#but now i just wanna play bass and be happy

[sunkendreams]

SIDELINES.

you haven’t seen jesse pinkman since high school — and he’s the last person you ever expected to connect with. however, times have changed — and so have you.

part 1. | part 2. | part 3. | part 4. | part 5.

༄ PAIRING. | jesse pinkman x [female] reader.

༄ FORMAT. | one-shot, multi-part — not requested.

༄ WORD COUNT. | 9.6K.

༄ WARNINGS. | drug use, references to substance use/addiction, past jane/jesse, emotional trauma/hurt, jesse’s internalized hatred/guilt, acquaintances to lovers, smoking, smut, smut with plot, making out, dirty talk, breast play, cunnilingus, hair pulling, bottom!jesse, riding, morning sex, aftercare.

༄ AUTHOR’S NOTE. | I don’t know where I’m getting these ideas, but I have a lot of projects in the works right now. Some are horror-related and some aren’t. Honestly, I’m just happy to be writing again no matter what the content is. Thank you guys for your continued support & love. I couldn’t do it without you all! Peace! ☺️

The scent of marijuana, pungent smoke, and a toxic amalgamation of sweat and AXE body spray wafted throughout the house, music jacked up so loud that it made your ears ring. You remained at your perch, stuffed along the wall of a stranger’s house while your friends got stoned in another room.

You were dragged to this party out of sheer loyalty to your friends and a boredom that outweighed anything else. Regret rippled through you, nose stinging from the foul smells that hung like a noxious haze in the living room. The drink you clutched within one hand was watered-down, tiny slivers of ice swirling around within the cup.

Some mediocre hip-hop song blasted throughout the house, bass loud enough to shake the very foundation — you were thoroughly surprised that the police hadn’t been called in for a noise complaint.

Grey wisps of smoke drifted in your direction, and you swatted at it with a wrinkled nose. It wasn’t your typical scene — the sort of party, at least. Partying was something you were accustomed to — harmless college parties with drinks and weed, but this was something else.

There were people snorting lines of cocaine off of a glass coffee table, and you swore that one person had passed out entirely in the kitchen. A strange sensation crawled across your flesh — a feeling that you weren’t exactly meant to be here. Your friends had driven you down here, but you were prepared to take your chances with walking home.

“Wanna hit?” A man asked you, gsze half-lidded, lips curled into a less than attractive smile. He propositioned you with a jerk of his head, motioning toward the thin line of fine, white powder sitting along the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You waved one hand in dismiss, weaving through the crowds to retrieve another drink. The kitchen was destroyed, ravaged by strangers with little respect for the home. Debris, trash, and the remnants of marijuana were everywhere. You nearly stepped on broken glass.

It felt like an out-of-body experience — as if you were simply a spectator, an observer who watched the chaos around you. You didn’t thrive or revel within it — you were indifferent. The vices of your friends differed greatly from your own, to quite an extreme degree.

As you watched the swarm of people, all huddled together within the living room, the air became stifling and stuffy, as if it threatened to suffocate you altogether. They reminded you of zombies — barely moving in one place, all drugged-out from whatever concoction of pills and illicit substances were available at this party.

You silently slipped outside, abandoning your drink somewhere on the windowsill as you stepped out into the cool night breeze. You inhaled, greedily drinking in the crisp freshness of dusk, hands roaming over your thin cardigan as you began to shuffle to the edge of the porch.

Moonlight pooled through the wispy clouds as they fluttered through the night — everything was so much quieter outside. The thumping of the bass had diminished, and the skunk-like scent had dissipated altogether.

The door opened behind you, a figure slinking out onto the porch a few feet away from you. “Hey.”

It was somewhat unfamiliar until you’d actually glanced over your shoulder, gaze landing upon a most familiar face — Jesse Pinkman. The two of you made eye contact; Jesse’s face blossomed with a subtle realization.

“Holy shit,” You let out a bark of a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Jesse Pinkman, right? You went to J.P Wynne.” You hadn’t seen Jesse Pinkman since high school graduation — you distinctly remembered his social circle.

Jesse recognized you sometime during the midst of the party — a true wallflower, despite your popularity in junior high. It surprised him to see a girl like you at one of his drug-laden festivities, but then again, life was full of surprises. He looked tired, skin pale and eyes baggy as he leaned against one of the columns.

“Yeah,” Perusing his pockets, he fished out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. “You were one of the Honor Society members, right?” Jesse recalled your stellar academics and social standing — his polar opposite.

You made a face, keeping your arms folded across your abdomen. “Yeah.” Admittedly, Jesse wasn’t exactly someone you were friends with in high school. Cordial was a good word for it — your parents never would have allowed you to hang out with someone like him, anyway. “We were in Mr. White’s chemistry classes together.”

Upon mentioning Walter White, Jesse stiffened slightly, feigning innocence as he cracked a thin-lipped smile. “Jesus,” He exhaled, reaching for his lighter. “It’s been awhile.”

There was a prevalent exhaustion that hung within his eyes, a loneliness that almost felt tangible within that moment. He avoided eye contact with you at-times, hands fidgeting when you stepped closer.

“It has.” You paused, rubbing your palms across your arms. Despite the acrid heat that New Mexico produced during the day, the temperatures dropped drastically at night. You shivered, a delicate smile creeping across your features. “Did the party get a little boring for you, too?”

