him, but as a friend. Nothing less and nothing more.

It didn’t help that the boy was gorgeous. One of the downsides of being his best friend for years was constantly being approached by shy, giggling girls who asked if you’re his girlfriend- or asking you to deliver him a love letter, bowing their heads before you, eagerly holding out a cute pink envelope.

‘’Hurry up!’’ Oikawa’s eager voice pulled you out of your thoughts. ‘’I can see the yatai stalls from here, let’s go!’’ He dropped your hand and began to jog towards the food stands, and you laughed briefly, before racing after him. The carnival had set up on the local but wide park, with fields of grass stretching ahead, trees, rocks and flowers littering the ground.

‘’Last one pays for the food!’’ You said, shooting him a grin as you raced ahead of him. Heard him gasp loudly behind you, before picking up his pace and racing like never before, leaving you in the dust. You stopped for a moment and laughed at his speed, recollecting your breath as you bent over your knees.

When you raised your head, you chuckled at the sight of Oikawa standing eagerly at a yakitori stand, quickly returning to you, holding two yakitori skewers. The sight of the roasted chicken, seasoned with tare sauce made your mouth water. In a matter of seconds, you ran up to your friend, quickly grabbing one of the yakitori.

‘’Hey!’’ He protested, but you saw the humor in his eyes. You smiled innocently, biting into the chicken.

‘’Thank you for paying, Tooru, even though I lost.’’ he shrugged nonchalantly, throwing an arm over your shoulders, the two of you walking away from the food stand. You blended in with the crowd of people, surrounded by food stands, kids running past you and the carnival’s rides echoing in the distance.

‘’Don’t sweat it. I’ll be your date for today, so I have to be a gentleman, don’t I?’’ He said with a sleazy smile, and you snorted, unamused.

‘’Whatever you say, crappykawa,’’ you crooned and grinned when he gasped, looking genuinely offended.

‘’Who taught you that-?! Was it Iwa-chan?’’ He pouted. He stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms over his chest, looking away from you with a dramatic sigh.

‘’I can’t believe you call me that too,’’ he grumbled, left shoe tapping against the ground. You fought back the urge to snort and giggle at the same time and instead, watched the boy carry out his dramatic antics with a small smile.

‘’I’m heartbroken! Truly, I can expect this type of behavior from Iwa-chan, but you-,’’ he pointed his finger at you, emphasizing his point. You let out a stifled giggle. ‘’-I expected better from you, Y/N-chan.’’

With a thoughtful hum, you tapped your finger on your chin, before smiling. ‘’What can I say, Tooru? Iwaizumi has given me some great names for you,’’ with a giggle, you patted his shoulder. ‘’And they really suit you…’’ slowly tensing your body, preparing to race off. ‘’...Shittykawa!’’ You broke into a run, giggling and looking back, watching as Oikawa’s eyes widened before he raced after you.

‘’Hey! Get back here! I’m not done with you yet!’’ You giggled, ignoring the few stares of the other people in the carnival, racing past food stands, without any particular destination, just determined to outrun Oikawa. And by the way you heard footsteps thudding on the floor closely behind you, he was getting closer. So you sped up, forcing your legs to work at a faster pace. The crowd began to disperse the more you ran, leaving behind food stalls and entering a rather empty area of the carnival, nothing but trees and grass in your surroundings, and a few rides, but they were at a considerable distance.

With a loud squeal, you were tackled onto the soft grass, giggling as Oikawa hovered above you, a smug grin on his face.

‘’Oooh,’’ you cooed. ‘’You caught me, crappykawa!’’ Your laugh grew louder as he groaned in annoyance, dropping his body on top of yours. You let out a loud oomph! as he continued to whine into your shoulder.

‘’Tooru,’’ you complained. ‘’You’re too heavy, get off!’’ With a slightly maniacal laugh, the boy pulled himself up, offering you his hand. You swallowed, and instead rejected his hand and got up on your feet. You missed the flash of hurt in his eyes, and smiled at him awkwardly as you patted your clothes.

‘’Well then,’’ he looked at you with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. ‘’Let’s have some fun now, shall we?’’

The two of you had raced towards every ride possible, screaming your lungs out together, usually leaving the rides with loud giggles and satisfied smiles. Every now and then, your hand would brush against Oikawa’s, and you would meet his gaze. Immediately, you would spring back, face burning. The boy would react similarly, his face flushing as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

Soon enough, the bright sky began to slightly darken, and the sun began to set. Touches of warm orange and hints of purple blended with the baby blue, clouds moving positions, opening a path for the sun.

After the both of you stuffed yourselves with so much food you nearly puked, Tooru pulled you towards the Ferris Wheel. The tall ride was perfect for the occasion; with the sun setting, and the air warm but soothing, it would be quite the sight and experience.

With an excited smile, you sat in one of the compartments with Oikawa, sitting across each other. Your knees brushed against each other, and you watched as your friend’s head bobbed as he swallowed visibly.

Once the two of you were seated, the ride quickly began to move. Gears shifted and the somewhat old infrastructure groaned, which was slightly concerning, but you quickly forgot about it when Oikawa began to talk.

‘’So,’’ he started, ‘’How did you enjoy Valentine’s Day with me?’’ The brown-haired boy gave you a crooked smile, and you gave him a smile of your own.

‘’It was fun. Thanks for spending the day with me Tooru, even if you had the choice to go with one of your fangirls.’’ He laughed at this.

‘’I wouldn’t want to spend the day with anyone else but you, Y/N.’’ Your heart somersaulted, and Oikawa wouldn’t stop staring at you.

‘’You don’t mean that,’’ the words left your lips before you could stop them. At this, Oikawa frowned and leaned closer to you. Your mouth felt dry. Trying to back away, you leaned backward, only to quickly meet the metallic wall of the compartment.

‘’What do you mean?’’ Within a few seconds, the atmosphere shifted. Gone was the playful but serene atmosphere, and was quickly replaced by a tense and stuffy environment.

You swallowed nervously and looked away, deciding to gaze at the scenery at your left side. Trees swayed beneath you, the carnival full to the brim with people, running, walking, and screaming. The sun gently enveloped you the higher the Ferris Wheel took you, but you didn’t mind.

‘’You’re my best friend, Y/N. What do you mean I wouldn’t want to spend today with you?’’

You could sense confrontation, and it was the last thing you wanted to deal with. Wanted to hop off right away and run away from it. As far as you were concerned, confessing to Oikawa Tooru wasn’t in your agenda anytime soon.

And yet, here you were. Wetting your lips before letting out a shaky sigh, slowly turning around to meet the boy’s gaze.

‘’That’s the problem,’’ you said in a low voice. ‘’To you, I’m nothing but your best friend. But to me, Tooru, you’re so much more than that. I...I like you, a lot.’’

He was silent for a few heartbeats. That was enough for you to feel rejected, to feel your chest tighten painfully, feeling a wave of painful emotions approach you.

‘’I know you don’t feel the same way,’’ you quickly interjected. ‘’But since you want to know, that’s what I meant.’’

The brown-haired boy let out a soft chuckle, and your eyes quickly snapped to his. He was watching you with a confused, but now relieved and soft expression.

‘’And who told you that?’’ Shifting in his seat, you swallowed as Oikawa got closer, his nose nearly brushing against yours.

‘’Told me what?’’ You repeated in an impossibly small voice, feeling your face grow warmer as the distance between your best friend and you decreased until it was nearly nonexistent.

‘’That I don’t return your feelings,’’ his lips slightly parted, and you watched them intently, swallowing when you watched the boy swipe his tongue over them. Couldn’t keep your eyes off the pretty, pink, and plump lips, especially when they were so close to you.

So close that if you merely moved forward in one swift movement, they’d be against yours. Just like forbidden fruit, Tooru Oikawa was so close in your reach, yet so far-so unattainable.

Being so focused on his lips, your breath hitched when you finally registered his words. You met his eyes, searching for any lies or doubt in them. You found none. Felt your heart thump loudly when you saw nothing but honesty.

‘’Wait…’’ your jaw almost dropped to the ground. ‘’What?’’

Instead of replying verbally, you gasped as Oikawa suddenly surged forward, and his lips were on yours. But then you froze, overwhelmed and confused. You had never kissed someone before- what were you supposed to do? At your sudden hesitance, your best friend pulled away. He watched the hint of fear and uncertainty in your expression and felt his heart drop to his stomach.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ he quickly said. ‘’Did you not want me to-’’ This time, you were the one surging forward, silencing him with your warm lips.

Both of you were inexperienced and were moving slowly and carefully. And yet, that didn’t stop it from feeling so sweet and warm. Oikawa felt you smile against his lips, your arms sliding to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer.

‘’This means you want to be my girlfriend, right?’’’ The boy said between kisses, and you pulled away to giggle.

‘’Yes, Tooru, I want to be your girlfriend,’’ now nearly seated in his lap, you sent him a shy smile.

‘’Good…’’ he mumbled. For once, the usually confident and flirty boy was a mess. Pink cheeks

and slightly ruffled hair, he could barely meet your gaze. ‘’Because I really want to be your boyfriend.’’

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Your eyes were burning, tired from being used all day. Class after class, endless notes to write resulted in you being exhausted. But that didn’t stop you from being excited. After the incident from a few days ago, in which Tooru stood you up and you ended up mending his hands, he took the initiative and said that you should have a home date together. It made your heart warm. Because for once, it felt like you weren’t the only one putting effort into this relationship. If he was willing to plan and set the date for you, then that was a good thing, right? There was still hope for the two of you.

Except that as soon as your hopes got up, they were crushed. Since Oikawa was going to handle the date, he asked you to stay away from his house after school, until five o’clock, so he could get things ready for you.

So you spent a few hours at your house, doing some homework before getting ready for the date. To say you were excited was an understatement. Finally, after so many canceled dates, you would be able to spend some alone time with your boyfriend. Just Oikawa and you, and nothing else in between.

And true to your word, you arrived at Oikawa’s house a few minutes past five o’clock, wearing an outfit that made you feel confident and pretty. You rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. Minutes passed by, and no one opened the door. Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows, deciding to knock instead. Again, no response.

With an exasperated sigh, you peeked through the windows, stomach twisting when you noticed the lights were off. No one was home.

Fumbling with your fingers, you quickly fished out your phone from your bag and dialed Oikawa. The phone continued to ring, and your boyfriend wasn’t picking up. After the sixth ring, you were sent to voicemail.

‘’Heyo! This is Oikawa. Unfortunately, I’m not available right now, so please leave a message.’’

He had to be kidding. You quickly ended the call, feeling overwhelmingly conflicted. You weren’t sad. You didn’t want to cry. How many dates had he stood you up? The amount was genuinely laughable at this point.

‘’Would it kill him to make an effort?’’ You muttered harshly as you decided to sit on the house’s doorstep, biting the inside of the cheek.

You spent an hour or two sitting outside the house. Every now and then, a car would drive past the lone street. The trees swayed in the distance and the wind howled in your ears. It was already dark, and you could spot some bright stars in the sky.

