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jiminrings · 3 months

Text

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane.

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it. “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.”

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place.

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor.

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to. You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder.

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation.

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears.

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.”

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her.

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know, try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts.

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas.

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with.

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it.

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

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blondeboyfriend · 1 year

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] DIO x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is for @cherrykamado's Scumbags Collab. Thank you so much for letting me join and giving me an excuse to write a morally reprehensible insert! I mean... she's not that bad. (Yes, this is a repost.) [ SYNOPSIS ] A strange man has an even stranger proposition. [ WORD COUNT ] 6.5k [ CONTENT ] Canon AU, y/n is a stand user, innocent people get killed, size kink (y/n is implied to be on the taller side though), fingering, finger sucking, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, blood, knifeplay, creampie.

“I think we’re being followed,” your date said nervously.

It was just past midnight, a brisk night in your city. You had spent most of it languishing in various bars with some guy, one whose name you didn’t bother to remember. He was a momentary meal ticket, one to be tossed aside the second you were bored.

So far he had proven to be overwhelmingly uninteresting, talking mainly about his job as a security guard and being a single father to four children. Under any other circumstances you would have ditched his ass, but you were plagued with hunger. You planned on goading him into buying you some street food once he shut the fuck up.

“I think you’re tripping,” you replied, voice full of smug confidence.

There was no way you were being followed. Earlier that evening you deployed your stand, A Deal With God, to keep watch while you made your way through the city streets. The extra layer of security allowed you to relax in the absence of surprises. It was like having an extra set of eyes to see through… Sometimes even more than that, as your stand’s true form was a glowing cluster of iridescent black wings with three indigo eyes at the center.

“I’m serious. Some jacked blonde guy.”

“You sound insane,” you said as your palms began to sweat. “C’mon. Let’s go eat something.”

He shook his head. “I’m not hungry. Why don’t we go dancing?”

You frowned, but decided to play along. You stepped into a high-end nightclub, and immediately got assaulted by flashing lights and the indecipherable, mechanical squelches of some acid house remix.

“Oh my god, I love this song,” your date cheered.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled something about going to the bar. A complete lie as you were actually going to the bathroom to figure out a new game plan. You brushed past a few people before glancing out the window, spotting a tall, foreboding figure leering at you from the other side of the street.

You briefly glared and slipped away into the bathroom, shutting yourself away in a stall. You took a seat on the toilet and held your head in your hands.

“Head’s killing me. Just wanna eat,” you whined, snapping your fingers.

A Deal With God appeared in the cramped stall, its large eyes fixed on you. It looked about as weary as you did.

“Figure out if that weird guy in the street was actually following us. I don’t think he was but… fuck it. Might as well be sure. Not like you got anything better to do, right?”

“Veeerrrrry trrrruuuue,” it drawled after turning into a mirror image of you.

You very well could have sent your stand out in its true form, but you worried that one day you’d come across someone that could actually see them when they were a mass of wings and eyes.

A Deal With God turned around and kicked the bathroom stall door open, and marched back out into the club. You carefully shut the door and resumed your previous position, trying to relax. You thought about your empty fridge and bare cupboards, cursing yourself for not going grocery shopping earlier that week. Paying for your own food was always an option, but you preferred to spend your money on things that lasted, that were more tangible.

You groaned. “Fuck it. I’ll go buy my own damn—”

Before you could even finish your sentence A Deal With God kicked the stall door in, making it fly off its hinges. The door hit you square in the nose.

“What the fuck?!” You said, wiping away the stream of crimson blood dripping from your nostril.

“Th—there—I—I saw.”

“You saw what?!”

“Th—th–the man.” You could barely understand a word it was saying as its teeth chattered away. “He found me. One second he was outside, the next h—he was behind me.”

The poor thing dropped its human facade before simply disappearing into the ether.

“Shit,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Shit!”

You stumbled out of the stall and scanned the crowd for your date and the strange man. They were nowhere in sight and you made a beeline for the exit. You ran down the street, still pinching your nose even though it didn’t help in the least. The cold breeze stung your skin and heightened your anxiety. Everything around you felt like a threat.

The vast nature of the street made you uneasy so you sought refuge in a more sequestered area, ultimately settling on an alley. Your eyes darted around, checking for any unwanted presences, before slipping into the darkness.

“How did he sneak up on me?” You asked no one in particular.

You snapped your fingers and A Deal With God appeared before you. Its numerous eyes looked terrified and wet.

“Stop being scared,” you said, knowing full well your stand’s demeanor was your own doing.

But what could you do? You were utterly spooked. You didn’t have a lot of enemies, but you weren’t exactly a magnet for pleasant people. There was no way the man following you held good intentions. And the more you thought about it, the less safe you felt in a poorly lit alley. Who would’ve thought?

A Deal With God fluttered about before peering out into the street. It turned to you and used one of its wings to gesture towards a nearby nightclub. It seemed like a decent enough place to disappear.

You tore across the street as fast as you could and barrelled through the club’s entrance. You were surrounded by a thick haze of tobacco and cloves, and you could feel the rumbling bass emanating from the large speakers positioned throughout the space. It wasn’t nearly as abrasive as the first one.

Before you could even sigh in relief you spotted the strange man across the room. Initially you felt paralyzed with fear, like your legs were going to give out from under you. Every hair was standing on end. Your stomach was eating itself, churning away into nothing.

The man smirked.

Of course he was positioned by the only exit, essentially cornering you inside the club. You found it in you to move and bolted up the stairs, hoping you could lose yourself in the crowd and make your way out a window.

You were disappointed to see the upper floor wasn’t nearly as populated as the other. Suddenly you felt a chill climb your spine and a pair of large, cold hands on your shoulders.

“There’s no point in running from me,” the man whispered in your ear.

His hushed tone was like a siren’s song, dragging you out to sea.

“I just want to talk. That’s all.”

He spoke to you like you were a child, though considering how scared you were it wasn’t a bad course of action.

He whispered. “You seem smart. You’re capable of having a little talk, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you said shakily. “What do you want to talk about?”

Your words were stilted and it left you feeling powerless.

“I’m interested in your special ability.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He dug his talon-like nails into the flesh of your shoulders. “I’m certain you do.”

“And what if I don’t want to talk about my special ability?”

“Trust me. You will.”

His tone was threatening. Your eyes darted around, hoping someone was showing some form of concern for you and your current situation. But not a soul seemed to care. You swallowed hard, it was like a rock had wedged itself in your throat.

“I wanna talk here. I’m not letting you drag me off somewhere.”

If you weren’t so scared, you might have laughed at your remark. Depending on his intentions you would not have minded if the beautiful stranger dragged you off into the night.

He released you from his grasp and walked ahead of you towards the corner of the room furthest from the stairs. You followed after, staring at his statuesque shoulders, muscles barely contained by his cropped black shirt made of indeterminate mesh material.

“Okay, what?” You asked, desperately trying to hide your nerves.

The man leaned against the wall. “Tell me about it.”

“Can you give me, like, a prompt? A question? Some direction? What do you want to know?” You sneered, putting your hands on your hips.

The man was growing frustrated with your attitude. You could tell and you weren’t sure if you wanted to maintain your faux bravado. Was rousing the weird man for your own sick pleasure worth potentially dying by his hand? You didn’t know what he was capable of. And it’s not as if you were having much fun.

“Why are you being so hostile? It’s unbecoming.”

You exploded. “You were following me around like a fuckin’ creep! Tell me you wouldn’t be a little on edge if you were following yourself around!”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I suppose you have a point.” He stood closer to you effectively boxing you in. “Funny you mention that considering you’re capable of following yourself around.”

You backed up, bumping into the wall. The man seemed to have no concept of personal space. Though you had to admit it wasn’t completely unwelcomed. The longer you looked at him, the more you felt yourself craving his touch.

His golden blonde hair seemed to move on its own, ebbing on incomprehensible breezes. You noticed not a window was open nor was any fan blowing the hot air around the room. There was no way what you were seeing was real.

“Yeah, and?” You asked, trying to shove your racing thoughts out of your mind.

“How long have you—”

“Ever since I was a kid. Can I ask why you care?”

He brushed a few errant strands of hair from your face, his fingers were soft and the color of fresh cream.

You felt like his red eyes were staring right through you. “Go ahead.”

You smacked his hand away. “Why do you care?!”

“I already told you.”

“I don’t remember.”

“How could you not remember? I literally just told you.”

“I don’t know. You’re not very memorable,” you lied.

He narrowed his eyes and exhaled. “I said I was interested in your special ability. I could use someone like you.”

“For what? Something fucked up?” You taunted, anticipating some disgusting act. “You gonna force me into depravity?”

His annoyance was palpable, filling the room and drowning you in it.

“If that was my intention, I wouldn’t have wasted my time talking to you.”

You felt like a coyote with its paw rotting in a trap.

“Good point. M—may I ask what you need me for?” You asked, forcing a smile.

“I’d rather not discuss that here. Come with me to my suite.”

He spoke so plainly and with such confidence. He annihilated any defense mechanism you had, rendering them useless. If any other person dared to be so bold, you would have kicked them in the taint. But he was different, otherworldly even. The longer you looked at him, the more you felt compelled to stick around. You had never encountered someone so alluring, someone capable of bewitching you with ease.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said.

Apparently the trepidation in your face wasn’t something you could mask.

“Nah, like… I know.”

His lips curled into a foreboding smile.

“Let’s go,” he purred, placing his hand on your back and guiding you out of the nightclub.

His hand was cold, the chill traveling through your jacket. Once outside you tried to get the attention of a cab driver with little luck. Much to your chagrin a drunkard positioned right next to you managed to hail one with a simple wave of his limp hand.