He’d forgotten about you a little bit — forgotten about just how beautiful you were. You’d only gotten prettier, too. Jesse felt the sting of sheepishness and inferiority that came with being around someone like you — a good person, someone with responsibilities and respectable morals. You weren’t a criminal — you hadn’t killed somebody.

Jesse almost felt as if he shouldn’t be speaking to you, but he pressed on. “I guess. Needed some air, you know?” He noticed your constant shivering, prompting him to remove the baggy, black jacket he wore. “You cold?” He asked, gesturing toward the garment he carried.

“Oh,” Warmth crept along your flesh, brows knitting together as you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Jesse.” It was a thoughtful gesture, something you didn’t expect, but you were freezing and the dress wasn’t doing you any favors.

“Nah, go ahead. Might smell like cigarettes, though.” Jesse forewarned, tucking one hand underneath his arm. The long-sleeved Henley he wore was more than enough for him.

You thanked him, slipping into his hooded zip-up. He wasn’t exactly incorrect — it did smell of cigarette smoke intermingled with the cologne he wore. You didn’t mind, though.

Silence drifted between the two of you, awkward enough to make you uncomfortable as you fished around for your cellphone. Minutes ticked by without a word. Jesse appeared to be a little nervous, and you wondered if it had anything to do with you.

There was a string of texts from your friends inquiring about your whereabouts. It was a little after ten o’clock, and you fully intended on walking home. “It was nice seeing you, Jesse. I hope you’re doing well.” You cleared your throat. “I’m going to head home.”

Jesse opened his mouth to speak, lips fumbling around the unlit cigarette. Surely, you didn’t want to talk to him — Christ, he was practically a stranger. It felt cruel of him not to offer to give you a ride home, or something like that.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse cleared his throat, clamoring after you. “I can give you a ride home. Could be stalkers or crazy people around.” His reasoning was weak, but it seemed to resonate with you, oddly enough. He felt strange — he barely knew you outside of what he perceived in high school.

You knew that Jesse had gotten in trouble with the law in school — everyone knew. Gossip was prevalent at J.P Wynne. Part of you screamed to refuse, to politely decline and endure the lengthy trek home, but a sliver of you wanted to accept, to indulge in your curiosity.

Jesse had always been kind to you in the very rare, occasional interaction you’d had with him. He hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him. It was a nice change of company — refreshing, almost. There was a clean slate between the two of you.

Your shoulders slouched and sluggishly lifted in a weak shrug as you rubbed your hands together. “You don’t mind? It’s on Nauman Drive, past downtown.” A decent drive, for sure — a half an hour or more. You expected him to reject you given the distance.

“Nauman?” It was a nice area, he knew that much. “Yeah, I don’t mind. You care if I smoke?” Jesse inquired, gesturing around toward the garage. He didn’t care about the house — it almost seemed to fade away into the background. He needed a break, time to think.

“Go ahead.” You trailed after Jesse, following him toward the paved stretch of driveway. A 1984 Toyota Tercel sat, red paint beginning to fade and show signs of weathering. It was beat-up, but certainly held a bit of rugged appeal.

Jesse awkwardly shuffled to open the passenger door, and you thanked him, sinking down into the felt seats. The car smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap air fresheners, but it was tidy and clean inside. You placed your purse down onto the floorboard in front of you.

Blowing a pillar of smoke into the air, Jesse hastily finished his cigarette, fingers beginning to quiver as he opened the driver’s side. He hadn’t really spent time with a girl since Jane — but you didn’t remind him of her whatsoever. There were many qualities you possessed that certainly contrasted from her, not that it was a bad thing.

“Do you live here?” You asked, head canting to one side. There were other cars scattered around the block and parked on the street, but his happened to be the only vehicle in the driveway.

“Uh,” Jesse glanced at you, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.” He turned the key forward, car rumbling and puffing to life. “Bought the house months ago — used to be my Aunt’s.” He clarified, wondering if you would ask about the obscene amount of drugs.

“You don’t think it’ll burn down while you’re gone?” You questioned, lips twitching into a thin smile as you rolled down the passenger window, letting your elbow rest up against the ledge.

Jesse let out a huff of laughter, and shrugged his shoulders. He began to back up, rolling out onto the empty roads. “It’s been through worse shit.” His wry statement only made your smile flicker again, but he vehemently focused on driving instead.

You felt the barrier melt a bit at that — it was comforting to know that the two of you didn’t have to behave like complete strangers. Silence simmered again, settling between the both of you as he concentrated on finding something on the radio. It served as suitable background noise.

“What are you doing nowadays?” You avoided the topic of the party — it wasn’t worth mentioning. A cool breeze whipped through the car as he began to drive, causing goosebumps to prickle along your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Jesse confessed, cerulean hues flickering in your direction. “Drifting, I guess.” It was the first time where he’d revealed a sliver of his true feelings. The parties were a worthwhile distraction — soulless events where he could find solace in all of the chaos surrounding him. “Shit, it’s a long story.” His laughter was shaky.

“You don’t have to do a full confession, Jesse.” You reassured, playfully prodding at your cardigan. “I’m not wearing a wire.” With a gentle exhale, your tone softened as he pulled out onto the highway. It was almost soothing — driving back home with somebody you never expected to see again.