And by the time Oikawa showed up, you were so close to losing it. It took much of your restraint to not cry, sadness and fury were fighting over control over you, transforming into a painful combination.

‘’Glad you decided to show up,’’ you said quietly. You raked your eyes over Oikawa’s appearance. He was in his volleyball uniform, school backpack slung over his back, carrying in one hand two bags of groceries, and in the other one, his school uniform.

He met your gaze but remained silent. Maybe he was feeling guilty and didn’t know what to say. But you were far past thinking about that.

‘’Do you remember what you said to me on Valentine’s Day?’’ You met his gaze, tears pricking from your ears. Slowly, he shook his head.

‘’You said you really wanted to be my boyfriend,’’ you laughed, harshly wiping away at your tears. ‘’Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it.’’

‘’I’m…’’ he croaked, and you took notice of how his eyes began to water. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ You merely smiled at his apology.

‘’So, what was it this time? Did Iwa-chan want to practice his spikes over time? Had problems with the first-years? Go ahead Oikawa, tell me what’s your excuse this time.’’ He recoiled at your use of his last name. You always called him Tooru, sometimes shittykawa or crappykawa, but never just his last name, Oikawa.

‘’I was practicing my serves,’’ he murmured. ‘’They need to be better. But- I wasn’t planning on standing you up, I swear,’’ he held up the plastic bags in his right hand. ‘’I just came back from the store, I got the ingredients to cook you dinner...’’

‘’This is pathetic,’’ you quickly stood up, shaking your head. ‘’I can’t take this anymore!’’ You cried out. Tooru reached towards you, but you flinched away.

‘’No,’’ you whispered. ‘’Don’t touch me. I’ve had enough, Oikawa. I know volleyball is your passion. I know, okay!? I’ve been to all your matches. Cheered for you, comforted you when you’d lost your match. You’re amazing,’’ you let out a dry laugh.

‘’And that’s the problem. I...I don’t fit in your life. I don’t think I ever did,’’ you looked up at him with a shaky smile, but watery eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

‘’Don’t say that.’’ His voice was clogged with emotion. He dropped all his bags, and pulled you into his arms, even if you struggled. ‘’Don’t say that, please. You fit in my life. You’re my girlfriend, I love you, I need you.’’

With a gentle push, you slipped out of the setter’s arms. For once, he didn’t stop you. Only watched you with teary eyes as his lower lip wobbled.

‘’I need you too, Tooru.’’ You said with a small smile. ‘’You have all of me, and I only have parts of you. And I’m sorry, I really am.’’

‘’But I can’t love you like this. I can’t love you knowing that volleyball will always be first, that I’ll only get slivers of your time, and the sport will have your full and undivided attention. You’re going to be a superstar, baby,’’ you hiccuped. ‘’And I’m only going to drag you down.’’

‘’No,’’ he shook his head. ‘’No, no, no.’’ In a few steps, he pulled you into his chest, and you cried into his shirt. His head settled on top of yours, hands desperately holding your face.

‘’I’ll be better, I promise. I’ll-I’ll make more time for you, and-and I’ll make a schedule! We’ll have more dates, and I will be at your side. I...I promise.’’ His voice was shaky and you watched his tears along with yours, stain his shirt.

‘’Don’t make promises you won’t keep, Tooru.’’ You pressed a kiss on his cheek. ‘’Didn’t your mom teach you that?’’ You chuckled softly.

‘’Please…’’ he cried into your hair. ‘’I love you. Don’t leave me.’’

‘’I have to.’’ You slowly removed his arms from your body. ‘’You know that.’’

He sniffled in response. You stepped closer to him until your nose was brushing against his. Tooru quickly understood, and his lips crashed into yours with great fervor, moving desperately, hungrily. You were just as eager to reply, and subconsciously, both of you knew why. This was your way of saying goodbye.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You were second best, and would always be second best. You weren’t enough for him, you never would be. His heart was set on volleyball, and it had always been.

How could you ever think he could love you? When you met, he had already given his heart away to the sport. And yet, he made space for you. Gave you small fragments that you thought were his everything; but were nothing but measly pieces, pieces you desperately hung to.

Your relationship with Tooru Oikawa was nothing but an unsteady foundation, the product of lovesick pre-teenagers, naive and hopeful as ever. Created for comfort, for tranquility, and most important of all, created with hope. But now? Now that all the veils have been revealed, when all truths have been spoken, and when there is nothing left to say, it’s bittersweet.

Bittersweet to the point you can’t bear thinking about it. It makes your stomach queasy, makes your heart ache, with tears bubbling up in your eyes. And at the same time, it fills you with such serenity and nostalgia, it makes you forget the pain and replaces it with fondness.

But only for a moment. And a moment is not enough.

You still loved him, and he still loved you. Your paths that had once been tightly intertwined as children, slowly began to untangle throughout the years, choosing very, very different paths. Paths that couldn’t be tied together, too difficult, too painful, to remain as one.

They only met briefly, intertwined tightly, but just as fast as they intertwined, they quickly untangled. Oikawa Tooru was a person who was meant to reach the stars, to shine brightly above all. And what were you compared to him? You were your own person. But your path was far different from his. And no matter how hard you tried, Oikawa Tooru was not your path.

Fate was cruel. It ripped you out of your fantasy and reminded you of how Oikawa would always choose volleyball first. You would never be his first choice. Made you realize that once the rose-tinted glasses were off, when everything was stripped naked and the bare truth laid before you, your paths were never meant to stay together.

The last sentence fully sinks into your mind as you shift in your seat. The cheering and roaring of excitement, loud screaming, and claps of encouragement echoing in the gymnasium. Watching Oikawa in the court feels like playing with poison; it hurts, hurts so much, remembering that you’ll always be his second option, and right now, you’re witnessing him shine brightly. Shining in the field of volleyball players, coaxing intimidation and awe into others. He was in his territory, ruling over all like a Great King. Without you.

It’s one of Oikawa’s best performances. His spikes are brutal as always, leaving a deafening silence before the audience uproars and cheers. His skills are polished, and all of Seijoh is hungry for victory. Before you know it, the match ends and Seijoh has won. You watch as they all shout in glory, hugging each other fiercely.

Usually, by now, you’d be racing down towards the court, jumping into Oikawa’s arms, smothering him in kisses. The thought pulls at your heartstrings, making you swallow a lump in your throat. The setter seems to remember as well, as his gaze meets yours, staring and lingering, but not moving.

You want to go back to him. Race back into his arms, pull him into a desperate kiss, try to convey all your desires into the flurry of kisses, and have him laugh and slowly pull away with swollen lips.

But you can’t. Not again.

This is for the best, you tell yourself as Oikawa and his team shake hands with the other team, and you don’t surge forward. You don’t cry out his name, watch as his eyes widen as you proclaim your love for him once again, just like out of a romantic drama. You don’t, and instead, you watch as he shakes hands firmly, a brief light of satisfaction in his eyes, before walking away from the opposing team. It’s for the best.

It’s okay; you don’t stop him from exiting the court. Your heart stutters as he suddenly stops, and glances at you. His lips part open, and even from this distance, and you can see the mix of emotions flashing in his eyes.

It’s for the best; you turn on your back and quickly exit the seating, as squeals and whoops of excitement continue to echo in the stadium.

This is for the best, you tell yourself. Then why does it hurt so much?

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

His lungs are burning.

There’s a painful ache in his thighs, especially in his knee, the type of pain that probably shouldn’t be overlooked, but he can’t find it himself to stop. The moment he caught sight of your face, of your tired and weary eyes, he froze. Thank god he didn’t notice you until the match was over- if he had seen you sooner, he might've messed up a serve, and lost the match.

Stop it, he curses himself. This is why you lost her. Stop thinking about volleyball, and think about her first.

Once the referee blew the whistle, once he had shaken hands with the opposing team, once he saw you, he ran. Dropped everything and raced outside when he saw you retreat from the gymnasium, forced himself to run even though his body was screaming, forced himself to run towards your quickly disappearing figure.

He shouted. Shouted your name, tears nearly sprouting from his eyes, shouted until his throat was raw. But you didn’t turn around. Not once. You kept running, running further and further away from him. He didn’t blame you, but that didn’t mean he wanted it to happen.

When he reaches the end of the street, he barely notices it was a dead end. His heart shatters and the voices in his head scream the loudest they ever have. You’re nowhere in sight.

A dead-end, he thinks bitterly. Of course, he had to reach a dead end.

‘’Y/N…’’ he calls out one more time. His voice is ragged and his throat is burning, but he still calls out for you. But you never respond. You don’t step out of a corner of darkness or appear behind him, quickly racing towards him and embracing him in your oh so loving arms. Instead, Oikawa’s only response is silence. Deafening silence, so thick and tense he finds himself letting out a loud sob, dropping onto his knees, hands tugging at his hair harshly.

He’s selfish. Oikawa knows this very well, and yet, he still strung you along. Allowed you into his heart, even when he knew that in a few years, once he had graduated high school, he would be off, racing after his dreams. But the moment he first touched your lips, he stopped caring. When he witnessed your smile, all he could think about was seeing it again. Didn’t care about the implications, the pain his selfishness would bring. All he wanted was volleyball, and you. Was that too much to ask for? He loves you.

Oikawa’s always been told that as the setter of Seijoh, he brings out the best in his players. Knows how to play their cards to the fullest. And even outside the court, he was the same. Always coaxing smiles and giggles out of people. Making people feel at ease around him.

Then why... did he only ever bring out the worst in you?

a/n: okay so... this was a monster to write HAHAHAH the first time, i deleted about 2-3K ;> because i didn’t like the direction the one-shot was going towards. but finally, it is complete ✨ and this is my first time writing full blown angst + oikawa, so please let me know how it was!! admittedly, this isn’t one of my best works :’D but i hope y’all enjoyed! feedback is greatly appreciated :3

if you enjoyed, PLEASE REBLOG! LIKE AND/OR COMMENT!