The blonde seemed to take personal offense and grabbed the man by the back of his collar and tossed him aside like he was a mere rag doll. The drunk’s limbs flailed as he was sent through the window of the nightclub. It all happened so fast and you nearly got lost in the chaos. If it weren’t for the blonde pulling you into the cab you likely would have stood there in shock, mouth agape, until the cops showed up.

“Whoa, whoa!” The frightened driver cried out. “What the actual fuck was that?”

You looked expectantly at the strange man, curious as to how he would explain away his behavior.

“Drive.”

“Wh—what? Dude! You can’t just do some shit like that and expect me to be okay with it!”

“Why not?” He laughed.

“Because it’s fucked up! You could've killed the guy,” the driver said, pointing at the bleeding body hanging halfway out the nightclub window.

“And? Was he important to you?”

“No. I don’t know him. But I don’t have to know someone to think what you pulled was rude!”

“It was more than rude,” you said matter-of-factly. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m just happy to be out of the cold.”

The blonde smirked and scooted closer to you, eschewing his seatbelt.

He redirected his attention to the terrified cab driver. “Drive or I’ll kill you.”

“Dude, can you at least tell me where?!”

The blonde clenched his fist. “... I guess.”

The drive was spent in relative silence. The nervous cab driver flapped his jaws on occasion, posing benign questions. He quickly clammed up after receiving a few glares from the strange man through the rear view mirror. Paying attention to their tension made your stomach hurt so you focused on the barren trees that lined the city streets, their leaves rotting in rusted gutters.

“I feel like fall came faster than usual,” you pondered aloud.

Neither of the men responded, too wrapped up in their own bullshit.

The barren trees ceased, soon replaced by evergreen ones unnatural to the concrete cityscape. You sighed, unsurprised by the fact your stalker was posted up in a ritzy area. However you were still wowed by the luxurious hotel and its sprawling design as the cab pulled up to the curb. The alabaster facade glimmered under the everpresent streetlights. You contemplated getting the strange man drunk and robbing him once he passed out in a haze of whiskey.

“That’ll be forty bucks,” the cab driver said, craning his neck around to look at the two of you.

Rather than pay the driver, the blonde jammed two of his slender fingers into the man’s neck and sucked the life out of him. You stared wide-eyed and mentally begged your body to move, to jump out of the car and run back to your boring date.

“Let’s go,” the blonde murmured, exiting the cab.

You stepped out and whined as the autumnal breeze chilled your bones. Despite the blonde’s apparent cruelty, he wrapped an arm around you. It didn’t do much considering his body was cold to the touch, but you appreciated that he hadn’t opted to kill you for shivering.

“Aren’t you cold?” You asked.

“Not really,” he responded, not bothering to look at you.

He led you inside the hotel and into a gilded elevator. The interior was mirrored, forcing you to confront your situation. You looked positively miniscule next to the hulking blonde. You weren’t a tiny person by any means, but the strange man was just that big.

“You never told me your name.”

“I didn’t, did I?” He said coolly.

“Yeah. It feels, um, weird not knowing it.”

“There’s a subset of people that delight in lacking that kind of information.”

You gazed up at him and grimaced. His red eyes met yours. The elevator pinged, alerting you of your arrival, and the doors slid open.

“It’s Dio.”

The suite was beautiful with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a breathtaking view of the city. You only knew this because you peaked behind the thick, ornate curtains that shielded the room.

Everything was concealed in darkness, the only light coming from the world beyond the window through the little crack you created. Dio was quick to slink around, lighting candles, to give the suite a warmer touch.

“You got a migraine or something? A hangover?” You asked, coming out from behind the curtains.

“Sure.”

You inhaled the cloying scent of sandalwood. “Liar.”

He smirked and took a seat on a chaise-lounge, essentially draping himself over it like a fancy throw blanket. He beckoned you near. You sat on the very edge, keeping some distance.

“Do you know anything about Anubis?”

“That dog god guy?”

“In a sense.”

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know a damn thing about him.”

“Hmph. What about art theft?”

“... Again, not a damn thing.”

“Are you much of a reader?” He said, sitting up.

“Depends.”

He got up and returned with two books: Rogues in the Gallery: The Modern Plague of Art Thefts and Teach Yourself Egyptian Mythology.

He stood over you smugly. “Read these and we’ll talk once you’ve finished them.”

“You want me to read two books right now?”

He yawned and stretched his arms over his head. Your eyes lingered on his chiseled abdomen.

“You can do it,” he said, walking away. “I believe in you.”

His words did little to inspire you, especially because he punctuated them by closing the door to his bedroom. You felt shut out and vulnerable. How were you supposed to read two books come morning?

Lucky for you Dio slept through the day, giving you ample time. He traipsed out of his room as you scanned the final pages of the required reading. He was in a pair of burnt umber-colored silk shorts that left little to the imagination.

“You must have been tired,” you said as you closed the book about art theft. “This book was boring as shit, by the way.”

“I know. I didn’t even bother finishing it.”

“Then why have me read it?!”

Dio’s expression practically screamed, Because I fucking could. He smiled and resumed his place next to you on the chaise.

“Hush,” he said, holding a finger to your lips. You thought about biting it off. “I’m trying to steal a shamshir.”

“A what?”

“It’s a type of sword.”

“Should have made me read about swords then,” you muttered.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Is it like… your swor–I mean, shamshir?”

“Absolutely not, but it should be,” he said, his voice sickly sweet. “I’ve heard a great power is bound to it.”

“I see.”

“And I’d like to possess that.”

“Uh-huh.”

You were barely paying attention to his words. All you could focus on was your throbbing clit and the wet spot blooming in your underwear. Everything about him exuded sensuality. The simplest movements, things that were not inherently sexy, sent you spiraling. You wanted to please him, to crawl into his arms and melt into him. You were completely at his will and you hoped he didn’t realize that.

“And I find it to be aesthetically pleasing.”

“An aesthetically pleasing shamshir for an aesthetically pleasing man. How quaint.”

“Oh, you find me to be aesthetically pleasing?”

“Why else would I come over?”

“How naive of me to think you came because you wanted to help me.”

“I never said I wouldn’t help.”

“So you are helping me,” he seemed to command.

Dio dragged his fingertips down his chest and along his abs before slipping them underneath his shorts.

“I also never said I’d do it for free.”

“Hmph.”

Dio stared into your eyes.

“You have,” he lazily held up two of his elegant fingers, “two options. I either pay you or I fuck you.”

“What about both?”

“No. It’s one or the other.”

“Are you really that good in bed?”

He gave a coquettish pout. “I’ll never tell. You’ll just have to take a chance, won’t you?”

Money was a fleeting notion in your life, more of a concept than something tangible. You usually kept yourself afloat by living off of eager to please boyfriends and rich women that thought you had a nice ass. A steady job was out of the question; you could never allow yourself to be tied down. Nothing could beat the high of being free. It came at a price though. Your rootless life wasn’t stable and frequently left you out in the cold.

You knew taking the money was the right decision, the smart one, the good one.

But you were never one to make good decisions, sound ones doused in logic. No, you were a idiotic hedonist deep down in your black hole of a soul. You sought out ecstasy in the shadows, always looking for an opportunity to submerge yourself in murky waters of desire.

Dio interrupted your minor moral dilemma. “Usually when they take this long it’s because they want to fuck me.”

He briefly tugged down his shorts, revealing a few wisps of dark pubic hair at the base of his cock.

“There’s no need to be shy,” he said, pulling you into his lap.

He had one hand on the small of your back and the other gripping your nape. He brought his face close to yours, his gaze hungry and expectant. Your stomach was fluttering; no one had made you feel like this before. You could barely form a coherent thought, too distracted by his touch. His hand slid down your back before settling on the crest of your ass.

Your eyes were trained on his lips as he spoke. “Why don’t I give you more time to think about it, hm?”

Words tried to fight their way out of your mouth, ones that begged him to act now. But you were silent, only giving Dio a slight nod.

He abruptly stood up, causing your body to collide with the floor. Your limbs a mere jumbled heap at his feet.

“We’ll break in tonight,” he said, staring down at you. “I’ll pay you once Anubis is in my hands.”

Dio’s suite wasn’t far from the museum. It was a short walk, a few blocks at most. There was little fanfare which left you vaguely disappointed. You had hoped it’d be a bit more exciting, more sexy. In your mind robbing a museum seemed like the sexiest crime, but the experience thus far was… pedestrian.

Even your inconspicuous outfits were yawn-worthy. You thought a man with such luxe taste would have more flourish, but no. He wore black 501s with a tasteful hole in the left knee and a tight black turtleneck. A ski mask rested on the crown of his head like a beanie. You had to admit it was practical and he wore it well.

“We’re close. Pull your balaclava down.”

You quickly yanked yours down, obscuring everything but your eyes. It smelled like Dio. You borrowed one from him along with a chunky black cashmere sweater that looked more like a dress on you. You had the sleeves folded up countless times so you could actually use your hands freely.

He pulled his down and let out a little sneeze as the fabric covered his nose.

“Bless you,” you giggled.

“... Thank you.”

The two of you took shelter behind a tree and scope out the employee entrance which sat at the back of the drab building.

“Kinda unimpressive. I didn’t even know this was a place, and I was born and raised here.”

“They don’t have anything of much importance.”

“Except that funky sword you want.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

The plan was to slip in through the back of the building. You would be going in alone, but only far enough to have Anubis’s location within your stand’s range. Dio didn’t mention where he would be exactly, but you assumed he’d be skulking around the entrance and keeping watch.

As the two you broached the museum’s parking lot a wave of nausea enveloped you.

“You’re not gonna leave me out to dry, if I get caught in there… Right?”

“You won’t get caught.”

His distinct lack of an answer did little to set you at ease. Your legs were shaking as he picked the shoddy lock. It was almost comical how easy everything seemed to be. The absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on you.