Jesse laughed at that, running a hand across his disheveled hair, and then planting it against the back of his neck. The support groups he’d been attending didn’t work — there was no comfort he’d been able to find.

Everything felt like some massive distraction from the root of the problem — the residual pain he was dealing with from Jane, from Gale. His heart hammered within his chest, and he looked at you again. Oddly enough, your nonchalant behavior and lack of judgment would’ve been enough for him to spill in a different setting.

“Hey, what about you? What are you doing these days?” Jesse immediately shifted the focus away from him. He was far more interested in what you had to say than his own life. Besides, it would pull him out of his own head for a little while.

The inquiry was unexpected but not unwelcome, causing you to adjust yourself within the passenger seat. “Oh,” You cleared your throat. “I’m in college at the University of New Mexico. I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to study — getting basics out of the way. I work at a cafe.”

Normal, uneventful, peaceful — Jesse envied you.

You were achieving something mundane yet safe, something that he wished he would’ve done long ago. Maybe things wouldn’t have happened in the way that they did. His countenance became a touch forlorn, but it wasn’t the time to become mournful over the past. He couldn’t go back, not anymore.

“Yeah, that’s …” He nodded, attempting to conjure the right words to say. “That’s good, really good. You know you could do anything you wanted. You were always really smart and shit.” Jesse replied, gaze hyperfocused upon the road as headlights raced past.

You could detect that Jesse was holding something back — that minuscule flicker of pain had crossed over his visage before being forced to dissipate. Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you reached over, gently prodding at his shoulder.

“Hey,” You began, tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Jesse felt his heart constrict within his chest, wisps of air stolen from his lungs. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked that — and genuinely meant it. It wasn’t out of obligation, that was easy to tell. He felt his throat grow thick, but he staved off any tears.

“Yeah.” It was a blatant lie, spoken through a clenched jaw. He nearly winced when you touched his shoulder, feeling as if he were souring the mood entirely. “Just, uh … You know, going to therapy and rehab right now. It’s been tough.” A very threadbare half-truth, but it was enough to placate you.

“Oh.” A warmth crept into your voice as you withdrew, countenance softening as you sank back into the passenger seat. “That’s understandable, Jesse. I’m sorry.” You replied, tucking strands of hair behind your ear as you looked out the window again.

Albuquerque was a sprawling city, and as the two of you neared the nicer end, Jesse knew that Nauman was only ten minutes away. He didn’t want to go back to the party anymore — but it might’ve been the best option. If he stayed with you, he knew the pain it would cause. He feared losing people — it was present all the time, a nagging dread that never stopped.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jesse interjected, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Did that shit to myself, you know?” Addiction was behind him. He rarely participated anymore — he was just a silent observer, fueling everyone else’s vices while he withered away. What kind of a life was that?

You canted your head to one side, lips parting slightly as you spoke. “Jesse, that’s not entirely your fault. You can’t blame yourself for your environment or circumstances out of your control.” You were right — but he made the choice to shoot Gale, and he made the choice to shoot up with Jane before she died.

He was silent, feeling the sensation of tears swimming within his gaze. Jesse didn’t want to even remotely consider crying in front of you — he barely knew you. Instead, he focused on the road, taking the exit towards Albuquerque Studios. Nauman wasn’t very far away.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d had a conversation with someone else that was this raw and vulnerable. Jesse’s discomfort was palpable and very real to you, and you felt horrible. Your countenance glistened with concern, brows furrowing together.

After the exit, Jesse drove onto Nauman Drive. There were rows of beautiful, lavish houses and apartment complexes, ones that he probably could’ve bought with the dealing money. He was blowing it all away right now on drugs for the parties — he was beginning to ask himself ‘why?’

“My apartment is at the end of the drive.” Your voice had softened, hands planted within your lap as he followed your directions. It was a smaller apartment complex but much nicer, your driveway occupied by your vehicle.

Jesse pulled up along the curb — it was eerily silent, aside from the cacophony of crickets that provided a steady ambience, and the occasional bark of a dog. He put the car in park, still gripping the steering wheel. “You got a nice place.” He murmured, a halfhearted attempt to shift the conversation to something else.

“Hey,” After unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over the center console, palm resting over his hand, the one that was strangling the wheel of the car. “Why don’t you come inside? I can make you coffee or something and you can just space out for a little while. We don’t even have to talk.”

The offer was generous — admittedly, Jesse wondered if it would benefit him in any way. If he could just lay on your couch, decompress, let the emotion off of his chest. He didn’t care about the state of the house — he didn’t care about anybody at that party. What he did care about, however, was you, and how you made him feel.

It was as if the invisibility he’d been safely floating in for so long was shattered, but there was someone who could actually see him — see the veil he’d been maintaining for this whole time. His gaze finally flickered toward you, who appeared genuinely concerned for him.

You were good — truly good.

There wasn’t an ounce of maliciousness or an underlying agenda. You didn’t smoke, you hadn’t touched drugs, you were in college with a steady, normal job that never got you involved with the wrong people. Jesse knew what he’d be putting you through if he let this drag out for too long. If he fucked up, people could hurt you.

