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fandomlit · 3 years

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neutral, chap. 2 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary tommy learns a little bit more about your relationship with dream before spending his day with ghostbur, exploring neutral territory and learning of the war that sparked its creation.

warning mentions of war, violence, and injuries

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gif cred belongs to @chillcrafting

“you have a package, y/n!” ghostbur called out just as you placed tommy’s breakfast in front of him. the ghoul’s words went completely ignored by tommy, whose gaze was solely focused on the beautiful stack of pancakes placed in front of him.

y/n smiled to herself. “you can bring it in, bur. i know who it’s from.” she shuffled syrup and butter over to tommy just as ghostbur came in with the fateful package.

tommy was already half way through scarfing down the stack of pancakes when y/n managed to open the package, ghostbur gazing over her shoulder. she took out a note set atop of the contents.

she read aloud, “y/n, i’m sorry i haven’t properly stopped by in a while. my work requires much of my undivided attention right now, which i’m sure you understand. please work your magic for me with the clothes included, and i will be sure to drop by for them and a meal soon. there are a few extra gifts included for you. i hope tommy isn’t burdening you. signed dream.”

“i’m not a burden!” tommy spoke offendedly through a mouthful of pancakes.

“you’re right, tommy,” y/n hummed, handing him a napkin to wipe some syrup off of his chin. “you’re perfect company.” tommy smiled to himself as he finished off his stack of pancakes. y/n sighed to herself, “clay really knows how to ruin a good piece of clothing..”

“so you and dream are close, y/n?” tommy grumbled, picking up his glass of milk.

she shrugged. “as close as you can be with someone you barely see.” she placed his battered clothes to the side, sighing again when she saw the rest of the contents of the box. tommy didn’t realize this, continuing with his questions.

“i remember that he respected your territory when he stepped into it,” he recalled. “he was going to kill me, but then he realized he was in neutral.”

y/n nodded. “when i made claimed this territory as neutral, i made a deal with everyone: i would mend and tailor anything you needed as long as you respected my territory as neutral.” she held up a box of diamonds and a smaller box of netherite to tommy’s view, making his mouth drop open with surprise. y/n held out another napkin to him for the milk that had sputtered out of his open mouth while ghostbur laughed into his hand. “clay is the only one who still tries to pay me.”

“with netherite?!” tommy exclaimed, letting out a surprised laugh.

y/n shrugged, seemingly not phased by the generous gift. “the nether..” she shook her head, placing the valuable materials onto the table, “is not a place i like to go. and most of this will probably be going toward dream’s armor, anyway.” she sighed, placing the gifts back into the box and laying the tattered shirts on top of them. “trust me, he’s still too kind for his own good with these sorts of materials.”

“how much netherite does that man have?” ghostbur scoffed, looking at how much was contained in the box.

“probably quadruple that amount,” y/n chuckled. “he has far too much free time.”

“and he doesn’t even spend it with you,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head with a goofy smile.

“i know!” y/n spoke sarcastically before laughing out. she closed the box and set it under the table. “i’ll deal with that later. do you want any more pancakes, tommy?”

“no, i’m stuffed,” the teen yawned. “but thank you.”

she nodded. “well, then how about ghostbur shows you around the territory today?”

the boys perked up immediately. “really?”

“yeah,” she laughed, taking tommy’s empty plate. “you two can take the day to explore and have fun. go be a kid, kid.”

tommy excitedly looked up to his ghost friend. “fancy a game of ultimate tag?”

“you’re gonna get crushed,” ghostbur laughed before they both ran out of the house, laughing. y/n smiled.

“oh! i should make them lunch..”

...

“how big is this place?” tommy laughed after a few rounds of tag. they had found their way to a pond in a forested area, tommy deciding his knee needed a break after all of their running.

“it’s bigger than you think,” ghostbur assured, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from the water as they sat along the small shore. “y/n claimed the territory before l’manberg, so there really wasn’t any need for a turf war of any sorts for what she settled.”

“how long has she lived here?” tommy questioned.

ghostbur shrugged. “almost two years, i think. she’s made quite the life for herself since.” more to himself, he muttered, “god, has it really been that long since it happened?”

“since what happened?” tommy asked, leaning closer to his friend with sparkling, curious eyes.

ghostbur sighed, “i’ll admit, i don’t remember too much.. but i know there was a fight. one of the first wars of our time, and it was all over y/n.”

“they were fighting for her?” tommy spoke with confusion. “she’s not an object.”

“very good, tommy,” ghostbur prided, patting his friend on the shoulder. “you’re right, she’s not. that’s why y/n left her original home and sought to create neutral territory; to end the fighting and create a place where peace could reign. in exchange, she’d offer her goods and services.”

“so they were fighting over her for her skills,” tommy understood. ghostbur made a face. “..or not?”

“both sides obviously wanted her skills, but i think y/n tends to neglect the fact that they were all madly in love with her,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head.

tommy raised his eyebrows. “a crime of passion, eh?” he joked, making them both laugh out before he asked, “who was it?”

“let me think,” ghostbur sighed, tapping his chin. “i know one was dream, but the other.. i think it was-”

“boys! lunch is ready when you are!”

tommy turned back to ghostbur. “well? who?”

ghostbur shook his head. “sorry, tommy, i don’t remember that far. that’s as much as i can tell you.”

tommy couldn’t help but fel disappointed, but he knew he couldn’t blame his friend. “that’s alright, ghostbur. let’s go get lunch before y/n comes looking for us.”

...

after lunch and an insistent rematch of tag, ghostbur and tommy made their way to the organized garden area.

“y/n grows anything you can imagine,” ghostbur bragged as tommy marveled as the fluorescent, beautifully natural area. “she’s been to nearly every biome to complete her garden.”

“you can grow cocoa?!” tommy exclaimed when he finally spotted y/n, who was swinging an axe at a low jungle tree.

“y/n found a way,” ghostbur shrugged, guiding tommy over to her. “hey, y/n!”

“hi, boys,” she smiled, plucking off the plant she had loosened from the tree. “was lunch good? im sorry i didn’t stay and chat.”

“it was delicious,” ghostbur complimented, tommy nodding in agreement as his mind drifted back to the mouth watering coleslaw and toasted sandwiches she had prepared.

“that’s good!” she smiled, placing the cocoa plant on the ground. “you boys may want to step back.” they did as told as y/n swung her axe over her head, splitting the cocoa clean in half and revealing the delicious beans inside of it. “voila!”

ghostbur clapped politely. “thank you,” y/n laughed, dropping her axe and picking up the split plant. “would you boys like a sample?”

“sure,” tommy shrugged, stepping forward with ghostbur. he picked out a few beans before popping them into his mouth. breaking through the semi-tough shell, the delicious, dark taste flooded his taste buds and made him nearly moan, as y/n’s food often did. he and ghostbur shared a look of satisfaction before he voiced, “oh, y/n.. they’re perfect.”

“that’s good,” she laughed before nudging her bucket closer to her and scooping the seeds out into it. “how has your day around the territory been?”

“entertaining,” tommy spoke before asking, “how did you get into gardening, y/n?”

y/n gave ghostbur a knowing smile before she answered the younger boy’s question, “i was tired of eating only meat and bread. gardening was a way to expand my diet to more than just carbs and proteins. also, it’s very calming.” they followed when she hiked up her bucket and moved to the next jungle tree.

“is it?” tommy questioned.

she affirmed with a nod. “it’s nice to be able to spend a day tending to things you made. the fruits of your own harvest are the sweetest, they say.” they watched as she knocked down another cocoa plant.

“they are,” tommy nodded solemnly, his mind drifting to a sadder, more familiar place. “that’s why i miss l’manberg.”

y/n was barely surprised by the boy’s open confession. she tossed her axe down again, going to place a hand on tommy’s shoulder. “i know you do, tommy, and i know it’s rough right now. but what we’re playing here is a waiting game; we’re waiting for a safe opportunity to get you home, and in the meantime, i’ll take care of you, kid.”

tommy offered you another nod and a smile. “we?”

y/n gave him a kind grin. “im going to help you as best as i can from where i am. and i know that’s not much from me, but i know that everyone deserves a home that they love. and you can’t get there alone, kid.”

“you’re right about that,” tommy sighed before looking into her kind eyes. “thank you, y/n. your help means a lot.”

she squeezed his shoulder. “of course, tommy. you and ghostbur go explore some more; try to keep your mind on the things you can control.” she picked her axe back up.

tommy looked to the pitying ghoul beside him before looking back to y/n, a new thought fresh in his mind. “can you teach me how to cook?”

y/n grinned as she lifted her axe over her head again. “of course i can, tommy.”

tommy smiled as she cracked open the plant. he looked back to ghostbur. “wanna go for a swim?” the ghost shot him a fearful look. “im kidding! im kidding, let’s go use some pigs for target practice.” they both began to walk off, chatting and giggling before tommy turned and called, “y/n!” she looked up attentively. “what’s for dinner?”

she smiled. “i was thinking ribs!”

tommy’s mouth watered at the thought. “oh my god, i can’t wait to learn how to cook..”

tag list!! @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

#youtubers x reader #youtubers fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfic #dream smp x reader #dream smp fanfic #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit fanfic #dream x reader #dream fanfic #ghostbur x reader #ghostbur fanfic

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aquarii-writes · 3 years

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Memories (Foolish x GN reader)

Notes: heavily implied AFAB as well as Reader being given different variations of momma/mommy. This turned out a bit sadder than I intended fuckin hell

WARNING: Death, pregnancy/after birth

Genre: angsty

WC: 1,864

Memories meant the world to Foolish. The memory of meeting you, your first kiss, and when you first spent the night were ingrained in his head. They were everything to him; especially since one-day he knew you wouldn't be here again.

Though seeing you now with his son? This might be the most special yet. Your baby boy sat wriggling in your arms. His eyes had yet to open but Foolish could already guess that they'd be green like his.

The baby's skin was already shining a gold color once all the blood was wiped away from his body. Tears fell from Foolish's eyes as he got closer to you. Sweat lined your forehead but you couldn't have been more beautiful.

"Can.. can I hold him?" Your husband's voice broke as he spoke to you. With a gentle chuckle you allowed your husband to take the baby in your arms; your precious son.

Holding the bundle in his arms, Foolish swayed to try and get Jr to open his eyes. "Common buddy. Lemme see your eyes" Foolish cooed at his son.

Puffy attended to you. Your bleeding had yet to stop but so far it was normal, just needed a few stitches to patch everything back up.

Jr kept wiggling around in his father's arms. Poor thing just wanted his momma so he cried out for them. Jr's crying broke his father's heart, did the baby already not like him?

With a swift hushing Puffy pulled the baby boy away from his father and placed him back to his momma.

"Dad?" Puffy turned to her son, a curious look settled on her features. "Are they supposed to be this tired? I know birth is hard but-"

Puffy cut off her boy. "Everything (Y/n) is experiencing is normal bubs. They'll get their strength back in due time"

But that was nearly two months ago. You had suddenly grown weaker. Puffy couldn't find a reason nor could Ponk. The two of them checked you over and over yet still found no reason why you got so sick.

However your baby boy kept getting stronger. After you and Foolish were home and got back settled into a routine Jr quickly found comfort within his father's arms. Sweet thing was passed around between aunts, uncles, and grandparents but he would cry and scream towards everyone of them till he was back in your or Foolish's arms.

Though Jr seemed the sense that his momma was getting weaker. His glassy eyes would only stop when he found you.

Time seemed to work in Foolish's favor. He tried everything he could think of but nothing seemed to make you better. Till eventually just four months after Jr was born you started to finally get better.

So everything got better. You started to become yourself again and eventually the two of you had another child. A baby girl named Fin.

Jr was around a year and a half when his sister was born and the boy wouldn't stay still as he wanted to see you. Once everything was said and done Jr couldn't wait to see his momma and sister.

His jumbled sentences calling for Foolish to let him see momma. "Calm down we're gonna see momma" papa's chuckles made Jr smile. Once finally in the room Jr cuddled up to you and asked to see Fin.

Finley was wrapped in Jr's old baby blanket and small fins poked out from her head and back. Tiny little scales littered parts of her skin and looked like freckles. She looked more like a shark than a totem, but she was very much still Foolish's daughter.

A familiar worry bubbled up in Foolish's stomach. Would you get sick again like you did after Jr's birth? Birth will always be hard, but maybe it was easier this time now that Finley was a second baby.

Sensing his worry you waved for your husband to come over. "I'll be okay love-" the sweetness in your voice could've made him cry, "But incase something happens promise me that you won't neglect the babies. They will need their father"

Foolish's kisses lingered longer than he intended. Your two children were now asleep in your arms, but Foolish still worried. Your smile, albeit rather tired, was still bright.

"Can I hold her?" the line brought a sense of nostalgia. A gentle smile rested on your face as you held your daughter out to your husband.

"Of course my love"

Rain fell in waves as your daughter slept against her father. He held an umbrella over himself and Jr. The little boy didn't understand what was going on but kept crying that mommy wouldn't be able to get up if they were in the dirt.

While somber Foolish didn't let his tears fall till well after his children's bed time. Finny was only 4 months old and Jr was almost 2 a widow in just a matter of months.

The atmosphere was somber as Puffy picked up her grandson and attempted to explain that mommy won't wake up again, but just gave up in the end. Silent tears would just run down the rams face.

Foolish wouldn't leave your grave for a while. His arms numb from holding his baby girl but she was still asleep; it was only her whimpers to the cold and rain did he think to finally return inside.

Once the children were down to sleep did Foolish finally let out a sob. Heart wrenching cries filled the living room as he poured his heart out to his hands. You had written a letter before you passed and he couldn't bring himself to read it, at least not now. Not after he had to bury you.

Memories meant everything to Foolish, and he didn't think that he could forget you any time soon. Though he could still see you from these memories and from your letter and he could still physically see you in your children.

Jr had your hair though it was much darker while Finny had your eyes. Beautiful (e/c) eyes always shined through the little girls iris'. He could see you in how Jr acted and the way he touched his sister; always so gentle just as you had taught him to be. Finny would always reach for the things she knew were yours.

It just brought him to tears however Foolish knew new memories would be made with you still in them. Your beautiful eyes and personality will always be present in your children.

After a few years, once he got a handle of caring for two children on his own, Foolish finally opened your letter. Elegant script was written on the page.

'My Dearest Foolish,

If you're reading this then I've died. Whether it be not long after I write this or after a long life I am still dead, though I have a feeling its the former. How have our children turned out? I don't know if Jr will understand and Finley will have no memory of me... Does Finny still have my eyes? Is Jr still gentle with Finny? I know little boys can be so rough..

But aside from such please know that I love you. If I held the choice I would've stayed longer, but I'm on my last life. Maybe Lady Death could give me a pass? Maybe I could come back and see my babies? Oh if I continue thinking like this I'm going to cry..

I love you more than anything in this universe and I love our children all the same. I know that some day you'll find another to love, maybe it'll be me reincarnated? Just.. don't dwell on my death too long, if not for me for our children. Jr and Finny deserve to see their father happy.

I do hope that the both of them know I love them very much.. I know memories mean everything to you so please make new ones with Jr and Finny. Let me live on through them.

Forever with love, your dearest (Y/n)'

Tears fell on the aged parchment. It had been weathered before, presumably from your tears, but new wrinkles formed. Foolish has new memories. Your children did keep you alive within them.

Finny's eyes, while hers, were still yours. Her eyes shown just as bright as yours once did. While Jr is as gentle as ever with his baby sister. Snowchester was a new home for them all when you died, but it now means so much to the babies.

Foolish covered his mouth as he leaned over the coffee table. He didn't notice the tiny feet padding towards him. Finley's small hands gripped at her fathers fore arm. Big (e/c) pools stared into him.

Acting as though he wasn't crying Foolish dried his eyes and picked up the little girl. "What are you doing here sweetheart?"

"I got cold" Finny mumbled to her father and curled into him. Her scales had turned a golden color after you had passed. It was a shame you couldn't have seen how pretty Finny turned out to be, even at 5.

"Where's bubbas then?" evening out his tone Foolish sat back with Finny. The snow outside had started back up again to add a new layer to the landscape.

"Bubba is playing with Michael still. Mr. Tubbo and Mr. Ranboo asked if I wanted to come inside, but I wanted to play with you" Finny looked up at Foolish. She was tired and wanted a nap so she cuddled further into her father.

"Well you look pretty tired, sweets, how about we just go to sleep?" Finny shook her head no and stared at the open letter.

"Why were you crying daddy?" Finny's voice was quiet. Almost like she wasn't supposed to ask the question.

"Well... I was remembering mommy and reading a letter she gave me.." squeezing his girl, Foolish rested his head on hers. Jr nor Finny had ever really asked about their mother.

"What was mommy like? Mr. Ranboo says she was really nice before she went to sleep for a long time.." Finny played with the ends of her hair as she spoke to her father. Memories of you flooded his mind. The most prominent thing was how loving you were. You gave up all 3 of your lives for people you cared for.

"Well.. mommy loved you and bubbas very much. She loved a lot of people. Mommy was also very kind and helpful.. She would do anything to make sure people were happy-"

"Do I look like Mommy?" Finley gazed at her hands. The golden freckles that glittered her skin were something she had seen on no one else.

"You look a lot like mommy, Finny" Foolish lied through his teeth. She had your eyes but looked very similar to him over all. But if his little girl is happy then what of it?

Seemingly satisfied with her prodding Finny became silent again, and soon enough her little snores alerted Foolish to the fact that she was asleep.

I don't think I'll ever forget you (Y/n), but Finny sure won't let me try

#mcyt imagine #dsmp imagine #foolishg imagine #foolish gamers #foolish x reader #foolish x y/n #dream smp #mcyt #dsmp #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Blind Date (continued)

You invite Colson in after your blind date

Request: “I loved this so much! If you get the chance and are up to it, I’d love a second part!” ”I would like to read a second part of it”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: cursing

A/N: Have I edited this? No. Did I even look back over this after I wrote it? Also no

Word Count: 1974

Your hand touched the handle before you turned around, finding Colson in the same situation at his car door, still looking at you. “Do you maybe wanna… come in?” You asked, biting your lip. His face lit up, a smirk highlighting his features.

“I would love that.”

The man’s lanky figure strutted over to your front door as you opened it, pausing as he entered to take in the smell of your house that screamed you. He let his eyes wander around the place as he stepped further in, taking off his coat and shoes at the front entryway.

You moved into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of red wine while he made his way into the space. You found a note on the counter from your best friend and roommate.

Staying at Eric’s tonight in case you and your date need the place to yourself <3

You rolled your eyes at the note, chuckling as you tossed it in the trash. You rustled through your drawers to grab a corkscrew, fiddling with the bottle as Colson shuffled into the room, standing behind you to encase you in his arms.

He took the corkscrew from your hands and opened the bottle with ease. “I was getting there,” you whined jokingly.

He chuckled, “I could see that.” You turned around and allowed your lower back to rest against the counter, squeezed between the surface and Colson. His arms rested on the countertop on either side of you, his figure leaning to be level with you.

You couldn’t help but admire his features, his bright blue eyes and the stubble on his jaw sparking your artistic mind. “I wish I could sketch you right now,” you murmured your thoughts aloud.

He smirked, leaning closer into you, your lips almost meeting, “why don’t you?”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before softly speaking, “you would get bored being my model.”

He pulled away from you, fingers running across your waist until they found your hands, intertwining your fingers. “I would be honored to be your model.”

You perked an eyebrow, “seriously?”

He shrugged, “I’ve done it before for cameras, and you are much more interesting than photographers.” He pulled you away from the counter, “go get your stuff and I’ll pour wine.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards your art room, which was really just your bedroom, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When you returned, he was wandering your small living area, a glass of wine in his hands and one on the small coffee table. His eyes danced along the picture frames you and your roommate had placed around the house when you first moved in, which you honestly hadn’t looked at since.

You stepped into the room with your sketchbook and pencils, making your presence known. His gaze drifted to you with a smile, watching you settle onto the couch, “so, is this your roommate?” He motioned towards one of the pictures.

You glanced up, smiling at the goofy picture you two had taken at graduation, “yep, that’s us.” You turned your head back to your book, flipping to the next blank page as he continued asking about your pictures.

“Who’s in this one?” He asked, pointing to a photo of your roommate and her boyfriend, Eric.

You chuckled at the image of them pulling funny faces in the front seat of a car while you sat in the background looking bored, “that’s Eric, her boyfriend. We went on this huge road trip and they swore I wouldn’t have to third wheel, but I obviously did.”

Colson let out a small laugh, taking a sip of his wine, “and who is that?”

You had honestly forgotten about the picture he was pointing to, but seeing it made your stomach fill with unease. “Oh, I forgot that was still up,” you sighed at Colson’s curious expression, “that’s me and my ex, TJ. We broke up months ago, I thought I’d gotten everything of his out of here.”

Colson could see the discomfort in your expression, sitting down on the armchair next to your couch, throwing his legs over the side and posing dramatically. “Bad ex, huh?” You nodded, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with the conversation, though you wanted nothing more than to open up to him. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You rolled your eyes, turning so you could face him, “of all the poses, that’s what you pick?”

He smiled innocently, “yep.” A chuckle fell from your lips as you looked down at your sketchbook, pressing your pencil to the paper. “Fine, I’ll go first,” he began, “can’t really get to know each other if we don’t get at least a little bit of trauma out of the way.”

You looked up at him and giggled, “you got me there.”

He sighed, taking a sip of his wine, “Baze told me not to talk about it, but the look on your face when I asked you about him tells me you might be able to relate.” You raised an eyebrow but kept drawing, giving him a silent signal to continue. “I was dating this girl for a while, you’ve probably heard of her, Megan Fox.”

Your eyes went wide at the name, looking up at him in shock, “yeah, because that’s not an intimidating act to follow at all!”

Colson waved you off, “you’re doing great so far, don’t even worry about it.” You gave him a stern look, but he only continued with his story, “anyways, we were together for a while and she told me all the time she thought we were soulmates, and I believed her, you know?” You bit your lip, starting to feel slightly intimidated as he spoke about the woman. “But then she cheated on me after, like, 9 months. And I realized after we broke up how wrong we were for each other and how much she manipulated me.”

You frowned as he spoke, his tone getting sadder with each word. “That’s so shitty. I don’t understand why people cheat in long term relationships, especially after you’ve given them so much hope and trust. Like someone convinces you that they love you and then they go around and pull that shit. It’s evil.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face, “I’m over it now though, in case you were worried. Came to the realization about a month or two later that I was better without her.”

You held the pencil in your hands still, trying to find the words you needed to say. “I, uh, I was dating that guy, TJ. We had been friends for a while and he asked me out and I said yes. Everything was great, you know? And then like almost a year end he starts acting all weird and possessive. Like just because we had been together for so long means he doesn’t have to treat me like his girlfriend anymore. He would make me feel like shit in front of our friends and just all around was being a shitty boyfriend.” Colson stared at you intensely with a frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed.

“A guy should never do that shit to his girl. You don’t deserve that shit, no one does.”

You nodded sadly, “yeah, well, then I found out like 4 months into all of this that he had cheated on me and gotten the girl pregnant so… I ended things real quick.” You let out a sad huff, turning your attention back to the book and continuing your sketch of the beautiful man in front of you. “I was really upset at first but now I’m just kind of angry. Dude was a dick.”

Colson let out a dry laugh as you took a long sip of wine, “sounds like it. I’m sorry you went through that shit.”

You shrugged, smiling up at him, “if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

He chuckled, biting his lip, “guess something good came out of it.”

A blush spread across your cheeks, “oh yeah, the food was amazing.” Your words were full of sarcasm, yet the pout on his face still made you giggle, “I’m joking, loser.”