Once inside the situation didn’t feel as precarious. You deployed A Deal With God, letting your double stalk around the museum.

When seeing through your stand’s eyes you were rendered somewhat immobile, or at the very least distracted and sitting down. Invoking auto-pilot was an option, but standing around and doing nothing would have done nothing for your nerves. You decided to find a corner and take a seat.

The layout of the museum was a breeze to navigate. Dio hadn’t been lying when he reassured you how simple a task robbing the place would be. There wasn’t anything cool on display. Just poorly maintained antiquities and depressingly dusty tapestries that should have been under glass. The halls were dead quiet, disturbingly so. Every step you took felt like it carried the weight of the world.

“Oh thank fuck,” you whispered when you spotted a series of swords mounted on a wall.

You fast-walked to the display only to be greeted by the distinct lack of a shamshir.

“No.”

You stepped closer and carefully eyed each sword on the wall.

“C’mon…”

None of the blades were even slightly curved. You panicked and called off your stand, your consciousness returning to your physical body. You slowly pushed the door open and looked for any sign of Dio. Surely he would know what to do.

“Did that bitch leave me?” You whispered, unnerved by zero signs of the blonde.

But then you heard a familiar voice.

“Uh, sir, the museum is closed right now. I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the premises.”

Your eyes darted in the direction of the voice. You saw your date, the one from the night before, the father of four, lover of acid house, clad in a beige security uniform.

“Hey, wait. I’ve seen you bef—”

Before he could spit out his sentence Dio punched his jaw clean off. Your throat dried up, almost like you swallowed a bunch of cotton. You could barely remember how to breathe. You weren’t the biggest fan of your date, but he didn’t deserve to die.

A small squeak fought up your throat and alerted the blonde of your presence. He turned to you, red eyes seeming to glow from the slit in his balaclava. He cocked his head to the right, before asking, “What?” with a soft tone of voice. If he hadn’t done something so ghastly seconds before it would have been cute.

“Anubis isn’t there. It’s gone.”

“Oh,” he said. “Did you check the storage?”

You hated how casual he said it, how he made it sound like such an obvious thing to do even though you hadn’t discussed it previously.

“... No.”

He shooed you away and dragged your date's body out of view.

“What the fuck,” you whined as you shut yourself back inside the museum. “What the fuck am I doing.” You couldn’t even manage to say it like a question.

You resumed sitting in your previous spot and sent out your stand. The storage room was in the depths of the building down a spiral staircase. It was rusted and the metal squealed with every step. Once down you flipped a lightswitch and hoped there wasn’t a closed-circuit camera running somewhere.

You opened various cabinets and peered under plastic tarps covering poorly maintained sculptures. You felt a jolt of electricity when you finally came across Anubis. It was beautiful in its scabbard with its gold hilt and red jewels.

You sighed in relief and decided to let A Deal With God handle the rest, again returning your consciousness to your body. You could have cried when your stand presented the shamshir to you.

“Nice,” you said, admiring it.

You stood up and took it from your stand’s hands. You knew the right thing to do was to hand it right over to Dio, but you wanted to sneak a peek at the blade unsheathed. You pulled off the scabbard and marveled at its double-edge.

“... Is it ringing?”

You held the sword close to your ear and heard a distinct hum emanating from it. It didn’t take long for it to sound like it was calling out your name. You found yourself transfixed by your reflection in the blade.

I am the god of the stand Anubis, he who is upon his mountain. Lord of the sacred land. You have unsheathed me and now you will wield me.

You rubbed your forehead. There was no way the sword was talking to you.

You are now my body. In return I will make you a master swordsman.

Becoming a master of the sword never crossed your mind, but suddenly it felt like it had been a lifelong goal.

Not a soul will be stronger than you! Use me and kill!

You felt yourself swelling with pride, with validation, with incomprehensible joy. You felt like electricity was running through your veins, like you were unstoppable. You thought of your poor date and how Dio maimed his flesh without a care.

It enraged you, his entitlement. Why did he think he deserved to wield such power? He wasn’t fit to even gaze upon Anubis. Only you were worthy enough to slaughter with its exalted blade. To bathe in the blessed blood that would weep from your victims’ wounds.

You returned Anubis to its scabbard and set out to take down Dio. You found him outside, looking up at the sky. He turned his attention towards you.

“Ah, so you found it then?” Dio said, adjusting his balaclava.

You stared at him, eyes transfixed on his neck. You couldn’t wait to swing the blade through his skin and watch his pretty little head fall to the floor unceremoniously. You unsheathed Anubis and admired its blade.

Kill him. He is nothing in comparison to you. You’ll slice through his flesh like a hot knife through a pat of butter. Slaughter him! Do it now!

You raised the blade and went to slice Dio’s head off. However in a blink of an eye it was as if you were never holding Anubis in the first place.

“Tsk, tsk,” Dio said, returning the blade to its scabbard.

“Huh?” You said, looking down at your empty hands. “Wait…”

“I should have told you to keep it in its scabbard. My apologies.”

You tried to remember what had happened, why you felt a hint of vexation, but your mind was tabula rasa. “Di—did… Was I doing something?”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

You were thankful Dio’s suite wasn’t far from the museum. The whole experience left you exhausted. Once inside the hotel he took it upon himself to carry you up to his suite. He laid you down on his bed, giving you permission to sleep beside him. You started to undress yourself as he reflected on the night’s events.

“I didn’t realize how formidable Anubis was at possessing people,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

You yawned. “Is that why I tried to kill you?”

He nodded and unzipped his jeans before kicking them off, revealing that he skipped wearing underwear.

“Damn.” You exhaled to regain composure. “Well, fuck. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize. It’s not like you would have been able to defeat me,” he teased, stroking his flaccid cock.

You looked up at him, his appearance like that of a god. He looked so handsome illuminated by candlelight.

It was true you stood no chance against him in a fight. He could crush your skull with his bare hands if he willed it. It left you a confusing mess of fear and passion. You wanted to be by his side even if it guaranteed you an early death or prison time. There was no need for self preservation so long as he remained ethereal.

He caught you staring at him and simpered. Your cheeks were hot with embarrassment. He leaned over you and left you shrinking in his shadow. He ran his thumb along your jaw, his cold touch a welcome sensation.

“You’re so cute.”

He rubbed your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before forcing it into your mouth.

“Suck.”

You rolled your tongue along the underside of his thumb.

“Good girl,” he cooed while stroking his cock.

It was girthy and of considerable length. The skin was smooth and pale, almost as if it was made of porcelain. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, completely overwhelmed by its presence.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and got on top of you. He rubbed your clit through your underwear. The muscles in your thighs contracted. A small whine fell from your lips. You could feel his erection brushing up against your body. His dominance lorded over you, engulfing you and holding you hostage. He pushed your underwear to the side and slid two fingers inside you. He curled them, pressing up against the walls of your cunt.

Dio pressed his lips against your ear and purred, “It’s like you were always meant to be beneath me.”

You laughed nervously. “I guess.”

He let out a pleased hum and kissed your neck.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he said as he sat up.

Dio licked his fingers clean before pulling off your underwear. He stared down at your aching cunt with pity. He lowered himself and positioned his face in between your legs. With a single swipe of his tongue you were utterly mesmerized. He gave your clit slow licks with a soft tongue. You felt like your heart was pounding against your chest.

You watched as he arched his back while he ran his tongue between your folds. His ass was magnificent.

You threaded your fingers through his blonde hair and rubbed his head, letting your hand rest on the base of his skull.

“Feels good,” you babbled.

He looked up at you, gaze radiating warmth. It was the first time he’d ever granted you such softness. It quelled your anxiety and you were able to let yourself relax, something you had not done since Dio came into your life.

You felt weightless, like you were floating above the clouds. The pleasure was insurmountable as he sucked on your clit, lapping up the sweetness of your arousal. He began to rut against the bed, driving his cock into the mattress. He moaned, his vocalizations vibrating against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you whimpered as he flicked the tip of his tongue against your throbbing clit.

Dio chuckled before giving your clit a kiss. He got back on top of you and grabbed ahold of your chin, forcing you to look him dead in the eye.

He smirked and asked, “Do you think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” you said in a rather pathetic tone of voice.

You were desperate and there was no hiding it.

He sank his cock down into your cunt. You wrapped your arms around him and held onto his upper back as he began to thrust. You could hardly catch your breath as he drove his cock deeper inside. Gone was the brief bout of tenderness, it was as if he couldn’t stop himself once his pleasure came into the picture.

“Ah—i—it’s too much,” you said, eyebrows knitted together.

“You can take it,” he grunted.

You clenched your jaw and tried to breath through the pain. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you just weren’t expecting it. No one had ever been so rough with you before. Most of your partners treated you like you were made of thin glass, but Dio manhandled you like you were made of diamonds.

He pulled down your bra revealing your breasts. He grabbed a hold of one, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“Dio!”

He shushed you and began to suck on your neck, grazing it with his inhumanely sharp teeth. You yelped and all he did was chuckle. He started to fuck you harder, groaning as he bottomed out. You locked your legs around him, holding onto him like your life depended on it. You dug your nails into his back as his thrusts became more urgent. You gazed up at him, falling apart at the seams. He stared at you, almost as if he was plotting something.

Dio groaned. “Hold on,” he said, pulling his cock out of you.

He reached for something under the bed. You couldn’t imagine what he was searching for. Maybe a vibrator. Maybe a last minute condom. You really didn’t care. You were so close to coming all you wanted was him to be fucking your limp body into the mattress.

You were shocked when he pulled out a dagger. His eyes held a devilish gleam. You swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with your impending demise. You must have looked terrified because Dio started explaining himself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m going to cut you.”