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mha-adore · 4 years

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hey! ty sm for doing the matchup exchange with me, i look forward to writing your match! i’m rita and i go by she/her pronouns. i have a preference for men & i’m 16. my quirk would be similar to shinso & inumaki from jjk,, i can control ppl and animals just by saying a command,,, an indicator for when i’m using my quirk would be my eyes changing color & a side effect to using my quirk would be getting light headed.

i’m a libra sun, aquarius moon, & leo rising. a slytherin & intj-t. i’m v polite and reserved when you first meet me. i’m pretty introverted and i have anxiety. it takes me while to open up since it takes me a while to trust ppl. i do tend to get annoyed and angry by others easily,, i’m a bit of a hot head. i’m pretty chill and like joking around once i open up,, i can also be kinda dumb. i’m a bit of a loner and i don’t have many friends. i’m actually a bit of an emotional person but only when it comes to shows, movies, books, etc,, i tend to keep my emotions bottled up. i’m self conscious and self critical. i care a lot about having perfect grades and getting into a good university but i’m so lazy (lots of breaks & procrastination) at the same time,, i end up getting everything done on time though. i’m impatient when it comes to my own things so i like doing things my way bc i feel more comfortable that way. i also like keeping things neat. i’ve also been told i have a resting sad face & that i’m intimidating. i wear a lot of black and i’d describe my style as dark academia mixed with 70s-90s fashion. when i’m at home i just wear comfortable clothing like pajama pants and a t-shirt.

my likes/hobbies/interests are baking, playing the sims, writing, and playing board games with ppl i’m close to. i also like relaxing in bed and spending time with people i’m close to and having fun. i’m interested in psychology, true crime, & history. i don’t like arrogant & closed minded people. i look for a partner who is loyal, kind, & open-minded. my love languages are gifts and quality time (both ways).

i hope this isn’t too much,, ty again! <3

Hey friend, it's my pleasure! Thanks sm for offering 💖

Can I just say super quick that your quirk is really cool? You could command an army of bears, raccoons or fire ants. I would be terrified. Also I'm an Aquarius moon and INTJ too, air moons gotta stay together. I totally got a Libra vibe off you when you first messaged me and you're super sweet 🎀 also I totally get you on the anxiety part, I have anxiety too. I know how terrifying it can be to reach out to new people so please know I'm proud of you for taking the chance to reach out to me 😊 and it's never too much; the more detail the better!

I match you with Shoto!

Say hi to the walking AC and heater unit. A couple reasons I picked him is because you mentioned having anxiety and being hot headed. With his father being, well, himself and his mother being the anxious person she is, Shoto understands both sides of the coin very well and knows how to deal with both parts. He can balance being calm and stern at the same time and he has the patience of a saint. He would give you the time and space you need to grow comfortable around new people and surroundings, as well he would be able to keep you grounded when your temper gets the best of you. He mellows you out. My personal headcanon is that he's a Capricorn sun, Scorpio moon, Virgo rising, Ravenclaw and INFP.

He returns your jokes with dry humor. He can keep a dead serious face while making the stupidest jokes too. He could look you dead in the eye, face straight, and rip a monster fart and not giggle just to see your reaction. Honestly the image of him holding eye contact while aggressively farting is funny in my head. I know I have the humor of a 9 year old.

He isn't bothered by you not having many friends. He's a private person and doesn't want a lot of people up in his business. He prefers few close friends over many distant friends. He knows you aren't stupid and pays no attention to anything you say that may sound dumb. He's heard so much dumb shit he learned to filter it from his brain.

He understands that you're closed off on your emotions. He really can't blame you, he's quite the same. If you get a little teary eyed over a book or movie he'll let you talk it out and cry if you'd like, but he won't push you to be uncomfortably open to him. He values your happiness over his own and doesn't mind you keeping your feelings to yourself. He respects your privacy. Regardless of what you may feel conscious or critical of about yourself he's there to remind you that you're perfect. You're healthy, you're strong and you're doing the best you can. No one could ask any more from you. He's lived a majority of his life feeling outcasted and ignored because of his scar and wouldn't wish the same on anyone, so if there's any part of you that you feel bad about he's always reminding you that you have no imperfections, everything about you makes you one of a kind. You're irreplicable.

He isn't worried about you procrastinating on studying or homework. As long as you get it done and do well enough he isn't concerned. If you ever have difficulty with a subject he's happy to help you study and learn. If you want he can ask Momo to join for a study party if you want the extra help or company. He just wants to see you succeed and get into the college of your cotton candy dreams. Oh and don't worry about your tuition, he has it covered. Don't even mention it to him it'll already be paid off, including books and living arrangements. He only wants you to pay him back by doing your best in school and showing him you can handle the hard work.

He always has a suggestion on ways you can do things but he knows you prefer to do them by yourself, so he'll neber bombard you with his ideas. If you ask for his input he has plenty to give but otherwise he gives you the room to make your own moves. He's a neat freak himself and is always happy to help you keep your room clean and well put together. He has good room decor ideas too if you want to spruce up your room.

He really doesn't see you as intimidating. He sees a confident, independent and strong young woman who can hold her own. He occasionally wonders if you're really sad or if that's just your expression and he'll occasionally ask. He's only making sure you're okay. If you're sad he's on it with a cute or funny movie, some snacks, a shoulder to cry on and a whole night's worth of stuff to talk about.

He likes your sense of fashion, he enjoys darker and warmer colors. He lives for the 80s aesthetic and loves to see you mix the two so effortlessly. He can, wants to and will give you his t shirts to wear at home. He'll also loan you hoodies and sweaters. He won't outright buy you a hoodie, he'll buy one for himself and let you get away with stealing it from him.

He's so soft for home made cookies and would love for you to make him some. Home made dinners are also great. He would love to help you bake and would enjoy baking dates. He'll also watch shows like Hell's Kitchen with you. He isn't exactly a huge gamer but he likes simulation games and RPGs like Sims, Animal Crossing, Pokemon, Harvest Moon etc. He'll binge these games with you all day and night. Your Sims have to get married to each other it's the law. He enjoys reading what you write - what you don't mind sharing of course. He won't go peeking in your personal writing, he knows it isn't his place. Concerning what you do share he'll read it with great interest and share his thoughts and any ideas he has. He would really enjoy writing something with you, like a short story or a comic. He loves how you convey your writing and would be honored to take part in it. His favorite board game is Candy Land, a close second being Monopoly, followed by Scrabble. He pulls out a big ass dictionary during Scrabble just to prove to people that he knows his vocabulary. He loves you dearly but all bets are off during Monopoly, it's a dog eat dog world and he isn't bailing you out of jail. He will, however, offer you real money in turn for properties in the game. No that isn't cheating the rules say nothing about it. He has no problem with a lazy day in bed though and wouldn't mind just dozing or watching shows together. Any time spent with you is time spent well. You two could watch paint dry together and he would have a blast. He'll buy the paint.

With his personal involvment in hero work he has lots of info on true crime cases and can share stories and books with you. He has everything from small robberies to Ted Bundy and beyond. If you have a question about a true crime case he has an answer. As for psychology I imagine he would study it himself, perhaps as a secondary career or freelance hobby. He'll examine characters from books and movies with you and run his own behavioral analysis unit from his bedroom. The FBI doesn't hold a candle to him. He can, will and already has tracked down your enemies and he has their addresses. With his father being the new number one hero he essentially has the force of the law in his hands and if need be, he will use it. He won't do anything unjust unless your safety is in jeopardy but he won't hesitate to bring someone down. As for history he has plenty of books ranging from founding of countries to wars, to major technological advancements to the invention of toilet paper. He knows some very niche history facts. If you need to impress a teacher with knowledge on history he has you covered. He'll make the teacher quit their job in shame.

Shoto is absolutely loyal to the end, open minded and kind to a fault. He understands how it's like to be ignored, misunderstood and bullied and he won't treat anyone else that way. Regardless of his opinion on someone he still gives them respect and kindness. He doesn't care how rude or petty someone acts, they're still a human and deserve to be treated as such.

He goes out of his way to buy you special gifts, he values personal meaning over monetary value. Between a basic cheap necklace and an expensive bracelet of your favorite gemstone and color, you bet he's going for the bracelet. The cost isn't important to him, he just wants to see your face light up when you open the gift. As for gifts from you he doesn't care about how much you spent, he just wants something from the heart. You could give him an origami swan that cost you nothing to make and he would treasure it like a rare antique. As for quality time, he always enjoys a good movie, board game, cuddle session or just a nap. Like I mentioned before, any time spent together is time spent well.

I hope you enjoyed this friend!! 🥀 I'll be sending my part your way soon, thanks again for the offer! I had a lot of fun with this one 😘

#iidastiddies #mha x reader #bnha x reader #matchup #mha matchup #bnha matchup #matchup exchange #shoto #todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader

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gizkasparadise · 4 years

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cdrama rec/review: le coup de foudre

KDRAMA AND CDRAMA MASTER LIST OF REVIEWS

Series: le coup de foudre / love at first sight / i don’t like this world, i only like you Episodes: 35 w/ a special Genres: then & now, slice of life, high school to adult life, romance, reunion/getting back together, working with the ex Spoilers in the Rec: for set-up/light ones for character backgrounds If You Like, You’ll Like: the reply series, sad-looking dogs that are loved very much, because this is my first life (VERY similar male lead), sibling love, my sunshine but if people were nicer and had significantly better hair, multiple couples that are all a lot of fun

Rank: 10/10

PREMISE

flashback to 6-8 years ago (because the OP here can’t remember lol): it’s desk selection day in qiao yi’s classroom! a very dramatic moment for all high schoolers, qia yi has to select who she sits next to. because she’s at the bottom of the class ranking, she gets last pick, which essentially narrows down her choices to that creepy kid who writes love poetry to every female student in the class and yan mo, the scary genius student who has placed 1st in their class since...forever.

taking a gamble, qiao yi goes with yan mo. yan mo eventually agrees to tutoring qiao yi outside of class and they become friends. then...friends? if you know what i mean. it’s very sweet and cute. only problem is that yan mo is both a genius and from a Family of Means, and so is already planning on attending cambridge (yeah, fucking cambridge) after graduation. not wanting to separate, yan mo asks qiao yi to come with him and she agrees to study hard so she can get accepted to a university in the UK, too.

but then, well, bad shit happened.

qiao yi ended up staying in their home town, yan mo left for cambridge, and we got two v heartbroken teenagers on our hands.

4 years later, yan mo returns after studying in the uk, and by chance they end up bumping into each other. angry because qiao yi hurt him, yan mo puts up an ALOOF AND COLD AND I DONT CARE AT ALL front that she sadly buys. but after he leaves for the big city to pursue a business opportunity, qiao yi harnesses some amazing big dick energy to go after him, in a sort of inverse DONT LET HER GET ON THAT PLANE! move. very abba.

the plot bounces between their (and their friends’) high school years, their lives as reunited adults, and their future lives as married folks. i love it very, very much.