“You better be miss second-date.” You giggled but didn’t respond, turning back to draw him. It was quiet for a few moments, your pencil tracing along the paper.

He shifted, at which you glared up at him, “I told you you’d get bored.”

With a chuckle he said, “I’m not bored. I get to look at you while you draw, it’s far from boring.” You tried to look annoyed at him but failed miserably at his flattering words. “I was thinking though, since it’s my picture and all, I should get to make some executive decisions.”

You scoffed, “you chose your pose, what else would you like oh great model Colson?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, stretching his arm out to set his glass on the table. “Well, I mentioned that I have some tattoos,” he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, “you should draw them.”

Once his shirt was fully removed from his body, you couldn’t help but gawk just a little. His entire chest was covered in ink, designs beautifully engraved into his skin. “I was gonna make a joke about this only being our first date but holy shit, these are beautiful.”

He blushed, looking down shyly, ”I was honestly scared you weren’t gonna like them.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Seriously? This is so cool. I’m an artist, you really think I’m not gonna like tattoos? Its an art form in itself.”

Colson shrugged, moving back to his pose, expecting you to continue your drawing. Instead, your eyes wandered his torso, taking in every detail of the work. “If you’re lucky,” he commented slyly, “one day I might show you all of them.”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff, moving back into drawing position, “you think you’re so cool.”

A breathy laugh fell from his lips, “I do, actually.”

The two of you continued banter-laced conversation while you drew him, his likeness coming to life on your page. At some point it turned into 3 am, and you were struggling to keep your eyes opened, but you were finished.

“Here.” You turned the book to him, letting him take in your work. He didn’t speak for a few moments, causing worry to build in you. “I mean, it’s no Mona Lisa but-“

“That is fucking amazing.” He cut you off with a wide smile, “you make me look hot.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin, “I’m not going to feed your ego by saying something super lame like “that’s just what you look like,” but I’m glad you like it.” He chuckled at your response, climbing off of the chair to stand in front of you.

“Damn, I was really hoping to get my ego fed tonight.” He grabbed the sketchbook from you and threw it onto the couch next to you before grabbing your hands and pulling you up to stand.

You smiled to yourself, chest shaking with silent laughter, “does the sketch not feed it enough?”

He shook his head, “I need the approval of a really pretty girl to satisfy its hunger.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned up into him, “you gotta work harder than that, Rockstar.” Your words came out breathy against his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

His mouth connected to yours, the kiss deep and passionate. His soft lips meshed perfectly with yours, his hands pulling you up to stand on your tiptoes. Once you pulled away you stayed close to him, breathing in his intoxicating scent. He whispered, “I never thought a blind date could turn out so well.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson imagine

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

White Picket Fence [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: White Picket Fence [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve been with Kai Chisaki for three years. Your life is quiet and cozy and soothing. But what do you do when you realize you want more?

For request: Anonymous said: i love the way you write overhaul!! may i request more of him, please? what would he do if reader develops stockholm syndrome and wants to do the things which normal couples do, even wants to marry him or have kids? thank you!

Word count: 2200-ish

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome

You should really ask Kai to get a new sofa for his office. His current one, the leather one which used to be shiny and pristine and rather intimidating for someone used to sitting on ratty chairs pilfered from curbs, has definitely seen better days.

The seats are lumpier, now that you've spent years--3 years, one month, 3 days, but who's counting--in his life, sprawling on the sofa. Reading, napping, doing endless hobbies. Snuggling, when he was in the mood. An endless parade of legs and limbs, pillows and books, growing tiny scratches etched with your fingernails that you sit on to cover them up.

His entire office has your touches, now. The blanket you asked for last Christmas, a big fluffy bright purple affair, is draped over the back of the couch. He keeps your framed embroidered pieces on his desk, because--you assume, but he won't confirm, because he thinks it will hurt your feelings (it won't!)--he can easily stow them away when he has meetings to hold. You don't embroider much, anymore, but it was fun to take on a new hobby.

Kai is kind like that, to give you new hobbies to do. He doesn’t even mind when you get bored of them and move on to something else.

Your books are not as easy to stow away in case of guests, you think. They're scattered here, there, everywhere. In stacks, on shelves. You know there's one stuck under the sofa but you didn't really like the first book in the series and you've decided it should stay put as a result.

Bookmarks, some handmade, others handed over by Kai as a gift for this or that, sticking out of the well-worn pages. Once, you snuck on YouTube during your highly limited, highly precious tablet time (earned, as it were, over the past 2 years) and stumbled on a DIY for making resin bookmarks stuffed with trinkets, glitter, flowers, ink. You’ve yet to broach the subject with Kai, because one, it would mean admitting you snuck on YouTube but two, you don’t think he’ll let you work with resin. But, still. The seed has been planted and when it sprouts, you’ll get the nerve to ask him.

Your sleeping bag is in the laundry, wherever the laundry happens to be, but on colder days you like to spread it on the floor and have reading or hobby marathons while he works. It's childish, but he humors you. He always (mm, no--usually--he did shoot down requests for the dog, the cat, the fish, the rabbit, and the lizard) humors you. You appreciate that about him.

And you appreciate this moment, right now. You're curled up on the sofa, half of the soft blanket in your lap to keep you warm. A book is in your hand, something new from the best-seller list that Kai brought home in a tidy store bag. He brings lots of gifts, and you appreciate every one of them. Although Kai does make you declutter every month. If you didn’t, your room would be simply stuffed with gifts. You don’t begrudge him this, since he lets you keep anything that’s especially precious to you. It’s a fair trade--you’re precious to him and he keeps you, after all.

He's typing away on his laptop, the sound so familiar that it's practically white noise, and you sit on the couch and read. It's quiet. It's comforting. It's... domestic, really.

And it makes you sad.

Lately, sitting in Kai’s office--these quiet moments, these nice moments, just make you sad. You don't know why. Things are good right now, but you just feel weighted down, heavy. Lost and bored and aimless.

But it shouldn’t make you sad that you’re enjoying a new book. Maybe you’re sad about something else. You can’t remember having a bad dream. The outfit Kai picked out for you this morning was cute enough. You didn’t stub your toe getting into the tub. Kai didn’t tug on your hair when brushing out the knots. So… what’s wrong?

You turn your attention back to your book, trying to shake the feeling, shake the obtrusive thoughts that sometimes find their way to the surface now and then. But the words don't want to leap off the page, weaving a story in your mind that takes you into someone else's life and narrative and world for a few precious hours.

And here, again--you don’t know what’s wrong. It’s an interesting enough book, as books go. It's a domestic novel about domestic squabbles, a husband and wife who are 15 years and 3 children into their marriage; living in the pristine suburbs, tired of working and parenting and painted fences and tired of each other.

Maybe the book isn't clicking because you can't really relate. You would never get tired of such things, you think. To have a fence! Oh, to have a yard. Or maybe even have little children, with lives to manage and nurture. Wouldn’t that be nice?

You don't have those things. No--you can't have those things, can you? Your world has been shrunk down to a few rooms. Your bedroom. The bathroom. Kai's office. The clinic. You've made those rooms cozy and comforting. With things and time. But how could you have a toddler, a fence, a dog that barks too much in these limited walls, in this limited life?

And… how could you have any children running around when Kai has never expressed an interest in that sort of life with you. Oh, you've kissed. A few times. The memory of them makes your cheeks hot and you squirm, just a little, on the couch. You like to take those kisses with you at night, under the covers. But it's never been more than kisses, than light touches, than holding hands or feather-light strokes of your neck.

He's never gone further, never so much as asked. You also take this realization with you at night, though by morning the thoughts are gone. Now, in the daylight, they hit you hard and you can’t sleep to make them go fuzzy and grey.

Does he not want you in that way? You're not a virgin, and you don't know if he is, or isn't. But you thought you were attractive enough to... want. You kissed, he did kiss you, he does still kiss you now and then, but why not something more?

Maybe you were ugly. Maybe he felt pity for you. Maybe the kisses were just to keep you from going stir-crazy inside these walls and this life that never went anywhere. He was never going to want anything more than occasional touches, was he? And this was going to be your life, embroidering and reading and fussing about sleeping bags until you were old and grey and useless. A life wasted, a life slipped through the cracks. Your chest hurts and you wish you could fall asleep to make yourself stop thinking.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" Kai asks, keyboard silent, laptop humming.

Oh. You've been staring ahead this entire time. You feel cool tears wet on your cheeks. You do this sometimes, drift and stare and cry, and never seem to realize it. So you wipe your cheeks, and you smile. You don't want to worry him. He has so many things to worry about, things he won't tell you, because he knows best--you couldn't hope to understand his work. You are too naïve and kind, and he's got what your 90s-era self help books (you had a phase for reading them last January) call "street smarts."

When he doesn't resume his work, you try again. "It's nothing," you say, light and airy. "I was just thinking about a book."

Instead of typing, he shuts the laptop and your stomach immediately feels like it's going to float away. No, no, no, you've distracted him. He said he had a lot to do today, he said that! Why couldn't you just read your book and be good. Now he'll be upset and distracted and worried and it's all your fault.

You instinctively move over to make room as he sits down on the couch. You don't want to look at him, but you don’t want to not look at him. So you force yourself to smile, force yourself to look--not too happy, but, pleasant, and keep your eyes focused on his shoulders. He rests his hand on top of yours. You look up at his face--it’s only polite, it’s only kind--and the instance your gazes meet you immediately crumble. You cry. Ugly cry, the kind of crying you really hate to do. His look of surprised concern makes your heart twist. You really are bothering him.

But you have to know.

"Why don't you want to marry me?" Your voice is soft and hoarse and aching. Through your tears you see his look of genuine confusion, surprise--and even something sadder, something akin to hurt.

You want to explain. You want to explain how you've just realized that you'll never have kids and a nice big yard and he'll never come home from work to a good meal and kids running on hardwood floors to greet him. You'll never have a wedding with a fancy dress and tasteful invitations. You'll never argue with neighbors about your dog getting into their yard.

You'll never learn to cook anything more than the shitty microwave meals you ate before you met him, because you've never even seen a kitchen in this place despite being here for years. You’ll never have any of it, except what you read about it books. How do you explain that you’re jealous of a bitter, old married couple because at least they had a life together?

The hand resting on top of yours squeezes and you finally feel the blustery courage to let it all spill out. The words come tumbling fast and thick and laced with a froggy hoarseness.

"Why can't we have a normal... a normal life? I can't have," you swallow, and take a shuddering breath. You're open, you've learned so many lessons to be open with Kai, but expressing these thoughts makes you feel queasy. What if he gets mad?

“I can't have kids and a big yard and a dog that the neighbors don't like, because I'm here, in these little--these little walls and little rooms, and how can we have kids if we're not married, and how can we be married if you've only kissed me a few times? Why don't you want to be with me? What's wrong with me?"

You're hyperventilating now, and there's an old tingle that you've suppressed, the fear and rage and helplessness that once made you scream and throw and punch walls. You think about the book under the sofa and hate it so much for being there. You think about your embroidery sitting prettily on Kai’s desk and you want to rip out every single thread.

You think you really break open, about to grab something and just destroy it, when suddenly Kai’s gloved hands are on your cheeks and his mask is gone and oh, his lips are on yours and is that tongue you feel--it is, it definitely is--and he’s never kissed you like this, deep and warm and soft and wet.

He pulls away and you’re dumbfounded and you must look dumb, too, because Kai wipes away a stubborn line of drool on your bottom lip and chuckles, low and light. He leaves the ugly, thick tears that have stained your cheeks.

“Do you really think I don’t want to be with you?” His thumb strokes your lips and the seam of the glove tickles and sends a hot thrill shooting down your stomach. “Do you think I haven’t imagined our… future?”

His touch is soft and his words are soft and his gaze is familiar and comfortable; the look that makes your stomach do fumbles, the look he gives you when he’s letting you know that you’re being silly again.

“I… I don’t know,” you say, your shaky breath ghosting over his thumb. “It’s just--”

He presses his thumb on your lips and you quiet down, and you listen.

“I’m waiting until you’re ready. You know that I know what’s best for us, what’s best for you, don’t you?”

You nod.

“Then you know that we will have all those things--” you ignore the voice inside you, so small and silly now, that’s insisting you-won’t-you-won’t-you-won’t--- “but only when you’re ready.”

He smiles, and you smile, because you know that he’s right. You wipe away your own tears and grin, sheepish and feeling so ridiculous for having a fit right in the middle of the day like this.

You let yourself be tucked in, let Kai drape the soft blanket over your legs. He presses a kiss to your forehead and your lips tingle with envy. You watch as he goes back to his desk and sits down, as he replaces his gloves and his mask. All is well, all is back to normal.

Kai starts typing, and you let the white noise soothe you as you pick up your book and flip open to your bookmark. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask about the resin.

#yandere overhaul #yandere #yandere kai chisaki #overhaul x reader #afterwitch writes #he is SUCh... an asshole

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dokifluffs · 4 years

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Not the End | Kuroo Tetsuro

Pairing: Kuroo x Reader (female)

Genre: heart warming fluff tehe

Author’s Note: Literally one of my most favorite things I have ever written so I really hope you guys like it too~!! 🥺🥰🥰time to embrace canon kuroo and make more fluff, even if it means breaking a 4th wall or 5th wall- dedicated to haikyuu, thank you for everything

He knocked repeatedly on the door as clouds casted by in the sky, blocking out the sweltering summer sun

He wore a white oversized t-shirt with the periodic table on it and black jeans

“Where is she?” He thought to himself as he spammed your doorbell, hearing the chime echo inside yet there was no movement to be seen

He glanced at his watch seeing the time

He fortunately came early but if you didn’t come out now, the window of extra time would be shutting

He was growing just the tiniest bit antsy since he had been dreaming about this date for so long and now that it was summer and volleyball was over, he had the time

Tickets were hard to get for these museums he had planned and he had a whole day planned down to every hour

It was early in summer so it was perfect, not too scorching hot

He couldn’t wait anymore and pulled out your spare key from your flowerpot, putting it back neatly as if it was never touched

“Y/N?” He called, his strong voice echoing into what seemed like an empty house

He slipped out of his shoes and made his way upstairs, almost always finding you there if you never answered the door, his calls, or anything

Your bedroom was like your sanctum having all that you needed- an air con fan, tv, surround sound, and most importantly, your bed that you had all to yourself

approaching your bedroom, the door cracked open, he could hear the faintest sound of music playing

“Oya?” He knocked on your bedroom door as he pushed it open, relieved to find you

But he didn’t know how to feel seeing you curled up wearing his stolen hoodie, still in bed when you knew about the time for today’s events

“Hey, what’s up? We have to get to the station-“ he paused when he saw you look up to him, uncurling your face from your pillow

Your eyes were red and cheeks tear stained, matching your pillow cover that you hugged

“K-Kuroo...” you sobbed, inching yourself in your little ball form toward him as he sat on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight

“W-what is it?” He was surprised as you laid your head on his lap

His mind went frantic as he went through your messages in his head, trying to remember if it was a certain day he missed- it wasn’t anyone that he knew of’s birthday, not an anniversary date or anything

Why were you so heartbroken?

Your eyes glistened from the sunlight in the room as you teared up once again, little wet drops forming on his jeans

“R-remember that manga and anime I was watching?” You sniffled as you sat up, your pillow in your lap and your fingers playing with the hem of it. “The volleyball one?”

“Yeah, did a character die or something?” He tried to make light of the situation and it worked, just the slightest but your emotions were getting the best of you

“No, but the last chapter of the manga came out…” tears dripped off your chin as you swallowed a hardened lump in your throat, the words aching as you spoke

listening carefully, he could hear you were listening to a slowed down version of one of the opening themes- he only knew this because of how many times you would put on the themes while riding in the car

but this was the slowed down version, or as you called it the “moonlight version,” and it was setting the mood for you, making you more sad

Kuroo remembered the day back in junior high/ end of grade school when you started following this manga about volleyball

“You need to stop listening to this, it’s just making you sadder,” he laughed awkwardly, pausing the song that was playing on loop. he knew this volleyball anime/manga meant the world to you, but not like this

Your eyes lit up when you read or talked about it to him and he asked you why not play for the girls’ team but you settled on being the manager for Nekoma instead, wanting to cheer them on and also being with kuroo and kenma and all your other close friends on the team

It made him feel like you loved the show and manga more than him sometimes and it kinda hurt since they were fictional characters and he was your boyfriend, a real life actual volleyball player

“All the characters got their story, they grew above and beyond, and the main character was finally able to make it to the world stage with his partner from the high school team and- “ your voice cracked as you spoke, the wound reopening, fresh in your chest as everything you read, everything you watched, all the glorious moments came rushing through your mind

Everything you fell in love with for the past eight years came rushing back and you loved it all so much, it made you so warm but it also hurt thinking about how there wouldn’t be any more to it

You wanted to curl into a hole and rewatch and reread everything as much as you could

No more chapters, most likely no more official arts- all you had left was the animated show that would be continuing and finishing in a couple months

“Kuroo, I don’t want it to end,” you sobbed, your hair falling, hiding your face

He didn’t miss how your knuckles turned white as you gripping your pillow, only able to imagine the heartache you were feeling

he knew very well how much this all meant to you, all the rants and extensive conversations you had with him, begging him to watch the show- especially because of a bed headed character that was just like him

you reminded him so much of kenma- you talked, read, and watched everything about this story like kenma when he got a new game or was watching hinata play volleyball

You want to see more, hear more of the voice actors, the characters growing. You want to be beside all of them and see their story to the very end

All the antics between the characters that made you break into a smile or fits of giggles, all the cheers made for the different teams in your manga/anime- all were so addicting

“Hey, shhh,” he pulled you gently into his embrace, one hand holding the back of your head, the other rubbing down your back. “I know you don’t but all good things must come to an end, right?”

He glanced at his watch just the slightest bit, seeing the time, relieved to know he still had enough

“Look on the bright side; you were able to read and watch it while it was still being made, you got to anticipate the next chapter and episode, seeing all the characters develop and become great people who’ve had such a great impact on your life.”

He pulled you back and wiped your tears away on your cheek

“This may be the end of the story, but it’s not the end for you; everything will live on inside of you, right?” He held your face in his hands, making sure his words got to you

“It won’t be the end of your life, or any of your favorite characters’. The story you were presented with came to an end but their lives are still going, just like yours.”

You buried yourself into his arms, muffling your cries into his neck as he chuckled, holding you

“Come on, get dressed and I’ll make sure all this sadness you’re feeling will go away. I’ll be the wind that’ll shift the storm cloud brewing above your head,” he stood up, still holding you and setting your feet on the ground

“I won’t let you be sad, not on my watch, chibi-chan,” he looked down to you with a smile as he pat your head. “Your body won’t even realize L-trytophan’s being converted into L-5OH-trytophan, converting serotonin by an aromatic L-amino acid decarboxylase.”

The gawk you had made him let out his hyena laugh, just hurting his pride ever so slightly that he had made one of the smoothest lines in love-history and you didn’t even swoon

“I’m gonna make happy chemical in your body make your heart go doki doki,” he put simply to which you nodded, breaking in to a laugh, calling him a nerd under your breath as you changed

But he was your nerd, and he was right

No matter where you were in life, you got to have this special manga and story in your life and experience it first-hand whereas others were missing it

Everyone lives on, even if you can’t see them

Thank you, Furudate, for bringing Haikyuu into this world <3

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @osamuonigiri @sam-ate-giorno @1-800-wholesome @realityisoftendisapointing@plantisnotplant @k-eijiakaashi @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan

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sincerelymarinette · 3 years

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A Recorded Life Sequel (3/10) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words 1448 Chapter Summary: On the year anniversary after Hawkmoth's defeat, the team reflects and meets up. Something is off with Marinette, though. Author’s Note: Let Team Miraculous be happy. That's what this chapter is. Maybe a little content warning on grief and sadness, but there is a happy ending. Also, this is the last of the part that takes place directly after Hawkmoth's defeat, the following chapters will be a few years later. I'm super excited for that!

Prev / Next / Masterlist

One Year After

---

While Sabine plated up breakfast for her, Tom, Marinette, and Adrien, they listened to the morning news. It was a Saturday, so there wasn't much to be done during the day. Scattered homework, hopes of filming a new video, and maybe play some video games. But that was a normal Saturday; this one hit much harder.

"Don't be bemused; it's just the news!" Nadja introduced the program. "A year ago today was the miraculous day where our favorite superhero took down Hawkmoth. I can speak for all of France when I say thank you to Ladybug, Chat Noir, Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Queen Bee. It has been a while since we've seen them around, but it is no secret that they deserve the break, and crime rates have been down. Thank you, our Miraculous heroes," Nadja said before it switched to a different topic.

Adrien and Marinette ate their cereal in silence as they listened to her talk, but never looked at the TV. It was going to be an emotional day to think back on, and it had already been an emotional year. But they wouldn't change the way things went down; as hard as it was for Adrien to lock his father up, he couldn't let him destroy Paris.

"Would you like us to do anything for you guys?" Tom asked them, finally breaking the silence.

Marinette shook her head. "Oh, no, thanks, dad," She said. "We're meeting up with the team a little later. It's been a while since we've all been together," Marinette nodded.

"Alright, well, you let us know," Tom smiled. Marinette's parents said they would be down in the bakery, and they exited to leave the kids alone.

"How are you feeling?" Marinette asked Adrien.

Adrien only shrugged in response, taking another bite of his food. "Kinda numb, you know?" Adrien said. "I thought I would be sadder, especially after talking to my therapist this week. But I'm still mad at him," He explained.

Marinette put her hand on Adrien's shoulder to comfort him. "And that's perfectly okay, you know that," She said.

Though Adrien was mad, he still felt guilty. He was the reason his dad was in jail, and he can't help but think if his mother really would be back if he let Hawkmoth make his wish. He also felt guilty that he hasn't once visited his father after a year nor talked to Nathalie since she moved away. Everyone always reminded Adrien he had nothing to feel guilty about and that his father didn't deserve to see Adrien, but no matter how much he was told, he still felt it. He couldn't help it.

The Kwami's came flying into the room at record speed. "Morning, guys!" Plagg said and quickly flew into the fridge to eat a piece of cheese.

"How are you guys?" Tikki flew up to them.

"The usual," Marinette answered for both of them. "I think seeing the team will be helpful. Nino has a lot of stories from tour to tell us, too," Marinette said.

A small smile appeared on Adrien's face. "I can't wait to see him; it's been so long," He awed, and the two of them finished breakfast. Once they were done, they headed to the nearby park where so many memories were made. Countless photoshoots, school projects, and Akuma fights happened at the park. Adrien and Marinette set down their blanket and waited for the others to show up. There was going to be a celebratory ceremony later in the day, but the team wanted to catch up before then.

Chloé arrived only ten minutes after Adrien and Marinette did, and Alya and Nino were not too far behind her, either. They sat on the large blanket, and all seemed to take a deep breath, taking in the last year and how much their lives, and Paris, has changed.

"What's on your mind, Marinette?" Alya snapped her out of her stare.

"Oh, it's not important," She sighed. "I'm glad we could all get together. I know we've all been busy, but I've missed the team," Marinette said.

"I agree," Adrien piped up. "We're all so busy and focused we need to make sure we can see each other all together more often. The team's got to stick together," Adrien said, much like a leader.

Everyone agreed, and put their hands in to pound-it, even though life was hectic with school and jobs, sticking together was most important with stressful times.

Nino told them stories of touring with Jagged Stone, and how amazing it had been. Chloé talked about her classes and things she was learning, and her plans for after she graduated. Alya just got a raise at work, which showed the publishers must like her work. Adrien's working with the stand-in CEO to re-open Agreste Fashion, and Marinette was still stuck with school and video making. It was no lie when they said they were busy, and a damn good thing they defeated Hawkmoth before starting university. How would they have handled all the work and fight crime?