“Th—that sounds like it’ll hurt.”

He slid his cock back inside you. “You won’t feel a thing, my pet. It’ll be quick. I just need you to bleed for me.”

You nodded and focused on the sensation of his cock kissing your cervix. He bit down on the inside of his bottom lip and slashed you across the chest with the knife, leaving behind a superficial cut. Warm blood beaded out from the thin cut, sitting on your chest like tiny jewels. He let the knife drop to the floor.

Dio lapped up the blood flowing from the cut, moaning as he savored the taste. He was right. You felt no pain. It wasn’t anything close to that. It was ecstasy; you couldn’t register it as anything but delight.

You held his head close to your body as he continued to drive his cock into your glistening cunt. You felt like every cell in your body was singing, screaming out in euphoria. Your breathing grew laborious, and you caught yourself almost laughing as you ascended further and further into the heavens.

When you finally came you couldn’t help but think every moment in your life led up to this very one, that this pleasure, this rapture, was the end of it all. Nothing would top this, no one would ever make you feel this incredible again.

Dio gave your wound one last lick. “You’re mine now, you realize that don’t you?”

He tossed his head back as he filled your cunt with his cum. He collapsed on top of you and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re coming with me to Cairo. You’ll be of great use to me there.”

“What will I get out of it?”

“Me,” he replied proudly. “All you’ll ever need is me.”

Egypt didn’t sound so bad. You didn’t have any friends or family around. Nothing tied you to this place; you couldn’t even think of a single reason why you stuck around so long. You would have been lost without Dio. You never would have realized your power. Through his greatness you saw your own.

“All I’ll ever need is you,” you quietly repeated to yourself.

#dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jjba x reader #jjba smut #jojo's bizarre adventure smut #dio brando smut #dio smut #x reader #reader insert #.fics #.jjba #.dio

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waxingwintersun · 4 months

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hi everybody! now that i’ve gotten your attention with some animal pics:

i am a disabled trans man and i need help, please share and/or donate

the tl;dr of my situation is that i lost my job last november and have been unable to get unemployment or a new job since then. more details + donation link under the cut.

so, i was fired from my job for too many call ins, despite me being as open and communicative as possible about my disabilities’ effects on my functioning, and was told the whole time that it was okay to call in as needed. that said, my boss still got pissy whenever i had to call in, including one memorable instance where i had to leave early on a truck shift bc my sciatica was flaring up badly enough that i was rapidly losing my ability to walk, let alone run around the store all night putting things away. essentially, i was fired for being disabled, but in a way they can legally justify. and i am in an at will employment state anyway. so, lol.

i have since applied for unemployment, which i spent hours per week working with for a month and a half without getting so much as a penny, so i finally said fuck it and gave up. (stupid, i know, but they made me jump through SO many hoops for nothing while my mental health rapidly declined, and i just couldn’t handle it anymore.) i have also applied for DOZENS of jobs, and only got a few interviews, and obviously none of them hired me. even the ones i was VERY qualified for, that were acting DESPERATE for help. i was offered a job at one point, but the offer was later withdrawn because i had a few speeding tickets in the past three years, all over two years ago. so i’m back to square one.

luckily, i do have a strong support system, so i’m not in danger of homelessness or anything. however, we do live in a capitalist society, and i have bills to pay, pets to take care of, a car that needs gas to run, and so on. i had some savings that i figured would last until i got a new job, but i’ve run out and still seem to be no closer to actual employment. so, i’m requesting/begging for help at LEAST until i have income again.

here is a link to just give me money directly, and here’s a wishlist that i plan on updating regularly if you just wanna get me a pet supply or whatever directly (there are also a lot of frivolous things on there, and while i certainly would not be opposed to getting some of that lol, you can filter it to just “pet supplies” or “personal necessities” for things that i actually need).

i highly highly appreciate any donations or shares, and if you donate, i’ll be happy to send you pet pics or a sketch (i’m just now getting back into drawing after years off so don’t expect the highest quality but i’ll do my best) or just my eternal gratitude. this situation fucking sucks and i hate that i have to even make this post, but here we are!

if you’ve read this whole thing, thank u, i appreciate it, i hope you have a lovely day. here’s one more cat pic for your troubles.

#personal #mutual aid #lol please help me

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clowningaroundcanon · 6 months

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Quotes my family has said but it’s ninjago quotes

MAJOR TW FOR DARK HUMOR IN GENERAL! The quotes with these jokes have a TW but you’ve been warned

Jay: “I dunno man, moms are creatures scientists still have yet to learn all reasonings of.”

Lloyd: “I don’t see anyone else with snakes on their heads.”

Kai: “That’s because no one is as quirky and different as you.”

Lloyd: Dejected “Oh..”

Kai: “That was a compliment.”

Lloyd: “Oh!”

Jay: “Then you get a bowl the size of Mt. Everest.”

Cole: “It’s the size of your face.”

Jay: “It’s the size of your brain.”

Cole: “It’s the size of your ego.”

Jay: “Oh…”

Kai: “Don’t look in the trash can in the upstairs bathroom, there’s no evidence”

Jay: “Now I’m just gonna look in the trash can upstairs”

Goes upstairs and looks in the trash can

Jay: “No evidence huh?”

Door proceeds to shut and the sound of knuckles cracking can be heard

Jay: “Wait a second—“

Nya: “You can’t have more than half since fudge is too rich.”

Jay: “You can’t have the fudge it’s too expensive.”

Cole: “Why isn’t this a Disney movie? They sing every five minutes.”

Kai: “Cause the parents are still alive.”

A conversation while watching Rudolph the red nose reindeer

Jay: "it’s really muggy outside

Nya: if I go outside and all our mugs are on the front lawn I’m leaving you

Jay: *^proceeds to drink chocolate milk from a bowl^*"

Jay: and here’s my piggy bank

Lloyd: ooo how much moneys in there ?

Jay: none :(

Lloyd: aww… same

.. TW! Comment about weight

*Having a conversation about who’s pants were who’s*

Zane-“These are definitely yours, Cole.”

Cole-“Idk, Jay’s been putting on some weight recently.”

Jay-*Hysterical laughing* (He wasn’t being mean, it was a joke)

Zane-“This reminds me of that conversation I had with Kai.”

Jay-*More hysterical laughing*

Cole-“Zane, you might wanna get out of the house, sounds like there’s a hyena.”

Jay-*Absolutely dying from laughter*

Kai: “What, you got a problem with Salisbury steak?”

Lloyd: “Yes.”

Kai: “Understandable.”

Nya: “THATS WHAT I WAS REFERRING TO YOU OVERBAKED COOKIE”

.. TW! Mention of thr^wing up

Garmadon: “I’m winning us money.”

Lloyd: “Is it working?”

Garmadon: “Well, I won us 5 dollars.”

Lloyd: “Wow, 5 dollars, that’s enough to pay back for the lottery ticket.”

Garmadon: “…go away.”

Lloyd: “AM I WRONG?!”

Garmadon: “..I don’t like you anymore, give me back the fries.”

Lloyd: “I’ll just go and ||puke them back up||, I guess.”

Garmadon: “Our crappy state is the only state where the gas doesn’t pump itself; we suck.”

.. TW! Ch^king and threats

Kai: “I HOPE YOU TRIP ON A LEGO, SWALLOW IT, FALL INTO A DITCH WHILE CHOKING ROLL INTO THE OCEAN GET STUNG BY JELLYFISH GET EATEN BY A WHALE GET SPAT OUT LIE ON A HOT ABANDONED ISLAND AND DIE”

Jay: “I use heels cause the leg sleeves are too long.”

Cole: “..the leg sleeves?”

Jay: “Yeah.”

Cole: “YOU MEAN THE PANTS??”

.. TW! Joke about dy1ng

Lloyd: “I wanted 50 bucks for my birthday!”

Kai: “I gave you 50 bucks that you so graciously spent on icecream”

Lloyd: “WHAT BUT YOU TOLD ME TOO-“

Kai: “Happy birthday sweetheart!”

Lloyd: “If this is adult life I’d rather || d1e ||”

Zane: “Apollo’s kids are like disowning him and he’s standing there taking it being like, ‘What did I do to deserve this?’”

PIXAL: “You were a father.”

#quotes #ninjago #kai smith #jay walker #cole brookstone #zane julien #pixal borg #nya smith #lloyd garmadon #sensei garmadon #tw dark humor #tw throwing up #well it’s a mention and not actually throwing up but still

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ymaohoh · 2 months

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“We could always just…do it anyway?" - Fic - Oneshot

"Packet’s ripped, sweetheart. We seem to be without a condom.” His fingers stilled and Chrissy was biting her plump little lip that tasted of strawberries and magic. She was watching him closely, her cheeks flushed and panting from being so close to what promised to be a world-shattering orgasm. “We could always just…do it anyway? Without a condom, I mean.” Eddie and Chrissy have unsafe sex against a wall. Eddie's POV

Porn with very little plot. Oneshot. Rated very Mature. Use protection kids.

Word count: 3,630

Also available at Archive

-----

So Chrissy and Eddie are animals, right?

For some wild crazy reason Chrissy can’t get enough of Eddie, and Eddie believes firmly that any time spent not kissing or touching Chrissy Cunningham is…well, a fucking travesty really. They’d only been together as boyfriend and girlfriend for a few months but already it was ride or die and they both submitted to this without reason or logic or hesitation. They’d bought non-refundable one way tickets for the ride of their lives and they were so fucking blissfully messed-up happy.