MAIN CHARACTERS

zhao qiao yi

as a high schooler, qiao yi was a quiet girl with low self-esteem, who consistently ranked at the bottom of her class and was always attempting to retreat into her school tracksuit like a turtle. despite this, qiao yi has some solid friends and is always kind if somewhat shy or uncomfortable in certain situations. as a adult, qiao yi works as a television producer and is clearly more confident.

she buys truly awful graphic t-shirts as thank you gifts that one feels obligated to wear. falls for scams easily. will help you fold 1000 paper stars for your boyfriend even if she hates your boyfriend because she’s ride or die like that. look at how cute she is no one is allowed to be mean to someone as cute as this.

yan mo / “frank”

if you liked se hee in because this is my first life, you’re in luck because here is a 10% angrier version. at first, yan mo seems cold, aloof, snobbish, pretentious, arrogant...

okay, but he’s ALSO got a lot of feelings and will help people out. well, at the start of the show, he’ll help two people out. but that expands to like 10. so, progress! in high school, he falls for qiao yi in the typical Cannot Spit It Out fashion, buying her sentimental cans of coke, PUTTING IN ONE EARBUD SO SHE CAN LISTEN TO THE BEATLES WITH HIM, feeling Weird about her tying his tie, and single-handedly ruining a for-profit afterschool tutoring business in about 30 seconds, because they weren’t teaching qiao yi anything, and he knew he could do it better. tbh he completely fucking destroys a lot of things and people in under a minute. #ruthless

he’s very protective of qiao yi and rather than explain it, here is a clip from the special episode where yan mo confronts another student who left a love confession meant for qiao yi in his desk by mistake (subtitles have to be selected under settings, but it’s subbed in english):

youtube

zhao guan chao

zhao qiao yi’s twin brother, who has always placed 2nd in their classes after yan mo. despite his high grades, he comes off as a laidback teen heartthrob and has a reputation for being a flake and a playboy. BUT he’s legit a chill dude and clearly popular for a reason--he gets along with (almost) everyone. he loves his sister and is extremely protective of her, especially since she’s so shy and has low self-esteem for Reasons That Will Be Explained in the Tragic Backstory. he’s such a good brother. the best brother. also looks out for qiao yi’s best friend, wu yi. understands the value of shoes.

hao wu yi

qiao yi’s best friend, and another classmate of The Crew. i say this with so, so much love, but she’s got a lot of chaotic dumbass energy. struggling along the bottom ranks with qiao yi during high school. she has the worst taste in men as a teenager, falling for the guy who literally bullied her in like. ep 2. thankfully she’s got qiao yi and guanchao.

the trio are close, and that doesn’t change as they grow up. wu yi ends up becoming a novelist who writes pop and steamy romance novels and has a significant teenage girl fanbase. it’s amazing.

fei da chuan

my boy. another classmate, he, qiao yi, and wu yi make up the official Dumbass Trio of their high school class and have adorable adventures + solidarity in it. he’s also yan mo’s uncle. somehow. because rich people families are wild. while he’s got a place to live, he more often than not crashes at yan mo’s, who Does Not Like It. but da chuan does not notice or care.

abrasive but 100% sincere about everything and toward everyone. people will think he’s an asshole or a gangster but then he’s secretly feeding abandoned kittens in the corner or something. as an adult, has the best business casual outfits. serves as a big brother figure to a lot of people, but qiao yi in particular. cannot, cannot fucking do math.

SUPPORTING

“alicia” / cheng youmei. an old family friend of yan mo’s who is very posh and rich and dignified. studied abroad with him at cambridge, and is cold toward qiao yi after arriving back in china. cosplays B)

teacher gao. everyone’s high school teacher who later owns a bar that seems to be there only for dispensing advice. seriously. there is no way this bar is economically sound as the only customers you ever see are gao’s students coming in one at a time for Wisdom and you never see them pay for anything. also the bar has no fucking roof and is directly above traintracks. i have hang-ups about this bar

lin shu. yan mo’s mother. very sweet and pretty and a ballernia turned program director. is almost never home but clearly loves her son. du chaun’s sister. somehow.

zhao suyin. qiao yi and guan chao’s mother. one of her kinks is roleplaying condor heroes characters? okay okay okay

tian weimin. qiao yi and guan chao’s stepfather who works as police officer. best dad award. he’s so sweet and corny and peak dad humor. he loves them kids & they love him back

grandpa. yan mo’s dog in high school. a very old basset hound with sad eyes:

dollar or d. i cant tell you anything about him, other than he used to be a stray and yan mo says he’s ugly, which, rude.

DRAWBACKS

plot...hm. there’s SOME plot, but this is about characters + romance + friendship + family. if you’re looking for scheming mothers-in-law or tragic car accidents or secret destinies this isn’t the one for you. similar in vibe to Reply 1988 (they even watch the show in the show :’D / make references to it)

OKAY SO every plot summary i’ve seen says that yan mo is in a relationship with someone else when he gets back to china. no he is not. i say this because it was a huge turn off for me/initially put me off watching the series. he is definitely a one-and-only type. there’s no cheating in this show. lmao, hell, neither of the mains are even interested in anyone else but each other

i liked du chuan and his love interest a lot, but they definitely didn’t get as much screen time as the others

while it’s clear qiao yi + yan mo are the mains, another couple gets a lot of screen time as well. this might be a skip if you don’t like multiple couples/secondary relationships in a show

i surprisingly enjoyed the high school storyline a lot more than the adult one? which is super weird for me, but idk i was sad when it was over because it was so cute.

some...weird technical decisions. every once in a while, the camera will have like a nostalgia filter and then it disappears and then the edges get a bit blurry and idk it feels very film school 101 to show that what’s on screen is a ~memory. the soundtrack/music is sometimes also too loud--to the point where it can drown out the actors (particularly janice wu in the high school arc, since qiao yi is soft-spoken)

REASONS TO WATCH

the lead actors (janice wu + zhang yujian) are legit two of my favorites and they have great/easy chemistry. all the actors are amazing. everyone’s loveable

SIBLING GOALS the zhao twins are amazing and they’re both each other’s biggest fans. gaunchao had some really heartwarming brother moments

i love love lmao. this spoke to a lot of my favorite dynamics: exes reunited/having to work together, childhood sweethearts reuniting as adults, “gangster” and princess, childhood friends turned lovers, bickering couples, cold man who actually has a lot of feelings, lots of people being overprotective, idk. everything was just great. 0 complaints on any of the ships.

i genuinely liked every character other than that one piece of shit poppa zhao. even alicia, who’s put into the stereotypical rich bitch role, was actually really fun and subverted a lot of expectations for this trope

it’s just. real cute y’all. probably my favorite cdrama and definitely in my top 10 (maybe 5?) dramas overall.

FINAL THOUGHTS

i love them ;;

#le coup de foudre #janice wu #zhang yujian #eden zhao #ma li #cdrama #gizka does kdrama #!my post #why yes i am procrastinating please have another in this trying time #this one's my favoriiiiiiiiiiiiiiite

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undead-notunreasonable · 4 years

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So I remember you mentioned that you were bullied at school? So was I and I’ve been thinking about that a lot recently. What is it that happened to you then? Just curious- dw if you don’t wanna say

This is gonna be long... I’m pretty open with what happened to me when I was at school! So, I guess I was dealt the worst hand: ginger, skinny, Deaf. The problem is growing up, I always had a group of friends & would lose them, and honestly that happened to me recently, so I thought it was because of me when in reality it’s because people don’t get that if you’re deaf, your needs & worldview are SO much more different to that of an abled person & abled bodied people just don’t get it.

Primary school: I was part of the ‘popular’ crowd for quite some time & I never felt any different & I thought these group of girls were going to be my best friends forever. As we go older, things started to change, I was being included less & not being invited to much. Parents would tell their kids to not hang around the disabled kid. Literal grown adults. They even would constantly ask my Mum if she was feeding me or if I was ill because I was so small. My poor Mum. One time I stayed round a friends house for a sleepover & bare in mind we’re little kids we’re like 7? I had a teddy bear that I wouldn’t go ANYWHERE without so of course I brought it to the party. One girl spat her gum into my hair. Another hid my hearing aids. Another hid my teddy bear. They didn’t get in trouble but the Mum whose home it was, told me that I hid it & was playing up. Following morning, it was hot as hell so we had a water fight before our parents came to pick us up, but I couldn’t join it because I couldn’t get my hearing aids wet. Though, I did aim the running hose that everyone was using at one of the girls & she burst into tears, I stopped but the others continued. The Mum yet again blamed me. She told my Mum & my Mum was like “No, she wouldn’t have done that if someone said to stop. And she wouldn’t have put gum in her hair, hidden her bear, or hid her hearing aids.” Eventually they got older & they just outed me. Until I met another new girl who was SO tall & people were mean to her about her height, so I became her friend, and we became great friends! Until another new girl came in who was my friend but she didn’t like me much even though I didn’t do anything wrong. She convinced the tall one to abandon me just as we moved onto secondary school. Secondary school: We had like an introductory week at this school where we met all the other kids so we could at least know someone to hang out with. I was lucky, there was a girl I attended gymnastics with & so I spent the day with her but this one teacher put me with another girl who is a little person & the reason she kept putting me & her together was because “Well you both look similar & you’re disabled, so you’ll get on great.” which is SO fucking wrong. We tried to get on with each other but we just didn’t gel. We exchanged hi’s every so often but we later drifted. I managed to get back with the girl from gymnastics but she wasn’t in my class. I didn’t mind, I was looking forward to studying at a big school & I had friends in another class so it’s fine. Eventually the tall girl from primary & I became friends because the girl she went off with kicked her out of their friendship group & we stayed friends for 7 years. But, this was when Harry Potter movies were slowly coming towards their end (I think they’d released their 4th movie?) and so.. of course... being ginger... meant all the boys started calling me Weasley & Ginger Nut. One boy, used to pass me notes & honestly, I didn’t think it was bullying because I thought I’d actually made a friend in class because I get on well with guys, so I would pass insults back. It only later became bullying when that guy told his friends what he’d call me, they’d start throwing stuff at me when the teacher wasn’t looking. I tried to report it but the teacher didn’t care, told me to ignore it. Boys kept harassing me & so I took it to the vice principal. It happened SO often, literally every day for MONTHS no matter how many letters of apologies or detentions etc, that one day I went to her again for help & she just went “Holly, I’m too busy, deal with it yourself.” A new drama teacher came in and she saw that our class was pretty wild and she couldn’t figure out who was causing it. She asked me to take note in classes of everyone who got listed on detention boards & bring it back to her. Deaf people take things LITERALLY and so I LITERALLY wrote down their names as their names went on board. People started to notice & started cornering me & yelling in my face asking me why I was writing their names down. The teacher at the time in that building caught wind of it & asked me calmly why I was doing it. “Mrs Edwards asked me to.” was all I could stay & then later the Drama teacher explained that she meant mentally take note & that she was so sorry for any harm she’d caused. But this didn’t make me a popular person at all. Valentines were always filled with fake ones & pranks. People fake asking me out, even a friend gave me a card that was meant to be from my crush but it was made up. What didn’t help was that I was a big fan of the Twilight movies. Someone spread a rumour near prom that I was the head of Prom committee & that I was making it Twilight themed & this spread like wildfire. People would yell at me on the way to classes & spit at me “No one’s gonna fucking go to Prom if it’s TWILIGHT fucking themed!! You piece of fucking shit!!!” and I’d get messaged on my Facebook & MSM all night about how I’ve ruined everyones prom. I’d yell “Look at the fucking planners list that’s literally everywhere. I’m not even on it. I’m not even going.” and I really didn’t want to go, I wanted to stay in, in my pyjamas because I was so upset. One bully even cornered me before science class & got into my face, just screaming “You fucking ginger emo cunt! No one will ever fucking love you because you’re ginger & deaf!” and tried to shut us all out. I was in a rage & I managed to push open the door enough to kick him so hard in the shin & keep kicking. He never said a bad word to me again. But all my friends were going to prom & I wanted to go with them. So, I did. (And I wowed everyone there, all the bullies couldn’t believe it was me. I had my hair in a curled low bun, smoky eyeshadow, a black velvet bodiced dress, red jewelled choker round my throat, red silk skirt & arrived in an vintage car. It was vampy, it was gothy, but I looked good for the time. I even kissed my crush that night!) but a year down the line & all my girl friends said they didn’t want to be friends with me anymore because I just didn’t do anything. I was a tomboy, I wasn’t into shopping & getting nails done or clubbing. But they started doing things without me & stopped inviting me, stopped even considering me, so I plucked up the courage to ask why, they said I didn’t do anything, I said “Yeah, not the girly stuff but I would’ve loved to have gone to the movies & gone for dinner with you” and my best friend of 7 years said “I never even liked you anyway.” So I had no friends once more. College: I wasn’t so much bullied in college, other than you had you popular people & your dorky people but the friends I’d made of friends invited me to house parties & eventually down the years (what...5?) I found out between that time that they’d had a group chat on Whatsapp that I wasn’t a part of because it was a sex bet group. They would plot & wager who would convince me into bed first because I was the hot friend. I’m.. not hot. I’m okay. But still. They’d had a big bet on me. I found out & I was livid. I yelled at them & they told me I was being childish about it. So I broke away. I kept a few that I knew weren’t on the chat close. I introduced an old school friend to them & well... he was dating four of them, sleeping with them, then telling them he had to be somewhere else but was sleeping with someone else of the quartet. This all got out & EVERYONE fell apart. I felt so guilty because I’d introduced him but someone assured it wasn’t my fault. Adulthood: Then this year, I lost them all because I yelled at one guy who kept treating me like SHIT & I’d told him to back off. Everyone yelled at me, called me childish, and took his side. People who love calling out toxic & abusive behaviour, telling each other to not talk to someone because of this or that. That’s childish. He and I are working things about but it’ll never be the same. The only friend I had left really upset me when we both discussed about going to this little holiday hut I’d found & I got all excited. She knew I’d fallen out with my group of friends so I said “I don’t have anyone I can invite that can join us” and then she said “I know a few from uni who can come” and then booked it but... didn’t book it for me at all. She said “I can’t wait to go next year with my best friends, it’s gonna be so nice to spend a weekend with them” so I broke things off with her. Like, I found the place, we agreed to go together, we got excited, and then... you just dropped me. So all in all, yeah I’ve been bullied. I don’t have any physical friends anymore, I just have internet friends & I suppose I’m not built for people. I have a few internet friends though, so I’m not entirely alone. But I don’t date for the same reasons, also because of what that one bully said & all the fake Valentines. I’m sorry what happened to you is playing on your mind but honestly, it’s really for the best for you to try & move forward, yes, the memories will be there, but its YOU who decides how you go about your life, how YOU look after yourself, not the past. You are who you are, and you’re wonderful, I’m sure. Except if you’re a terf or a racist but that’s something else.