“Listen,” Jesse swallowed, palm planted against the back of his neck. “You’re really sweet, okay? You’re nice,” He wanted to word it in a way that wouldn’t hurt your feelings. “I just — I can’t. I’m not in a good spot right now. I don’t wanna drag you down with me.” That sounded fair, didn’t it?

You could accept that.

If it had something to do with the drugs, which you assumed that it was, then you understood that he was trying to protect you. You wanted to encourage him to try, but the last thing you wanted to do was pressure someone in a fragile state.

“Okay, Jesse.” You hesitated, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “I just want you to know that you're not alone. If you need someone, I’m here for you. I know that there was a wedge in high school, but I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t reconnect.” You shrugged, popping open the passenger side door.

As you stepped outside, you made sure to remove his jacket, draping it over the center console as you shut the door. Jesse didn’t say anything as you rounded the car — he was biting his finger, eyes squeezing shut as you made the short trek toward your front door. It felt like an eternity until you’d actually gotten inside.

Jesse exhaled, hands trembling as he hastily wiped away straggling tears that he’d been withholding during the span of the whole drive. Part of him knew that he could use a positive influence like you in his life, but the danger that lurked around him, the cloud of loss, he was afraid that you’d become lost in all of that, too.

The deliberation between going back to his house and biting the bullet to stay with you was a tedious process. He sat out in the car for a long time — he was surprised that you hadn’t come back outside asking why he was sitting there with his head pressed against the steering wheel.

When he finally made the choice to go up to your door, the walk felt like a lengthy, eternal drag. Jesse rocked forward, pressing his hands against his face as he composed himself. Back in high school, he was suave — much more of a charmer. Nowadays, he felt incompetent, but it was largely due to an amalgamation of nerves and drug use.

He knocked a few times, skin crawling with a nervous sensation, but there was something exciting about it, too. You were familiar yet new, a breath of fresh air that he desperately needed. Jesse watched as the door opened, and there you were.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse stuck his hands into his pockets, rocking back upon his heels. “Is the offer still on the table?” He’d ask, and your lips split into a gentle yet bemused smile.

“Of course.” You’d changed into your pajamas — a baggy, oversized graphic t-shirt and cotton shorts that were dwarfed by your top. “Did you want to watch a movie? I was about to start Watchmen.”

Jesse watched as you stepped aside to invite him in, closing the door behind him and latching the lock. You had a weird itch for security, especially at night. “Yeah, that sounds cool.” He replied, having a look around.

Your apartment was tidy and very cozy, with a rather comforting aesthetic and atmosphere. Jesse felt a little more relaxed, wandering around in the small living room. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the plush sofa, scattered with throw blankets and pillows.

As you prepared coffee, you wondered what changed his mind. It was a question that would likely nag at you until you asked. You understood being lonely — aside from the occasional hangout with your friends, you lived alone.

“Make yourself at home,” You chimed, weaving around the coffee table to place your steaming mugs down, settling into the couch. Jesse sat a comfortable distance away, arm slung over the back of the sofa. “What changed your mind?”

Your question caught him off-guard, but he wanted to be transparent with you. He owed you that much, especially after talking to him — after this, after everything. “I knew that I’d be miserable if I went back,” He shrugged. “I don’t wanna keep being miserable.” Loneliness also played a factor in this, but he didn’t really want to own up to it just yet.

“I understand,” You began, tucking one knee toward your chest as you played the movie. Admittedly, it served as better background noise than anything else. “I’m glad you came over.” Your lips split into a soft smile.

Jesse hesitated, glancing over at you as he stayed silent. He was most definitely drinking you in, gaze subtly raking you over as you took a sip of your coffee. For a moment, he envisioned this — getting close to you, hanging out with you, just getting to be himself, or as close as he could get again.

“I’m glad, too.” Jesse confessed, rubbing at the back of his head. He nearly shriveled at the eye contact you made with him, but he maintained it instead, lips twitching into a faint smile.

You nudged your drink back onto the wooden table, wordlessly slinking closer to Jesse until you were curled up beside him. The silence simmered with something else, perhaps a crackle of affection. Your gaze glistened with a peculiar softness, flickering between the movie and him.

Admittedly, this was the last thing Jesse expected — but that didn’t stop him from wanting it to happen. Once you initiated, he decided to meet you halfway, draping his arm around you, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

He’d been craving something like this for a while now. Jane left a void — a massive, gaping wound that he feared wouldn’t heal, but now? Maybe there was an end in sight — maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Jesse relaxed, sinking into you as you cuddled up with him.

Your hands intertwined, fingers brushing together until they joined. Just like Jesse, you were chasing after the sensation of touch, chasing after that feeling of fulfillment — no more loneliness. You’d been dealing with it for a long while, trying to manage the sea of emotions, and this was a nice break from that.

“I understand feeling miserable,” You murmured, head resting comfortably against his collarbone. “Sometimes it feels like you’re alone out on a raft, in the middle of the ocean.”

Jesse’s jaw tightened, but there was a mutual sense of empathy and understanding within your words. That was how he felt oftentimes — just himself, attempting to stay afloat. He didn’t say anything, but he did caress your knuckles with his thumb as a form of acknowledgment.

As the movie progressed, the two of you occasionally made small talk, but you were a little engrossed by the film, and so was he. It was comforting to just be near him — let him hold you, keep it light with gentle touches and whatnot.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Jesse cleared his throat, glancing down at you with exhausted eyes. “Thanks for this,” He murmured, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Would you wanna do it again? Like, uh … Hanging out, or something?” He was intent on cleaning up his place, now.