They couldn’t do much about it in his crappy trailer (the walls were so thin, man, and Wayne worked random hours. He wanted his baby to scream and pant without worrying about being overheard, okay? And besides…it was cramped. Chrissy was a champ but it must’ve been embarrassing sneaking into the shower, freshly fucked and bow-legged - fuck yes, while his uncle slept nearby)... so that meant having to think outside the box if they wanted undisturbed one on one time. And…boy… was Eddie crafty. Creativity had always been one of his strengths and he rose to the challenge like the DM he was born to play.

Hotels and motels and all that sneaky stuff cost money and he was saving for his future now (their future) so they were out. His van was okay but the suspension was taking a pounding and there wasn’t room in the back for all the crazy shit Eddie wanted to do to Chrissy’s perfect and flexible body. Chrissy’s place was also ruled out because (you know) her parents despised him entirely and were one shit-eating grin away from kicking Chrissy out which wasn’t the worst idea (he would never ever forgive them for the spiteful lies they twisted into Chrissy’s brain about food and her body and…ugh) but they were so close to graduating and Chrissy wanted to go to college so…yeah, her place was a no go.

(Not to say they hadn’t fooled around there when Eddie braved the trellis beneath her window (like Romeo and Juliet right?) but Chrissy could never really relax and it wasn’t as fun. He would love to fuck her in her parents bed as a solid fuck you but Chrissy wasn’t quite there yet. Maybe he’d suggest it right before they fucked off to California or wherever she wanted to study. Eddie would follow her wherever, obviously.)

So really that left sneaking around and finding whatever stolen moments they could. Rick’s place by Lover’s Lake (still in prison - hang in there buddy), their picnic bench in the woods, the empty locker room after cheer practice, backstage at The Hideout. Fucking whenever he could get her alone really…and all the other spaces in the inbetween? Well they were filled with making out, groping, sucking purple marks on their necks. You get the drift. Chrissy was like a strawberry sundae with whipped cream and sprinkles and he was starving.

So yes they were the queen and king of PDA (Queen takes King, naturally) but their friends, to their credit, didn’t protest too much because honestly it was a long time coming and they were just happy they didn’t have to put up with anymore longing glances or Eddie’s soft eyes. They still mumbled words like disgusting and perverts and can’t you at least have lunch before you start sucking face, Jesus when Eddie and Chrissy got really ramped out…but it was cool.

They were sex crazed maniacs riding the waves of hormones and lust and love, falling deeper and deeper into whatever sin your chosen deity prescribed to.

(Chrissy had hang ups like this at first - another gift from her mommy dearest - but when Eddie ate her out for the first time she’d cried out such wicked delightful things that made even Eddie blush).

However, they might be dumbasses in love for the first and last time but they 99.9% of the time practiced safe sex. Despite giving much evidence to the contrary, Eddie wasn’t a complete fucking idiot and he always made sure to have protection ready to go. Like he said, they had big plans after graduating, and though it might’ve been hilarious to invite Mrs Cunningham to a shotgun wedding (trailer trash all the way, baby), he knew Chrissy wanted to wait for all that stuff and what she wanted she would get. As for Eddie? Well, he was a simple fellow - he’d knock her up and marry her tomorrow - but liked the idea of driving Chrissy around California and chasing their dreams even more. All that romantic stuff, right? He wanted it. Fuck, he loved her so much.

Yet, even the best laid plans sometimes get a little crooked and maybe Eddie was a bit of a fucking idiot. Chrissy would afterwards blame the weed and Eddie blamed Chrissy’s perfect tits, but that’s besides the point.

The night in question took place after a spectacularly awesome gig at The Hideout. It was the first time Chrissy brought along her cheerleading friends from the team (which made his bandmates fucking gag) and the twerps from his D&D circle came too with their babysitting club which meant Harrington, Wheeler, Buckley. Besides those fun new additions, there was an actual crowd. Not huge by any standards, but it was a decent turn out for Hawkins. Word seemed to have traveled that watching Corroded Coffin might actually be a good night out and for the first time in decades The Hideout staff had to earn their wages. Enthused, the band were on their A-game and Eddie had never played so fucking well.

Plus Chrissy was standing front row jumping around like a freak and whooping (like his own personal cheerleader) and looked so pretty and wonderful and fuck. What a rush. He was riding a high.

So afterwards they rolled some joints backstage to chase another illicit high and ordered more beers. It wasn’t a party exactly but they had some well-earned fun. By the time last orders were called Gareth had to be carried to his car. It was so rock and roll.

Which left Eddie and Chrissy utterly and blissfully alone. You can see where this is going, right?

It was actually impressive that they managed to clear up and carry the rest of the band's equipment outside to his van, before totally sucking face. Eddie was amped up and grinning like a maniac because Chrissy was singing his songs under her breath and wearing the shiny strawberry lip gloss that drove him wild. She was wearing a baby blue summer dress that made her look like a fairytale princess (floaty sleeves and all) but it was short enough to show off her creamy thighs. It was one of his favourites (and when he asked if she’d worn it on purpose, just for him, she’d blushed and said of course, dummy he’d felt on top of the world).

So Eddie pushed Chrissy back against the alley wall and kissed her until they were breathless. He became totally lost in the magic of her like he always did, and melted when her talented little fingers slipped beneath his heavy belt.

“You witch,” he said. His voice sounded loud and heavy. “Weaving your dark fairy magic on me.”

Chrissy laughed and it sounded breathless and happy. Christ, maybe she really was a witch? He was in her fucking thrall, alright. She looked like a fairy in that dress and with those big twinkling blue eyes. Her long blonde hair (kissed by fire and sunsets and summer so it looked pink) fell down her back in waves. Seriously, how the fuck had he ever ever managed any of this?

His fairy-witch-elf-angel kissed him again. “I thought you were supposed to be the one with powers. Didn’t you seduce me away from my perfect wholesome boring life with your black magic?”

“And blood sacrifices to Satan. Don’t forget those,” Eddie reminded her. Her fingers roamed lower and traced against the length of his cock which of course was already hard and ready. “I’m not some cheap date you can seduce and fuck in an alley, you know.”

“You sure about that?”

Eddie cradled her face in his hands and dragged her mouth up so he could kiss into it slow and deliberate. She goddamn sighed into his mouth and he felt her body uncurl like a fucking flower for him. He didn’t think he would ever get enough of doing this to her and it still blew his mind that he was the one who could coax and draw out such reactions from her. Chrissy was so wonderfully responsive to his touch and well…him.

He moved one hand beneath her skirt (dresses were the best) and against her panties and yep…Chrissy was already so so wet for him.

“You’re such a groupie, Chrissy Cunningham.”

He pushed aside the thin material and traced a finger around her clit in a way he knew made Chrissy melt into a puddle of syrup and honey and all things sweet.

“Only for you, Eddie,” she whispered. She shut her eyes and let her head roll back against the brick wall. “You played so fucking well tonight, baby. You looked so good. I was so proud of you.” And just like that she was no witch or fairy but a goddamn angel. Eddie pressed kisses against her jaw, her chin, her nose.

She was like an arrow to the chest, seriously. Bullseye.

“You were?” he murmured. “You my number one fan, Chriss?”

“I’ve got the band shirt to prove it. If I’m real lucky the hot guitarist might just sign my tits.”

Eddie huffed a laugh against the crook of her neck. He loved it when she cursed.

“I can arrange that. Hear he’s got a thing for girls with big blue eyes and a pretty wet cunt that has his name written all over it.”

Chrissy actually moaned at that and Eddie quickened his fingers. He pressed his hips against her so she could feel just how hard she made him.

“I fucking loved watching you dance in the front row, right where you belong,” he said. “God, you know I only play for you, baby. You’re my inspiration, my fucking muse. None of this matters without you, Chriss.”

He slipped a finger inside her wet pussy and then - because she really was getting off on this, so was he - another. Chrissy told him once that she loved the feeling of his metal rings against her clit so he made sure they scraped against it just enough.

“Eddie!” she hissed.

“Yeah baby?”

“I just…just fucking love how you easy you get me off. Fuck. I fucking love you, you mean and scary freak.”

He kissed the corner of her smiling mouth and then pressed another to her neck.

“I love you too, baby girl. Going to practice my ass off so when we leave this dump I can find work and buy you all the pretty things you deserve.”

“Told you I don’t need any of that.”

He nipped her neck this time and she hissed again.

“Want to take care of you.”

“Eddie…only need you.”

He added another finger - three now, fuck yes - and took hold of her perfect ass with the other.

“Going to buy you a diamond. Size of my fist.”

Chrissy had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from fucking screaming.

Her hands moved against his cock again and felt that it was weeping and ready for her. Her hands were trembling but she made short work of unbuckling his belt (she was so perfect).

“I need you to fuck me, Eddie. Need to feel you inside me.”

“Already?”

“Mmm.”

“You don’t want to ride my knuckles ‘till you come first?”

“I’m seriously going to lose it if you don’t fuck me against this wall right now, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie didn’t need anymore convincing (crap it was hot when she started bossing him around. Was this a new kink to explore? Chrissy could tease just about anything out of him honestly and he was living for it). He removed his hand from her ass and dug around in his jacket pocket for…Ah. There it was.

He looked away from the vision that was her for a millisecond so as to rip open the foil packet, but then noticed…

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Well things had been going far too well for him recently - maybe he deserved some cosmic retribution or kick up the ass to remind him he wasn’t actually living in a dream.

“Uh…Chriss? Bad news on that front.”

“Mm?”

“Packet’s ripped, sweetheart. We seem to be without a condom.”

“Oh…”

His fingers had stilled and Chrissy was biting her plump little lip that tasted of strawberries and magic. She was watching him closely, her cheeks flushed and panting from being so close to what promised to be a world-shattering orgasm.

Eddie could feel her trembling and threw the packet away, intent on getting back to her and her needs right away. He was just about to drop to his knees and eat out her pretty wet cunt, when she said very hesitantly…

“We could always just…do it anyway? Without a condom, I mean.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to her lips. “Baby, no. We’ve talked about this…you know?”