Mayor Bourgeois called attention to the stage in the park an hour after the team arrived. They all looked up to the statue that was installed not long after Hawkmoth's defeat, and he reminded Paris how important this day is. He recounted some of their hardest Akumas, and some statistics on how well Paris has been doing this past year. It was true they could finally relax... but it all seemed too weird to just sit back.

---

That night, Adrien and Marinette went out for a nice dinner to treat themselves and take their mind off things. It was a day to celebrate, wasn't it? They didn't talk much about the day, just about life, and they were happy to be spending time together. It was a day for celebration, but it was still an emotional toll.

"So we were talking, and we're thinking our big comeback will be- Mari, are you listening?" Adrien asked, ultimately ending his story about work.

Marinette shook her head and put her fork down. "Yes, I heard you. The comeback," She said. She was half listening, and felt terrible that she couldn't give her one-hundred-percent to Adrien.

"What's wrong?" Adrien asked as he began to get worried.

"Nothing, I'm okay. So you were saying..." Marinette dragged on.

"No," Adrien said and sat back to look at her. "Something's wrong, tell me. You know you can trust me with anything, right?"

Marinette thought for a moment, but knew it was better to tell the truth. "I'm so thankful that we took down Hawkmoth. And I'm thankful that crime has gone down and Paris is a better city. But, do you ever miss it?" She asked, but clarified before Adrien could answer. "Not the Akumas or the crime. Just...being Chat Noir and Ladybug. I loved hopping around on rooftops and meeting on the tallest part of the Eiffel Tower. It was exciting," Marinette confessed.

Adrien's worried face turned from a frown into a smile. "I think some excitement is exactly what we need. How about we pay the bill and go check on our city?" Adrien proposed, and Marinette eagerly nodded. He called the waiter over and handed him his card; then they rushed out into a semi-hidden spot between the buildings.

The Kwami's had clearly heard their conversation, and were just as excited. It was time to take such a traumatic experience and take it back to be something fun.

"Tikki,"

"Plagg,"

"Transform me!" They shouted simultaneously, and the familiar glow of red and green filled the small alleyway. Ladybug grabbed her yo-yo and propelled herself to the top of the building, Chat Noir on her tail.

She pulled her phone out and held it in one hand while holding the yo-yo in another. The skies were filled with giggles and screams of happiness as they ran from roof to roof. It was something both of them needed: the freedom from Hawkmoth and his fear-filled times, and using it to create new and happy memories. Though there was no need to fight any Akumas, that didn't mean they could have some fun.

After a while of swinging around and chasing each other, they ended up at the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug pointed the camera at Chat Noir, who was catching his breath, and he waved, then she turned it back to herself, a smile from ear to ear.

She uploaded the video, and everyone all over the world was excited to see that their heroes never truly went away. It was nice to see them so happy in costumes that used to make them so sad.

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries @toodaloo-kangaroo

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betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years

Text

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#130-121)

#130: Franco Battiato and Alice -- I Treni di Tozeur (Italy 1984)

“In una vecchia miniera, distese di sale E un ricordo di me, come un incantesimo”

“In an old empty mine, the salt extends And I seem to remember it, like a dream”

Franco Battiato was one of Italy's greatest songwriters, known for his complex songs in a mix of genres. Unfortunately, I haven't listened to most of his discography, but I do know of "Per Elisa", the song he wrote for Alice which won Sanremo 1981 (coincidentially, the first year Italy withdrew from Eurovision, welp). It's thoughtful and its incorporation of Fur Elise is well-done with its synthesizers.

In comparison, I treni di Tozeur is not a song readily caught by first listening, and that’s why it’s not my favorite of its year. This doesn’t mean it’s not a good song, though—it's sounds eerily futuristic even for the synth-based 1980s, and actually timeless. The lyrics seem ambivalent, but I think there’s some philosophical bent towards them. One of the commentaries talk about the train to Tozeur being built in the early twentieth century to satisfy the whims of the King of Tunisia, at a huge cost. Maybe there's some social commentary sneaking in there.

The performance was good, but it seems like Alice had a bit more control of her voice. She did so with style, and I actually liked her outfit.

In addition, the opera singers at the end were the cherry of the cake. A mix of classical and modern, indeed, which earned itself classic status.

Personal ranking: 2nd/19 Actual ranking: =5th/19 (with Belgium) in Luxembourg

#129: Linda Martin -- Terminal 3 (Ireland 1984)

“Staring into a space, searching through every face He's been away too long now, he must have changed”

I feel like there are two types of people in terms of 1984--those who have Alice and Batiatto (#130) as their favorite, and those who have Linda Martin as theirs. As shown by how close they are on my list, I love both, but Linda Martin just eeks it out.

The storytelling aspect of the song is very strong, as Linda waits for her lover to come from an international flight. Ironically, it can't be from Dublin, as no Irish airport has a third terminal. Maybe it's from London's she's waiting for her love? Or the flight is coming to the United States, rather than from it? Mysteries indeed.

(Now my life goal is to be at Terminal 3 at 10:30; one of David Tao's most famous songs is 飞机场的10:30--Airport at 10:30, which deals with the same topic)

The New Wave instrumentation and orchestration add up to the drama too--the brass grabs me from the first beats, and the strings and rock influences remain as the song goes on. It's kind of hard to believe Johnny Logan was behind this, especially considering he's better known for his ballads. If she had to win one Eurovision, Terminal 3 had to be the one.

Personal ranking: 1st/19 Actual ranking: 2nd/19 in Luxembourg

#128: Halla Margrét - Hægt og hljótt (Iceland 1987)

"Kvöldið hefur flogið alltof fljótt Fyrir utan gluggann komin nótt Kertin er’ að brenna upp Glösin orðin miklu meir’en tóm"

"The evening has fled all too fast Outside the window night has come The candles are burning low The glasses have become much more than empty"

As their debut entry was fun and "in-your"face", Iceland’s second entry has an afterparty feeling, but I've heard some comparisons to being a Christmas song. It doesn't sound like it to me, but it's still really serene and beautiful, as if the snow was falling outside (not unlike #213 on this list).

The lyrics are quite gentle and pretty, painting a dainty picture. However, they also contain enough melancholy to add a tinge of darkness to the scene, which is why I don't think it would work as a Christmas song. Halla’s vocals are very pure, and adds enough delicacy to the composition. The piano and orchestration also helps.

What stands out more is the funny notes related to Hægt og hljótt--one refers to the last line of their chorus, which is bufflaxed to "anus in the air" in English, another mentions how Halla's dress is see-through against the white piano, almost as if she was a ghost. Very strange, especially the latter as the lyrics focuses on the upcoming dawn. Or it would make a good fan-fiction, come to think of it.

Personal ranking: 3rd/22 Actual ranking: 16th/22 in Brussels

#127: Raphael -- Yo soy aquél (Spain 1966)

“Yo soy aquél, Que por tenerte da la vida, Yo soy aquél, Que estando lejos, no te olvida,

“I'm that one, Who gives his life to have you I'm that one Who's far away and doesn't forget you”

When I first did this sorter, Yo soy aquel ended up close to being in my top 50. It was a surprise, because despite being one of my favorite songs from Spain, I didn't think about as much in terms of great songs, even though it's a beautiful song.

The opening bars to this song are filled with drama, which gives way to Raphael’s crooning for the one he loves. The lyrics are a bit repetitive, sure, but they still work in how Raphael wants his love to know he will be there. I particularly love the way the song builds, which, combined with his singing, creates a brooding atmosphere. The explosion in the chorus is really effective, which the orchestra compliments and actually amplifies. You could actually feel his passion thanks to those strings.

1966 was an incredible year (especially for a black-and-white contest), and if I could switch one of Spain's wins, I would drop La La La for this in one second (even though there's another song from this year on my top 250). Massiel doesn't hold a candle to Raphael.

Personal ranking: 2nd/18 Actual ranking: =7th/18 (with Yugoslavia) in Luxembourg

#126: Liam Reilly -- Somewhere in Europe (Ireland 1990)

“We should be together, and maybe we just might If you could only meet me somewhere in Europe tonight”

For my European friends, I wish for this lyric to come true! I am sadly ill-traveled, haha.

When I started to consider this top 250, I thought "Somewhere in Europe" would be song #250, because it was pleasant and pretty, but wouldn't trouble the rest of the list. When I was re-arranging the list, this was one of the songs which got a great boost, and now it sits just outside of the top half of this list!

As for this song, I like it a lot. It not only a pretty little ditty, but it also takes the theme of unity and takes one on an adventure. Because of the piano-based instrumental, I keep thinking that it's like a Billy Joel song, as it's quite homebrewed. While I don’t think this would’ve made a better winner than Insieme (or White and Black Blues, for that matter--France winning would bring some new energy to the contest), Liam Reilly proved he was a talented songwriter, and it shines with the orchestration too.

As a result, I keep thinking that it would be a good New Year's Eve song--it's nostalgic yet calming, and seeks out a better future. Unfortunately, Liam Reilly died on New Year's Day this year, which makes it a bit sadder. RIP.

Personal ranking: 8th/22 Actual ranking: =2nd/22 (with France) in Zagreb

#125: Rita -- Shara Bachravot (Israel 1990)

לבוקר הזה יש טעם של חופש זר כמו של מוות או ברכה כי הלכתי ממך”

“This morning, Has the taste of strange freedom Like of death or a blessing Because I went away from you”

(I actually heard of Rita before stumbling on her Eurovision entry--one song I really like is Idan Raichel's Mechake (Waiting), and I searched the web. One of the results was Rita's version of his composition, which compared to Raichel's, is a bit more produced. Still great!)

1990 focuses on freedom in many ways, especially because of the Berlin Wall falling and the end of communism. Shara Barkhovot also talks about freedom, but does so in another way.

It’s basically a tale of a relationship ending, with a woman leaving her partner in the morning. It’s frequently interpreted as running away from abuse, and the imagery involved does a good job in conveying that feeling.

It’s dramatic and passionate, with Rita “emoting” the song rather than merely performing it. Unfortunately, it does go off the rails later on, with her vocals losing out at points. I still like how she played with the microphone stand, though!

Personal ranking: 7th/22 Actual ranking: 18th/22 in Zagreb

#124: Helena Paparizou -- My Number One (Greece 2005)

“You're my lover Undercover You're my sacred passion and I have no other.”

Helena Paparizou was one of those artists that I knew that participated in Eurovision, but didn’t listen to her song until much later. I found out about her with the song “Heroes”, which I played a lot when I was younger (about 11-13 years old), and didn’t think about her in the contest, other than she won and she received a wide ovation when she returned to Greece.

My Number One is all kinds of fun, from the ethnic instrumental to the sometimes silly lyrics. I also love the performance featuring Helena playing a human lyre, which is a definite highlight! A fun and energetic bop (the last of a holy trinity of ethno-influenced dance winners during this time), now I’m a happy fan of hers (I really listened to Kati Skoteino a lot since 2018, for example. Plus her Mambo interval the following year is fantastic.)

On whether this or "Die For You" was the better song, it's hard to tell, especially on how close they are on this list. Whereas 2001 was the weaker year and Die for You had to win it, My Number One was in a stronger year and held its own. And yet it's not my favorite...

Personal ranking: 2nd/39 Actual ranking: 1st/24 GF in Kyiv

#123: Vanilla Ninja -- Cool Vibes (Switzerland 2005)

“Don't want you to come so close to me Don't need you to blow my fantasy But I know that you are livin' far beyond those lies I can see the danger rise in your eyes...”

From my last place in 2004 to my favorite in 2005, what a glow up from Switzerland! Though to be honest, I have a hard time determining why this song in particular is my favorite of its year. I did come in knowing that Switzerland was the only one of the original seven to not win in my timeline, so that may have impacted my thinking.

Cool Vibes a dark rock song, with occasionally dramatic lyrics (though then again, emo rock was getting popular during that time), but an intriguing musical atmosphere. Despite 2005 being known as the "ethno-bop year", there were a number of interesting rock songs (e.g. In My Dreams), and this holds up by its sheer seriousness, versus the occasionally silly vibe of those others.

And with that string motif, it does sound like a song that needs an orchestra to realize its full potential. There's a lot of hidden angst throughout the song, and the multiple key changes actually helps here.

Personal ranking: 1st/39 Actual ranking: 8th/24 GF in Kyiv

Final Impressions on Switzerland: Not one of my favorite countries in the contest, unfortunately. I find most of their entries to be quite non-descript, with some of them being very bad. That said, they do have a number of gems on here, and some great ones that just missed out (Moi, tout simplement; Io senza te; She Got Me especially). And with the track they are now, they could actually win in the next few years. Hopefully with a French-language song. :)

#122: Tanja Ribič - Zbudi se (Slovenia 1997)

“Zbudi se, dobri princ Rada bi ti dala vse Svoje sanje in mladost Da ne bom iz pravljice”

“Wake up, good prince I would like to give you all My dreams and my youth Break the spell of the fairy tale”

Sometimes I forget I love this song. As 1997 is one of the strongest years (if not the strongest year song-wise), there are so many good ones one can't remember all of them. Zbudi se a bit dark and fits in very well with the rest of the 1990s with its mythical character (and might be the first Balkan ballad proper), but Tanja does it so well. And she would later be more known for her acting!

When I do listen to it, it just takes me away. It’s a dark fairytale, with beautiful lyrics and an intriguing atmosphere. The narrator longs for her loved one, filled with magical imagery and dreaminess. I also appreciate the transition between the lyrics and the chorus, which can be very hard to do! And of course, the orchestration, including the harp parts in particular, create a fantastic soundscape.

Personal ranking: 8th/25 Actual ranking: 10th/25 in Dublin

#121: Lúcia Moniz - O meu coração não tem cor (Portugal 1996)

“Dança-se o samba, a marrabenta também, Chora-se o fado, rola-se a coladeira.”

“We dance the samba, the marrabenta too, We weep the fado, and roll the coladeira”

Curiously, for a song which was one twelve away from a top-three finish, O meu coração não tem cor seems a bit less known within Portugal. It even didn't get a studio release, and Lucia is better known for being the love interest in Love Actually. And yet it's still a fan-favorite within Eurovision.

The lyrics call out to everyone in the Portuguese diaspora (or the Lusosphere in general), and welcomes them to engage in their cultural traditions. We have fruit and dance and crying and laughter all at once. All kinds of fun, except when the clips grayscale and I keep thinking of those "in memoriam" scenes.

And it managed impress in another way; it came in 18th in the audio-only pre-qualifer which only appeared in 1996. Thanks to the brazen and fun orchestration, along with Lucia's very sweet voice, it was lifted up in the final to a solid sixth place! Very well-deserved.

Personal ranking: 5th/23 Actual ranking: 6th/23 in Oslo

#eurovision song contest #eurovision #esc top 250 #esc 250 #esc italy #esc ireland #esc iceland #esc israel #esc greece #esc switzerland #esc slovenia #esc portugal #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years

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Make-Up Date

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

Words: 1824

Summary: Date time with Frankie while Jullian is spending time with his grandparents.

Notes: This is kind of a sequel When He Came Home, because it just picks up where it left off, only this is pure fluff where the other was just angst, so none of the sadder parts from the last one will be mentioned. Just fluffy fluff! I really liked this gif and thought it would work well with Frankie. (Happy Birthday Pedro!!!!)

You were blissfully asleep, pressed against your husband’s chest dreaming of the night before. While he had left you alone with the baby, no phone calls, no notice, he definitely knew how to make it up to you. Frankie’s arms were loosely draped around you and his stubble tickles your neck. He was the lighter sleeper and heard the door unlock first. You didn’t wake up until you heard the door open and heard the surprised gasp.

“Mom?” You shrieked, quickly covering up with the throw blanket you’d been using. Frankie sat up quickly, accidentally knocking you off the couch, taking the blanket with you. He let out a panicked yelp and used one of the pillows.

“Frankie, it’s good to see your back.” Your mother smirked, hardly batting an eye as she stepped over your bra. “Now, where’s my grand baby?” She disappeared into Jullian’s room and you laid on the ground with a mortified expression. Frankie was desperately trying not to burst out laughing. Luckily, he had a very good relationship with his mother-in-law.

“I forgot she was coming.” You groaned from the floor, an arm draped over your eyes. Frankie chuckled.

“At least she didn’t come in last night.” He reached down and pinched the skin of your hip, earning a smack.

“Just get dressed.” You tried your best to look stern, but you just couldn’t keep a straight face when he had that mischievous grin.

After five days of taking care of Jullian by yourself, you jumped at the idea of your parents taking care of him for a day, walking around the park and showing off the new grandson to their friends. Of course, that didn’t stop you from fussing over him as she was trying to leave.

“And don’t forget that he likes to listen to music or else he won’t take a nap.” You made sure everything was prepared in the bag you had packed for her. “He has to have the elephant that Frankie gave him at all times otherwise he’ll start crying and-”

“Honey, I think I’m okay.” She chuckled. She kissed your cheek and took Jullian from your arms, putting him into his stroller. “I’ll see you tonight.” She pointed a finger at your husband. “Take her somewhere nice, will you?” He smiled.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your heart twinged as she left, Jullian’s bright smile disappearing behind the door. Frankie’s arms snaked around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Honey, you do know that it’s your mother and not some crackhead fifteen year old that’s babysitting?” He laughed and you sighed.

“I know, I just…” You turned around so that you were facing each other. “Other than work, I think that this is the first time that I’ve been away from him since he was born.” Frankie pressed his lips to yours for a sweet, comforting kiss.

“He’ll be fine.” He ran a finger down your cheek. “We both know that your mom is going to spoil him rotten.” You nodded in agreement and shimmied out of his arms and into the kitchen.

“Help me with breakfast.” You didn’t get far before his hands planted themselves on your hips, pulling you back to him.

“Or…” He wiggled his eyebrows, leaving a trail of kisses up your arm. You, of course, had no objections.

With both of you having a free day, you deemed it to be the perfect opportunity for a date night. It had been a while since the two of you had some time for romance and Frankie figured it was a good way to try and make up for all of the stress. Once you had eventually gotten around to breakfast- which was really closer to lunch considering how you’d spent most of the morning- you decided to go shopping for some new clothes while Frankie made plans. It was nice, actually. Being able to just treat yourself after not having much time to even think in the past couple months was the perfect way to relax. While you were out, you got your hair done, having the stylist include flowers in a style that Frankie would love. Looking in the mirror, you felt like a teenager again, all butterflies and bright smiles.

Picking out a dress was a little more difficult. You hadn’t really ‘dressed-up’ since before you got pregnant and knowing what your body would look good in was extremely new territory. When you finally spotted a little blue sundress, you were a little weary, but you made yourself give it a chance. The form-fitting fabric made you a little nervous as you slipped it on, but looking in the mirror, you knew that it was the perfect dress. It was bright and summer-y enough to match the flowers in your hair but elegant enough to work for a nice dinner.

Frankie had spent the afternoon getting a reservation at a fancy restaurant in town, but also preparing a little Plan-B that was a bit more your style. One of the things that made Frankie fall for you was your love for simplicity. While your girl friends always wished that their husbands would take them to some extravagant destination for vacation, you were perfectly content with a case of beers and a bonfire on the beach.

Once Plan-B was ready, he decided to do some shopping of his own. Something small, but special. He would know it when he saw it.

It wasn’t until around 3:00 that you both came back home, feeling accomplished with your ventures. You quickly hid the dress in the back of the closet so he would see it while he put something on the top shelf in the kitchen that he knew you couldn’t reach.

“What’s that?” You asked, narrowing your eyes with suspicion. He shrugged innocently.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He closed the door of the cabinet with a smirk. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

“You think you’re so smooth, Francisco.” His full name rolled off your tongue and he raised a brow.

“Well, Bethany, it’s gotten me this far.” His hands tugged on the belt loops of your shorts, pulling you close.

You had actually met while you were on a date. You were at a bar and the guy you were with got so drunk that he forgot your name and just started calling you Bethany. Frankie had been out with some of his friends and noticed you hiding by his table hoping that your date would forget about you and leave. He had overheard some of your conversation- your date was a loud drunk- and offered you a drink.

“I take your name is not Bethany?” He had chuckled. You shook your head and laughed, your night immediately going a little better. He wasn’t the date that you started the night with, but he was the one you ended up with at your apartment. You didn’t even sleep together. He just came over, had a few beers and crashed in your recliner. Waking up to the smell of him cooking you breakfast was the moment you knew he was the one.

You made him wait in the living room while you got ready so that you could surprise him. He definitely noticed the flowers in your hair, but seeing them along with the beautiful dress blew him away.

“Wow.” He blew out a breath. He was looking at you like he was the first time all over again.

“Do you like it?” You spun around, the fabric flowing loosely around your thighs. He ran his hands up your sides, feeling the soft material under his rough fingers.

“It makes me want to skip dinner and go straight to-”

“Not so fast, buster.” You giggled, swatting his wandering hands away. “You’ve gotta buy me dinner first.” He opened the door, bowing dramatically.

“After, you m’lady.” He mocked.

You were surprised as he drove to the richer part of town, even more surprised when he parked outside of one of the high-end restaurants you’d only read about. It usually took months to get a reservation.

“How did you-”

“I know a guy.” He even ran around to the other side of the car to open your door.

“What a gentleman.” You laughed, intertwining your hands together as you walked in. The entire place screamed elegance… which also meant that it screamed expensive. As beautiful as it was, you felt like you didn’t fit in. Frankie felt it too.

They brought out fancy, pricey wine that the two of you barely touched. Sitting across from him, you looked as beautiful as you did on your wedding day. But you didn’t look comfortable.

“What?” You asked, noticing the way he was looking at you. You thought you maybe had something on your face. The waiter had already been giving you stingy looks all night and you didn’t want to be more embarrassed. Frankie took a sip of wine and made a face, leaning across the table so only you could hear him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You smiled putting your hands on top of his.

“God, yes.”

You ended up on a blanket, on the beach with a case of beers and an ordered pizza. The breeze had picked up so you had his blazer draped around your shoulders while his hand rested on your knee.

“This is more like it.” You sighed with content, leaning against him. He kissed your forehead.

“Plan B was definitely the better option.” He shifted, grabbed something out of the picnic basket. It was the box he had hidden from you earlier. “I know that I’ve done some stupid shit lately and I wanted to remind you that you how much you mean to me.”

You slowly opened the box, revealing a simple, silver charm bracelet. The charms all represented different moments from your relationship. An empty bottle for the night you met. A movie ticket for your first date. A firework for when he proposed at a Fourth of July party at Tom’s house. Lilac’s from your wedding bouquet. And lastly, a small pendant with Jullian’s birthstone.

“Frankie, this is beautiful…” You gasped.

“May I?” You nodded and he took your hand in his, clasping the chain around your wrist. “I love you so much, baby.” You tangled your hands in his hair and pulled him into you, pressing your lips together for a passionate, loving kiss.

“There is… one thing missing.” You frowned when you pulled away, jingling the charms. Frankie examined them, racking his brain for what he could have forgotten. You grinned. “A catfish.” He playfully scowled and threw his arms around you, pinning you against the blanket as waves crashed over your toes. Your marriage was messy, but that’s what made it so wonderful. You didn’t need fancy dinners or diamond necklaces. All you needed was a cold beer, a beautiful beach, and your Frankie.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #gotta love my boy #triple frontier #pedro pascal x reader #pedro imagines #happy birthday pedro!

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duggardata · 4 years

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Jinger is Pregnant!

Get The Data Here.