“Yeah,” You replied, twisting within his hold enough to peer up at him. “I would.” There was something special about this — perhaps a feeling of renewal, of starting something with someone you never expected. You had a feeling that Jesse needed a little bit of support, and you didn’t mind providing that.

“Shit,” Jesse breathed through a soft laugh, visibly bewildered yet pleased by your answer. “Okay.” He didn’t expect that from you — he didn’t expect anything, really.

The both of you were smiling, now. Watchmen dissipated into the background once more, simply serving as ambience as the two of you nestled together. “Okay.” You parroted, lips curling into a lopsided smile as Jesse gathered his bearings.

You had little time to fully comprehend his next actions — he moved inward, cerulean hues dropping from your face to your mouth. Everything about this screamed sudden and intense, but you didn’t care. He tasted like cigarette smoke and spearmint gum — he had a very sweet kiss.

Jesse inhaled, relaxing into you, careening right into the warmth of your body. Every fiber of his being felt electrified, and he became so incredibly nervous — he hadn’t done this since Jane. He didn’t want her death to tarnish the moment, but it was inevitable.

He pulled away, opening his mouth to speak, yet nothing emerged. Words turned to ash upon his tongue, dying then and there as he hung his head, fingers toying with yours.

It wasn’t difficult to tell that he was struggling with this — you didn’t want to pry, but you didn’t want him to feel obligated, either. “Hey,” You murmured, dragging one hand toward his face, fingertips grazing over his stubbled jaw. “What’s wrong?” It was written all over his countenance, this underlying sense of pain.

“Nothing, just …” Jesse shivered when your palm cupped his jaw, shamelessly leaning into the sensation you left behind from your hand. “I just don’t wanna leave.” It sounded so pathetic — he didn’t want to go back home to a drug-laden pit.

Your lips twitched into a faint smile. “Is that it?” You left it open-ended, attempting to stay on the side of not being invasive or pushy. You wanted him to be comfortable.

Jesse huffed, idly tracing the pad of his thumb across the delicate plane of your knuckles. “Nah,” He admitted, cerulean hues flickering toward your face. “Haven’t really done this in awhile.” Telling you the visceral, painful truth would’ve been too much for him, so he settled on something else, something superficial.

“What, kissing?” You teased, keeping it mellow and lighthearted before he shook his head. “If it’s any reassurance, I haven’t done anything, either. Don’t feel like it’s just you.” With a soft sigh, you watched as Jesse leaned back just an inch or two, head craned to rest against your couch.

There was something forlorn about him, a light aura of melancholy that swirled around his being. You didn’t want to ask, but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened. You were able to look past that — he was attractive. You’d always thought that he was handsome.

“You, uh … You mind if we do it again?” Jesse asked, head cocked to one side. He was some amalgamation of sheepishness and a suave charm, smile somewhat feeble as he held your hand.

“I don’t mind.” You replied, but before he could lean in again, you had something on your mind. “Jesse?”

Jesse stooped closer, forehead nearly pressed against yours. “Yeah?”

“Would it help if you stayed tonight?” Whatever was plaguing him, being alone around drugs was the last thing he needed. You didn’t mind him staying the night — you didn’t mind whatever came with that, too.

He remained silent for a few moments, and immediately felt as if he should say no — and against his own inner turmoil, he wanted to be with you. He didn’t care if the house was a mess or if it had been reduced to nothing — he’d rather stay here with you.

“I don’t wanna disturb the peace,” Jesse began, nose wrinkling slightly when you rolled your eyes. “I can crash on the couch.” Admittedly, that sliver of him that was desperate for affection also wanted to sleep with you, but it was only polite to keep his distance until you said otherwise.

“You’re not disturbing anything. Promise.” You reassured, fingers creeping toward the nape of his neck as you tilted forward. “I want you to stay.” You uttered, your own desire for fulfillment and company mirrored his own want to not be alone.

Part of him really wished you hadn’t said that — but once the gate was open, Jesse couldn’t stop himself, and neither could you. His gaze fell to your lips, thumb briefly caressing your jaw until the two of you were colliding into one another.

Jesse kissed you again, compassionate and borderline needy, hand dropping to grasp at the curve of your hip. His free hand still remained tangled with yours, eyes fluttering shut as you shuffled forward, partially planted within his lap. It was enough to make him forget about the downward spiral he was on, and it was as if the plummeting had ceased — for now.

You didn’t know where this would lead, but that was the exhilarating part about it. The uncertainty and the newfound territory that was Jesse Pinkman elated you. Maybe this was what you needed; he was what you needed — you needed a fresh start.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse whispered against your mouth, fingers teasing the hem of your baggy shirt, grazing over your thigh. “Where we going with this?” It was spoken with compassion and concern, out of total thoughtfulness for you. Maybe you didn’t want to sleep with a junkie — he couldn’t blame you.

“I think I know where I’d like to go,” You confessed, head canting to one side. “Where do you want to go?” You asked, idly trailing your digits through his hair. You noticed the subtle bobbing of his Adam’s apple, accompanied by a peculiar sheen within his eyes.