“Amanda from the cheer team told me there’s a morning-after pill I can take. She told me where to get it from too. You can drive us tomorrow, easy…use a fake name…”

Chrissy’s hands were once again moving across his cock and he felt himself instinctively lean into her. He began moving his fingers again too and was rewarded by a soft moan that sounded like a fucking melody of everything good and perfect.

Eddie felt like his brain might explode. He was a guy, okay, who had a beautiful angel coming apart on one hand (literally) and on the other the idea of stopping this and saying they could wait, they could fuck tomorrow after he went to a store. But Eddie wasn’t capable of really resisting Chrissy anything, you know, nor could he resist the way her eyes were fluttering shut in pleasure or the way she was gripping so tight around his fingers. It wasn’t like he was pressuring her into this either - Chrissy said she wanted this.

And yeah, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t either. A part of him fucking loved everything about the idea.

“You sure, Chriss?”

“Yeah, baby…” she nodded and licked her lips. Oh yeah, he was gone. “I want you to fuck me right now, Eddie.”

She must have seen the exact moment the sensible part of his brain totally shut down, because she kissed him hard and licked her tongue against his. Eddie groaned against her lips and his fingers were again digging up into her causing her to gasp.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart, okay…I’ve got you.”

Eddie withdrew his fingers (causing her to pout in a way that made his knees almost buckle) and grabbed hold of her thighs, before lifting and pushing her hard against the brick wall. Chrissy twisted her legs around his waist and seemed to pull him even closer with her thighs.

“You are a witch,” he murmured against the shell of her ear. “You know I’m your slave, baby. You say jump and I fucking jump.”

“You just make me crazy, Eddie. Can’t help it. Don’t want to wait another second.”

God this was irresponsible, but at the same time Eddie’s heart was shaking and he was overcome with a giant wave of fucking need and want. The fact Chrissy wanted him so badly as to forgo being sensible and safe was a huge fucking turn on. He was going to fuck Chrissy Cunningham bareback.

Bareback, raw, like a damn caveman.

Chrissy was shifting in his arms so the head of his dick pushed against her hot dripping opening and that was all Eddie needed really, and he moved his hips and pushed right into her. Right up to the fucking hilt.

“Holy shit.”

One of Chrissy’s hands wound into his hair and the sharp tug made him curse again. Her other hand pressed flat against the wall behind them, nails scratching at the brickwork as if she couldn’t contain just how much shining hot pleasure was currently coursing through her body.

Like bottled lightning, baby. Plug him into a power cord because he was going to light her up.

Eddie rocked against her again, using his weight to pin her up. He brought his face down into her neck where he hissed and fucking spat kisses against her skin. He began fucking up into her fast and careless.

“You feel so unbelievably good, Chriss. My god. Just so hot and warm and…like velvet or silk, baby. It’s fucking addictive, is what this is.”

This was fucking dangerous because he was right, it was insanely addictive (and he knew addictions). The greediness was already taking root inside him and he knew he would miss this desperately when it was gone. He’d have to store away every sensation in his memory like a treasured jewel. What a difference that little bit of rubber made, right? He suddenly wanted to set fire to the store and buy these pills in bulk, if it just meant he could do this to Chrissy every day and every night.

“Can feel you so deep and warm inside me, Eddie,” Chrissy was moaning. “There’s literally nothing between us. Just your skin and mine, and I’m riding your bare dick.”

“Feels fucking amazing, baby. Too good.”

“This is so so hot.”

“You like me fucking you bareback?”

“Yes…”

“This is gunna be feeding my dreams for weeks, sweetheart. You going to think of my bare naked cock when you touch yourself too? Think about how close we are right now?”

Chrissy cried out then and threw her head back. Her hair fell around her shoulders like a halo.

“God, Eddie. I’m so close already.”

“I know, I can fucking feel you are. You’re so hot and tight.”

Her words were encouraging him onwards and he began holding her thighs so tight he might’ve been worried about making bruises if he wasn’t so distracted.

“Chrissy?”

She whimpered.

“You going to come on my cock, sweetheart? Squirt your pretty pussy juices all over my cock? You’ve not done that before.”

“Yeah…”

“An’ then I’m gunna’ come inside you, Chriss. Going to come inside you so deep you can feel me there tomorrow. I’m going to fucking drown you.”

“Yes please, baby. I want it so bad. Oh Eddie…I want this so much…”

“You do? Let me hear it.”

“Want your cum in me so bad. Where it’s supposed to be, you know? Right where it belongs.”

“God Chriss! Fuck. Really do wanna knock you up when you talk like that.”

Eddie the Freak knocking up the goddamn prom queen herself. Had an excellent ring to it honestly.

“Oh Eddie!

Chrissy screamed out as she came and her nails dug into his scalp. Eddie kept thrusting up into her as she rode out her waves and waves of pleasure and the feeling of her tight dripping cunt pulsing around him soon dragged him over the edge too.

“Come inside me Eddie. Let me fucking feel you.”

Eddie swore into her neck as she fucking milked his cock and he came so hard and fast that he thought he might drop her. Fucking hell. This is fucking heaven. Chrissy’s pussy is fucking heaven.

She squeezed every last drop out of him.

Trembling, Eddie kissed her when he was done and gently lowered her down. Chrissy’s knees nearly buckled and she had to hang on to his jacket for support, but she whispered she was okay. As he pulled out from her, his cum trickled freely down her thighs. He looked down at his softening cock and saw it glisten with Chrissy’s wet juices.

“That was…”

“Fucking hot.”

Chrissy giggled and she leant back against the wall again. Eddie tied his belt back in place and joined her so they were leaning side by side. He struggled to catch his breath.

“Want my shirt to…you know? Tidy up?”

“No. I…” she tucked a strand of (tangled, freshly fucked) hair behind her ear. “I kind of like it. I know that sounds weird but it’s…you…you know? Reminds me what the fuck we just did.”

Eddie felt like his heart might just burst again. Chrissy’s fingers laced through his own.

“We should get back. We need to get up early for the…”

“Yeah. Amanda says we’ve got some time, but it’s more effective against a pregnancy the sooner you take it, you know?”

Eddie found himself bringing their clasped hands up to his lips. He looked at Chrissy - this witch, elf, fairy, minx - who had so thoroughly and effectively became such a huge part of his life. Sure he had a life before her but nothing really stood out, you know? She came along (came back into technically) and made everything just click. Suddenly he had his person, and a life and a fucking future infront of him. He wanted it all - everything - with her and he wanted it all right now. He was greedy, needy, for it. He couldn’t fucking wait.

Chrissy was watching him with a soft look in her eyes. Could she read his mind now? He wouldn’t put it past her.

“...one day, Eddie,” she said quietly. “We’ll do that again one day for real.”

Eddie nodded and slid his arm around her shoulder as they walked to his van. "Yeah, I'd really like that, Chriss."

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

A/N: Full disclosure - I have no idea about contraception history but a very quick google tells me the morning after pill was available for access in 1984 in the UK. Who knows about Hawkins/the US. I imagine it would be tricky for Chrissy to get it honestly, but this is basically just porn without plot. Go with it. But not too much. Use protection. Stay safe kids.

#chrissy x eddie #edssy #hellcheer #eddie munson #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer headcanons #chrissy and eddie #chrissy cunningham #eddie wants to knock chrissy up someday #but no plot really seriously #ymaohoh #stay safe and do not do what eddie and chrissy do #sorry

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pretty-idol-hell · 8 months

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So I finally got to play Idol Land PriPara for a significant amount of time. I managed to sneak in around 4pm EDT (3am JST) and I've been in for hours since. If you do get in, whatever you do don't close the app hahah.

Here are my honest thoughts!

So, at first I was kinda baffled by a lot of the decisions that were made in developing this game. But when I actually took some time to think about it, I do think a lot of thought and effort was put into reflecting the true spirit of PriPara (...right down to the compulsive spending... more on that later...).

For example, at first the menu really confused me. I opened up Kuma and clicked on プロミス (promise) thinking it's the Promise Counter, but it's not. The Promise Counter is a part of the background, behind my character below.

I found it kind of disorienting to figure out which buildings you can actually enter, and which are just decoration. But at the same time, I do appreciate the effort they made to make it feel like your character is exploring PriPara.

I was also confused by the need to wait to do a promise, since I'm used to being able to select and play songs right away. But after some thought, it is a very PriPara thing to do. Basically how it works is: You pick a "promise" to participate in at the Promise Center (or create your own) and then you have to wait until a total of three people have selected/agreed to the promise before you can play. At that time, you can play it from the プロミス (Promise) screen Kuma menu. From what I've gathered, it's not like all three members need to be online at the same time, just signed up to do the promise. It is definitely a very PriPara thing to find a way for you to play with other actual, real players like this. (I guess simultaneous play was a bit too much of a challenge, so you could say it's a compromise.)

But of course, here's where the money comes in. Because there are a whoooole lot of promises that you can't even participate in from the start unless you've bought a certain song, or a certain coord.

So, my attitude about spending money on this game has admittedly changed a lot over the past few days. I basically went from "TAKE MY MONEYYYY!!!" to "Well, what's the point in spending money on this game if I can't even play it when I want to anyway?" So, I decided that I will NOT spent a single cent until it's easier to access the game, and definitely not on the first day. As I'm writing this I have managed to stick to that, but...

BUT MAN IT'S HAAAARD

The hardest thing for me so far has been songs. I think that's where you get the most value for money. I think the tipping point for me though will come when I run out of promise tickets because you need to create the promise if you want to be center and goddamn it I'm a spoiled PriPara diva and I need to see my character as the CENTER daaaMMITT ahaha.