On May 28th, 2020, Jinger (Duggar) + Jeremy Vuolo announced via People that their Firstborn, Felicity, is going to be a big sister. Apparently, they’re expecting another little girl. On a sadder note, the Vuolos also shared that Jinger suffered a miscarriage in November 2019, just prior to this pregnancy. They didn’t share the news at the time, so that’s another new data point for them.

After the jump, you’ll find my analysis of the two new data points—i.e., the 2019 Miscarriage and Ongoing 2020 Pregnancy. I’ll analyze—

For the Miscarriage... When did it happen? How far along was she, and what was her due date? When would the baby have been born?

For the Current Pregnancy... When is she due? When will she deliver?

For Both Pregnancies... How did their timing line up with the Predictor? What’s their impact on Jinger + Jeremy’s Procreative Pace and ESOQ?

Looking Ahead... When should we expect Vuolo #3?

The Miscarriage

For a recap of everything that’s known about Jinger’s 2019 Miscarriage, please see this Post. As explained fully in the Post, Duggar Data is using a Loss Date of November 26, 2019 for Jinger’s Miscarriage. As for Due Date... We know it was early in the pregnancy, but don’t know exactly how far along. Assuming a loss at 6 Weeks, which is the default assumption for cases like this, the baby’s Due Date would’ve been July 21, 2020. Neither date is confirmed, but I think those are decent estimates.

The Predictor would’ve expected Jinger + Jeremy to announce the pregnancy at 82 Days Along, since that is how far along they were when they announced their 1st Pregnancy. Thus, their Theoretical Pregnancy Announcement with Vuolo #2 would’ve been January 5, 2020, based an EDD of July 21, 2020.

Based on an Estimated Due Date of July 21, 2020, Predictor 2020 would have expected Jinger to give birth on July 20, 2020. (Felicity was 1 Day Early—and, the Predictor expects Vuolo #2 to be 1 Day Early, too.) Vuolo #2’s Theoretical DOB is July 20, 2020, had the miscarriage not happened. Doing the math, the Vuolos’ Theoretical Felicity–to–Child #2 Spacing would’ve been 732 Days.

The Current Pregnancy

Obviously, the 732–Day Spacing isn’t to be, since Jinger miscarried. Jinger is now pregnant again, though. Here’s what we know about her pregnancy...

According to People, Jinger was 15 Weeks Along on May 28, 2020—the date she and Jeremy announced. Taking that to mean that Jinger was in Week 15 (Week 15, Day 0—Week 15, Day 6), but not necessarily Exactly 15 Weeks, we can calculate that Jinger’s Due Date is between November 13–19. Since we don’t have anything else to go on, Duggar Data will simply use the mid–point, November 16, 2019, as Vuolo #2*’s Estimated Due Date.

Based on that EDD, plus Jinger’s history of delivering Felicity 1 Day Early, we can come up with a Projected DOB of November 15, 2020 and a Projected Miscarriage–to–Vuolo #2* Spacing of 355 Days. Neat.

Early, Late, or What?

Sort of a complicated question, mostly due to recent changes in the Predictor. When Felicity Nicole arrived, the Predictor set the Vuolos’ Procreative Pace at 621 Days—i.e., their Marriage–to–Felicity Spacing—because Felicity was their only data point and wasn’t a Honeymoon Baby. As a result, it expected Vuolo #2 to arrive 621 Days Later, on March 31, 2020. It expected the Vuolos would announce that pregnancy on September 16, 2019. But–for the miscarriage, it looks like Jinger + Jeremy would’ve had baby news in January 2020... Under the Old Predictor, they would’ve been late, but only by a few months.

It’s a very different story under Predictor 2020. Instead of just using Marriage–to–Felicity as the Vuolo’s Procreative Pace, Predictor 2020 assumed that they would slow down for the 2nd Child in a manner that’s typical for Duggars. Up until May 28, 2020, that slow–down—i.e., the 2nd Child Multiplier—was about 1.7015x... So, Vuolo #2 was expected to arrive 621 Days * 1.7015 after Lissy, on June 9, 2021. They were expected to announce the pregnancy November 24, 2020. So... Vuolo #2 and Vuolo #2* are actually early vs. Predictor 2020’s guess.

Finally, you may be curious: “How does Vuolo #2*’s Projected DOB compare with what Predictor 2020 would’ve expected, if they had announced Jinger’s miscarriage in November?” The Predictor would’ve set the Vuolo’s Procreative Pace at 732 Days—i.e., the Theoretical Felicity–to–Vuolo #2 Spacing—and the next Vuolo would’ve been expected 732 Days after the miscarriage. Doing the math, that corresponds with a DOB of November 28, 2021 and Baby News on May 14, 2021. They’re >1 Year Early vs. that estimate!

TL;DR They’re actually early, sort of.

Impact on Spacing / ESOQ

As discussed above, the Vuolos’ Projected Procreative Pace was 1 Child Every 1,057 Days, post–Felicity. This was based on their Marriage–to–Felicity Gap of 621 Days and the Duggar 2nd Child Multiplier (1.7015). At that pace, they had an ESOQ of 7 Children.

Let’s take each new data point in turn, starting with Jinger’s 2019 Miscarriage. The Miscarriage is treated as a 2nd Spacing. Thus, Jinger + Jeremy’s spacing would no longer be estimated using the 2nd Child Multiplier; instead, the 732–Day Projected Felicity–to–Vuolo #2 Spacing would’ve become their new pace. (That’s a huge acceleration vs. their prior 1057–Day pace, estimated using the 2nd Child Multiplier.) Their ESOQ jumps to 9 Children.

Now, we factor in the data from Vuolo #2*, who is expected to arrive 355 Days after Jinger’s Miscarriage. That 355–Day Spacing is treated as a 2nd Spacing, as well. Since it’s not a 1st Spacing, it averages with Jinger + Jeremy’s other, non–1st Spacings, and that average is their new Procreative Pace. Here, only one other spacing exists... The 732–Day one associated with the Miscarriage. So, the Vuolos’ Procreative Pace is now the average of 732 and 355 Days, or (732 + 355) / 2 = 544 Days. That’s another acceleration. Their ESOQ goes up accordingly to 12 Children.

Note that this radical shift is partially due to their long, long Marriage–to–Child #1 Spacing. For most couples, Child #1 arrives very, very quickly—so quickly that it’s not feasible to think that the couple could maintain that pace. For the Vuolos, that wasn’t the case. The 2nd Child Multiplier greatly underestimated their Procreative Pace because, unlike couples with Honeymoon Babies, they could—and did—match or beat that 1st Spacing. Despite this, I don’t think I will change how the 2nd Child Multiplier functions... I think it makes sense to treat every couple the same because, as we can see with the Vuolos, it'll very quickly and easily correct itself once that couple announces Pregnancy #2.

When to Expect Vuolo #3

Vuolo #3 is expected to arrive 544 Days after Vuolo #2*. If Vuolo #2* arrives as forecast on November 15, 2020, here’s what to expect for Vuolo #3—

Baby News November 9, 2021

Due Date May 13, 2022

Birthdate May 12, 2022

Finally... I’d like to point out that, until Jinger miscarried, Jinger + Jeremy were on–track to have Vuolo #2 almost exactly 2 Years after Felicity... Almost as if it were planned that way. Intriguing.

#jinger and jeremy #vuolo 2

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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

Watch Yourself

Grouping: Reader x Hoseok

Word Count: ~7770

Warnings/Themes: Peeping Tom-ish/Voyeurism, Hoseok is a closetexhibitionist, (and apparently so it OC) public sex, fingering, so much boob stuff, penetrative sex, too much talk centered around Hob’s hands, this is basically just pwp guys that second p is questionable

Summary: It starts with an invitation from your ex. It ends with Hoseok’s hands down your pants in said ex’s kitchen.

Part of the Masterlist for Group 2 of the @btssmutclub Summer Project

tagging: @jeoneric @betysotelo18

There is something utterly sad about visiting the tiny local strip mall before 11am on a Saturday. Sadder yet is the fact that you are there by yourself, with no friend in sight. Said friend was supposed to come with you for moral support and to give his valued opinion on the swim wear you were there to buy. But, of course, something had to go wrong. Wonho, your fashion student friend, called you this morning to tell you that he pulled a muscle in his groin at the gym that same day and sent you a Snapchat of him in the campus clinic with an ice pack as proof.

As you pay for your tea for the morning from a small kiosk, you take in the fact that even the old ladies power walking around the floors of the mall and the elementary schoolers running to the arcade have their friends with them. You make a mental note to guilt trip Wonho a little bit when you see him next. Which will probably be at the pool party that necessitated this outing in the first place.

When you started attending your university, you came in with a high school sweetheart of sorts. Your ex had been one of the kindest guys you knew, albeit a little insecure. You thought he’d grow out of it, you were sure of it. But once he got accepted into his frat of choice after much ass-kissing, he changed. You endured it for 3 years too long before finally getting fed up in the middle of fall semester of your senior year. Since then, it had been smooth sailing, but also radio silence on your ex’s end.

It’s now the summer following your graduation and this invitation to his pool party seems to be coming from nowhere. Your friend Irene bluntly suggested it wasn’t because he really wanted you back in his life, but because he wanted to show off his new girlfriend to his old girlfriend. Your other friend, Monica, showed you the new girlfriend’s picture. She was pretty, into horses, and did charity on the weekends.

(1 week prior)

“She seems nice,” you sniffed at the image on Monica’s screen before cutting into your pancakes from your favorite brunch spot. They were a little too thick this time and the force of your cutting shook the little table you were all seated at.

“Her style is a little 2008,” Wonho commented as he scrolled through the pictures on the girl’s account. “I didn’t think people still did the tunic and black cropped leggings thing anymore.”

Irene pinned him with a dirty look. “Lots of people still do that. I do that.”

“Yeah, you do,” he frowned disapprovingly.

You and Monica watched Irene and Wonho bicker about statement belts for a moment before she turned to you abruptly, shoving the phone back in your face like a bad omen.

“You know you have to go to that pool party, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We said we were all thinking of going, right?”

“I mean, maybe. But you specifically need to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to show him that you’re onto him and that he made a huge mistake losing you.”

“But I don’t care about him anymore,” you said innocently through a bite of eggs.

‘It’s the principle of the thing,” she sighed. “Your bathing suit has to be amazing, none of this—this,” she waved her hands in the air as if trying to conjure up the right phrase, “monochromatic one-piece mess.”

“What’s wrong with my one-piece?”

“It doesn’t do any favors for your body.”

“Wait a second, I—”

“It’s true,” Wonho turned to you, eyes so serious they make you lose train of thought. “You have a great silhouette and you rarely do it justice.”

“Yeah,” Irene chimed in and gestured to your hoodie, “I’ve been meaning to ask you why you have so many of those...shirts.”

“For comfort, maybe? You guys ever heard of that?”

The three of them blinked owlishly at you before Monica reached out to pat your hand. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll figure this bathing suit thing out.”

You follow the various signs hanging down from the mall ceiling telling you the names of various shops and start browsing.

With your friend’s voices in your head, you try not to rely on your basic instincts too much and instead go to the stores you’ve heard Monica praise or seen Wonho shop at when buying clothes as birthday presents. You pass by one store you know all of your friends would approve of. But it positively reeks of sophistication and trendiness, so you circle the entire floor before eventually after coming back empty from the other stores. This one boutique has dim and flattering lighting and there’s an expensive smelling perfume wafting around the place when you push through the front door.

Instantly you get the urge to turn and walk out. All the other people in the store look like they walked out of fashion catalogs themselves. Even the employees refolding garments and waiting at the cash register are all perfectly proportioned, symmetrical, and statuesque. You thank the universe that you chose a neutral outfit: dark jeans Wonho bought for you after taking your measurements with painstaking care and a plain black tank top to beat the heat.

You consider sending a text to the group chat to ask for help when you enter the swimsuit section, but your pride and stubbornness rule that option out. So you just pick a bunch of swimsuits you think would look good on you and head over to the changing room. The attendant there is organizing the rack of returned garments and has his back to you when you enter the changing room hallway.

“How many items,” the attendant asks.

“It looks like I have 3,” you mutter after counting.

“Be right with you.”

You spend the time he takes to finish grouping items to take in his appearance.The back of his head and his voice are oddly familiar.

“Um, this might be a weird question, but are you Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?”

“I thought that was your voice.” The man in front of you turns and nods, a shy, but brilliant grin creeping onto his face. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you.”

Jung Hoseok had been one of your ex-boyfriend’s frat brothers and former “friend”. If there was no one closer around, your ex would hang out with Hoseok and a bunch of other guys not in his inner circle. And when there were closer guys around, you ex would ignore you. So you’d talk with Hoseok. He kept you company many a night when your boyfriend was nowhere to be found and you were alone at the frat parties you were only attending out of girlfriend loyalty.

From what you remember, Hoseok was an architecture and dance double major. He always had good jokes, good weed, and a flirty vibe about him. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you flirted back despite the fact that you were often around him as someone else’s date. But it never progressed into anything more. Not even after you broke up with your ex and were attending the parties to spite him briefly after the break up.

Hoseok would smoke you out and crowd you into the kitchen corner while you passed a blunt back and forth, exchanging banter and heated glances but nothing more. You spent more nights than you’re willing to confess to thinking about the comfortable press of his hand on the small of your back.

Now, he still looks the same as he did half a year ago, but with the addition of a golden tan from the part of the summer that’s already passed. He looks good in his impeccably white t-shirt and uniform slacks with his artfully tousled hair. Among the other model-like employees he fits right in. It’s a little unfair.

“You enjoying your summer,” he asks while giving you the perfunctory little card with a number 3 on it before leading you through a hall of changing rooms.

“Sort of. I moved into a new apartment with one of my friends, and we just finished getting settled. I’m gonna start teaching in the fall.”

“Teaching, huh? Whereabouts?” Hoseok selects one of the large fitting rooms all the way in the back. The ones that can fit packs of friends who are very invested in the outfit picking process.

“You know the Montessori school out by the northern part of the city?” He nods in recognition. “It’s that one.”

He lets out a low whistle at the mention of the small private elementary school that all the city’s most wealthy inhabitants bring their children to. “Sounds like it’ll be a good move, then. You’re living the dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head modestly as you linger in front of the changing room door. “What about you? Are you here for the summer?”

“For the summer,” he confirms, “Then I’m moving into the city too. Near the Big Hit park to work with a firm there.”

“Are you gonna be interning?”

“I’m gonna be leading a project with my own design, actually.”

“Oh, Hoseok, that’s great! It’s really early in the game too. You’re going places.”

“Yeah, its—” he stops to look around the area and takes a reluctant step back. You realize then just how close you two were standing to each other. “I don’t want to hold you up if you’ve got friends waiting on you to pick something out.”

“Oh, you’re good. I came here by myself. My friends were supposed to help me get something, but they all...got busy.” You roll your eyes.

Hoseok returns to his station and continues organizing his area once more, but raises his voice so it carries to you. “That sucks. I’ve had stuff like that happen a few times.”

When you don’t immediately respond, he figures you’re busy changing. Almost instantly his thoughts gravitate towards your swimsuit choice, wondering what you picked out. Are you a fan of string bikinis or athletic cuts? His ears subconsciously strain for the rustling of clothes before he cuts the wandering thoughts short. He leaves to go get some extra work from his supervisor and give you privacy.

In the changing room, you’re having a bit of trouble. The first suit is nearly on, but won’t zip past your bust like it's supposed to. You underestimate your strength as you try to force the zipper up and end up ripping the tab off the little sliding bit. You let out a quiet curse before resolving to buy the suit since you broke it. Perhaps it was your fault for thinking you could fit into a size you normally never wear, though it looked like it would fit you when you draped it over your torso earlier. Unfortunately for you, there weren’t any larger sizes either.

Pulling the tag hanging off the side of the suit, you check the price curiously only to find that the suit bandeau is heinously expensive on its own. You have no idea how much the bottoms cost, but you’re fairly certain they’re sold separately. You panic at the thought of having to pay so much for the suit and fumble with the sliding body of the zipper again, trying to get the top off of you, but it won’t budge.

“Hello?” Your voice rings out with uncertainty. You’d heard footsteps leaving the fitting room area earlier, but you didn’t hear them return.

When you get only silence as a reply, you open the door to your changing stall and poke your head out. You’re about to tip toe out to hopefully flag down one of the women working in the front of the store when Hoseok walks back into the fitting room area. He’s busy with whatever is on his phone and doesn’t seem to see you at first. You curse to yourself, hoping he doesn’t see you. To keep an eye on him, you start to walk backwards towards your changing room, but your bare feet squeak loudly against the polished wooden floor.

He looks toward you in that moment to chase the sound. His hand holding his phone drops and eyes linger on your form for longer than could be considered merely professional appraisal and his head turns quickly once he realizes this. Inside his chest, his heart is flutters at the after image of you behind his eyelids. You look good. Really good. While he might think a broken zipper would ruin the look, the fact that the bandeau is only half zipped and straining to contain your breasts makes you look like a classic pinup.

It takes a conscious effort to stray from mentally retracing the path that your curves made in the suit. The voluptuous flare of your hips and shapely legs both grab his attention even more than the bright candy apple red fabric of the suit. He turns abruptly, about to act as though he’s needed in the stock room when your voice sounds out, embarrassed.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?” His voice cracks a little, suddenly flustered, and he covers it best he can with a low cough. “What’s up?”

“I’m really sorry but,” you avert your eyes as you walk forward. “I think I broke this suit.”

“Huh?” Your exposed skin looks soft in the gentle lighting of the hallway, and somehow the sight of it is loud enough to muffle your confession. “You broke something?”

“It’s the zipper on the top. I was gonna buy it since I broke it. But the suit is, like, a million dollars. Is there...any chance you can give me a friends and family discount?”

“Oh.” He jumps at the chance to go back to being a helpful professional person again. “That’s okay. I’ll just tell my boss that it broke off in handling. We just put those out today.”

Your eyes go round with hope. “I don’t have to buy it?”

“Nah,” he waves away your offer, eyes now glued to his own shoes. “I got it.”

“Really?” Your face lights up beautifully, relief softening your features. “That’s amazing, thank you.”

He watches for a brief moment while you go back into the changing room. Surprisingly—or perhaps unsurprisingly, with the way his day is going—your ass is amazing, if the way the suit stretches in an almost heart over the cheeks. His throat is suddenly very dry and he nearly downs the entire water bottle he keeps near his station. Hoseok is only allowed a few moments of silence to recover.

“Hey, um, do you...do you think you could come here?”

Faltering in his steps, he walks back down the hallway with a rising sense of suspicion. He’s not sure what will come next, but he knows deep in his gut it’ll be odd and possibly enough to get him fired. Still, he stands in front of the door with uncertainty roiling in his belly.

“What’s up?”

“Come in,” is all you say in a muted hiss.

His hand is sweating when he turns the knob leading into the changing room. He tries to open it cautiously, give himself enough time to peer in and give you time to cover anything you don’t want him to see. But you merely yank him in by the collar and shut the door quickly before locking it. At his wide-eyed, nervous expression you quickly move to make things less awkward.

“Sorry,” you toss over your shoulder while testing the door knob. “I know this is weird, but I can’t get the suit off. It’s too tight to pull over my head and the zipper won’t budge no matter how hard I pull on it. Can you...help?”

Hoseok can only nod in response with nerves halting his tongue. He approaches you slowly, making sure nothing he’s doing seems threatening. Or overly enthusiastic. You’re pressed against the door with your back to the exit and it doesn’t take long for him to close the distance between you two. You’re careful to keep your breathing light so as not to draw extra attention to your chest despite the fact that Hoseok is now eyeballing it like its a complicated puzzle.

“I think the only way to get it off is to just brute force the zipper,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

You wet your lips nervously and let out a shaky breath that you pray he’ll ignore.

“You might wanna, um, hold your...” he gestures vaguely at your ample cleavage. “So they don’t fall out if we get the top to open.”

Gingerly you cup your breasts to hold the fabric covering them together like he suggested. Hoseok brushes your fingers when he finally attempts to pull the zipper down for the first time. He mutters a quick apology and tries as best he can not to graze you again with his knuckles as his hand shakes. The other hand is behind his back, tightly fisted in effort to maintain his cool. From your vantage point, you can actually see his hand and the way the veins in his arm flash by looking at the mirror on the changing room wall.

A few more harsh tugs gets the zipper’s sliding body down the chain about halfway, but it’s not enough to get the straps of the suit off your arms.

“Maybe you should use two hands,” you hedge. He nods and holds the sides in one hand and the zipper with the other.

Hoseok lets out a steady breath before pulling the zipper down as hard as he can without ripping the suit. He can maybe fib to his boss about the zipper coming off, but not the top ripping in two. Luckily, the zipper stutters open wide enough for you to be able to slip it off now. The only problem is that you forgot to keep a firm grip on the halves of the top and your breasts almost spill completely out of the top.

You stand there, still holding your top up, and chance a look up at Hoseok. He’s gazing down at your chest but senses your gaze and locks eyes with you then. Something in the air between you changes, shifts, clicks. There’s an electricity that you can practically feel crackling under your skin and you take a step forward without thinking. Hoseok’s eyes fall closed as you approach, lashes fanning out prettily across the apples of his cheeks. Before you can chicken out, you ghost your lips over his slack mouth. It’s only a fleeting moment, but you still feel a jolt of something from the contact that has you letting out a small gasp.

Hoseok leans in to touch his forehead to yours almost as if he’s about to initiate another kiss, but a woman’s voice rings through the changing room area, letting him know that they need him to help his supervisor comb through the main part of the store and reset all the displays. Something about all the normal folders and floor monitors being out on their lunch break.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute. Just trying something on,” he lies.

He peers down at you again with a look that’s more subdued but still smoldering, eyes hooded dreamily, smoothing tingling palms against his work pants. Your cheeks heat up with the intensity of his stare, but you back away. The atmosphere isn’t quite the same after having the tenuous balance disrupted by his coworker. With your back against the door and so much of you still bared to him, you suddenly feel so vulnerable. Part of you is scared because that does something to your insides. Tying them up with excitement.

“I should go,” you sigh as he backs up.

He looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. He slides back out while you’re collecting your actual clothes. When you finish changing, you shuffle passed Hoseok and purchase the expensive broken bathing suit with a grimace.

A few days later, Hoseok is in the main part of the store replacing some items that were knocked over by a careless customer when a coworker comes over and taps him on the shoulder.

“What’s up, man?”

“There’s a customer here who wants you to start a dressing room for her. She wants a selection of bathing suits, too.”

“Cool,” Hoseok hands the employee the clothes he was dealing with. “She say what size?”

The guy relays the size information to him and with that Hoseok makes his way to the bathing suit section to pick out a variety of styles in the right size. With his arms laden with different pieces, he heads back into the changing room area. It’s empty but that’s not unusual at this day and time. It was the store owner’s idea to make it so there weren’t ever that many employees working a shift at a time to give off a minimalist, unbothered vibe.

“Miss,” he calls out to the customer, looking for a sign of the woman by looking for her feet in the cracks of the stall doors. “I have some pieces for you to try. I’ll be right outside in case you don’t want anything or you want a different color. Or if you want to check out as well. I can ring you up.”

“Thanks,” your voice sounds from behind the final door of the hallway. You push open the door to reveal your face.

Hoseok’s cheeks bloom rosy from behind the tiny mountain of bathing suits he gathered unwittingly for you. A strong wave of deja vu washes over him as he’s taken back to the last time he saw you here. The memory of the (almost) kiss is still fresh in his mind like it was yesterday because, at this point, he’s replayed it in his mind dozens of times. A couple of those replays involved the tissue box and bottle of lotion he keeps by his bed. During those times the moment was stretched out and embellished thanks to his industrious imagination.