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drwcn · 4 years

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Get to know me: MDZS Edition

@ aninfiniteweirdo, @lan-xichens these contain your asks :) and asks from other Anons! ╰(*°▽°*)╯

General

1. If you had to join a sect, which would you join?

Gusu Lan.

A) I actually don’t mind the rules. Getting up at five? Please. I get up at 4 and have to be on call for 26 hours. Just so y’all know, the getting up at 5am and going to bed at 9pm thing was a regular boarding school (high school, university etc) practice in the China in the 70s and 80s. There’s an entire generation of people who grew up like this and they look at the young people of now and judge (nag) us for our lack of discipline. >:)

B) The rules are more like suggestions if you know how to live your life right. Look at Lan Xichen. Look at Lan Jingyi.

C) I gotta admit that back when I was a kid, I was a huge teacher’s pet. I knew how to get on all their good sides. I aint afraid of Gusu Lan and their 3000 rules. Once, in the 7th grade, I chewed gum in class and purposely got caught just so I could experience detention for once in my life. It was boring, so I didn’t try it again.

D) I love music.

3. Manhua, donghua, novel, live-action, or audio drama?

Live Action 100% !

Ships:

5. Platonic OTPs/BROTPs? Rarepairs? OT3+s?

Platonic OTP → Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli. I just want some sisterly affection or friendship between women. Platonic friendships are important.

BROTPs → The One Neuron Trio. Not even neuron, like...just one floating astrocyte probably. Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian could’ve had it all!!! I’m so bitter.

OT3s → 3zun. If Meng Yao and NMJ’s strife stopped at the death of that one Nie disciple, if NMJ saw through Meng Yao’s bullshit but also his cleverness and usefulness. If NMJ and MY were united in their single-minded goal of protecting Lan Xichen. If Lan Xichen played an effective mediator. I refuse to take criticisms.

6. Describe a ship in five words.

XueXiao: well shit, that escalated quickly.

Characters:

3. Favorite character & why?

Hm..... Mian’Mian. I can’t say she is my favourite character to write because often to write there has to be something I find lacking in the character, but I see nothing lacking in Mian’mian at all. She is a friendly, down to earth, sociable person; a brave and trained cultivator; a clever and diplomatic disciple; and a woman who was unafraid to stand up against the injustices she saw in the world. When she knew she couldn’t win a fight, she chose to walk away, and that level of common sense and self preservation done right (without blindness nor cowardice) is something rarely seen. In addition to all of that, she does not need to be a “not like other girls” archetype. She found love, got married, had a child, and lived for the simple life. That sweet ending of a little cottage in the countryside is the comfort I needed to get me through all of mdzs/cql’s bullshit.

5. Favorite character of the juniors? [don’t forget OYZZ]

Ouyang Zizhen. I choose to believe he is a very accepting and kind person. He is able to be Jin Ling’s friend when many people even Jin Ling’s own sect dislikes him. That says something about OYZZ’s judge of character and his ability to see past the initial appearance. He is in touch with his feelings, and is a boy who is unafraid to cry. Yet, he is also unafraid to speak his mind and right the wrongs even against his father in public. He does all of this not because he is part of the same sect as JL, LJY or LSZ, not because WWX is his long lost dad or his misunderstood uncle or anything. There’s no familial ties that holds him to the other characters, and yet he is there, and able to be a critical, impartial third party, and I think that’s very important. There is something admirable in this young person, something the other youngsters do not have.

6. Favorite character from each main sect (secondary is optional)?

Gusu Lan - Lan Wangji (cql) Yunmeng Jiang - Jiang Cheng. Qishan Wen - Wen Qing. Qinghe Nie - Nie Huaisang Lanling Jin - Jin Guangyao ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The rogue cultivators - Luo Qingyang aka “Mian Mian.”

Fic:

2. What characters/ships do you mostly write for?

I mostly write for wangxian, but I will throw in xiyao and chengqing because Corie’s got an agenda and she’s not afraid to push it.

5. Recommend a fanfic!! Can be yours or someone else’s.

I just finished The Way It Wasn't by KouriArashi. HIGHLY recommend. A different kind of fix it, not what you expect. Has everything I love: wangxian, xiyao, nhs & my as friends, nmj doesn’t hate my’s guts, my is ALLOWED TO BE A TRUE GREY CHARACTER, and a glimpse of chengqing. My crops are watered.

#about corie

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.2/25

Triss Merigold was bloody exhausted. The start of the school term was always the worst. She had barely had a break for the whole of the first two weeks. She flopped onto the sofa in the staffroom with a dramatic sigh. She loved the kids. She hated the parents. Already she’d been caught up on the phone with parents from the younger tutor forms just calling in to check up on their little darlings. No matter how many times she or the other teachers assured them that the school would notify them of any problems. The parents of the older kids were just as bad, blaming the teachers for their bad parenting skills and insisting that all their children should have been top of the class.

“It’s not that bad Triss.” Istredd Gynvael from the Feainnewedd tutor group hummed.

Istredd was the history teacher for the secondary school children and looked after one of the year ten forms. Overall he was well liked by most of the students, he wasn’t a strict teacher but Triss knew the students sometimes found his classes on the dull side. Not that Triss would ever tell him that. No, that little tidbit was between her and Yennefer alone, maybe Tissaia…

She’d never tell the Headmaster, Stregobor, at least.

“You don’t have to talk to the parents until parents’ evening, Is.” Triss moaned. “I have to deal with them all year round. They all think their angels can do no wrong.”

“We become teachers for the children. The parents are an unfortunate side effect.” Istredd sighed.

There was a murmur of agreement from across the staffroom.

“Sabrina’s mum called me a disgrace and failed artist last year.” Tissaia sighed as she turned a page in her book. “Apparently, they weren’t happy that I gave their daughter some constructive criticism on the use of lighting in her portraits. I’m not going to just throw compliments at every student. They’d never learn otherwise.”

Tissaia de Vries was the school’s art teacher. She was also the form teacher of Forget-Me-Nots, one of the year six classes. She’d been the person to encourage Yennefer’s career as an artist ever since she’d been a student at the school. It had been because of Tissaia that Yennefer had started teaching in the first place.

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier perked up from where he was scribbling in his notebook. “I happen to like the parents of my class.”

Triss rolled her eyes. Jaskier had dropped by her desk at reception at the end of the first day to ask for all the parents’ contact details so he could write his weekly emails. He’d been particularly interested in Ciri’s dad. Of course, Ciri was an interest to all the teachers at the school. She’d already been through hell and she was only six years old. The young girl didn’t seem all that bothered on the surface about her sudden change in circumstances. It was all a bit peculiar.

“That’s because you are a bit of a freak, Julian.” Mr Marx drawled from his corner of the staffroom.

Jaskier’s face turned to thunder and slammed his notebook shut.

Jaskier and Valdo Marx had known each other since before Jaskier started at the school. Their rivalry was legendary amongst the staff. No one was entirely sure of the details behind their feud. From what Triss could tell they had been at University together, both studying music at Oxenfurt. They had had some kind of falling out at some point. No one was really sure what about but last Solstice things had flared up when Valdo had had an affair with Jaskier’s partner. It was also Valdo that had told Stregobor and the rest of the staff that Jaskier’s birth name was Julian, something that her friend seemed to despise. Valdo refused to call Jaskier by his chosen name which never ceased to end in an argument between them.

This time was no different as Jaskier coiled up like a spring, ready to pounce on the other teacher.

“Call me that again one more time and I’m putting in a grievance. Wally.” Jaskier sneered. “Some of us actually care about the children we teach, and that means taking an interest in their home life and working out the best way to teach each child individually.”

“Name calling, Julian. How original.” Mr Marx smirked and patted Jaskier on the head as he moved to leave the room.

“Oh fuck you!” Jaskier called after him. “He’s just bitter because all the year twos wish they were Buttercups and not Foxgloves.” He muttered.