So, a few random things I like: I like how when you create a promise you can decide which coord everyone wears. It's how I was able to get the upmost screenshot with two randos wearing the same coord above. (Back in the day, you'd have to scour the ticket board for weeks, ask a friend, or create more characters if you wanted a uniform team.) I like that there's an option to easily take screenshots during your live, as that was also convoluted to do during the arcade era.

I have mixed feelings about the Prism Stone Shop.

On the one hand, I would have killed to be able to easily buy so many coords back in the day. And many of them for free too! There were a lot of coords I wanted that you could buy with silver idollars. And, even though it's gold, I like the option to be able to buy the coords featured in the most recent episodes of the anime.

On the other hand, honestly... I'm realizing a lot of the excitement and heart of PriPara comes from the gatcha.

And of all things, I didn't expect the gatcha to be gold idollar exclusive. On the one hand, it sucks that you have to pay when you don't even know what you're going to get. On the other hand... I mean............ it's PriPara. It's... it's not like... it's not like this is new. It's not like I haven't spent hundreds of dollars on gatcha before. IT'S NOT LIKE THIS IS NEW... HAHAH ahahaha... help. Help I want to spend so much money on this game but I feel like I can't it's torture.

So. I feel like there's no point in complaining about how disastrous of a release this was. I'm sure Syn Sophia and everyone else involved knows that. It's not in their best interest to be keeping people out of the game. I mean, look at me. If they had let me in on Day 1 and given me the chance I would have given them so much money, but no. They outsourced the game to an inexperienced developer who was probably the lowest bidder, probably to save money, and here they are losing way more money than they probably would have initially by choosing a better developer due to delaying the release and keeping paying customers out.

I just hope that:

a.) Someone higher up learns from this

and b.) Eventually all the f2p people give up on this game and open up the gates large enough to let the whales in.

That is all.

#idol land pripara

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frecklystars · 11 months

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I’m going to probably stay mostly offline today and tomorrow, because tomorrow night is the Charlie Puth concert and I want to be ready for it. I don’t want to risk seeing anything online that could trigger me and make me spiral, I want to try to relax myself as much as I can. The last thing I need is a panic attack especially when I’m supposed to be enjoying myself, and my ongoing anxiety from going to the emergency room last week still has me rattled. I’m still having flashbacks and bad memories in the back of my head constantly, like I am literally never not thinking about all the bad things that happened to me and I know that’s a part of ptsd but! it really sucks and I don’t want to make it worse by seeing my abuser floating around people’s blogs buying comms and giving me further reminders of how she got away with so much. And my anger has been totally consuming me for the past 2 days now so I really need to try to clear my thoughts

I’m super nervous about the concert. I’ve been so numb to the things I used to enjoy for 10 months now. I used to associate literally all of his songs w/ my TF ships and I’m worried that hearing them live will make me feel really depressed. but I spent money on this front row ticket and I think I’ll try to enjoy just simply seeing him so up close in person, I think that will be a cool experience despite everything else. and if I’m able to, I’ll post videos :D

I might make a post just before it starts and ask for some positive encouragement or something but in the meantime I’m gonna spend today at the movies and eating yummy food and playing stardew valley 💛💛💛

Also............. I reblogged a bunch of charlie puth stuff into my queue scheduled for tomorrow, I spent a couple of hours in the last two days trying to ground myself by going into his tag and reblogging a bunch of his music/videos. so im sorry class for the puth brainrot you’re gonna see all day tomorrow LOL I’m just desperately trying to hype myself up for this concert instead of dreading it

#woof #like my worst fear is that im gonna be so anxious out of my mind and unable to enjoy it #bc i am riddled with anxiety and being so tense! every! second! of every! single! day!#for!!!! months!!!! and i thought i'd be better by now but i'm not.#i thought i'd have a better grip on how to handle my anxiety now but i am not #bc i keep seeing my abuser and it sends me so backwards #if i knew i would have ptsd when i bought this ticket i never would have spent so much money #but who knows!! maybe he will make me feel a little better!!!#i just know last time i was at a concert i was so depressed i was out of my body #and now i have ptsd and i dont have my f/os and he's gonna be singing songs i associate with said f/os #so like i really dont expect this to go well im rly scared. im anxious out of my goddamn mind #[SHARP INHALE] OH FUCKING WELL

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pagesofangels · 1 year

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Thoughts on the Closing (From a Fan Who Missed Out)

I'm trying not to let the FOMO overtake me, but it really does suck to be as young as I am right now.

I see all the Phantom veterans on my dash who are over a decade older than me, been fans longer than me by extension, afford to go to the last performances. While I, a wee bab, had no chance in hell of ever affording it. Hell, I wouldn't be able to afford Broadway tickets and a trip to NYC under normal circumstances...and that's part of the reason it sucks. 'Cause now the 'glorious original' is gone forever and I never saw it (I know there's a revival coming, but we all know it's gonna be London's smaller production).

Sending so much love to everyone who got to experience that magic, it makes my heart happy that you were there! I just...really wish I could have been with you. I wish I could have stories of seeing the show 20 times in the grand Majestic.

But I never will. I'm grateful for the two tours I have seen in my life, and I can't wait until it tours again. But hearing everyone's memories of the show, of seeing the Big Names up on stage, I feel like I've only seen cheap imitations.

I keep thinking back to ALW's recent interview where he says he's not sure if a production as ambitious as Phantom will ever happen again. And I wonder if he's right.

Phantom was created in a different culture. The economy was better than it's been in a while. The internet wasn't a thing and therefore more people overall were more interested in theater. If someone were to try and create a huge expensive stage production today (I mean STUPID expensive, like Phantom is), it would never get off the ground. Hell, it probably wouldn't even be green-lit.

That makes me sad...that when the day comes that Phantom truly is not profitable anymore, there won't be anything of its prowess to replace it. The art of live theater may not be what it once was, because people's interests move on to other things. Money is spent elsewhere. That's what I see happening to the book world, but that's a topic for another post.

I think what I'm trying to express though writing all of this, is that a part of the reason I'm sad this production is closing is because it might be the end of truly spectacular stage shows. The revival will be smaller, with less elaborate special effects and less of a live orchestra......all because it's cheaper. All because you can get away with doing less impressive things.

I'm upset because this almost confirms my lingering fear that the arts are slowly starting to decline in quality, all for the sake of money...

...and I never got to see it at its peak, because I simply was born too late.

#phantom broadway

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toujokaname · 1 year

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A Handsome Man In The Midst Of Good Luck / Episode 2

Author: Chitose Umeda

Characters: HiMERU, Rei, Tetora

"I'm grateful for HiMERU-san's good luck...♪"

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Season: Winter

Location: Television Station Dressing Room

After the recording

HiMERU: ...Thank you for your hard work, Sakuma-senpai.

Rei: Same to you, HiMERU-kun. Inaba-kun did not want to leave you at all, was that not hard for you?

HiMERU: Yes, well... HiMERU didn't think he would become so attached to him.

The owner was amazed from start to finish. Saying "You will be lucky for sure!" again and again...

Rei: That sure is what they said... That Inaba-kun, is he such a powerful rabbit?

Inaba-kun did not want to get away from you after the recording, so I tried to get close to him, but...

He only threatened me.

It is saddening. Even though I have had the experience of being surprisingly favored by rabbits before.

HiMERU: To put it in a colloquial way. HiMERU may just happen to be Inaba-san's type.

...The idea that one can predict good or bad luck based on a rabbit's preferences and gestures is strange, though.

Rei: I suppose. "Even if Inaba-kun doesn't like you, it probably won't bring you any misfortune..." The owner's words are a little concerning.

But there is no use in worrying too much. If I suffer from misfortune, I'll just suck the good fortune out of HiMERU-kun to balance it out.

HiMERU: ―HiMERU doesn't think that any good luck will truly come to him, though.

Rei: You do not believe in Inaba-kun's fortune-telling?

HiMERU: It's hard to believe. Because in the end, it's just a phenomenon without any support or evidence.

...Well then, HiMERU will take his leave now.

Rei: Alright, I shall be leaving as well. Let us both be careful on our way home at night...♪

Location: Seisoukan (Exterior)

HiMERU: (Oh, is HiMERU already in front of Seisoukan?)

(From the TV station to Seisoukan, it usually takes about ten more minutes...)

(Thinking back, HiMERU never got stuck at any traffic lights. He was able to go straight through the three-way and five-way junctions where he usually has to wait.)

(Seems like it was a stroke of luck that there were only green lights every time.)

..."Luck"?

―No, no way. It's just a series of coincidences.

Daring to use such a ridiculous expression. It's rare, but it happens.

Location: Seisoukan Dorm Room

Tetora: Uu, u~myu...?

HiMERU: ―HiMERU is home.

Tetora: Ah, HiMERU-san. Welcome home! Sorry for looking like this.

HiMERU: It's fine. Although it's a shared dormitory, it is also your room, so it's natural that you should feel at home.

Tetora: No, it's too much of a distraction to just lounge around on the bed in front of a senior. I'll sit up... Here we go.

HiMERU: Fufu. Nagumo is a very earnest person who keeps a diligent attitude towards life, how admirable.

By the way. You seemed to be glaring at your smartphone. Did something happen?

Tetora: Umm... I'm embarrassed to say this, but...

Actually, there's a character in the game I'm playing right now that I really want to pull! It's this character...

HiMERU: Oh. Somehow, he looks like someone familiar.

Tetora: That's right! This character is just like Taishou, who I respect the most in the world!

So I really want to get him, but I'm worried about spending money on the game because it's against my allowance rules for this month...!

HiMERU: It's a good thing that you have trained your mind enough to control yourself.

Tetora: But I really want him! I want Taishou in my party~!