“I’ll take some of those,” you say with arms reaching to a portion of the suits. “You said you’d be nearby?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Good.”

Like a doting assistant, Hoseok leans on the wall outside your stall, eyes pitching across all parts of the room to occupy his thoughts and time. His gaze bounces from the opposite end of the hallway where his post is normally, to the other stalls, to the mirror lining the wall adjacent to him. There he sees his reflection as well as a reflection of all the stalls. Small movement in the mirror catches his eye, a quick flash of skin. With a hesitant look back at your stall, he realizes the door is cracked. Just enough for him to catch a glimpse of bare arm. A sliver of the mirror inside, through which he swears he sees you looking back at him.

He whips his head back to stare down the hallway, biting harshly on his tongue when the rustling of clothes stops and the sound of the door’s hinge gives a prolonged creak.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you give me that green one you have there and I’ll give this one back to you?”

“Oh,” he blinks. Surprised but relieved at the fact that you didn’t tear him a new one for being a peeping Tom. “S-sure.”

He looks away as best he can while handing you the suit you asked for before waiting patiently for you to remove and return the first one you tried. He wants to say something to you, ask about the other day and why you left so abruptly. Why you bought the suit that he said he would take care of. But all of that gets dashed away when his eyes wander instinctively back to your stall and the door is now half closed at best.

With the door angled like this, he can see your reflection perfectly from where he’s standing. You’d be naked if it weren’t for the delicate pair of underwear you’re wearing to safely try on the suits according to store policy. Hoseok can’t drag his eyes away from the sight of you examining the hunter green string bikini’s intricate tie system before attempting to put it on. The green bottoms lovingly hug the curves of your hips but leave little to the imagination with the way they’re bunched up. You skim your index fingers under the elastic of the bottoms to snap them back into place and cover more of your ass. He mourns the change in the view briefly before migrating up the slope of your bare back up to the loose strings dangling from the bikini top.

“Can you help me with this,” you give him a pout that he can’t say no to.

Suddenly he’s scrambling into the changing stall to put the clothes he was holding down on the small bench inside. He comes up behind you and recalls the intended weaving before deftly knotting the strings together in the right place. The end result is a pretty lattice pattern that contrasts with the simple triangles covering your breasts in the front. You test the support and bounce a little, cupping your chest lightly before letting out a pleased hum at Hoseok’s handiwork.

“What do you think?”

He gulps. “It’s, uh, it’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Your voice comes off as coy. You know you look better than nice, but inside you’re fighting the urge to gnaw at your lip self-consciously.

You knew that you were making a big gamble the moment you decided to request Hoseok as your personal shopper not even an hour ago. But ever since you rushed out of the shop a few days prior, the only thing you could think about was Hoseok. Hoseok and the way he looked at you. The way his palms trembled subtly as he reached for you that other day in the stall. The need was palpable and radiated from him like summer heat off dark concrete. It had been a long time since something like this made your breath hitch, and this was the mere memory alone. The memory itself was simultaneously addicting and not enough. So here you are, acting like you were filming a bad porno so you could chase that fleeting moment from last time. His supervisor wouldn’t be able to get you to back down this time even if she was banging on the stall door.

“I like it,” he mumbles quietly after some time.

“Me too. I’ll take it.” Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you watch his expression carefully. “Help me take it off?”

His mouth drops open just a bit. It’s such a small gesture that you might have missed if every instinct in you wasn’t curled tight with giddy lust. His fingers are feather-light against the skin of your back as he loosens the binds he just did. All the while his gaze never leaves yours in the mirror. Almost as if he’s trying to communicate with you. You give a miniscule nod and then he’s giving the final tug.

The bikini top slithers down your front into a cool, smooth pile of ribbon at your feet. You’re bare like the other day, but your back is almost proudly straight this time and you fall back against him easily.

His hand comes up to lay on your shoulder. The weight is bureaucratic and safe enough that for a second you’re expecting a rebuff.

“Are you sure you wanna do this here?” The tip of his nose skims gently near your temple. Your breath hitches in anticipation. “Because once you say the word, we’re doing this. And I’m not closing that fucking door. I wanna see you backup all that strutting around you’ve been doing.”

You nod again. A shaky breath leaves you and you reach a hand back to creep up his front, fingers grazing collar and tugging needy. He takes a few steps forward, forcing you to stumble forward as well, before placing both hands on your hips. His hands push into the plush skin exposed there as if to test your solidness. The grip is warm and firm as he pushes your hips out until you have to lean forward and brace both hands on the full-length mirror on the changing room wall for balance.

“I don’t want you looking around all distracted at the door. Only look in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself and watch me with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh.

With that, he tugs down the bikini bottoms to reveal the underwear you had underneath. While you step out of the swimsuit bottoms and kick them to the side, he slides his hand down the front of your panties. The pads of his fingers part your folds easily with no resistance thanks to the copious amount of arousal already there.

“I’ve been thinking about how the other day would have played out if I never left for two days now,” you explain.

“You been touching yourself to it?”

“Yes,” your breath hitches when he swipes over your clit roughly.

“Me too.”

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The sweetness of the gesture contrasts starkly with the obscene wet noises coming from where he plays with your wet center. It's not loud enough to compete with the music playing through the store. And definitely not enough to grab anyone’s if they were seated at Hoseok’s post at the end of the hallway. But you still have to fight the instinct to look back at the half open door of the changing stall to make sure no one will catch you.

“You paying attention?”

Your eyes refocus on the reflection in the mirror and zero in on the way Hoseok’s hand barely fits in your underwear. Still, his middle and ring fingers are obscured by the front of your underwear and all you can really see is the way his hand movements speed up. A second later the tightness of the figure eights he rubs into you registers in your core and the wave of pleasure that hits has your knees buckling slightly. Luckily you’re already holding onto something—the mirror.

The slick noises coming from your center get louder as more arousal leaks onto Hoseok’s rapidly moving fingers. In the mirror, you can see that his brow is furrowed in concentration, or perhaps subtly dialed back lust. Meanwhile, his mouth hangs open slightly in silent, sympathetic moans. He must sense your gaze on his face because he looks up then and locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“It feels good,” you whine out the last syllable when he flirts with your entrance for the first time. Already, you’re clenching around a phantom something, eager for things to speed up.

“That’s good.”

His response sounds nonchalant, but you can feel his hardness nudging against your ass if you push back enough. He’s careful to keep it away from you, though, so he can focus on you. It’s not exactly attention that you’re used to after so many years with your ex, but you welcome it all the same. Hoseok is attentive and competitive in the way that he seeks the things that accidentally draw moans from your parted lips. Soon enough, your arms are shaking from a combination of the effort of holding yourself up against the mirror and your first orgasm’s approach.

Hoseok is now grinding the heel of his other palm into your clit, fingertips pistoning against one spongy area of your walls after seeing the way you had you stuttering and your hands sliding a bit against the glass. The first hand wandered up your torso some time ago. He meandered a path along the soft valley of your stomach before coming to cup your breast. With your arousal still shining dully on his fingers, he tweaks your nipple until it draws up and out. Testing various pressures and grips, he finds a perfect rhythm of rolling and pinching that makes you clench around his other hand. His fingers are elegant and long, but not quite thick enough even in a pair. It drives you slightly crazy and you instinctively push your hips back to grind harder against him, mewling shamelessly.

“Please,” your plea comes out crumpled from in between ragged breaths. “I want you.”

“Hmm?” The sharp curl of Hoseok’s smile appears in the mirror. It matches the mean humor that sneaks in to his cooing tone. “You wanna be full?

You nod, cheeks warming from the begging. “I want your dick.”

“Someone’s greedy,” he pulls his fingers out, marveling at the squelching sound the motion makes. “Don’t want to get off on just fingers, huh? You wanna be stuffed full in the middle of this changing room where anyone could walk in and see you.”

You can only moan in affirmation as Hoseok finally tugs down his own bottoms and kicks them to the side. Your eyes take in his muscled legs, landing appreciatively on the line on his thighs where his tan stops and his shorts must have protected his skin from the sun one day. Hoseok spins the two of you then, while you’re lost in thought about how one of his thighs would feel between yours.

With your back against the wall, Hoseok nods to himself like he’s satisfied with his work and begins laying soft, wet kisses against the skin of your throat. He pulls back only to slowly peel off his work shirt, teasing you with the slow exposure of his equally toned torso. You have a nice view of the way back muscles flex under smooth skin now that he’s facing away from the mirror.

“Watch yourself carefully this time,” he warns you with a hand on your chin to direct your gaze to his momentarily.

When he’s sure you’re watching your reflection obediently, he returns to your breasts. He really does think they’re a work of art. So he recites a soundless sonnet to them, tongue flitting against each twin peak with ardor. Your skin becomes almost blotchy in the heat of your moment. Heeding Hoseok’s words, you take in your appearance.

With a heaving chest and parted lips, you look wanton to say the least. Your eyes are at half mast and fighting against the pleasure Hoseok’s plucking fingers bring. Then you see him reaching down to grasp himself before turning to smirk at the mirror, almost as if he’s giving another audience you weren’t aware of, a show.

There’s not much warning. There’s only the gentle nudge of his knees tapping your already lax ones apart before he’s hitching one of your legs over his slender hips. In his grasp, the head of his erection runs along the length of your center. He’s hot and swollen against you, smearing precum on your folds on his journey to your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he bites out with the same soft incredulity as a curse. His head pops up so he can pin you with a pleading look, almost like he can’t believe you’re you. “What if someone saw you like this? All spread open and dripping for me.”

“Maybe I—ah—wouldn’t mind.” You watch your own hand come up to thread through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You tug gently on it like its a lifeline as he lines himself up, excitement bubbling up in your stomach. “Mmh, fuck.”

He takes his time bottoming out to make sure you have time to see your expression evolve as you encounter every ridge and swell of him. The stretch has your eyes rolling back, but you don’t let yourself close them. Instead you take in the way your breasts bounce now that Hoseok has begun pumping into you experimentally. The force of his thrusts causes the walls of the changing stall to rattle loudly and for a fraction of a second you worry someone—a customer or another employee seeking assistance with something—might hear the noise and try to see what the source was.

But then your leg is lifted a bit higher and the angle changes. Suddenly he’s going deeper, stretching you slightly more, all the while your clit is bombarded with the brush of his pelvis with every stroke. The leg you have on the ground shakes from the intense bolt of pleasure and you let out a desperate moan.

“Hoseok, oh my god, I’m—you feel so good,” you do the best you can to keep your voice low.

“I can’t hear you. Louder.”

“I said you feel good.”

“Where?”

“In-inside me. I can feel all of you and I’m so...you stretch me out so good,” you pant out.

“Are you close?” His teeth are gritted with the effort it takes to push back his own oncoming orgasm. “Shit.”

“Yeah, I just need—”

Before you can finish, Hoseok is tapping lightly on your lips, pulling the bottom one from between your teeth. You open up and take his thumb and suck it. Once he’s sure its wet enough, he lingers for a few beats to enjoy the feeling of your tongue lapping at him. Then he’s collecting his hand back with a pop and snakes it down between your two writhing bodies. The effect of his spit-slick finger against your clit while he continues to plow into you is instant. It’s just the thing you needed to really kick things into overdrive. Soon you’re chasing the glorious feeling by bringing him in impossibly closer with two hands on his petite ass and by flexing the thigh you had holding his hips in place. In this position, he’s too constricted to really move in and out, so he adapts and begins a rough, circular grind.

The moans you let out are high and breathy, inappropriately loud, and your eyes dart back to your reflection just in time to see your pornographic expression. Hoseok seems to enjoy it too as he leans in to nuzzle at your forehead before cupping your face in one hand and bringing you in to kiss you sweetly. You’re not sure how he manages to make sweet the amount of tongue he’s using, but it works and you sigh dreamily against his lips.

Your orgasm surges through you again when he surprises you and sucks on your tongue. He pulls back then and watches with awe coloring his face. Or perhaps it's the fluorescents and the light sheen of sweat. Either way, the sight of you has him pulsing inside your already convulsing walls. With quick reflexes, he’s pulling out and replacing his dick with three fingers. He strokes himself—slowly to stay hard but not to bring himself to climax just yet—and watches you come down from your high.

When you’re done, you let your leg flop down from its perch on his hip bone. You’re a little wobbly from holding the pose for so long and you fall to your feet gracelessly, not thinking about how disgusting the floors may be. It’s then that you’re able to really look at Hoseok’s dick for the first time when you’re basically at eye level with it.

“Where do you wanna come?” Your eyes look impossibly large from where he’s standing and for a moment he almost answers ‘your face’ before your cleavage grabs his attention.

He mumbles then, ducking his head as his cheeks flush prettily.

“What?”

“...On your tits,” he gulps, not sure of your response.

You merely cross your arms under your breasts to lift them. A disbelieving little laugh leaves him before he’s kneeling down in front of you. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s better than it was when he was standing. He reaches out then and rubs fondly at the area where your shoulder and neck meet with one hand while pumping himself with the other.

It doesn’t take long. Hoseok’s been rock hard since he realized the changing room door wasn’t closed and the fact that you just agreed to let him come on your boobs almost made him swallow his tongue. They’re really something, he thinks to himself. They look soft and he knows if he stuck his face in between them, they’d smell good too if your perfume from the other day when you walked by him is any indication. They’re the perfect size, too. His hips stutter in their rhythm as he thinks about all the other things he could be doing to them. He could be fucking them while you hold them for him. Or, If you let him, he’d spend hours just lapping at them until they were sensitive enough to have you squealing under him. He bites down on his tongue and speeds up his strokes while imagining nipping at you, sucking bruises into the warm skin of your chest.

“I’m—now,” he chokes out before spilling over your breasts. His eyes closed momentarily when the high first hit him, but he opens them quickly enough to see one of the last spurts shoot out and paint a nipple white. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

He collapses into his own pile of exhausted limbs in front of you and grabs at the boxers he was wearing earlier. Like a switch has been flipped, the environment changes. It’s not exactly awkward but everything feels fragile and tentative all of the sudden.

Leaning forward, his wipes the remnants of his release off your chest. The two of you make shy eye contact a few times while he’s in your personal space. He hesitates a bit before leaning closer to slot his lips over yours. The kiss is heated, but not overly passionate. A simmer. Soon he’s wiping his hands before tossing away the soiled underwear and gingerly cupping your face in both his warm hands. He kisses you so thoroughly, so well that you end up unconsciously chasing his lips once he pulls away.

“Good?” He chuckles when you finally open your eyes. You’re not sure when you closed them.

“It was alright,” you sniff. “But I think you might have to do that again some time, ‘cause I’m not 100% sure.” He grins and swipes a thumb over your cheek.

“Name a time and a place and I’m there.”

“What about Saturday at 2,” you blurt out.

“Oh, uh, that’s very specific—”

“Sorry! I’ve been meaning to ask you if you wanted to go to this...thing with me. It’s a party at my ex’s house and I thought it might be less painful if,” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed at your speediness. You don’t even know if Hoseok wants anything more than hookups and here you are asking him to be your plus one to a pool party.

“It’s specific, but I’m free. Should I bring my swimsuit?” Your answering smile is infectious and he can’t help but kiss at it briefly.

“Of course. I’m bringing mine,” you mumble between his lips. “I gotta pay for it first.”

“You’re really wearing the green one?”

“Yeah. It’s my color and it makes my boobs look nice.”

“True,” he nods seriously. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and I’ll ring you up.”

While you’re clothed and at the register, you fight to ignore the knowing stares of a few of the other people working on the floor. Hoseok seems unphased by their looks and actually seems to be glowing. He hums and smiles to himself while carefully folding and wrapping your bathing suit in some tissue paper. When he turns the little monitor around for your to pay with your card, he’s still humming to himself.

“I get off for the day in half and hour,” he blurts out while you sign for the bathing suit.

“Is that so,” you humor him and raise an intrigued looking eyebrow.

“Yeah, so, uh...” The girl who’s behind the counter with Hoseok and had been collecting hangers snorts to herself at Hoseok’s sudden shy disposition. “If you’re gonna be around, I can show you the best place to eat in the food court. If you’re hungry, I mean.”

You pretend to mull it over while putting your card back in your wallet. “Alright. But I don’t eat mall pizza.”

“Hoseok,” you hiss as he presses himself against your backside while you search your ex’s kitchen for more plastic cups. “Someone will see us.”

“I don’t care,” he grinds against you, displacing your bottoms enough to expose the entire left globe of your ass. “I hope someone does. I hope he does.”

You turn around then, hoping to disrupt his fun, but he just brings both his hands to cup your breasts. The little green triangles do little to protect your modesty and, if anything, made his hands itch even more to touch you. He squeezes them in his hands, and when you don’t say anything, he pushes the material up and over them. Like he expected, your nipples are hard and have been since he started eye-fucking you earlier from across the pool.

“You’re insane,” you gasp. Partly because you’re functionally topless when any one of the partygoers, including your friends, could come around the corner in search of ice. And partly because Hoseok has latched onto one of your breasts and is now suckling at one nipple. “It’s like you—oh—want to get caught.”

He pulls off just long enough to speak. “Why should I care if anyone sees me making you feel good.”

“You know, in hindsight, I should have realized you have a thing about public sex.”

“You really should have. I gave you all the signs.” He has enough manners to shift so he’s covering you should anyone walk into the kitchen. His hand slides into your bathing suit bottoms, fingers immediately getting coated with your slick. “But it feels like you might be a little exhibitionist yourself.”

The sound of Monica and Irene laughing in the next room has your whole body tensing up with nerves, but it also has you sucking his fingers deeper into your center. Footsteps of more people who probably want a break from the sun enter the room, some sounding dangerously close.

“Oh god,” your head falls forward onto his shoulder as the wet sounds of your pussy get louder as he massages your clit. “Hoseok, we’re gonna get kicked out.”

“Not if you’re quiet.” He starts kissing your cheek, making a path to your mouth. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

#bscproject #btssmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bttnetwork #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenario #bts imagines #hoseok imagine #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic

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ibizastrology · 4 years

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bts’ j-hope: chart interpretation

Hi guys! So I decided to have some fun and take a look at Hoseok’s birth chart. Let’s see what we can find here!

Disclaimer: this interpretation does not include house analysis, since I cannot accurately determine house placements in the chart without an exact and confirmed time of birth.

Please note: this is my personal view of the chart. Some of the interpretations are sprinkled with a bit of my own intuition and experience with certain placements. I am not a professional astrologer and I do not claim that these assumptions are 100% accurate for Jung Hoseok, since I have never met him and never had the chance to ask if my interpretations are correct.

Date of birth: 18th February, 1994 Time of birth: unknown (used standard 12PM) Place of birth: Gwangju (Gwangju-gwangyeoksi), South Jeolla Province (Jeollanam-do), South Korea Birth chart calculator used: Astrotheme Horoscope Chart

List of placements: Aquarius Sun Taurus Moon Pisces Mercury (Я) Pisces Venus Aquarius Mars Scorpio Jupiter Pisces Saturn Capricorn Uranus Capricorn Neptune Scorpio Pluto

Possible Rising (it’s a guess bro): Aries/Sagittarius

Asteroids and math. points (hypothetical): Ceres - Taurus Lilith (Я) - Aries Vesta - Aries Pallas - Pisces Juno (Я) - Scorpio Chiron (Я) - Virgo

Aspects (without AC, MC and minor aspects)

Sun: conjunct Saturn, Mercury and Venus, square Pluto and Moon Moon: opposite Pluto and Jupiter, square Mars, trine Uranus and Neptune Mercury: conjunct Saturn and Venus, square Pluto Venus: conjunct Saturn, trine Jupiter Mars: square Jupiter Jupiter: - Saturn: square Pluto Uranus: conjunct Neptune, sextile Pluto Neptune: sextile Pluto Pluto: -

Interpretation (personal planet placement + strong aspects):

Aquarius Sun: weirdest sense of humor which is definitely Aqua culture because there’s no other explanation as to why we’re like that, might be strengthened by Aries rising (excessive “cute” behaviour, screaming out of nowhere, doesn’t know what’s happening but laughs anyway, basically an obnoxious little bean); square Moon - he needs love and comfort but often puts up a front, puts the “carefree” image he wants to portray over his emotional needs, making other people feel better (Aquarius) seems more important than allowing himself to enjoy good things (Taurus) (I think we’ve all seen that at MAMA with him breaking down like that, the taurus moon /and pisces energy/ snapped); conjunct Saturn - this might be what Yoongi meant when he said that Hoseok wasn’t as cheerful before debut as he is now, this aspect may have made him a bit more pessimistic, aware of the fact that you can’t have everything in life

Taurus Moon: PERSERVERANCE god the things this man has been through... attacked by antis, attacked by solo stans, almost left the band even before its debut but his perserverance helped him get through it, also methodical - he doesn’t just learn all those dances because it’s easy (spoiler: it’s not), but he has his own way of doing things (e.g. his adorable ‘pa pa pa’ instead of counting or dancing bare foot), he knows exactly what he’s doing but it’s more of a “I’ve done it so many times that now I can’t get it wrong”; opposite Pluto - this aspect doesn’t make it easy to open up about feelings, Pluto wants control over what people know, what people are allowed to see and what should be kept secret, and that want is generally driven by fear (however it’s a facade that can be broken, as I’ve already mentioned earlier); trine Uranus - everyone, and I mean EVERYONE feels accepted and understood around Hoseok and I find that to be truly beautiful, how e.g. trainees are all over him, even though he is a strict teacher, because no matter how many times they mess up and he gets angry, he’s still encouraging and supportive and just wants everyone to succeed; trine Neptune - compassion and understanding, also probably one of the reasons behind his passion for music since this is a very emotional and artistic aspect, vivid imagination is quite possible

Pisces Mercury (Я): a natal retrograde makes a planet feel hidden, expressed in a more internal way; good listener, really nice to talk to, can quickly go from soft and quiet to screaming mode (something we’ve all noticed a long time ago), knows how to read people in a way, quite in tune with other people’s emotions; conjunct Saturn - and here we have reached one of the sadder aspects in this chart, mainly because it proves that, even though he may seem carefree and confident, he does in fact care A LOT about what people think of him (boy didn’t avoid doing solo live streams for a year and six months without a reason, pls love him a lot), this is not a hard aspect but it can cause a lot of self-doubt and a need for praise, even if the compliments don’t seem to get to him - he needs them

Pisces Venus: very loving and sensitive, not only towards a partner, but towards everyone, commitment is difficult tho, even if he wanted to settle with someone it would probably take him a lot of time to make up his mind, might be one of those people who want to “heal broken souls” through love, but his patience isn’t unlimited; conjunct Saturn - traditionally associated with loneliness and/or late marriage, but can be interpreted as a cautious approach to romantic relationships, might be an outcome of previous toxic relationships

Aquarius Mars: original, unique, full of surprises, always knows how to get what he wants, actually loves being unpredictible and unusual, very independent, wants to give his partner their freedom as well; square Jupiter - might be very impulsive, reclusive when upset, seemingly moves on easily as an effect of ignoring bigger negative feelings

So that’s it! I might come back to this one day, but for now this feels like enough with the amount of information we have. This took way too long to finish, but it’s done, finally!

I don’t know if I’ll ever do any more of these, but... who knows! We’ll have to find out.

If you got this far this, thank you for reading! I appreciate it a lot <3

#bts #bts j-hope #bts jhope #j-hope #hoseok #jung hoseok #birth chart #birth chart interpretation #astrology #astrological interpretation #my post #mine #I might do more of these #aquarius sun #taurus moon #aries/sagittarius rising

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sanderssides-springfling · 4 years

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@clulessinmorewaysthanone

What they want: Logince (fluff/romance prefered but angst and platonic is also okay) , anything with Remus, dukexiety (fluff or angst, romantic or platonic)

Any triggers/anything they don’t wish to receive: nothing

The photo is just a drawing of Remus, and the story is a highschool AU! Enjoy:

Notes: I’m sorry the drawing is bad, I’m not the best, but I hope you like it! The story is as fluffy as I could do! Sorry about sadder parts! Hope you like it as well!