If it was something serious that you were after, Jesse was unsure if he even had that capability. After Jane, it almost seemed to shatter — fall apart. Maybe it didn’t have to be that way forever. Perhaps, there was a light at the end of the tunnel for the two of you.

Instead of recoiling, Jesse held you closer, wordlessly ushering you into his lap, palm splayed out underneath your shirt, resting soundly at the curve of your hip. “I just,” He hesitated, completely enamored by you — you were beautiful. “I don’t know if I can be what you need right now.” He admitted.

You respected him all the more for his candor, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck. You decided to kiss him, slow and steady, tilting to one side for something deeper. When you withdrew, your lips twitched into a smile. “I’m patient.” With that conclusion alone, Jesse relaxed.

He felt a bit of pressure relinquish itself from him, like a weight being removed from his chest. Jesse was worried that you’d want something serious, something strict off the bat. He didn’t intend on sleeping around, but he was afraid of disappointing you more than anything.

Given the implication of your interactions, Jesse had something on his mind — he figured that the feeling was mutual.

Jesse remained quiet for a moment, pressing a sweet kiss against your jaw, and then another to your neck. “Where’s your room?” He murmured, nearly shuddering in delight when you absentmindedly tugged on his hair.

“Come on.” Reluctantly, you removed yourself from his lap, taking ahold of his hand as you led him down the short corridor towards your bedroom. It was, as Jesse expected, lavishly-decorated and aesthetically pleasing. It far outweighed the dump he was living in.

“Cute.” Jesse couldn’t help but comment, lips twitching into a smile as he observed your choice of style and the many pillows piled up on top of your mattress. Admittedly, it all felt so cozy and welcoming — it even smelled good.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you watched as Jesse nudged the door closed. The both of you were swallowed by the lower, dim lighting of your bedroom, slivers of orange encompassing your scantily-clad frame.

He pressed closer, hands roaming across your body, one palm gently slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to brazenly grab at your ass. Locked in another heated kiss, your hands moved to push his jacket away, draping across his shoulders.

The sensation of your fingers roaming through his hair was enough to make his knees weak, a low groan resonating within his throat. You tasted sweet, like the twang of strawberry chapstick and the citrus seltzer you’d been drinking at the party. Jesse kissed you again, greedily this time, one hand cupping the curve of your hip.

As the two of you fell onto your bed in a feverish heap of limbs and mouths, you withdrew for a moment, getting yourself adjusted. You prepared to remove your shirt until you saw Jesse laying there, eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion was scrawled into his face, as if it were a permanent feature.

“Are you tired?” You asked, more concerned about his state of wellbeing. You were getting hot and bothered, but your own desire could be put on hold for a little while.

Jesse appeared embarrassed, but with the bags underneath his eyes and the perpetual state of tiredness that hung around him, he couldn’t lie to you. “Yeah,” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Shit, this feels pathetic. I’m practically blue-balling myself.” He mused, and it made you giggle.

“It’s not pathetic, Jesse.” You reassured, opting to climb into bed and make yourself comfortable. Jesse kicked off his shoes, following suit until he was resting at your side, arms tangled around you. “You look like you’re seconds away from crashing. I think we can put sex aside for now.”

Begrudgingly, he felt you cuddle against him, head near his collarbone as he made himself comfortable with you. His erection happened to push into your rump throughout, but before you could make a playful comment about it, his breathing had steadied.

“Jesse?” You whispered, receiving no response. He was most definitely asleep, and you confirmed this by simply rolling over. His expression was cast into one of bliss, still clutching onto you even through slumber. You sank back down with a smile, and decided to sleep, too.

—

Slivers of dawn’s first light trickled through the gossamer curtains — faint enough not to draw any attention, but enough to signal to Jesse that it was early in the morning. He’d stayed the night, and even then, it didn’t seem real.

You were asleep at his side, still nestled against him, but beginning to stir. Jesse couldn’t tell if it was because you were really waking up, or because his hard-on was protruding into you. He remembered last night — kissing you before he’d fallen asleep.

It wasn’t one of his smoothest moments — not by a long shot.

“Hey,” As the haze of grogginess began to lift, you were elated to find Jesse — still in your bed, and still next to you. Even being disheveled from sleep, Jesse found you to be astoundingly gorgeous. There was perfection to you that he wanted to drown himself inside of. “You’re here.” You smiled.

“Did you think I ditched or something?” He asked, arm draped around you as you shook off the feeling of slumber. Admittedly, part of you thought he’d wake up and leave, but he proved you wrong.

“A little bit,” You confessed, feeling his hand trace idle patterns into the dip of your waist. You wriggled closer, pressing a soft kiss against his stubbled jaw. “But I’m glad you didn’t.” It was complete and utter bliss, waking up with him — it was the last thing you expected, but you could get used to it.

Jesse huffed, hand dragging from your waist to your face, palm cupping your cheek as he caressed your jaw with his thumb. “Nah,” He smiled this time, cerulean eyes boring into you, becoming lost in the mere presence of you. “Didn’t even cross my mind, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession before you planted a sloppy, slower kiss against his lips. “What crossed your mind instead?” You asked, careening into the sensation of his palm cradling your face.

Jesse felt much better, no longer plagued by the desire for sleep. Instead, there was something else he wanted — he wanted to pick up from last night. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours, hand skimming toward your thigh.