HiMERU: ―HiMERU is unsure of how the game functions. If you want him so badly, why don't you just pull him?

Do you have to pay to get the character?

Tetora: Umm, there are tickets. But, I've spent a lot of the tickets that I've saved up...

I have no choice but to spend the remaining ten tickets! I want it so much that I have a feeling it'll backfire~!

...That's why, HiMERU-san!

HiMERU: Yes?

Tetora: I want you to use the ten tickets for me!

HiMERU: ? Are you sure you want to leave it to HiMERU?

Tetora: Yes! I won't complain no matter what the result is, so please do it in my place...!

HiMERU: ―Understood. HiMERU doesn't think the substitution will change the result, however. At any rate, let's pull it.

HiMERU & Tetora: ......... (Intently looking at the phone's screen)

Tetora: Hmm? The load time is really long, isn't it?

Oh, it's starting... Eeeehh?! What's this screen?! I've never seen so many rainbow lights!

HiMERU: Indeed, the rainbow-colored lights seem to occupy 80% of the results.

Tetora: Now all we have to do is see which characters were pulled, in order―

Wah, aaahhhh! Here! He's here, HiMERU-san, Taishou is here~!

HiMERU: ...So it seems. You got the character you wanted, congratulations, Nagumo.

Tetora: What are you talking about! HiMERU-san pulled for me!

I can't believe I got all the other characters I wanted...! This result is incredible!

I can't thank you enough times! HiMERU-san, thank you so much!

HiMERU: No, it is just a coincidence. HiMERU is sure that it's simply because of how many tickets Nagumo had used so far.

Tetora: Is that so~? To me, HiMERU-san was lucky!

I'm grateful for HiMERU-san's good luck...♪

HiMERU: ―......

("Luck" again?)

Tetora: ? What's wrong?

HiMERU: ...No, nothing. It's just that this has been a day in which HiMERU heard the word "luck" many times.

Actually, today, he recorded a TV program―

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#chitose umeda #scout story #lucky scramble #himeru #rei #tetora

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you-aremy-sunshine · 1 year

Text

#2 - i hate the way you cut your hair - b.b.

summary: you have met this man once in your life, at a bar after you passed out. and the second time you meet him it definitely is less pleasant. thankfully you never ever have to see him again. except now you are forced on a plane with him to the mediterranean because the tickets are non-refundable. fuck this.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, natasha romanoff x reader

a/n: PART 2!!! i'll prob be updating every day or so, since i have a lot of the chapters ready so... be exciteddd!!! join my taglist!!

-- previously --

she pulled your lips to hers. she tasted like regret and cherries. natasha pulled you into the closest bathroom, pressing you against the wall. you pushed off of her to take a deep breath, only to dive back into the bittersweet kiss. finally, you pulled away, a longing desire for more in your eyes. you blinked rapidly, realizing what had happened, “i wish i never met you,” you whispered, natasha close enough to hear you.

this fucking sucked.

-- current <3 --

you spun around and walked out of the bathroom only to walk into the other person you hated. bucky.

“ugh.” you pushed him harder than you meant to and started to walk off when he grabbed your wrist, “what’s up?” he asked, it seemed sincere but you never know with bucky barnes.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. wanna get a drink? on me,” he said with a smile. his eyes flashed to your swollen lips. why not, i mean, the past hour was pretty shitty, and it possibly can’t get shittier.

you ordered a cheap beer, not wanting to spend too much of his money.

“hey,” he started.

“hey,” you responded.

“i’m sorry for being kind of a dick, i do remember the time i tried to kiss you. i guess i was drunk enough to try but sober enough to remember. i don't know what possessed me to be so dickish,” he looked genuine enough. maybe he wasn’t so bad.

“thanks for the apology. i might get back to you in 5-7 business days,” you replied, and quickly followed up when a frown started to appear on his face “i’m joking! i'm joking, but thanks for the apology. i appreciate it a lot actually.” you said with a shy grin.

“you got me in the first half,” he laughed. oh wow, he finds me funny. that's a first. you smiled as a reply.

“oh! i just remembered,” he said turning to face you again, “before i tried to kiss you, you went up to me and asked if i wanted to fuck. not to mention you called me hot.”

“oh noo,” you whined, burying your face in your hands, “i did that?”

“yeah, and then you passed out,” he said, trying to hold in his laughter.

“oh um, can i ask a question?

“sure,”

“hypothetically, if you dated someone, and they cheated on you, you’d hate them. right? after the breakup, you’ve spent so much time healing and setting boundaries. and then you saw them at this party, and you didn’t expect to see them. but you saw them there. you start talking and hypothetically, of course, somehow you start making out. snogging, if you will. for like a good amount of time.” you ramble, he’s looking at you, listening to every word, “and once you’re finished you realize what you’ve done and you rush off. not to mention you told your ex that you wish you never met them. what would you do?”

he glanced at your still slightly swollen lips, “hypothetically i snog my ex who cheated on me.” he said.

“yeah.”

“if it were me i would probably go back to my ex. but since i’m giving you a good answer to your hypothetical, i would just pretend that that never happened. and when you see them, just be nice. if it seems like they’re trying to get you back, just make up an excuse for stopping the conversation.” he stated, glancing down at his drink, then back up to you, “i’m guessing this isn’t a hypothetical, though.”

“uh, yeah it isn’t,” you softly said, with an awkward smile, “but thank you for the advice.”

“no problem,” he said.

you glanced down at your watch, “oh shit!” you started to gather your things, “i have a thing tomorrow morning and it’s already midnight.” you explained shoving your phone into your purse.

“i can drive you home if you want,” he offered, “i only drank a little.”

“yeah,” you said a little distracted, “yeah. sure, thanks.” you smiled at him.

you both gathered your things and walked to bucky’s car.

—

“here’s your stop, madam,” he reached over to open the door for you.

“thank you so much for driving me home,” you said, reaching forward to hug him, still in the car.

“yeah. this was fun,” he smiled softly at you as you got out of the car. he waited until you were safely inside the building to drive off. common courtesy, i guess.

—

ring. ring. ring.

ugh, who was calling you at, you quickly checked the time, at 8:03 am?

you picked up your phone.

seven missed calls from vi (vila)

two missed calls from kai (kaiya)

what the fuck?

you called kaiya back first.

“hello?” she answered.

“hey kai, good morning,” you said, “also why’d you and vi call me?”

“long story short, everybody who ate the food yesterday got food poisoning. so vi and i are shitting our guts out right now. we can’t go to greece like this.” she rambled, seeming stressed,

“wait but the trip to greece is non-refundable,” you said.

“exactly, that's our problem, and the flight is in five hours. do you think you could pack and be ready to go to greece in less than 5 hours?” she pleaded.

“i mean i kind of had a thing, but yeah i can pack quickly. also who’s the second person?” you asked, “because isn’t it a two-person trip?”

“that’s for you to decide,” kai said, “you can bring sol.”

“oh! nice,” you exclaimed, “sorry about your food poisoning.”

“yeah. thanks for doing this at the last minute. okay bye.” kai said.

“yep.” and you hung up.

you quickly called sol wanting to tell her the news.

“hey! sol! guess what! everyone got food poisoning at the wedding, including vi and kai. and their honeymoon trip to greece is non-refundable, sooo they told me to go and invite someone! also, the flight is in 5 hours.” you exclaimed.

“awesome! that’s great! i think i can pack quickly enough.” she said excitedly, “hold on let me

check if i can go.”

“oh shit. i am so sorry.” she said, “i have a fucking cross-country road trip to go on with my brothers and sisters tomorrow. i wish i could cancel but my parents would kill me. they said that we should still be close as adults. they paid for everything, so i guess i can’t complain.”

“oh shit. it's okay. send me pictures of the places you go to.” you said.

“bye, love you,” she said.

“love you too,” you responded. she hung up.

you called kai again, “kai, sol can’t come and all my friends are on vacation already. i don’t have anybody to go with.” you stated.

“uhh, okay i think i have someone you can go with.” she said, “be open to who it is. you two can bond on the plane.”

“okay, bye”

“bye”

—

you waited at the airport gate, your carry-on and your backpack seated right next to you. you looked up from your phone to see the unexpected person accompanying you. bucky.

“…aw fuck no.” he said, talking to someone on the phone, and you just happened to overhear his conversation, “not her, she’s the worst person i could have ever been paired with…” you couldn’t hear the next part, he turned his back to you, “...you know how i feel about her, kai.”

he hung up and walked over to you.

is he just going to forget everything that happened yesterday!? i guess that's how it always is with him. fuck him.

“hey,” he said, taking the seat across from you.

you nodded in response, not bothering to look up from your phone.

that's how the entire waiting time was. he would ask you a question to try and break the ice, but you wouldn’t look up, or respond dryly. when you did look up, you looked bored and annoyed. when you boarded, fortunately, you had downloaded enough movies to keep you occupied. even though he was right next to you.

you were on princess diaries, your third movie, when you started to feel a bit tired, you tilted your head back against the seat. you fell asleep quickly, the smooth airplane movement lulling you to sleep.

you woke up to the rattle of airplane turbulence, finding your head resting comfortably on top of bucky’s chest. how you ended up there, you didn’t know. what you did know was that you were going to get off of him as fast as you could. which caused you to smack your arm against the hard plastic of the folded-up table of the chair in front of you.

“ow!” you exclaimed loudly, you voice echoing throughout the silent plane.

you inspected your arm, now in the safety of your seat. bucky woke up, presumably because of the loud noise you made.

“hey,” he asked groggily, “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“calm down ice queen.” he said, turning away from you.

YAYY another one posted!!! lmk what u think

taglist: @scarlett-fatale @cjand10

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#bucky barnes fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #bucky barnes #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x y/n #🍯; sol writes #10 things i hate about you

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