Logince and Dukexiety (Highschool AU):

(Relationships: Logan and Virgil are brothers, Roman and Remus are brothers, Roman, Patton, and Remus are best friends, Janus and Virgil are best friends, Remus and Virgil are dating and Roman and Logan are dating. ok, we can continue)

♡Logan’s POV♡

Today was me and my twin brother (Virgil)’s first day of sophomore (year 11 or 10th grade) and I was quite ready for it.

Virgil looks, with a face of loathing at the door as he wakes up. “Ready for another year of dealing with people’s bs, Lo?” he asks, his eyes fluttering open to reveal two, almost vibrant, bright green eyes.

“I will never be more ready than I am at this moment,” I reply, my voice duller than a piece of cloth that lost 99% of its color. “Great,” Virgil says, getting up to go get ready.

I adjust my tie, almost ready for the day as Virgil walks out with his normal outfit of black jeans, a purple ripped shirt under his black jacket, repaired with some purple cloth, and black combat boots topped off with blacker than night eyeshadow (which I must add, was applied the wrong way).

We both pick up our backpacks and walk out the door, 5 minutes earlier than we should have.

We walk to the end of the street where a bright yellow sign signals that we were where we were supposed to be.

A yellow bus, a little duller than the sign, rolled up to the sign and we hopped onto it and sat in the closest seat to the front, where it was quieter.

♡Roman’s POV♡

My brother, my best friend and I were walking to school.

Patton was skipping and talking about a vacation he took a few weeks ago, while me and Remus hung back, occasionally replying to Pat’s questions.

Suddenly Patton stopped and asked in a deadpan voice, “What if everyone is just an illusion and you’re just in a coma.”

Remus and I looked at him with a look of disbelief.

“Who are you and what have you done with Patton?” Remus questioned. Patton just shrugged and continued on his way.

My mind drifted to my boyfriend as I remembered I had one.

“I just forgot I had a boyfriend,” I said, in defeat as Remus and Patton bursted out laughing.

“How the heck do you forget you’re in a relationship?” Remus said, gasping for air after every syllable.

“I don’t know? I was just thinking ‘Oh, what if I had a boyfriend?’ and it hit me that I did.”

“I’m so telling that to Logan,” Pat said as he took out his phone.

“We’re five minutes away, you don’t have to text him,” Remus said, I could tell he was excited to see how this would end.

♡Virgil’s POV♡

The bus suddenly stopped as a song started to play.

I sighed as I got up, Logan right behind.

I was excited to see my best friend and boyfriend.

I jumped off the step and walked over to the door and walked in.

I immediately headed to the library where I knew Janus would be, because of how empty it was.

Logan trailed behind me because of how it would eventually end in princy being there.

“Are you excited to see your boyfriend, Lo?” I asked, walking backwards because I knew the area.

“Obviously, it’s been a week since we’ve seen each other in person.”

We walked into the library, and I spotted Janus and walked up to him.

“Hey snake face,” I said, because he was known for his snake themed stuff.

“Hey emo,” he replied, looking up from his book about law.

“Still studying to be a lawyer?”

“Duh,” he said, looking back down at his book.

“You’re starting to look like Logan, your face never leaves that book,” I said, looking over at what he was reading.

“You won’t be talking to me like that when you get in trouble with the law and need me.”

“Touche.”

Remus strutted over with Roman and Patton branching off to find Logan.

“There’s my favorite emo boyfriend!” Remus said, giving me a quick hug.

I laughed at his incapability to make nicknames, “I missed you too,” and squeezed him back.

We started to talk about summer, even though we had seen each other a few days ago.

♡Roman’s POV♡

I glanced around the library as I saw Remus talking to his boyfriend, and headed out to find Logan.

I noticed a few couples in the library, as it was a common couple hang out, when I looked around a corner and saw Logan.

I walked briskly up to him and hugged him from behind.

He jumped and I quickly said, “It’s just me! Don’t punch me!”

He noticed it was me and calmly said in his ticked off voice, “If you do that again I won’t hesitate to punch you.”

“Noted,” I said, quite scared of my boyfriend, even though he was actually quite soft.

He pulled me into a hug, not as an apology, but just because he missed me, even though it had only been a week… and to be honest, I missed him too.

I hugged him back and I started to compare my schedule with him.

To no surprise, he had a total of 3 AP classes while I had a grand total of 1.

I smiled at him as he seemed proud of my AP class.

The previous year it had taken me dedication to at least get AB honor roll and this AP class had been a sign of achievement.

“I’m proud of you,” Logan said as he gave a small peck on my lips.

He said this alot to me but this time it made me twice as proud, because normally he was the only out of us two who got these types of achievements and it made me happy I was able to get one.

I looked at his schedule more and noticed another similarity in our schedules.

Logan had decided to take drama with me.

“What made you decide to venture off your normal computer and robotics extra curricular?” I said, excited to see his reason.

“Well, because I was helping you more with my strong suite… I decided to give you a chance to show me yours.”

I gasped at this statement, “So you mean, I can help you become an actor?”

Logan nodded as I began to smile, this just made my day.

I gave Logan a small peck on the cheek as the bell rang for the school day to begin.

#logince #ts remus #high school!au #spring fling 2020 #submission

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amillioninprizes · 5 years

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An entirely too long post on how to fix Veronica Mars

So, anyone who has followed this blog for any length of time knows: 1) What a massive Veronica Mars fan I was and 2) how distraught I’ve been over the most recent season that debuted on Hulu in July. I’ve been pretty angry about it since it dropped, but the first month after I was pretty occupied with real life stuff. Now that I’m more settled, I’ve found myself getting sadder and angrier over time with just how terrible S4 was and what an obvious fuck you to longtime fans it was. It feels dumb to be so upset over a tv show, but this show got me through a lot over the past 8 years, and I feel like it’s been taken away from me.

It’s anyone’s guess as to whether there will be a new season. Ideally it would end here with maybe an alternate ending filmed to avoid alienating fans further. On the one hand, the botched release, overwhelmingly negative response, and silence from the creators after initial interviews don’t look good for renewal chances. On the other hand, Hulu doesn’t have a lot of streaming hits, it probably did relatively decent numbers, and there are rumors floating around that its pickup chances look good. On a personal level, I hate the idea that this is where the legacy of Veronica Mars ends, while at the same time being extremely wary of what the creators have planned. I think a big part of the disappointment with S4 was that the movie and books set up what could have been some really interesting storylines and situations, all of which RT and co. squandered for cheap drama and to apparently turn the show into an entirely new vehicle; additionally I had hope that S4 would be a chance to rectify some problems the show has long had, but again, S4 exacerbated them. At this point I don’t expect anyone higher up in the creative process or at Hulu to give a fuck about the fans or making the show better as long as they hit streaming targets, but here are some suggestions:

Fire Rob Thomas

While he created the show, it’s become clear that not only has he lost touch with the audience and the original spirit of the character, he doesn’t seem too keen on putting much effort into writing the show (as I will discuss below). Then you have his clear misogyny: his views that women in relationships can’t be interesting, that what makes Veronica interesting as a character is her trauma and how much she can endure, and the fact that basically every female character in the history of the show has a history of sexual victimization. He thought that making the Mexican cartel hitmen “philosophical” was subverting expectations (which says a lot of what his expectations of Latinx characters are). Then this is the way he essentially exploited his long term fan base to earn a new season of the show, only to turn around and tell us that we don’t matter. From a business perspective alone keeping him doesn’t make sense; selling a streaming platform on your loyal fanbase and then proceeding to purposefully piss ~80% of them off would be pretty questionable to me as someone in charge. The sheer cruelty with which he treated not only the fans who have supported him for 15 years (I fucking used to liveblog iZombie y’all. iZombie!), as well as how he callously dismissed long time cast members in favor of celebrity guest stars should not be rewarded. He’s admitted in interviews that he would be ok with younger writers doing a reboot many years in the future; why not just let him have a producer credit and then hand the show over to someone who’s invested in making it good?

Put a woman in charge and diversify the writing staff

A big problem with a) Veronica’s characterization in S4 b) RT’s ideas about what makes female characters interesting c) the show’s long history of problematic treatment of sexual assault is that it comes from a man’s conception of the female experience. The Veronica showcased in S4 and that RT wants to write in the future is very much a male fantasy: hates marriage and children, traumatized, DTF, and is too cool for other women. RT stated in interviews that he wanted to show Veronica at a “crossroads” this season in a way he claimed had been shown for men but not women; many female viewers found this depiction to ring false (few women are spending their time fretting about how committing to marriage after five years in an established relationship will bar us from strange sex going forward). In addition to having RT at the helm, most of the show’s writing staff for the majority of its run has been white dudes, which doesn’t bode well for telling the story of a female PI in a diverse community in today’s political climate. Putting a woman in charge would hopefully help rectify these issues to make the character feel more true to life and put a damper on the misogynistic storytelling. The show has a natural candidate in RT’s second-in-command Diane Ruggiero-Wright (despite her problematic history, never forget #KeisterEggGate), who has admitted to not being able to watch the last episode. Jennifer Graham, who wrote both of the books, would also be a worthy addition to the writing staff; while the books had a mixed reception, most fans agree that she got Veronica’s character right. And with the show’s problematic historical treatment of minority characters, adding more POC writers going forward is also necessary.

Bring back Logan (alive)

You don’t have to be a LoVe shipper to recognize just how integral Logan has been since the inception of the show, not just as Veronica’s partner but as a character is his own right. Logan’s journey in many ways parallels Veronica’s, and shows a contrast in how different characters respond to similar trauma. The most critical plot line in the show’s history, the mystery of who killed Lilly Kane, simply doesn’t work without Logan’s importance to Veronica. RT and his defenders like to claim that Logan was holding her back from true growth, which is frankly bizarre as he is the only character to consistently challenge her, like when he tells her that she obviously isn’t happy this season. Additionally, Logan’s scenes this season were the lone highlight of what was otherwise a painful slog of a season. Of the people who have said they would watch a potential S5, a good portion are only interested because they believe that the ambiguity of the last 10 minutes of the season means he’s not really dead (despite what RT has said in interviews). Then there’s what Logan’s death does to Veronica’s character, effectively cutting off what would have been an interesting character arc and stagnating her forever. No matter how much they try to shove Leo the pedo creep and other milquetoast RT self-insert love interests on us, no one else can possible measure up to Logan’s level in terms of being able to match Veronica as a character, intellectually or as a result of shared history.

Plus, the fact that we haven’t had a Weevil/Logan interaction since S3 is a goddamn travesty and should be rectified immediately.

Bring back Veronica

As sad as I am about Logan’s death, for me the most upsetting aspect of S4 was the assassination of Veronica’s character. For many viewers (including myself), the character we saw Kristen Bell portray in S4 wasn’t Veronica Mars but a different character with the same name. Between her abusive behavior towards Logan, her general indifference to her father’s medical condition, her dismissal of Wallace, and her racism towards Latinx characters (using a kid’s lawyer to threaten deportation: not a good look!), she was lacking the marshmallow-y center that always balanced out the pricklier aspects of her character and made her compelling. This change in characterization was especially jarring given that she was not this way when we last saw her in the books, where she mused about having children and sent her half-brother Hunter to summer camp (side note, but does he even exist anymore?). Many of us who had grown up with Veronica were hoping to see her grow with us as a character; instead we got an extreme regression lower than we’ve ever seen her. It would be one thing if they were trying to depict a PTSD storyline, which would make sense given her background, but since her change in behavior is never addressed by the narrative, it just makes her look like a cruel asshole and makes it impossible to root for her. This is exacerbated by the fact that RT has made it clear he has no interest in portraying her inner life, as shown by his wanting to avoid showing her grief over Logan’s death because it would be a real downer compared to the entertaining but ultimately hollow banter and quips he wants to focus on. Veronica this season was also just plain dumb: you mean to tell me that the girl who nearly got killed by Aaron Echolls in her back seat wouldn’t think to check her backseat every time she gets in a car? (And let’s not even start with RT’s bizarre assertion in an interview that she apparently votes Republican). Not helping matters was Kristen Bell’s performance, which felt very flat for me this season compared to S1-3 and the movie; I don’t know if this was due to personal limitations or a reflection of the bad writing. Writers of future installments and KB herself would be wise to revisit S1, the movie, and the books to figure out what makes sense for Veronica’s character, leading me to my next point:

Get reacquainted with canon, develop a show bible, and hire a continuity director

This show has long had a problem with dropped plots, timelines, and continuity issues. Shelly Pomroy’s party has two happened either in the summer, or the fall. Then we have the movie paradox: Veronica graduated high school in 2006, which means her 10 year reunion should have taken place in 2016. The movie was released in 2014 and the books seem to keep to 2014 dates. Then S4 states that Keith’s movie accident took place in 2013, and mysteriously ages Veronica up to 35 when she should be 32 in 2019. Logan mentions an Aunt Naomi in S4--why didn’t she take care of him after Aaron was arrested (and what happened to Trina)? How the hell is Leo working as an FBI agent when he presided over the disappearance of the Lilly/Aaron tapes? Veronica is shown to be tentatively forgiving of Weevil taking the settlement from the sheriff’s department in Mr. Kiss and Tell, but is then shown to be extremely angry towards him for it in S4. This is just a small selection of the inconsistencies within the show. Plus there is the problem of repeated plot lines: Veronica rejects Leo in favor of Logan in S1, then rejects Leo in favor of Logan in Mr. Kiss and Tell, only for her to...reject Leo in favor of Logan in S4 (and RT says he wants to leave the high school plots behind). This sloppiness doesn’t bode well for a series that is supposed to be about mysteries, which require tight plotting. It would behove TPTB going forward to once and for all determine a timeline of Veronica’s life, keep a detailed record of past plot and character points, and have at least one person on staff who thinks to remember this stuff (RT notoriously has only a “solid, not spectacular” memory of the show, no matter what Kareem Abdul-Jabbar says).

Make an effort (and do your fucking research)

Moving on from continuity issues to more general problems with the laziness of RT’s writing. He has basically admitted that he doesn’t care much about facts or characterization when writing plots--he shoehorns details to fit the plot rather than have it evolve organically from the characters and prior canon. I know that when writing it’s often impossible to make every story detail 100% accurate, but the extent of RT’s sloppiness is alarming. This excellent Reddit thread details a lot of the problems with S4 in particular, but this has been a problem since S2. Did anyone ever understand exactly why the Fitzpatricks were invested in framing Logan for Felix’s death? In the movie, it makes no sense that if Cobb and co. wanted Carrie silenced, they would add the complication of framing Logan for her murder--given her history, it would have been a lot easier just to make it look like she had accidentally overdosed. Given his previous patterns of villain writing fans were able to guess the identity of the S4 bomber based on casting alone. The mysteries in both Mr. Kiss and Tell and S4 are both ripped from the headlines, which indicates that RT wants to turn VM into the next Law and Order. Meanwhile, he complained about how hard including Logan in the story in S4 was, while Logan arguably had the best lines and most interesting scenes this season--apparently when you put an effort into things, they work out! This laziness extends past storyline issues and into factual problems that detract from the quality of the plot. Longtime fandom pals are probably tired about hearing me go on and on about how there’s no way Aaron’s lawyers could have gotten Veronica’s medical records due to HIPAA laws. Logan’s career change from naval aviator to intelligence is highly unlikely (and unnecessary, given that they changed it only to fridge him at the end of the season). Meanwhile, I know fanfic writers who have spent hours on the phone with strangers in order to research what type of firearm would cause a specific type of bullet injury. It’s very puzzling to me that RT wants to take the show in the direction of being mystery-only when apart from that one time he is piss poor at writing mysteries and puts no effort into them. I shouldn’t have to tell television writers to, you know, do their job but this is what we’ve come to in 2019.

Know your audience

A majorly annoying thing about the promo for this season is how in every single interview Rob Thomas did he was always talking about how he wanted VM to be like other shows and movies: Fargo, True Detective, Game of Thrones, Chinatown (which is apparently the only noir movie he’s ever seen). The thing is, if I wanted to watch those shows, I would; I watched Veronica Mars specifically because I enjoyed its unique qualities, and I would say most fans agree. The general perception within the fandom is that with this season Rob Thomas seems to have been aiming to dump the old, majority female, CW fanbase in order to achieve what he perceives as a cooler prestigious male fanbase; the issue is, new people aren’t going to take up a show in its fourth season if they didn’t watch or didn’t like earlier seasons. Also, trying to write a prestigious show doesn’t make your show prestigious. Considering that based on anecdotal evidence most of the people who like S4 seem to be male, he may have succeeded in the first part of his aim. However, this majority female fanbase he was so willing to cast aside are the ones who have run fansites and rewatches during fallow times (i.e. between S3 and the movie and then between the books and S4), so drumming up interest among fans (and therefore streaming views) in the future may be a challenge. Plus, women are a better advertising demographic since they are more likely to be in charge of household purchasing decisions, so maintaining us as a fanbase makes business sense as well. He may have tricked enough people into watching S4 that S5 is given a go, but I wouldn’t be surprised if streams are weak beyond that. If the show is to succeed as a commercial endeavor, better to go with appealing to a known quantity than trying to make a generic show that very few people have expressed interest in watching.

Bring back the mystery of the week

This is a more minor thing I felt was missing from S4. I think after the criticism of S3 not having a season-long arc RT overcorrected in focusing on one mystery. However, the mystery of the week had the following benefits: 1) giving chances for the characters to interact and telling us more about them 2) helping to modulate the pace of the season-long arc. With better writing a season-long standalone mystery could maybe work, but in the case of S4 specifically the mystery was kind of dull and repetitive and could have stood to include a couple of diversions in the form of a smaller case here and there.

Re-evaluate the creators’ interpretation of the word “adult”

Much of the promo and reviews for this season noted the more “adult” content to be expected this season now that Veronica’s grown. Many fans hoped that meant seeing Veronica act like, you know, an adult with adult problems rather than a teenager less mature than the actual teenager she was. Unfortunately, the show’s interpretation of the word seems to be more in keeping with a television rating sense of the word--meaning sex, drugs, and gratuitous violence (But apparently not the word “fuck.”). Look, it was expected that as the show moved to a streaming service and given the overall dramatic scope that there would be an upgrade in some of this sort of content (and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t looking forward to steamier LoVe moments, which were sorely overpromised), but the way it was included this season felt like RT and co. included this stuff just because they could and not to serve the storyline. For me, personally, the biggest example of this was Veronica’s drug use, which I know didn’t necessarily bother everyone. Given her history as the daughter of an alcoholic as well as someone who had been the victim of two roofie attacks, not to mention the fact that her character never seemed to be into partying, I found it very out of character (and book writer Jennifer Graham agrees). It felt like RT included this just bc they thought it would be funny to see Veronica on drugs without considering whether it made sense for her character. Also, were the beheadings strictly necessary? Plus there’s RT’s little temper tantrum over not being able to use curse words this season--they weren’t present in the original show, no one was going to miss them now, and the “cuss” thing was just annoying and reminiscent of The Good Place.

Dealing with a parent who maybe has dementia--that’s an adult storyline. Too bad RT ended it with a dumb excuse about “mixing meds” (another factual error! Pharmacy software would have caught it!) rather than actually exploring what it would mean for Veronica to see her father in decline and take over the family business (and give Rico Colantoni the exit he appears to want). This is the kind of adult content I would hope to see in future seasons.

Adult is not a synonym for “unrelentingly bleak” either. The original show, while dark, always had an element of hope that was completely removed from S4 (no matter what KB might claim). And would it have killed the writers to show Veronica wearing disguises and going undercover like she used to? There was nothing fun about this season (and no, I don’t count the multiple partying scenes as fun, more like sad).

Kill your darlings

It’s cliche, but it’s true. Another issue the show has long had is the writers keeping around characters or inserting jokes and references for their own personal amusement rather than for the story. The most notable example of this is the continued presence of Dick, a highly problematic character considering he pushed Beaver into the room with Veronica the night of Shelly Pomroy’s party, among a whole host of other racist, sexist, and generally obnoxious actions over the years. But because Ryan Hansen is so widely beloved among the cast and crew, so he stays. Then there’s the matter of the infamous Keister egg in 3x08, which the writers and KB have all expressed love for, despite the fact that said Keister egg is an example of sexual assault--which, even if the victim is a douchey fraternity president, is never funny.

Also the constant Big Lebowski references are tiring. Watch a new movie.

Improve Neptune’s gender ratio

Veronica Mars, despite having a female lead, has always been a male-dominated show; other than Veronica herself, the only consistent female character over the original show was Mac (and she didn’t even come back this season). This is unacceptable in 2019, for any show. The books introduced promising female characters in the form of Marcia Langdon and Petra Landros, but Marcia’s character was was watered down for S4 and Petra was nowhere to be found. Additionally, Veronica and Mac have always been written as “cool girls” who looked down on other women for their femininity, which isn’t a great message. Almost every other female character, even the innocuous Parker, is portrayed as somehow bad or incompetent. I would love nothing more than a season centered on the women of Neptune and their interactions with each other. While we’re at it, stop giving every woman on this show a background of sexual victimization.

Treat VM as an ensemble show, not a Kristen Bell vanity project

A major complaint from Burnt Marshmallows and S4 defenders alike was how little time was given over to the original core cast this season. While Veronica may be the protagonist, a large part of how the show became so beloved was her relationships with the other characters. Yet RT has decided that going forward VM will be a KB solo project, with her traveling town to town quipping and sleeping with strangers. This seems strange, given Kristen’s recent interviews talking about how difficult it is to shoot VM and how she never wants to be first on a call sheet ever again, not to mention how she asked for less screen time all the way back in S2, which resulted in the Weevil-Logan storyline, which was way more interesting than Veronica’s storylines during the first half of that season. (The traveling detective thing also seems weird considering that KB is pretty insistent on shooting in LA to be near her family.) Additionally, if this is truly the last season of VM with all the original characters, then no one got a proper sendoff.

I’m not sure how willing much of the cast will be to return for future iterations, given how uncomfortable many of them seemed during promo as well RT and KB’s treatment of them (insensitive at best, deliberately mean at worst) this season (shout out to Tina Majorino for recognizing what a shit show this was going to be), but bringing back all the original characters into the fold and giving them significant storylines would go a long way to mending fences with fans, improving the show from a character arc perspective, and would also give KB the break she apparently wants.

Recourt the fanbase

What has VM always been renowned for above all else? It’s incredibly loyal fandom which not only got it renewed twice during its original run but also put up their own money to get the movie made--I know many people who donated when they really couldn’t afford to. RT basically owes the last 6 years of his career to VM fans--the success of the Kickstarter arguably got him the iZombie show running gig, and the fourth season likely wouldn’t have even happened if not for it. Thus, the blatant cruelty and disregard with which RT and KB have treated fans during the promotion of S4 has been incredibly insulting and hurtful; I still can’t fathom what in the world possessed RT to think that throwing away this 15-year relationship was a good idea. It’s not a good sign when the 2 fansites most active during the post-movie period (VMHQ and VM Confessions) cease operations in the wake of S4, and when at least 3 out of 8 board members of the oldest running fan group, Neptune Rising (who were dormant during the post-movie period but played a critical role during earlier fan campaigns and in the S4 promo) resign. A fandom this loyal that was betrayed will not stand idly by if the S5 RT wants to make goes ahead; given the number of tweets the official Hulu VM account has had to delete in the wake of S4 due to the overwhelmingly negative response as well as the controversy over editing out Logan from S4 promos, I imagine that S5 will be a PR nightmare. Even if future seasons are amazing the trust can probably never be fully repaired, but it would be helpful for RT (or fingers crossed, a new show runner) and KB (as star and EP) to go overboard in reaching out to fans and at least admitting they made a misstep with the entirety of S4. Back in the day, the old Mars Investigation fansite was invited to set to conduct interviews; maybe do that again. Also someone should get KB some sort of VM fandom-fluent media trainer because I don’t think she has conducted a single interview during her entire stint on the show that didn’t anger fans (it might help if she actually bothered to watch the show).