“Lots of stuff,” He began, coaxing you against him as he answered your question in between a series of heated, needy kisses. “All about you.” Jesse confessed, peering at you through his lashes before his hand gently grabbed at your ass.

“Yeah? Do you wanna show me?” You asked, becoming a bit breathless whenever he kissed you. It was accompanied by plenty of groping, ensuring that you were flush against him as the tension rose to a boiling point between the two of you.

You weren’t about to recoil, reciprocating his kiss with a passionate one of your own, stomach churning with anticipation. Your hand moved toward the nape of his neck, fingers lightly grabbing at his hair. Each kiss was sweet yet sloppy, and you could feel Jesse’s hand underneath your shirt.

“Yeah, I do. Do you wanna do this?” Jesse murmured, ensuring that he wasn’t jumping the gun. You could’ve changed your mind from last night — that was certainly a possibility, and he’d be just fine with it. He was partially on top of you, but he leaned back enough to gauge your answer.

“Absolutely.” You smiled, sitting up enough to get your shirt off, which Jesse kindly assisted with. The both of you sank into a rather peaceful moment, blissfully quiet as he wriggled out of his shirt.

Jesse leaned forward again, capturing your mouth in a passionate, heated kiss, his hands finding the smooth curve of your hips. “You’re so pretty.” He exhaled, feeling that little pang of nervousness. He hadn’t touched a girl since Jane, but he wasn’t about to let himself be thrust into the past, not now.

Heat saturated your skin, crawling all over you like a fever. In the wake of Jesse’s compliment, you felt sheer elation, feeling his lips roam from your mouth to your jaw. His hands were everywhere, inevitably finding their purchase against your thighs. He peppered a string of kisses from your jaw to your neck, though his kisses soon turned to suckling.

“Jesse.” You moaned, haplessly grasping onto his shoulders as he left a series of hickeys on your neck. You felt his digits curl around the waistband of your panties, but he made no motion to remove them just yet.

Your moan was enough to make him shiver in delight, gaze following the path of your hand as you hastily unclasped your bra. You had such a beautiful body — Jesse felt some semblance of awe, snug against you as you got comfortable atop the comforter.

Continuing his previous route, Jesse’s mouth kissed down your neck and collarbone, stopping above your breasts. Even your smell was intoxicating — everything about you reeled him in. “Jesus,” He mumbled against your sternum. “You’re beautiful.” It was an endless string of softspoken praises that escaped him.

He was scrawny, with a lanky musculature — you found it attractive in the best of ways. Your gaze occasionally fell across his many tattoos, committing every detail to memory. Your fingers continued to tug and pull at his hair, body jolting into him when his mouth wrapped around your nipple.

A low groan resonated from his throat, rippling across his chest when you continued to toy with his hair. His hand traced down the plane of your stomach, slipping underneath the elastic trim of your panties. You nearly buckled, writhing underneath him when his digits slipped against your cunt.

You felt his mouth suck and kiss at your breast, in-tandem with the teasing ministrations of his fingers. It was feather-light, enough to drive you to the brink of frustration. “You wet already, angel?” It was almost an incredulous statement instead of a question.

Fuck — the nickname was enough to send shockwaves pulsating through your body. Your skin became awash with warmth, lips falling apart as you peered down, enough to catch a glimpse of those half-lidded, cerulean eyes and the adoring tilt of his lips. Goosebumps snaked across your spine, back arching off of the bed.

Jesse wasn’t dumb — he knew that your reaction was from the nickname. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, pressing a string of kisses from your breast to stomach, tattooed hand curling into your panties as he inched them past your thighs.

“Say it again,” It was a command that fell from your mouth, and not a plea. Your fingers happened to tense within his hair, enough to make his jeans become uncomfortably tight. “Please.” With a breathy exhale, you felt Jesse’s lips trace across the curve of your hip.

He felt his heart hammer with erratic excitement, tongue absentmindedly flicking out to trace across his lower lip. Christ, you looked so perfect like this — Jesse watched you, breathing intensifying as you spread your legs just a little bit. He often walked the line between nervousness and confidence, feeling a sense of boldness swell within him.

His breath fanned across the inside of your thigh, lips ghosting over the soft skin there. Jesse’s gaze remained fixated upon you, glistening with a sheen of lust as he finally began to kiss his way to the throbbing between your legs. “Where do you want me, angel?” Jesse murmured, assuming that he knew the answer.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt this way — floating, so unbelievably slick and warm that you felt feverish. Jesse brought out a new level of neediness and desperation that you never thought possible. “Jesse,” You moaned, squirming haplessly as you urged him closer. “Please, please.”

Jesse swallowed, wordlessly following the motion of your hand as he lapped at your cunt, tongue dragging along the length of your slit. You were whimpering, one hand grappling at his freckled shoulder. He was so turned on from the noises you made, enough for him to grind his hips into the mattress.

You sputtered a very pitiful apology when your hips bucked forward, but you were met with a barrage of needy licks and a faint moan. Slivers of morning light pooled through the curtains, falling across Jesse as he buried his face between your thighs. His weeks-old stubble rubbed against the sensitive flesh of your legs.

Nimble digits skimmed forward, one palm splayed against your pelvis as the other gripped down on your thigh. You wanted to sob from how good it felt — he was talented with his mouth, that much was for sure. His tongue flicked over your clit, gestures rhythmic and steady.