“He’s just bitter because he doesn’t get to talk to Mr Rivia at parents evening.” Triss sighed wistfully. “I would climb him like a tree.”

Jaskier’s scowled faded into a blissed out smile. “Oh he is dreamy isn’t he? Those eyes, like molten amber and that voice. Gods, it’s like sex personified.”

Triss giggled. “I knew it!”

Jaskier went wide eyed and slammed his hands over his mouth. “I said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Must you all be so dramatic?” Istredd called over Triss’s squeals of joy. “I’m trying to mark homework.”

“I think we’ve all earned a break, Istredd, if you want to mark in peace go back to your desk.” Tissaia hummed with eye roll.

Istredd sighed. “Just keep it down, maybe try and remain professional.”

“Oh come on, Is. You’ve not seen him. Geralt Rivia is hot!” Triss nudged her friend.

“Geralt? Yen’s ex?” Istredd put down his marking with a sudden scowl.

“No no no!” Jaskier whined. “Please tell me, I’m not competing with Yennefer Vengerberg!”

“Don’t worry Jaskier, that ship has long sailed. Isn’t that right, Is?” Triss winked at the history teacher. Istredd’s fingers gripped tighter around his pen and he muttered something under his breath before burying his nose back into the sheets of paper in front of him.

“Alright!” Jaskier called. “How many people here have had a crush on Yennefer Vengerberg? Hands up!”

“We’re not your kids, Jaskier.” Tissaia rolled her eyes at the younger teacher’s antics.

“True.” He admitted. “But humour me.”

Triss unashamedly put her hand up. Istredd was next. Chireadan was next and a handful of the other staff. Overall, just over half the staff in the room had their hands up.

Jaskier was not one of them.

“Not your type, Jask? I thought everyone was your type?” Triss teased.

Jaskier gasped and put his hand on his heart. “Triss! Just because I’m bisexual does not mean everyone is my type! She’s hot. I can admit that, but she fucking terrifies me.”

“And Geralt doesn’t?” Triss asked with a roll of her eyes, deciding not to point out that she was pansexual and already knew the myths of their sexualities were not true. “He could probably snap you like a twig.”

Jaskier beamed. “Oh I know!”

“Do we need to chaperone parents’ evening, Jaskier?” Tissaia asked cooly but her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

“I’ll have you know I am a professional!” He gasped in mock outrage. “But yes absolutely. I have no idea how I managed to talk to him on the first day. Gods, he looked at me and I wanted to melt. I could write ballads about those eyes.”

“Please don’t” Istredd sighed. “Geralt’s not that great.”

“Oh come on, Is, you just don’t like the fact he used to date Yennefer.”

“Yenna is better than him.” Istredd scowled.

“Oh ho ho!” Jaskier laughed. “Are you going to finally ask her out then?”

“Shut up, Julian.” Istredd hissed.

“Jaskier’s got a point, Is.” Triss gave Istredd a pointed look as Jaskier visibly bristled at the name. “But what about you and Geralt?”

Jaskier grumbled as he moved to retrieve his notebook. “Nothing. There’s nothing about me and Geralt. He’s a parent and I am a professional.”

Istredd sighed loudly and gathered up his belongings and left the room. Tissaia chuckled as she sipped her tea and continued to read her book, but seemed to be content with the gossip that was rife in the staffroom. Other teachers were beginning to file out as the lunch break was ending.

“But you fancy him.” Triss persisted as she checked the time on her phone. She didn’t need to be back at the front desk for another ten minutes and she didn’t have to worry about lesson planning like the other teachers. Her job did have some perks.

“So do you.” Jaskier shot back. “I am simply appreciating that Mr Rivia is a good-looking man but his daughter’s in my class and you know me, I fall in love with everyone I meet.”

“Except Yennefer.” Triss pointed out.

Jaskier paled at the memory. “I have met Yennefer once and I genuinely thought I was going to die a terrible and painful death.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad.” Triss giggled.

_________

Yennefer didn’t come back to school very often when she was in town but occasionally she would pick Triss up if they were going to the pub after school finished. Sometimes Yennefer would glide through the halls of her old haunt to reminisce over her days as a teacher, popping in to say hello to her old colleagues. The first time she’d visited after Jaskier had started teaching she’d visited her old classroom, the classroom that Jaskier now occupied.

“What the fuck has happened to my door?” Yennefer glared at the bright yellow monstrosity that stood at the entrance to her old classroom. During Yennefer’s time at school the door had been painted lilac with elegant black silhouettes of flowers.

Jaskier had rather a different approach. His door was so bright you almost needed sunglasses to look at it and his class had drawn their own buttercups to cover the door. Their teaching style was completely different too.

Yennefer luckily had been in charge of an older class and mostly taught English Literature and Language to the Secondary school children. Yennefer was firm, and at times strict, she demanded respect from her students and many of them ended up in detention for missing out on homework or mucking about in class. Yennefer’s theory was that by messing about it was both a waste of her time and theirs. Yennefer was not a lover of wasted time. Every action she took was planned down to the letter. She knew what she wanted and how to get there. Her writing was very much the same.

The scripts she wrote for the school plays were intricate and beautiful. Every line, every stage direction, every detail in the costumes had some hidden meaning that would be revealed later on in the play. As a director she was fierce and many of the older students were scared shitless after their time in the theatre but many also went on to attend drama schools. Yennefer could have become an award winning author, actor or director but that wasn’t where her passion lay.

Yennefer Vengerberg loved art.

She always had ever since she’d studied at the school under Ms de Vries. She was a remarkably talented painter but her real skill was in her reviews and critiques of others art. Her analysis was unparalleled and her wit and sarcasm had drawn in a wide audience from all across the Art world.

As soon as she’d been able to earn enough money from her work at a critic she’d flown from the school, much to the delight of her poor students.

Jaskier on the other hand was a ray of sunshine. He was the sun to Yennefer’s moon. The kids adored him and almost everyone on the staff fancied him, not to mention the parents. His charm could have melted the heart of the ice queen herself and had to got him out of many a bad situation in the past, of course it had gotten him into just as many tight spots as well. Where Yennefer was unwaveringly focussed and unrelenting in her teaching, Jaskier was easily distracted and flitted from one topic to another like a whirlwind. He was kindhearted and nurturing to the children, playing his guitar almost every day and encouraging the kids to be the best they could be. He was entertaining and fun, and every child wanted to be in Buttercups.

The layout of the building had changed a lot since Yennefer’s time and this section of the school now housed the primary school classes which was why Jaskier’s class was now in the old English room.

Yennefer burst through the door, Triss trailing behind her. “Seriously! What the fuck?”

Jaskier jumped up from behind his desk, knocking his paper work all over the floor. “Bollocks! Shit! I mean… oh cock!” His travel mug tipped over as he scrambled after the the sheets of maths homework. Coffee poured everywhere, including down his teal floral shirt.

“Triss!” Yennefer snapped. “Why is there a child teaching in my classroom?”

Triss sighed and walked over to help Jaskier save his marking from the coffee that was now leaking onto the floor. “Yen, this is Jaskier Pankratz. Our new year two teacher.”

“What are you, twelve?” Yen asked raising her eyebrow at the young brunet.

“I’m twenty-six!” Jaskier pouted. “I just have good genes and quite frankly a fabulous skincare routine. Did you want a copy?”

“Are you saying I look old?” Yennefer smirked at Jaskier who visibly started to panic.

“Oh no. No no no. You look very radiant, ethereal! Eternally youthful. Please don’t kill me?” He fell backwards in a fluffy of maths homework.

“Oh dear god.” Yennefer covered her face with her hand. “I thought this place couldn’t get any worse. Come on Triss, there’s a couple of bottles of wine with our names on it. See you around, Buttercup.”

“See you on Monday, Jaskier!” Triss passed him a handful of sheets she had managed to salvage from the coffee.

“Holy mother of…” Jaskier breathed as he stared after the hurricane that was Yennefer Vengerberg.

_______________

Triss giggled at the memory. It had been just under three years ago, back when Yennefer and Geralt were still going through their off and on again stage. Jaskier had looked like a deer stuck in headlights in the fierce presence of Yennefer. Triss knew her friend could be quite intimidating but underneath it all was a loyal friend. A lot of her scary demeanour was just a mask to hide her insecurities. Yennefer wanted everything in life, a family, a career, fame, money, power. She wanted it all.

But she was so terrified that she would never be enough, never deserve the things that she desired. Her relationship with Geralt hadn’t help. They burned brighter than the sun on their good days but their fights could have risen the Gods from their slumber. They pulled and pushed at each others souls, tearing each other apart. Triss had never met Geralt before Ciri had started at the school but she’d been there for Yennefer every time he broke her heart.

“It absolutely was that bad.” Jaskier pouted. “I ruined my favourite shirt and made a complete fool of myself. She was looking at me with murder eyes!”

Triss patted his arm sympathetically. “If Yennefer wanted you dead, Jaskier, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Jaskier staggered back and stomped over to pick up his guitar case and satchel. “Wow. Thanks Triss. That is… so comforting.”

The bell chimed in the corridors, signalling the end of lunch.

“Bollocks!” Jaskier cursed and scampered out of the room. “This is all your fault Triss Merigold.”

Triss smirked after him. “You love it, Buttercup!”

_____________

Triss pulled her thick wooden green coat around her. It was surprisingly cold for the end of September and she’d forgotten to bring gloves. She was on home time duty this week which mostly involved waiting in the playground with the kids for the parents who had yet to learn how to read a damn clock. She stuffed her hands in her pockets in a poor attempt to keep them warm. At least her hair was long and thick enough to keep her ears warm. She daydreamed happily about a warm bath and a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream.

“Ms Merigold?” A small voice broke through her daydream and she felt hands tugging at her coat. She looked down at Ciri who was staring back at her with tears in her eyes. “Where’s Coën?”

Triss glanced down at her watch and bite her tongue to stop herself from swearing. Ciri’s babysitter was over thirty minutes late. It was unheard of. He was normally waiting at the gates as soon as the bells rang to signify the end of the day, but today Ciri was the last kid left.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll give Geralt a call.” Triss took the young girl’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. Ciri clung on to her tightly and sniffed, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

“What if he’s hurt?” Ciri asked quietly.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright.” Triss reassured her, wishing that she could believe her own words.

The pair of them hurried back inside and out of the cold. Triss let go of Ciri’s hand so she could search her desk for the file where she kept the emergency contact details.

“Mr Jaskier!!” Ciri cried and flew off down the corridor.

Triss looked up to see a very confused primary school teacher, guitar case slung haphazardly over his shoulder, struggling with an armful of small child. His leather satchel had dropped to the floor, books spilling out with a clatter.

“Ciri?” He stammered before he regained his composure and met Triss’s gaze with a worried look.

“Coën’s in trouble!” Ciri cried. “He’s going to leave me! Everyone always leaves me!”

“Oh Ciri.” Jaskier returned the girl’s clinging hug as she sobbed against his chest. “Ms Merigold is going to call your dad. We’ll figure this out together.”