Map out an endgame

Look, this can’t go on forever. As long as RT keeps leaving every installment open ended with the hopes of maybe getting renewed again five years down the line, the story is going to keep running into the issues the movie and S4 faced with having to shoehorn the characters into nonsensical plot lines to reconcile those endings and deal with actor availability issues. Either plot another 2-3 seasons to wrap the show up with a satisfying conclusion, or map out a greater timeline of Veronica’s life with spots where a mini series or movie here and there could fit in.

#Veronica Mars #still angry #mainly written for personal catharsis #need to stop being angry about this and focus more on studying synaptic transmission #Burnt Marshmallow #we use to be fans

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s-oulpunk · 4 years

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Vendetta (1/3) - Stenbrough

Summary: All Bill really wants is a shoulder to cry on. All he really wants is for someone to tell him it’s going to be alright. Robert has never let him down in that regard.

Bill hasn't been the same since his brother's disappearance, and the only man that seems to understand him is Robert "Bob" Gray. It doesn't matter that he's three times his age, Bill craves that understanding. He craves for someone to look him in the eye and tell him that everything's going to be okay. Unfortunately, there's always a price to pay, and Georgie was only the beginning.

TW: Violence, Manipulation, Non-Con, Kidnapping

Notes: This is a lot darker than my other fics, and, basically, I am so sorry. The non-con stuff isn’t super graphic, but it is there so please be careful.

There are three parts to this fic. I promise I will post them all, but updates will be slow. All the chapters are really long and I’m busy with a lot of other things, so it takes me awhile to finish.

Also while this is technically a Stenbrough fanfic, their relationship isn’t the main focus of the fic. It carries a lot of the plot but, overall, the fic is about Bill’s journey.

Read on AO3

Part One:

The Disappearance Of Georgie Denbrough:

Georgie Denbrough has been missing for half a year when Robert Gray shows up. He just waltzes into Bill’s life, with a charming smile and sympathetic eyes that tell stories Bill can’t quite understand yet. If Bill stares into them long enough, he thinks he can start to see pieces of some of those stories. And they chill him to the bone.

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what exactly the stories are (and a part of him doesn’t know if he will ever want to), but Bill doesn’t need to know to feel the chill that runs down his back.

Robert Gray’s eyes are haunting.

And yet the rest of him is friendly enough, so Bill tries to not let himself worry over his eyes too much. Instead he focuses on the warmth of Robert’s hand on his shoulder, on the way he smiles so wide it nearly splits his face in half, on the kind words he utters when Bill comes to him sobbing at odd hours of the day.

His friends don’t see it that way.

They see Robert and they see, to put it plainly, a creep who jumped at the opportunity to spend time with a bunch of fifteen year olds. And they have no qualms about letting Bill know about their true feelings.

“You’re gonna get fucking murdered, Bill,” Eddie had said a few days after Robert’s first appearance. “You’re gonna get kidnapped and raped and then you’re gonna get murdered, is that what you want? They’re gonna find your body in the basement of some creepy old house or, or, or deep in the woods or, like, in his bedroom. And your skin’s gonna be all gross and decaying. Or, fuck, what if he’s like some crazy cannibal? They’re gonna find you with chunks of flesh missing and an eyeball in a martini glass and he’ll be making some kind of crazy, fucked up, dinner using your insides - Fuck, Bill! Is that what you want?”

Bill thinks Eddie has quite the imagination.

All Bill really wants is a shoulder to cry on. All he really wants is for someone to tell him it’s going to be alright. Robert has never let him down in that regard.

“He’s a guh-good guy,” Bill had told Eddie. “You jj-juh-just have to give him a chance.”

Eddie had merely scoffed and told Bill he would never, ever let Robert Gray get close enough to do that.

Bill thinks that’s a tad bit unfair, but Eddie refuses to budge.

Sometimes, when Bill looks into Robert’s eyes, he can see why. But those moments are fleeting. They’re only a few seconds of gut twisting, vomit inducing anxiety before he remembers who he’s talking to and he’s overrun with unshakeable guilt.

In the weeks since, his friends still haven’t come around. But they will eventually, Bill’s sure of it.

As of currently, they’re crowded into the clubhouse. Richie and Eddie are curled up together in the hammock, lost in their own little world. Bev is smoking by the open trapdoor. Ben and Mike have combined efforts to put various posters and photos on the walls. And Bill is sitting in the far corner, softly murmuring his latest story and trying very hard not to think about the fact that Stan is sitting so close he might as well be on his lap.

Stan doesn’t say a word throughout the story. Instead he listens attentively, like Bill’s thoughts are worth paying attention to. It makes Bill’s heart melt just a little bit.

When he finishes, he puts the notebook down gently, and turns to stare curiously at Stan. “So?”

“I didn’t like the ending,” is all Stan says.

“That’s ww-wh-what you said about my last one!” Bill exclaims.

“It’s too sad,” Stan says. “Sean never gets to go back home. All his friends and family are looking for him, and he’s stuck trapped in his own head forever.”

“Robert luh-luh-liked it.”

Stan scoffs loudly. “Do I look like Robert to you?”

This, admittedly, does earn a chuckle from Bill.

“Just because it’s ss-suh-sad doesn’t mean that it’s not good.”

“But Sean deserves to be happy, don’t you think?”

Bill considers this for a moment. Then, “Nope!” he says, popping the P.

“Why not?” Stan asks, lurching backwards to stare at him incredulously.

“Because I mmm-muh-made him,” Bill says. “And, therefore, I can dd-do whatever I want with him.”

Stan hums softly because, technically, this is true, but, “Why don’t you use your power for good?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“That rr-ruh-rarely happens in real life,” Bill murmurs.

It’s so much sadder than their previous conversation, and much more serious. Bill almost feels bad saying it. But it’s true. People are rarely happy in real life, and if there is someone in the sky looking out for them, they sure as hell aren’t changing their ending to please their friend. Even if said friend is cute as a button.

“I guess so,” whispers Stan. “But don’t you wish it did?”

“Yeah.” Bill does. All the time. “Sometimes.”

Stan shuffles closer, tucking his head between Bill’s shoulder and neck. Bill tries to ignore the heat that sprouts there, spilling through his veins and out to the rest of his body, making him tingly all over. But he can’t. As soon as it gets his attention, he’s gone. The clubhouse disappears, replaced by Stan and the warmth that fills his veins.

“I think you’re gonna be alright,” Stan says. “Whoever’s writing your ending is looking out for you.”

Bill fiddles nervously with the corner of his notebook. “Robert thinks we mmm-muh-might still be able to find jj-juh-juh-Georgie.”

“I...Yeah. Maybe.”

Stan looks so defeated. Like he knows Bill won’t listen to whatever he has to say. Which, in all honesty, he probably wouldn’t. But that doesn’t make Bill feel any less guilty.

“Are you still looking for him?” Stan asks. But he knows the answer.

“Yeah,” Bill says. “Robert usually huh-helps me.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Mhm. We’re supposed to go ll-luh-look down by the barrens later today.”

“Oh.”

Bill can feel Stan stiffen beside him. He’s got his legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped securely around his knees, and Bill’s sure that, if he were wearing shorts, his fingernails would be digging into his skin, judging by how tightly he’s gripping his knees.

“Robert?” The intrusion, while Bill loves all his friends, is unwelcomed. These moments with Stan feel intimate. Special. Richie doesn’t get to interrupt just because he overhears something he doesn’t like. “You’re still talking to that freak?” He’s swinging slowly in the hammock, a worn out comic in one hand, Eddie wrapped securely in the other. But he’s not paying attention to either. Instead he’s got his gaze fixed on Bill, his glasses making his infuriated eyes seem 12x bigger.

Bill rolls his eyes. “He’s not that bad, Rich.”

“Not that bad?” Richie says. “Eds, did you hear that? Robert’s not that bad! Not at all! We better shout this from the rooftops. Hey, Losers! Robert’s not that bad!”

“Sh-Sh-Shut up, Richie,” Bill groans.

“We’re just worried,” Bev says. She flicks some of the cigarette ash onto the ground. “You can’t blame us for that.”

It’s true, he can’t, but, “Yuh-You don’t have anything to be worried about.”

Bev hums softly. She clearly doesn’t believe him. It infuriates Bill a little bit, but he wills those emotions away. These are his friends, of course they would be worried.

Stan must sense another quarrell coming on, he’s got a fifth sense for that kind of stuff, because he gently taps Bill’s knee and murmurs, “Write me another story.”

And who is Bill to argue?

Bill doesn’t like the barrens. He had been so hopeful when he first started searching here, so sure he would find clues. Subconsciously he had hoped he would find Georgie just sitting there, patiently waiting for his big brother to find him.

But he never did.

And now the barrens represent that failure, that loss. He doesn't know if he’ll ever be able to step foot in them again without remembering the brother who didn’t come home. And yet he’s still down here constantly, still searching for possible clues. He still never finds any.

“This is useless,” Bill hisses. “Hh-huh-he’s not down here. He’s not-” He sniffs harshly. He can already feel the tears stinging at his eyes. “This is sss-stuh-stupid. Dad’s ruh-ruh-right, he’s-” Bill grits his teeth. He can’t afford to think like that. “We need to look somewhere else. If he ww-wuh-was here, he’s not anymore.”

Robert glances at him curiously. “Where do you want to look?”

“I-” Bill doesn’t have an answer. Because he’s looked, quite literally, everywhere. He’s searched every inch of this god forsaken town, then searched it again, and again, and again. There’s nowhere else to look. “Maybe he got ll-luh-lost. In the woods. Maybe we jj-juh-just have to look harder.”

It’s pathetic, really.

On some level, Bill knows Georgie isn’t in the woods. He knows he isn’t anywhere. No seven year old can survive for half a year on their own. And yet he can’t admit it, even to himself.

“We’ve checked the woods, kid,” Robert says with a heavy sigh.

“But - But -” Oh, nononono, Robert’s giving up on him too. The one person who didn’t judge him, and now he thinks he’s gone crazy as well. Not that Bill can really blame him. Sometimes he wonders about his own sanity. “We haven’t looked that dd-deep.” Bill knows he sounds desperate, but he can’t stop it. “Maybe - Maybe we’ll ff-fuh-find something.” Before Robert can respond, because Bill knows that look in his eye, knows he won’t be getting the answer he wants, he hurriedly adds, “I can do something for you.”

That catches Robert’s attention. It always does.

He hesitates, and for a moment Bill worries his answer isn’t going to change. But then he says, “Alright, get in the truck,” and Bill doesn’t think he’s heard a better suggestion in all of his life.

He practically runs to the truck. Not that it matters. He still has to wait for Robert to open it, because he has, like, a million locks on the damned thing.

Robert unlocks it with a chuckle, like Bill’s a child who just asked the sugariest cereal at the grocery store.

“Okay,” Bill says, as soon as they’re both seated. “I think we sh-sh-should check past the town limits. We huh-haven’t looked-”

“Bill.” Robert chuckles again. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Bill’s heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. “Nn-Nuh-Now?”

Robert looks at him pointedly. “There won’t be time afterwards.”

Which, Bill supposes is true. Once he starts looking, he doesn’t stop until he can’t see two feet in front of him. Even then, oftentimes he has to be dragged away.

But he hates this part. It makes him feel weird, like there’s dirt trapped under his skin that he can’t dig out. Being able to wait a few more hours would be nice. Nevertheless, a deal’s a deal.

“Alright,” he murmurs. “Yuh-Yeah, okay. Just-” Maneuvering himself into the right position is, admittedly, harder than it looks. The truck is cramped and by the time Bill manages to find a semi-comfortable position, Robert’s already growing impatient.

Bill’s barely managed to get Robert’s belt open before calloused fingers are grasping at his hair, pushing him down, down, down until air has become a precious resource. Luckily, Bill doesn’t have to do too much work this time. This happens sometimes, if Robert gets too rowdy too fast. He’ll take control of Bill’s actions, ignoring if he gags or if his face turns purple, forcing him to go as fast or as slow as he wants.

As much as Bill hates having to work hard at something that is, admittedly, disgusting - not that he’d ever dare say that to Robert’s face - having Robert control him is always so much worse. Bill’s sure Robert wouldn’t ever hurt him, but it’s clear in moments like these who has the control. If something went wrong, Bill wouldn’t be able to get away. He can’t move an inch.

But he shouldn’t be worrying about that. Because nothing’s going to go wrong. Besides, Robert’s doing so much for him, this is the least he could do.

It seems to take forever before Robert’s finished. But once he is, Bill jumps back, cheeks still puffed wide like a hamster. This is the worst part, he thinks. And the longer he waits, the worse it is, but he can’t get himself to take that last fucking step.

“Good?” Robert purrs. Bill nods, even though he wishes the ground would swallow him whole, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do? “You look so pretty like this.” Bill wants to cry. Which is a stupid fucking reaction. Who cries after - after - after that? “C’mon.” Robert’s got a hand on his cheek, thumb gently brushing the bone. “I know you can do it.” And, God, Bill just wants him to stop talking. So he does it. He swallows as quickly as he can, fighting his instinct to gag it all back up. “Good boy.”

Bill turns quickly, forcing Robert’s hand to slip off his face. “Can ww-wuh-we go nuh-now?” he asks. He stares straight ahead as Robert starts the car. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s still fine. He’s still good. He’s still redeemable.

The next day, things are not better.

They didn’t find anything relating to Georgie, the Losers still think Robert’s a creep, and, to make it all worse, Bill’s throat feels like it’s on fire.

“You don’t sound too good, Billy,” Eddie says. “You might be getting sick.”

Bill hums softly. “Mm-Maybe-” he winces at how rough his voice sounds. “-Maybe I sh-sh-should go home.”

“Just rest here,” Stan suggests. “You can stay in my bed.”

“I - I don’t wanna get you ss-suh-sick.”

Stan shrugs. “It’s fine, I can change the sheets. I know how to do laundry.” Richie wolf whistles from across the room. “Oh, fuck off!”

“We can make you soup,” Eddie says. He’s already gathering the ingredients, so Bill supposes there’s no point in arguing.

He drags his feet up to Stan’s room, ignoring the growing pit in his stomach. He should just tell them the truth. It’s not that big of a deal, right?

It’s not until he’s curled up in bed that he notices Bev standing in the doorway.

“I know you’re not sick,” she says.

“I am,” Bill insists. “Doctor E-Eddie said suh-so.”

Bev gently shuts the door behind her. “Doctor Eddie’s also never had his throat fucked before.”

Bill winces. “That’s nuh-not what happened.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she hisses. “I’m not an idiot. You have to stop doing this.”

“I’m not doing ah-anything wrong!”

“You protected me from my dad, you think I’m not gonna do the same for you?”

“It’s not th-th-the same. Wuh-We’re just friends, Bevvy.”

“He is not your friend, William.” Bev regards him warily. “I won’t tell the others. But I think you should really think about your so-called friendship with Robert.” Bev turns to re-open the door. At the last minute, she turns back to face Bill. “Stan wants to know if you’re staying over. Ya know, parents out of town. Losers sleepover.”

Bill nods. “Pp-Pruh-Probably.”

Bev smiles softly. “Cool. And think about it, Bill. Alright? We really do want to help.”

And then she’s gone, leaving Bill alone with his thoughts.

The worst part of the conversation is that Bill remembers having the same talk with Bev a little less than a year ago. Their places had been reversed then. Bill had dragged her away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Losers and begged and begged until she broke. She told him everything that night. And he held her through all of it, clutching her to his chest as Beverly Marsh, perhaps the strongest of them all, sobbed into his shoulder.

The memory is still raw, and not one he’s willing to share with anyone. She told the rest of the Losers the next day, but that night had been something private. Something that wasn’t meant to be shared.

It had been one of the most terrifying nights of Bill’s life. Second only to realizing Georgie wasn’t coming home.

The thought almost makes him chase after her, almost makes him tell her everything.

Except it’s not the same. Because nothing’s wrong.

Robert’s not his father. Robert’s his friend. He holds him when he cries, and listens to him when he needs to talk about Georgie again and again and again, and takes him wherever he wants to look for his baby brother, even if he knows they won’t find anything.

He’s sure if he explained that, she would understand. He didn’t understand either at first. But, “It’s just like a trade,” Robert had told him. “Remember how I drove you to town limits? I even bought you lunch afterwards. I do so much for you.” Which, admittedly, is true.

It’s not like Robert’s holding him down or ripping his clothes off. Bill goes willingly, even if he cries afterwards sometimes. But Robert says that’s normal.

“Knock, knock.” Stan’s standing in the doorway now, a piping hot bowl of chicken noodle soup in his hands. “Eddie’s insistent that this will cure you.”

“Mmm. Doctor’s oh-orders,” Bill says, making grabby hands at the bowl.

“Doctor’s orders,” Stan repeats, a fond smile on his face.

He closes the door gingerly behind him before crossing to sit on the edge of the bed, soup balanced carefully on his lap.

Bill looks forward to these moments with Stan. These quiet, intimate moments where it feels like anything is possible. It’s these moments that make him think maybe this godforsaken town is wrong, and the way he feels about his friend is okay. It’s these moments that make him think maybe Stan feels it too.

“Are you gg-guh-gonna spoon feed me soup?” Bill asks as he fumbles to sit upright.

Stan just shrugs. “I mean, you’re sick.”

Bill nods gravely. “Deathly ill.”

That makes Stan crack a smile, but he quickly ducks his head in an attempt to hide it from Bill’s prying eyes. Bill sees it though, and it warms his heart far more than the soup ever could.

“Alright,” Stan murmurs. “Open wide.”

The soup, to put it lightly, is not good.

Out of all the Losers, Mike and Ben are probably the best cooks. But judging by how anal retentive Eddie is, Bill has no doubt that he refused their help. He can practically see him, in his head, shooing away his friends as Ben desperately tries to salt the slowly warming broth.

He doesn’t say a word, but Stan must notice the way Bill’s face contorts as he tries to force the soup down because he murmurs a quiet, “Sorry. Eddie thought adding anything else would take away from its quote unquote healing properties.”

Stan’s always been able to read him like a book. All the Losers are close, but something’s special about his friendship with Stan. Bill’s never had to say a word for him to know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Ff-Fuh-Figures,” Bill says.

“He just worries about you,” Stan says.

“He sh-shouldn’t have to. That’s not his jj-juh-job.”

Stan shrugs. “You would do the same for him.”

Bill doesn’t answer, because he knows it’s true.

At around 1 in the morning, Bill decides he can’t stay over any longer.

He’s got the bed to himself, on account of him being “sick,” but the rest of the Losers are spread unceremoniously across the floor. He has to tiptoe over their sleeping bodies, nearly tripping over Mike’s legs, to get to the door. And, of course, Richie and Eddie are cuddled up directly against it. He nudges them away with the top of his foot until there’s enough distance for him to slip out, which he does as quickly as possible.

He grabs the phone in the kitchen, which he’s sure is far enough away that it won’t wake the others, and quickly punches in the numbers swimming through his head.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Enough that he thinks maybe he won’t pick up. But right as he’s about to hang up, a quiet voice rumbles through his ear, “Hello?”

“Robert!” he chirps.

“Billy? What the hell are you doing up at this hour?”

Bill gnaws nervously on his lower lip. Of course Robert’s asleep, he should’ve remembered that tiny detail.

“Sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t huh-have woken you.”

“It’s alright, kid,” Robert says. “I’m up now. What do you need?”

“Can you pick me up?” Bill asks, before he can talk himself out of it.

“Sure,” Robert says through a yawn. “You at your house?”

“I’m at mm-muh-my friend’s house,” Bill says. “Hang on, I’ll guh-get you the address.”

Once he’s sure Robert’s going to come, he sets about writing a note for the Losers. He knows there’s pen and paper back in Stan’s room, but it’s too risky going back there, so he settles for digging through the office until he finds what he needs.

He’s halfway through said note when a soft noise startles him. He whips around, half expecting to come face to face with a knife-wielding murderer. But it’s just Stan.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

He’s blinking sleepily, obviously barely staying awake, and his hair is sticking up in all directions. His pajamas are a little too big on him, which is a sudden change from the Stanley that refuses to wear anything unless it fits just right. It’s suddenly too difficult to not imagine Stan in one of Bill’s oversized flannels.

It’s all so overwhelming that Bill nearly forgets to respond.

“What’s that?” Stan asks again, gesturing weakly to the pen in Bill’s hand.

“I - Uh - I’m guh-gonna go,” Bill says. “I just - I dd-duh-didn’t want you to freak out in the morning.”

Stan cocks his head curiously, and it’s so cute that Bill nearly calls Robert to tell him he’s changed his mind. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” Bill murmurs. “I’m ss-sorry. I don’t wanna get you guys sick.”

A more honest man would have told Stan that he’s terrified of facing Bev’s wrath again tomorrow. But Bill never claimed to be an honest man.

“Is your dad picking you up?” Stan asks.

“I - Um - I called Robert.”

That makes Stan pause. “You gave Robert my address?”

“How else is he gonna puh-pick me up?” It’s a lame argument, but it’s all Bill’s got.

Stan seems to be at a loss for words too, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “But - But - Why - I don’t want-”

“It’s ff-fuh-fine, Stan,” Bill assures him. “He’s not even gonna come inside.”

“I don’t know if that defines fine,” Stan grumbles.

Robert pulls up less than a minute later.

Bill scrambles to give Stan a hug before rushing outside to meet him. The summer air keeps most of the cold at bay, but it’s still fairly chilly, so Bill throws himself into the car as quickly as he can.

“Th-Thanks,” Bill says.

“Don’t mention it,” Robert says. He sounds much more awake now than over the phone. “You alright?”

“Mhm,” Bill says. “Jj-Juh-Just had to get out of there.” It’s then that Bill realizes the street they’re on doesn’t go to his house. “Wh-Where are we going?”

“Back to my place,” Robert says. “Figured we might as well just rest there. That alright?”

Bill figures that sounds reasonable enough. “Yeah. Th-That’s alright.”

In all honesty, it is fine. What’s Bill gonna do at home? Sit and stare at his ceiling all night and then not talk to his parents the next morning because they don’t care what happens to him? Sounds fun, but he’ll have to pass.

Bill’s never been to Robert’s apartment before. It’s smaller than he expected, but nice nonetheless. It has a cute little kitchen, a big, comfy couch directly across from an old TV, and huge, open windows. It’s normal. Almost overwhelmingly normal.

Bill almost wants to call his friends and tell them as much. “He’s not a psychopath,” he would say. “What kind of psychopath lives in a normal apartment?”

Psychopaths live in old, run down, abandoned houses in the middle of nowhere. Friendly people who are absolutely nothing like Beverly’s father live in normal apartments.

“You have a nuh-nice apartment,” Bill says, politely.

Robert chuckles lowly. “Thank you.”

Then a hand is being placed on the small of Bill’s back and he’s being pushed farther and farther into the apartment until he collapses into the big, comfy couch. Robert sits next to him, a single casual hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bill shrugs. “It’s not a bb-big deal. They just...They don’t understand. Ss-Suh-Sometimes it’s hard to be around them.”