Ciri sniffed loudly but nodded. “‘Kay.”

Triss found Geralt Rivia’s number with ease and dialled, praying that he would answer. She made a mental note to get Coën’s number too, he picked up Ciri most evenings during the week, depending on Geralt’s shift pattern, it was foolish that the young man hadn’t provided his contact details.

The phone rang three times before Geralt’s gruff voice answered.

“Geralt.” He grunted.

“Geralt, Hi. This is Ms Merigold, from Ciri’s school.” Triss started.

“Fuck. What’s happened?”

“Coën didn’t show at pick up today. Mr Pankratz is here with Ciri but she’s not taking it well.” Triss explained in a rush. She glanced over at Ciri and Jaskier. He’d sat down on the floor with her and seemed to be distracting her with a story. She still looked shaken but had calmed down and appeared to be completely captivated by the stories he was weaving.

“I’m on my way.”

Triss didn’t get a chance to reply as Geralt hung up the phone and the line went dead. She strolled over to Jaskier and Ciri, sitting down beside them. Jaskier glanced up at her without pausing his tale of knights and bards and princesses, and she nodded.

Ciri wasn’t an idiot though. She cut Jaskier off mid-sentence. “Is my dad coming to pick me up?”

“Yeah. We’ll wait here until he arrives yeah?” Triss suggested. “No point staying in the cold.”

“Is Mr Jaskier staying?” Ciri asked with wide eyes.

“As if I would leave you here!” Jaskier gasped and placed a hand over his heart, dramatic as always. “You are one of my Buttercups and we stick together!”

Jaskier pulled out his guitar whilst they waited for Geralt Rivia to arrive. Triss always enjoyed watching Jaskier play. She didn’t often get the chance. She knew he played for his class but her job kept her at her desk for the majority of the school day and they didn’t socialise that much outside of work. Occasionally, a handful of the teachers would head to the pub on a Friday evening but it wasn’t exactly the place to start playing acoustic guitar. Usually she’d only get to see him play quietly in the corner of the staffroom if he was working on a new song, or occasionally at a school event.

This was different though, it was intimate like a lullaby being sang in the dead of night. Triss was completely enchanted by her friend and was really starting to wonder how he wasn’t a famous musician. She’d expected him to play something uplifting to distract the young girl but Jaskier seemed to have other ideas. He played a song about heartbreak that was so full of yearning that even Triss could feel the telltale prick of tears in her eyes, and it seemed to do the trick. Ciri cried too but it wasn’t the chaotic full-bodied sobs from before. Tears rolled down her freckled cheeks quietly and Triss suddenly understood.

Jaskier was allowing the young girl to grieve.

He was telling her, through his music, that it was ok to be scared. It was ok to have these feelings and to cry. The teachers had all been concerned that Ciri didn’t seem to have processed the trauma of her young life very well and here was Jaskier, drawing out those emotions that the young girl had kept tucked away. Coën not turning up had triggered something in Ciri, some fear of abandonment that no one had realised had developed.

Triss smiled as she wiped a tear from her eyes. The young teacher had more depth than she’d realised. She’d underestimated him, perhaps they all had.

“Ciri!” Geralt came rushing through the doors, shattering the moment into a thousand shards of shimmering glass.

The girl in question squealed and flung her tiny body towards Geralt. Jaskier almost dropped his guitar in surprise and even Triss jumped a little at the sudden rush of movement.

“Dad!” Ciri cried as she wrapped her arms around her father.

“I’m here, Princess. I’m here.” Geralt reassured her in a low voice.

“Where’s Coën?” Ciri asked wide-eyed.

“Flu. He text me but it didn’t come through until I left work. I’m sorry.” Geralt explained as he kissed her hair. The silver-haired man then looked up to face Triss and Jaskier. “I am so sorry. What do I owe you?”

“Owe us?” Jaskier spluttered. “Geralt.”

Jaskier said the other man’s name like a prayer, fervently and full of adoration.

“You would have been home over an hour ago if it weren’t for me.” Geralt insisted.

Triss noticed with barely hidden glee that Geralt was focussed almost completely on Jaskier. Triss was certain that she could have slipped away and back to her car, and Geralt wouldn’t have noticed. So it seemed that Jaskier’s little crush wasn’t quite an unrequited as he thought.

“Geralt, it’s our job to ensure the children are safe. It was simply an unfortunate and completely unforeseen event. This is not your fault, nor is it Ciri’s or Coën’s. You owe us nothing.” Jaskier insisted.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed but continued to watch Jaskier intently as the younger man packed up his guitar. “Thank you.”

“That’s quite alright, Geralt. We’re happy to help, right Triss?” Jaskier blushed and looked towards her.

Triss smirked. “Delighted, Mr Rivia, but try not to let it happen again, or I’ll have to inform Yennefer.” Triss teased.

Geralt scowled but Ciri perked up at the name. “Auntie Yennefer?!” She squealed in delight.

“An old dear friend of mine, Ciri.” Triss nodded, throwing a smile at the young girl.

“Please don’t tell Yen.” Geralt groaned.

“Yeah, Ms Merigold. No need to get Yennefer involved.” Jaskier mumbled, glancing down at his feet and then back up at Geralt.

Geralt peered at the brunet. “I thought you only met her once.”

“A story for another time I think.” Jaskier blushed and sent her a warning glare.

Triss rolled her eyes. “Ask Yen next time you call her.”

“Dad.” Ciri tugged Geralt’s arm. “I’m hungry.”

Geralt growled. “Right. Time to go. Thank you for keeping her safe, Ms Merigold. Jaskier.”

“Anytime!” Jaskier replied brightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ciri! See you, Geralt.”

“Have a good evening you two.” Triss waved them off.

Once they’d left the building, Jaskier sank to his knees and groaned.

“Alright there, Jaskier?” Triss teased with a laugh.

“Fuck me, he’s gorgeous.” Jaskier buried his face in his hands. “This year is going to destroy me.”

“Wouldn’t you rather Geralt destroy you?” Triss giggled as she pulled him to his feet and linked their arms.

“Triss Merigold!” Jaskier gasped. “No, no. You’re right. Oh good lord!”

“Ask him out.” Triss suggested.

Jaskier laughed weakly. “Not gonna happen. Stregobor would have me quartered.”

“Coward.”

“Absolutely! Come on, I think we deserve a drink! To the pub!” Jaskier announced loudly and together they finally left building for the evening.

______

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #triss merigold #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt x jaskier #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #you set my heart ablaze #wolfie's witcher writing

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Before This Dance Is Through VI

Chapter: 6/16

Rating: M (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo found himself getting excited for the following Tuesday, he'd be sitting at home watching the television and suddenly the image of Spike in a short skirt or wearing makeup would flash into his mind and he'd have to consciously calm himself. John tried to get him to go along to the club in the meantime, but Ringo refused for a multitude of reasons, although he wasn't sure which was the genuine one. Part of him was still a little nervous about facing Spike again, especially after how much alone time he'd been spending with his pictures. Another simply told him that he wanted to wait, it'd be more special that way, and he didn't really have the primal urge that John seemed to have that resulted in him ending up at the club almost every night.

In the days leading up to the event Ringo spent most of his time working. The school year was coming to an end which meant he was being called in for a mass amount of activity days. They weren't Ringo's favourite thing in the world, he much preferred earning his money by teaching students one-on-one but it definitely mixed things up a little. The day would mostly consist of younger children coming into a large hall where Ringo would talk for a little bit about drumming before the students got a chance to try it out themselves. It got a little chaotic at times, and Ringo felt relieved that he didn't have to bring his own kit in because these children were anything but predictable. Sometimes they'd result in one or two students expressing a real interest in drumming and so Ringo would give them one of his business cards to pass along to their parents; more often than not it wouldn't result in anything at all but on occasion he could get several new students from participating in a few of these activity days.

One aspect of these events that Ringo never enjoyed was the attention he got from the teachers. He'd gotten used to it by now: one of the younger female teachers asking to try it out and for Ringo to show them how to play - just an excuse to get him stood over them with a chance of their hands touching - but no matter how often it happened it didn't make it any less aggravating. While the children busied themselves with the array of instruments set out, Ringo often had no choice but to stand at the back and talk to whichever teacher was meant to be supervising them. The smalltalk wasn't the problem, usually it was quite refreshing to talk to someone else who worked with children, it was the awkward flirting that drove him up the wall. The worst was when they'd pretend to have a child interested in learning how to drum, or that they themselves were, but when Ringo would actually press for details it would amount to nothing. It was never the men that flirted with him, Ringo had started to think he was the only gay teacher in the area, and there had certainly been times he'd wished they had.

"You need to look gayer." John had pointed out.

"I'm going into a school, John, I can't rock up in a rainbow tank top covered in glitter." Ringo chuckled.

"Why not? Kids love glitter."

There was one male teacher in particular that Ringo had liked the look of, but he'd only met him the once; he taught English, or had it been art? The problem was that the female teachers would be so desperate to volunteer to stand in for Ringo's lesson with the students, even if they seemed to be aware there was no chance of anything actually happening, that he rarely got to see another man. Every time he went back to that same school he'd hoped to see that particular teacher again, yet he was always disappointed.

He was heading back home after completing a session at the local secondary school, the one he'd actually attended when he was younger, fairly exhausted from the energy of the children and massively exhausted from the persistency of the women. As he sank into the driver's seat of his car with a sigh, he swore he was going to buy a rainbow pin to attach to his jacket to ward off anything in the future. On his way home he stopped off at the record shop, partly to pick up something that'd improve his mood but mostly in the hopes that he'd see Spike again. He'd rather see him in an ordinary setting, without the dynamic that existed in the club, as strange as it had been at first. But luck was apparently not on his side today as there was no sign of Spike anywhere in the shop, he'd even browsed the clothes in the basement, which he'd never done before, just to increase the chances of bumping into him.

When Tuesday finally came around Ringo was in dire need of some intoxication, so much so that he went along with John's idea of beginning the drinking before they'd even sat down to eat dinner. Ringo cooked for the two of them while John sat in the kitchen waffling on about some new idea he was having for a story. It was unusual for them to be eating dinner over at John's place, but it was far closer to the club and Ringo definitely wasn't going to risk driving with how much alcohol he was planning on drinking.

"I'm surprised your oven isn't covered in cobwebs considering how little you use it." Ringo stated as he fried up some bacon.

"Why would I use the oven when I have a perfectly good microwave?" John mumbled in response, he was scrawling down ideas messily in a notebook.

"This is not a perfectly good microwave." Ringo chuckled as he gestured with the spatula.

"Calm down, Gordon Ramsay." John quipped.

"What are you even writing?" Ringo asked as he walked away from the oven.

"My mate's putting together some gay poetry book and asked me to write something for it." John explained without looking up "I should've finished it two days ago but I forgot."

"Maybe tonight will give you some inspiration." Ringo tried to read what John had already scribbled down but his handwriting was fairly intelligible.