It’s not completely true. They’ve lost people before. Eddie lost his father. Mike lost his parents. Stan lost his grandmother just a month or two ago.

But it’s not the same. Because none of them were responsible for that loss.

Robert nods and pulls Bill closer to him, tucking him against his side.

“People who haven’t been through what you have, they’ll never understand,” Robert says. “They don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that. The bond between siblings is something special, and tearing it apart is one of the most painful things one could do.”

Bill sniffles quietly and shuffles closer to Robert’s side, burying his face in his shoulder. “I muh-muh-miss hh-him.”

“I know,” Robert coos. A gentle hand cards through Bill’s hair. “I know you do.”

“Duh-Does it even get easier?” Bill asks, voice muffled through the fabric of Robert’s T-Shirt.

Robert sighs heavily. “I’m gonna be honest with you kid, not really.” He chuckles softly at the whine Bill lets out. “I know, I know. But you learn to live with it. I miss my brother every day, it’s just a part of my life now.”

Bill twists around to stare up at Robert with wide, starry eyes. “Wh-What was your brother like?”

“Maturin was the sweetest soul I’ve ever known. He always put others before himself, always made sure everyone else was happy. He would give up everything if it just meant I would crack a smile.” He offers Bill perhaps the saddest smile he’s ever seen. “The best of us are truly the ones we lose too soon.”

Bill nods mutely. Georgie was truly the best of the Denbrough family. He was always willing to help out however he could, even as young as he was, and was always happiest whenever everyone else was happy. It almost pains Bill to hear someone else described as the “sweetest soul.”

“I’m - I might guh-go to bed,” Bill mutters. “I’m - I’m pp-pruh-pretty tired.”

“Great idea,” Robert says. As if on cue, he lets out a loud yawn.

“Do you huh-have some blankets I could borrow?”

“Yeah, sure,” Robert says. He makes a show of walking towards the linen cabinet before stopping and turning back towards Bill. “Ya know, why don’t you just sleep in my bed tonight.”

Bev’s words ring out through Bill’s head. He forces himself to keep eye contact. “Why?”

Robert shrugs. “I’m tired, you’re tired, and it’ll take awhile to make up the couch. The bed’s big enough” When Bill still hesitates, he sighs heavily. “Billy, have I ever hurt you before?” Bill shakes his head. “Then what’s the big deal?”

Bill pauses for only a split-second.

“No big deal.”

He follows Robert into the bedroom.

The next time Bill sees Stan, it’s just the two of them.

They’re lounging on Bill’s bed, Bill furiously scribbling into a notebook as Stan watches over the top of his book. It’s peaceful, just being with Stan like this. Something as simple as his presence has always done wonders for Bill’s nerves.

“What are you writing?” Stan asks.

“Re-writing th-the ending,” Bill says. His voice is slow and distracted, but Stan doesn’t seem to mind. He puts down his current book and shuffles closer, peering curiously over Bill’s shoulder.

“The one you let me read at the clubhouse?”

“Mhm.”

Stan lets out a little huff. “How are you torturing poor Sean now?”

Bill finally tears his gaze away from the notebook, instead fixing Stan with an affronted stare.

“I’m nuh-not torturing him!” he insists. “I’m trying to write a hh-happier ending.”

Bill doesn’t know why, but it’s embarrassing to admit. He feels like he’s just revealed some deep, dark secret. But Stan’s smiling, grinning almost infectiously wide, so Bill can’t be too hard on himself. He’s always liked making Stan smile.

“Really?”

He sounds so excited. Bill thinks it’s kind of dumb. He’s half tempted to remind him that, hey, Sean isn’t actually real. He’s just a clump of words on a piece of paper. But Stan looks so unbelievably happy, Bill can’t possibly take that away from him.

“Jj-Juh-Just for you,” Bill says.

It makes Stan smile softly, like he can’t really believe it. “For me?” Bill nods. “I wrote it ff-for you, I can’t give it an eh-ending you don’t like.”

Stan scrunches up his nose, a key sign that he’s deep in thought. It’s cute, and it kind of makes Bill want to kiss him.

“I want Sean to kiss Suzie,” he says finally.

Bill groans loudly. “That’s so mm-muh-much extra work! Now I have to ah-add in a whole romance-”

“What about Jacob?” Stan says the words so quickly that Bill’s almost positive he’d imagined them. But Stan is red-faced and rigid, and that’s all it takes for Bill to know that the words he heard were very much real. “Would that - Would that be okay?”

Bill blinks slowly. Would that be okay? He thinks so. But how would he explain that to his mother if, God forbid, she ever stumbled upon this story?

“Bill?” Stan sounds so small, and when Bill snaps out of his thoughts he can see a sense of terror in Stan’s eyes that he’s never seen before.

“Yeah,” Bill murmurs. “Yeah, that’d be okay.”

Stan doesn’t say anything as Bill continues to write, but he watches him like a hawk. It’s like he’s afraid Bill will change his mind the moment he turns his back. Like he’s scared Bill will retaliate, and that it won’t be unlike the insults Bowers and his goons usually throw at him. The fact that Stan even thinks that makes Bill hot with shame.

“Sean’s buh-better with Jacob, anyway,” he says, just to quell Stan’s worries.

Stan still doesn’t answer, but he does shuffle a bit closer.

By the time Bill finishes the story, Stan looks like he’s ready to implode. It’s about five pages longer than it was originally supposed to be, he still needed to add basically a whole other storyline to make the romance work, but Stan still reads it diligently.

“It’s cute,” he says softly, once he’s finished.

“You like it?”

Stan nods. “Better than the old ending.”

That makes Bill beam, because all he ever really wants is Stan’s approval.

“Look,” Stan murmurs, setting the notebook down gently beside him. He handles it with care, like it’s something worth worrying about. “I’m really sorry I made you do that. I didn’t - I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I ww-wuh-wasn’t uncomfortable!” Bill insists. “It was a guh-good idea, it was cute! I jj-just didn’t know-”

“I’m gay.” And Bill has so many things to say, so many questions, but Stan barrels on before he can get even one of them out. “You probably figured that out, though. Fuck - I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - I didn't mean to make things weird. Really. Can we just pretend like this never happened? I’m - I’m sorry. You can write the Suzie ending. You can just - just burn that one I guess. Fuck. I’m sorry-”

Bill grabs him by the front of his perfectly ironed polo and pulls him closer, closer, closer until their mouths are clashing together. It’s everything Bill’s been dreaming of. His lips are soft, softer than Bill could have even imagined, and it fills every dark, broken, crevice that haunts Bill’s heart with a warm, sunshiny feeling.

Bill pulls away to find Stan wide-eyed and pink-faced. He desperately wants to know what Stan’s thinking, but he’s shocked into a silence that speaks one too many volumes.

“Ss-Suh-Sorry,” Bill mutters. He forces his hands to unclench from around Stan’s shirt. The material is still wrinkled, but Bill figures that’s the least of their worries at the moment. Because, fuck, Stan didn’t mean him. “I sh-shouldn’t have assumed.”

“I mean,” Stan’s fingers lift up to ghost over his lips, “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

Bill’s heart stutters in his chest. “Wh-What’s that muh-mean?”

Stan shakes his head, like he isn’t really sure himself. “You could’ve asked.”

Bill swallows the lump in his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

Rather than answering, Stan lurches forward and presses their lips together in a bruising kiss. And, fuck, this is even better. Stan’s got one hand in his hair, the other gripping his shoulder like he’s steadying himself. The way his lips move against Bill’s leave him lightheaded, and he has to grip Stan’s hips to remind himself that he isn’t, in fact, dreaming.

“Huh-Holy shit,” he says, the words muffled by Stan’s lips.

“Shut up, shut up,” Stan chants. Bill can feel Stan’s lips fumble against his own as he speaks. It makes him just a little bit crazy.

Bill does, in fact, shut up. He drags his hands up to cup Stan’s face, holding his cheeks like he’s precious cargo. The kiss slows but doesn’t stop, turning into something so sweet it makes Bill’s teeth rot.

He pulls away slowly, because it’s just about the last thing he wants to do, but his lungs are starting to ache. Seeing Stan with puffy lips and glassy eyes is enough to convince Bill to duck back in for one last peck before pulling away for good.

“You’re beautiful,” Bill blurts out.

“Oh.”

“And I think I’m in love with you.”

“Oh!”

“I think I’ve always been in love with you. Ever since we were kids. Ever ss-since you waddled into my life as a cute little preschooler and demanded I use the hand sanitizer before shaking your hand.”

“You were covered in dirt,” Stan says weakly.

Bill laughs. A real laugh, from deep in his stomach. He hasn’t laughed like that in a long time.

He tries to go in for another kiss but Stan stops him, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

“Wait, wait,” he says. “I need to tell you something.” Bill hums softly against his palm. Stan’s eyes wander slowly over Bill, taking him all in. He looks flustered, but Bill doesn’t think he’s stalling. Taking a mental picture, more like. Bill understands. If there’s one moment he never wants to forget, it’s this one. Then, “I love you too.”

Bill’s spent his entire life trying to perfect the english language. He’s spent years hunched over a notebook, writing and re-writing and writing and re-writing until he’s gotten it as close to perfect as he possibly could. But nothing he’ll ever write will even get close to the perfect poetry that just flowed from Stan’s lips.

Bill grabs Stan’s hand between his own, leaving millions of tiny kisses along the palm.

“Please luh-let me kiss you again,” Bill practically begs. “Please, pp-please, please.”

Stan grants his wish, leaping forward to press their lips together again.

Distantly, Bill thinks this is better than breathing. If there’s one way he wants to die, it’s suffocating with Stanley Uris’ lips against his.

Two days later, no one has seen Stanley in a full 24 hours. A familiar panic has settled in Bill’s stomach. He’s gone through every other possible scenario in his head, gone through every excuse. But on some level he knows, Stan met the same fate as Georgie.

The Losers have spent the whole day wandering around town, hoping against hope they’ll find him somewhere. That it’s all just one, big misunderstanding. Bill keeps half expecting to see him around every corner, waiting for them with an eye roll and a dry joke that lets them know just know silly they were for thinking he had gone missing. He’s never there.

They’re all uncharacteristically quiet that day. Even Richie doesn’t say a word. He just clings to Eddie’s hand and searches with an uncharacteristic amount of diligence.

Bill wants to fucking scream.

He wants to tell Richie it’s okay to talk, it’s okay to joke, it’s okay to be fucking normal. Because nothing’s wrong. Stan’s fine and he’s going to be back any minute.

But, at the end of the day, Bill still finds himself in front of Robert’s door with enough tears to fill the Derry city pool streaming down his face.

“Huh-He’s guh-guh-gone,” Bill sobs.

Robert ushers him inside without another word. He lets Bill bundle up in his bed, pulling the covers up his chin and burying his face in the pillows. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognizes some form of guilt for letting Robert’s pillows get so wet, but that’s the least of his worries at the moment.

“Billy.” Robert kneels by the edge of the bed. Through blurry eyes, Bill can see his eyebrows furrow in concern. “What happened?” Bill shakes his head. He can’t. He can’t say it. Saying it makes it too real. “C’mon, you can do it. I know you can. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“St-Stanley. He - He’s-” Bill doesn’t get to finish before a fresh wave of tears wash over him. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Robert scoops him up in his arms, cuddling him close to his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

And Bill can do nothing but believe him.

Bill wakes up about an hour later to Robert gently mouthing at his neck, his hand gripping Bill’s hip hard enough to leave bruises. Bill grumbles softly and tries to roll away, but Robert tugs him back. He moves the hand on his hip to wrap tightly around Bill’s waist, effectively pinning him against him.

“‘M tt-tired,” Bill whines, voice still sore from crying.

“Had a dream,” Robert mumbles. His breath against his neck makes Bill’s skin prickle, but not in the same way Stan’s lips had. “A good dream. Need your help.”

“Ruh-Robert,” Bill huffs.

Not now, he wants to say. Not after he just got his heart stolen from his body.

“I’ll help you look for Stanley tomorrow,” Robert says. He’s moved on to mouthing at Bill’s jaw. “I always help you.”

Bill’s resolve crumbles. How is he supposed to argue with that? “Ff-Fine.”

He reaches down for Robert’s belt, but Robert catches his wrist in one, big hand and pins it above his head. It has Bill’s heart pounding in his ears and ice filling his veins.

“I have a better idea.”

Bill squirms, hoping it’ll convince Robert to let him go, but all it does is egg him on. He squeezes his wrists tighter, until Bill has to grit his teeth to stop himself from flinching.

“I’ve nuh-never - Wuh-We’ve never-”

“We can look all day tomorrow.”

“I - I don’t know.”

Robert sighs heavily. “A man will only be so satisfied with blow jobs, Billy.”

And, God, Bill just wants to go home. He hasn’t wanted to go there in so long but right now it’s the only place he can think of. He wants to fucking go home. He wants his mom to hold him and tell him he’s going to be alright. He wants his dad to hug him tight and promise to keep him safe.

He just wants to be okay.

“All day?” he asks weakly.

Robert nods. “All day.”

“Oh-Okay.”

The first thing Stan notices when he wakes up is that he’s cold.

The second thing is that it’s dark. Too dark to see anything.

The third is that he can’t fucking move.

His hands are behind his back, rope biting into his wrists. His legs are curled underneath him. He doesn’t think he could stand if he wanted to (which he does, he really, really does) but his ankles are tied together anyway. And his back aches from being hunched over for God knows how long. He tries to sit up straight, but something yanks him back down.

And then he stays there like that for what feels like at least a thousand years.

When a door is finally opened, it’s almost too much to bare. The light is dim, barely there, but Stan still has to squint to get used to it.

And in the doorway is a man. A very familiar man, in fact. A man who knows his exact address after picking up his dumbass friend at 1 in the morning.

“Good morning,” says Robert.

He’s grinning wildly and Stan wants to fucking cry. He wants to sob until his lungs give out, and then he wants to cry some more.

He can feel the beginning of pinprick tears forming behind his eyes, and he bites the inside of his cheek harshly to stop them from spilling out. He may be a coward but he’ll be damned if he lets Robert know that.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Robert says cheerily.

Stan doesn’t answer. He’s too focused on other things, like not crying in front of a psycho kidnapper.

“Awe, Stanny, that’s not very polite.”

He crosses the last few steps to ruffle Stan’s hair and Stan fucking breaks. A sob wrenches its way out of his throat, making his shoulders shake and eyes burn. Tears dribble pathetically down his cheeks, landing in tiny puddles on the floor.

“I’m suh-sorry,” Stan manages to choke out. “Wh-Wh-Whatever - Whatever I dd-duh-did. I’m sorry.” He flinches as Robert cards his fingers through his hair, wrenching his head back when his fingers catch on the curls. “Please.”

Stan doesn’t know what he’s begging for, all he knows is that it doesn’t work. Because Robert fucking laughs, all loud and boisterous, as if Stan’s told him one of Richie’s shitty jokes.

“Oh, Stanny,” he murmurs. He moves to grasp Stan’s chin with one hand, squeezing his cheeks and pressing dirty nails into his skin. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had just kept your hands off of what’s mine.”

#IT fanfic #IT fanfiction #bill denbrough #stanley uris #stenbrough #stenbrough fanfic #stenbrough fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #bev marsh #stan uris #in conclusion im sorry

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rocknrollmj · 5 years

Text

Who Are You? Part 3

A/N: sorry this one is a bit long! If you want to be added or removed from my tag list let me know!

Xo MJ

—————————————————————

I unlocked the door to my place, the light I had left on illuminated the apartment. It was small but cozy, it had a small bathroom, a living room with a couch, a coffee table and two armchairs, a half kitchen half dining room and a small bedroom. It wasn’t much, but since I wasn’t one for company, it was all that I needed. Klaus let out a low whistle as he stepped inside.

“Wow. Nice place!” He immediately collapsed on the couch, I rolled my eyes as I took off my boots and walked over to him.

“Do you want something to drink? Tea, coffee, water, maybe some mouthwash?” He faked looking offended, before properly sitting up and answering me.

“Do you have any vodka?”

“No”

“Whiskey?”

“Nope”

“Rum?”

“Not a drop”

“Do you have ANY kind of alcohol in this place?!?!”

“No” I simply replied, he groaned and lied back down on the couch, flailing his limbs like a small child with a temper tantrum.

“Whyyyy notttttt?” He whined, I rolled my eyes once again as I made my way to the kitchen.

“Not old enough to drink asshole.” Though my back was to him as I walked away I could tell he was glaring at me. I got two glasses down from the small cupboard from over the kitchen counter, I walked over to the sink and filled both glasses with water. After turning off the tap I took the glasses and walked back into the tiny living space, I placed one of the glasses on the coffee table and walked over to my favourite armchair with my own. I curled up like a cat, knees close to my chest, as if I was scared that someone might attack me. We drank our water in silence, well more so me, I took a few sips while Klaus downed his in one. Placing the glass back down with a soft thud, and shaking his head like a wet dog.

“WOO! I forgot what water tasted like! That shit’s good!” I recoiled more slightly into my chair with the loud noise. Brother or not, I was still slightly scared of him.

“So, are you gonna tell me how we’re related?” I quietly asked, I thought that it was silent in the apartment before, but with that question even the clocks stopped ticking. Klaus sighed and for once I could see how tired he looked, he seemed to have wrinkles even though he was young. He suddenly looked as if he aged 20 years with a single question.

“Yeah, I guess I should. No point in putting it off any longer.” He checked his jacket pockets for what I assumed were his cigarettes, but when he found the carton he realized that it was empty.

“Shit.” He muttered, he sighed again before standing up. He began pacing.

“You know the story of how The Academy started correct?” I nodded, I knew the story well, every kid my age did. The Umbrella Academy were legends in the city’s eyes, and no one dared to disagree.

“Well it started when our mother, that slut, agreed to sell me to the psychopath Reginald Hargreeves. Fast forward a few years and she met your dad and they-” he made a rather crude gesture, as I grimaced.

“And then 9 months later badabing badaboom! You were born!”

“Why are you telling me the story of my birth? I know how it goes, I was there.” He slowed his pacing, he looked slightly annoyed, yet oddly proud.

“Gee, with a comment like that I can tell that we are definitely related.” I glared at him from over the top of my water glass before taking a sip.

“Anyway, when you were born she freaked right out, I mean sure she had sold me but what was she gonna do with you? She couldn’t support you, your dad had screwed off with someone else, just like mine. Seems to be a family tradition. She had no money left, she had spent it all recklessly, on fancy things that she didn’t need, on drugs, whatever. So she pawned what she could for the first few months, but again she spent it recklessly and had to do something. She tried getting a job but no one wanted to hire a junkie, so she did the only thing she could…” he trailed off. He looked sadder than I had seen him all night, I looked at him, concerned but also curious.

“What happened?” He took another deep breath and gestured to my glass of water, indicating that he wanted it. I gave it to him and took a few shaky sips.

“The only thing that she could do in her eyes… was to try and sell you to Reginald Hargreeves. Just like she did to me.” I felt the room freeze, I couldn’t breathe, I felt tears brim my eyes, Klaus refused to look at me. I had a million thoughts and feelings. I mean, I knew that my mother wasn’t the best. But she was still my mother. Would she really try to sell me?

“I’m sorry” Klaus spoke after a while, and I could tell that he meant it.

“We can stop for tonight if you-”

“No!” I cut him off, a little more harshly than I meant

“Sorry, please tell me what happened.” Klaus nodded and continued, he sat down on the couch, took another sip of my water and went on.

“She took you to the academy, tried to convince him that you were born on the same day, just a few years later. Therefore you might have powers like me, he just laughed in her face. I remember peeking through dad’s office door and watching the scene unfold, I couldn’t believe what she was doing.” His grip on the glass tightened, his face became angry.

“She tried to sell you like you were a piece of junk at a yard sale. All because she couldn’t get her shit together. She tried to put you through all the pain, and the torture that I went through, just to get more money!” He started yelling, I could see tears starting to form, but he blinked them away before they could fall.

“Anyway of course dad said no, she then offered you up as a maid, or a test subject. He just laughed at her and told her to get out. He never wanted to see her again, but I did. I may have only been a kid but I knew that I wanted to see you at least once. So I snuck out one night, came here, she just snarled at me, asked me what I wanted. I said that I wanted to see you, she let me in, it’s a good thing that she was high, otherwise she never would’ve agreed to do that. And then I saw you, lying in a little crib, I asked what your name was and she said she didn’t know yet, she had just been calling you sprout. Since you were so freakin small. I held you for what seemed like seconds, but then when I looked up it was morning. I put you to sleep and ran back to the academy, of course the others knew what I was up to, but unfortunately so did dad. And boy oh boy did he give me hell for it.” He chuckled at the memory, but after catching a look at my horrified and

concerned face, he stopped and gave me a soft smile.

“And then after that I never saw you again, I wasn’t allowed anywhere near this place. But I had always hoped that I would get to see you again, and I did. And that is where our story ends!” He finished dramatically as he finished the last bit of water from the glass. I just sat there, I didn’t realize that my mouth had opened during the story. It may have been crazy but I believed him, and every crazy word that came out of his mouth. But one question still lingered in my mind, and I needed it answered.

“Why now?” Klaus looked at me with a tilted head, reminding me of a confused puppy.

“Why now what?”

“I mean, why now? Why after all this time have you come for me?” His face hardened.

“Because I couldn’t see you at the funeral, she didn’t want me there, but someone needed to look after you. Better than she could.” My lips tightened at the mention of the funeral, I didn’t like talking about my mothers death. She had died of a heroin overdose 4 months ago, I didn’t like talking about it. Especially since I was the one that found her, I was the one who called 911, who organized, spoke at and attended the funeral. Since I barely had any family, I was the only one who spoke, it was a few old people that I had never met and some of her junkie pals that honestly just came for the free food and alcohol. No one offered to take me in, not that I would’ve gone anyway. So the landlord, who was a friend and always had a soft spot for me, let me keep the apartment. Ever since then I had been alone, but I was fine with it, I was almost 18 anyways so I could stand being independant.

“I’m sorry by the way, I may not have known her that well, but you seemed to come out ok.” Klaus finally spoke, taking note of the expression on my face.

“Whatever. It’s not like she would’ve gone out any other way.” I muttered snappily. He looked slightly taken aback, but let it slide. I glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Jesus Christ it’s 4am!” I exclaimed, rising from my chair quickly. I gathered the two glasses taking them to the kitchen and giving them a quick rinse before putting them on the small drying rack.

I walked back to the living space, I almost forgot that Klaus was there, he looked at me expressionless.

“Ummm, I hate to cut this whole family reunion thing short, but I’m really tired and that’s just a lot to absorb.” Klaus nodded in agreement.

“I understand. It’s a lot, I know. You should go get some sleep.” For the first time all night he actually seemed calm. I began heading to my room before hearing him talk again.

“Hey!” He called. I turned around on one heel and faced him. He had a sheepish yet imp like look on his face again.

“Look it’s really late, and I don’t really wanna go back to the academy at this time. Could I sleep here?” It took me a second before I finally nodded, he raised up his arms and let out a soft ‘yesssss’.

I went to the bedroom and grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the bed, dragging them over to Klaus.

“Oh thank you dear! You’re the best host ever, you know that.” I gave him a tight lipped smile and a nod.

“There’s only one bedroom, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch.” He nodded before letting out a small chuckle.

“Sweetheart, I’ve slept on concrete floors before. As long as I don’t have to walk anywhere tonight I’ll sleep in the bathtub tonight if you tell me to.” I let out a soft laugh, it seemed to comfort him, the fact that I was finally laughing.

“Goodnight Klaus”

“Goodnight Y/N.” I closed the bedroom door, thankful that I didn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. I fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

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