"Don't tempt me. Paul's already said he won't accept any more poems as payment." John chuckled to himself.

"Any more?" Ringo raised his eyebrows.

"Long story." John finally looked up then and flashed Ringo a grin.

By the time they'd finished eating they were already quite drunk, John had begun blasting music from one of his many playlists.

"Sooooo." John leaned over the table slightly "How's Spike been treating you these last few days?"

Ringo felt his face reddening and he tried to tell himself it was just the alcohol "No complaints from me."

"Can I have a look?" John tilted his head and smiled.

"Er-" Ringo hesitated "I dunno."

"Oh come on!" John reached his hand forward teasingly "I'll give you the 20p or however much a day costs, if that's what you're so worried about."

Ringo didn't budge "Pay for it yourself if you wanna see."

"I'm the one who bloody told you about it in the first place, you twat." John huffed but he was still smiling "Is there something you're not telling me, Ringo?"

"What do you mean?" Ringo shuffled in his seat.

John's smile widened then he casually picked up his drink to take a sip "Nothing. Don't mind me."

The two of them managed to get over to the club in one piece, although John did stumble into the road a couple of times. It was considerably more busy than a normal Tuesday night, or so John claimed, and there were far more people clamoured outside smoking than there usually was. Ringo felt like he had to brace himself before stepping inside, closing his eyes for a second and taking in a deep breath. The amount of people inside was astounding and Ringo began to worry that this had been a bad idea after all. Music was blaring as loud as always, it was difficult to even think but luckily Ringo didn't really need to think when he had John by his side, pulling him over to the nearest bar. As they moved further into the club Ringo could finally see what all the fuss about, one of the strippers was walking around in tall heels with a transparent platform - the kind Ringo had seen in films - paired with a lilac skirt and a white bra. Ringo recognised the man under the makeup from when he'd been here before, he never found him particularly attractive but the sight of him like this definitely interested him at least a little.

"This is gonna be well confusing for my sexuality." Ringo stated as they moved away from the bar with their drinks in hand.

"Best of both worlds for me." John replied with a grin as he looked out amongst the crowd of people.

"So you're into girls again now, are you?" Ringo nudged John lightly.

John paused for a second then turned his head to face Ringo "What are you drinking?"

"Vodka coke, why?" Ringo furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Well you were drinking beers back at my place. You're into drinking vodka now?" John raised his eyebrows in turn.

"I don- Oh, I see. Point made." Ringo punctuated his sentence with a sip of his drink.

It was difficult to get a decent view of the main stage on which someone dressed as Madonna was doing a very graphic dance to 'Like a Prayer', Ringo had never really thought about the double meaning of that song until this moment, but considering it was neither Paul nor Spike they weren't entirely interested. Both of them were scoping around for any sign of their 'preferred' man but it was almost impossible to pinpoint anyone in such a mass of people, particularly when none of the dancers were particularly looking like themselves. John grabbed Ringo around the wrist and pulled him through the crowds until they were heading down to the back room, Ringo could recognise the rhythm of the distant song as Queen's 'I Want to Break Free'.

"I should've worn my Freddie outfit." John commented as they descended the stairs.

"Someone might've beaten you to it." Ringo chuckled.

"This is a strip club not a drag show, don't get it twisted." John shouted over the music as they walked through the door.

Ringo realised very quickly how very 'twisted' his expectations of tonight really had been when he caught a glimpse of what was happening on the stage. Upon hearing the song, Ringo had expected some crude recreation of the music video complete with fake moustaches and enormously large, and clearly fake, breasts. But no, he couldn't have been more wrong. Ringo stopped in his tracks in the doorway, his eyes widening and his throat feeling suddenly dry; John had to pull him forward with great force just to get them over to what few empty seats were left around the edge of the room.

"I told you this was the more alternative stuff." John said excitedly but it wasn't until he settled down on a stool that he realised "Wait... Is that-"

"Yes." Ringo replied bluntly, his mouth remaining slightly open after he'd finished speaking.

It was Spike. Of course it was Spike. Handcuffs were around his slim wrists, chaining him around the pole in the centre of the stage with his arms raised above his head. He wasn't wearing a wig but his face was painted quite beautifully, purple eye-shadow merged with dark eyeliner and a light peach lipstick, somehow he looked even more breathtaking than usual. The makeup was the least startling aspect of the whole thing, even the outfit wasn't what had stunned Ringo, although it was a definite contender; he wore a black laced-up corset which was pulled tightly around his slim frame connected to which were his stockings, on his feet he wore a velvet heel which buckled over his ankle. The sight was simply diabolical, the way his flat chest was still exposed and the hair of his underarms clearly visible alongside the femininity of his face and body. Even that wasn't the issue. The issue was that he wasn't alone on the stage, someone from the audience had stepped up and was slowly unlacing one of the threads of his corset. Ringo could see that a black skirt, almost a tutu, was lying discarded on the edge of the stage. When the realisation sunk in of exactly what was going on, Ringo wasn't sure he'd be able to get up again.

Spike had his characteristic grin on his painted lips as the man slowly pulled at the fabric keeping his corset in place, they were close enough that they easily could've kissed - and for a long time Ringo feared that they would. The man soon lost interest with the corset, giving Ringo a second to breathe in which he hoped the man was going to turn and leave, then moved his hand to run up Spike's clothed leg. He brushed his fingers over the thin material, gripping the back of Spike's thigh and lifting the leg up to wrap around his own waist. Ringo felt sick. If this had been anyone else, anyone else in the world, he wouldn't have cared, hell he probably would've been aroused by the whole thing. But it wasn't just anyone, it was Spike. The worst part was that he had no reason at all to be getting upset, this was his job and Ringo certainly wouldn't have been complaining had he been in the man's position.

"Is this even legal?" Ringo mumbled to John.

"Fuck knows." John's eyes were wide with excitement "Are you gonna go up there?"

"Me?" Ringo scoffed "Not very likely."

The man had continued running his hands over Spike's body, but as soon as his fingers crept up towards his crotch he was pushed away; it was light, clearly wanting to appear playful, but the man quickly got the message and hurried back to his seat somewhat embarrassed as though he'd fallen into some kind of trance. Now alone on the stage, Spike began scanning the audience - who were watching very intently - for someone else to help him 'break free'. While he waited he made a very enticing show of how bound to the pole he was, sinking down almost to the floor with his hands still raised high as he spread his knees out to draw attention to prominence lying in his tight underwear.

"I like this. Very clever. Why do the stripping when they can do it for you?" John was talking more to himself than to Ringo, who was barely listening.

Spike's eyes moved over to where the two of them were sitting and Ringo thought time must've stopped for at least a second. John took a moment or two to realise the eye contact but as soon as he did he was quick to move, shoving Ringo off of the stool and luckily onto his feet. Ringo was surprised his knees didn't give out immediately, but he was stable enough to turn around to glare at John who looked at him smugly.

"You can thank me later." John winked and then nudged Ringo towards the stage with his foot.

Fuck. Ringo prayed for the floor to swallow him up in that moment, it almost felt like it had when he saw Spike's expectant gaze looking directly at him. He wished he could've just sat back down but not only did he not want to make a fool of himself, but also he knew John wasn't going to allow that. Slowly he made his way over to the stage, fortunately the room was so small so it didn't take him long, meaning he didn't have to be so conscious of not only Spike's but also the whole room's eyes on him. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears, his breath was uneven and he had to consciously stop his hands from shaking. Spike's grin had grown, his eyes slightly squinting as Ringo approached him sheepishly. John had begun whooping from where he sat which spurred on a few others in the audience. The whole thing felt like some strange fever dream, perhaps even a nightmare.

Spike had gotten back up to his full height, usually he was only slightly taller than Ringo but now with the added platform of the heels he practically towered over him. Even in this submissive position, with his arms helplessly chained above him, Spike still oozed dominant energy as he watched Ringo fumble where he stood in front of him. Ringo had no idea what to do, his hands felt heavy and almost impossible to lift; watching someone strip was one thing, but actually stripping someone was something else entirely. Up close he looked even more stunning, a faint blush lying on his cheeks which accentuated his high cheekbones perfectly, his dark eyelashes elongated with mascara and sparse glitter dotted across his fair skin. Ringo never considered himself as someone particularly kinky, but he was feeling a rush he'd never felt before. He had no idea how long he'd been stood there, how long he'd been staring up at Spike who's teeth were beginning to show past his curled lips. It must've been long enough for Spike to worry that it would start getting awkward if he didn't do something, and do something he did.

It all seemed to happen in a heartbeat, Spike turning himself around and bending downwards so that his bare arse - he was wearing yet another thong, which Ringo had quickly noticed - grazed against Ringo's crotch. Ringo let out a small gasp, bordering on a moan, as he watched Spike's tongue dart over his sharp tooth. He hadn't realised that an erection had already been growing since he'd laid eyes on Spike like this, but the sudden contact make him very aware of how hard he was getting. It sent a bolt of adrenaline through Ringo's body and he was sure to make use of it, he didn't want to stand there like an idiot as much as it would've been the easiest thing to do, so began imitating what he'd seen the previous man doing and started unlacing the ribbon of Spike's corset. While he did this, or attempted to at least, Spike continued to move his hips and dip down slightly on the pole but never quite made contact. Both the ribbon and Spike's skin were soft to the touch, the silky feeling of the material put Ringo at ease somewhat. His fingers must've been quite cold because every time they brushed against Spike's skin he let out a quiet noise, Ringo didn't think he was aware he was even doing it. The unravelling had been far easier than Ringo had expected it to be, his desperation in the moment probably helped considerably, and soon the corset fell off of Spike's chest with ease. Ringo held it in his hand for a second and wasn't sure what to do with it: the skirt had clearly been tossed aside without much care but Ringo really didn't want to look inconsiderate like the previous man had. Spike seemed to notice Ringo's momentary dilemma and gestured slightly with his head for Ringo to throw it, which he did quite erratically. John let out a loud cheer at this and Ringo was suddenly very aware of his presence on the stage; had John been silent this entire time or had his brain just blocked it all out? It was enough of a falter in his mindset that Ringo decided it was best he got back to his seat. As much as he'd love to pick off each item of clothing piece by piece until there was nothing left, this alone had almost been overwhelming and he didn't want to risk looking like an idiot.

Ringo flashed a nervous smile to Spike who was still watching him with that same intense gaze, then hurried off the stage to clutch his drink eagerly. For a moment Ringo thought he saw a hint of disappointment in Spike's eyes as he turned away, and that when he got back to his seat Spike had been looking at him while he'd been walking, but he wasn't sure. John gripped Ringo with both hands and shook him excitedly, a massive grin on his face.

"I told you tonight was going to be the one! And it's only just getting started." John giggled as he finally let go of Ringo.

As much as Ringo didn't like to admit when John was right, though it happened far more than anyone would've expected, his words in that moment couldn't have been truer. The night was only getting started, what followed was nothing Ringo could've anticipated.

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