A knot formed within your stomach, a coil that continued to tighten, threatening to burst if Jesse kept it up. It all felt like some foreign fever dream, but you much preferred the current reality — Jesse Pinkman, eating you out until you cried. You felt his hand brush against yours, a gesture that was startlingly tender.

One hand untangled itself from his hair, deciding to give him a break, going to hold his hand instead, fingers lacing together. You felt his lips begin to purse around your clit, simultaneously eliciting another noisy, elated moan from your lips.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesse hadn’t realized it, but somewhere in the thick of hooking up with you, he was feeling like himself again. It almost felt as if he’d been transported back to a time before he’d met Walter White, to a time where he was slinging crystal and simply enjoying life. Each moan, every little mewl and keen that escaped you was akin to music.

“Jesse,” You panted, breathing somewhat ragged as he lapped at your clit. That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. “Jesse!” You felt him squeeze your hand, a silent reassurance to let go.

Unbothered by the mess, Jesse groaned, feeding off of your orgasm as he lapped at your cunt, ministrations lacking the vigor from before. Your stomach felt like mush, but you wanted him to fuck you senseless — you almost felt embarrassed for how wound-up you’d become.

He was quiet, kissing your thighs as he began to sit back up, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesse ogled you, head cocking to one side before he spoke. “You are so beautiful.” It wasn’t something spoken lightly during sex — you felt it seep right into your bones, genuine as ever.

“So are you.” You replied, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Jesse crawled up, and in a flurry of unrestrained passion, he kissed your mouth. You could taste yourself, taste him — it was enough to make your cunt throb again, still dealing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Could you, uh …” Jesse mumbled, erection pulsing and rubbing right into the pliant flesh of your thigh. “I want you on top.” He was used to climbing on top of girls and going to town until he ran out of stamina, but he had different reasons this time. “I wanna see you.”

Your heart fluttered within your chest, and you nodded, watching as he rolled over, making himself comfortable atop the mound of pillows lining your bed. There was something eerily intimate in the way that he spoke — maybe it was just you. It was soft and sweet, enough to make you shudder as you straddled his hips.

Reaching for his belt, you unfastened it, moving enough for him to kick his pants off. His hands moved toward your thighs, fingers caressing across your flesh as the both of you worked to remove the final article of clothing. He was quiet this time, staring up at you with a searing, intense look — it was almost adoring.

He was unbearably hard, hips writhing slightly, desperate to be inside of you. Jesse nearly melted at the sensation of your hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a few, sluggish strokes, thumb swiping across the head before you lifted yourself up just enough.

Jesse groaned in tandem with you as you sank down onto his length, digits tensing into your thighs as you adjusted yourself, lips falling apart. You reached for his hands, fingers twining together. Goosebumps erupted across his body, chest fluttering with an unshakable warmth.

“Jesus.” Jesse breathed, watching as you stooped down to press your mouth against his, open-mouthed and sloppy. His tongue traced across your lower lip, and you responded by rolling your hips forward. He exhaled, reciprocating with another heated, messy kiss.

He released one of your hands, enough to grip onto your hip, guiding you into a steady rhythm. Your pace was somewhat sporadic and erratic at first, slipping into a natural flow once he held onto you. Jesse groans, unable to keep from staring at you as if you were perfection incarnate.

You whimper, using your knees to rock yourself up and back down, sinking onto his cock until he’s bottomed out. The intermingling of your moans fill your bedroom, accompanied by the faint squeak and creak of your bed frame. “Jesse.” You mewl, feeling his lips smack against your collarbone.

What started as something slow and sluggish had gained traction, your pace increasing slightly. A crackling, familiar heat raced across your body, making your stomach churn with anticipation, simultaneously pooling with warmth.

A soft moan tore past his lips, skin flushing with a rosy shade as you careened forward, one palm splaying out across his chest. “Shit,” Jesse’s voice emerged again as an excitable pant, squeezing your hand as you continued to piston yourself up and down. “You feel so good, baby.” Any little nickname was enough to make you preen.

Heat rippled through you, continuing to consume your body in waves. He sat up, enough to be within reach of you as he pressed a messy, sultry kiss against your collarbone, clamoring for your mouth as you tilted your head downward.

Your hand snaked from his chest to the nape of his neck, gripping his hair once. Your motions became somewhat uneven and less rhythmic as you rocked yourself on his cock, mewling and whimpering, noises intertwining with his strenuous groans. His palm grabbed at the curve between your thigh and ass, gripping you tight as you rode him.

“M’close,” You huffed, prying your lips away from his, only for you to press a trail of haphazard kisses against his stubbled jaw. “Jesse.” Another whine escaped you, followed by a cacophony of lewd noises. Your thighs felt a strain and burn from pistoning yourself onto his cock so many times, heat pooling between your legs.

Jesse was right there with you, though he wasn’t entirely sure where you wanted him to unload, to put it mildly. “Where do you want me?” He asked again, mirroring his inquiry from earlier. You slowed somewhat at that question, but he shook his head. “Keep going.” Despite the sting of borderline overstimulation, he didn’t want you to stop.

Both of his hands redirected themselves to your hips, guiding you along, letting you grind yourself forward, rolling your hips up and back onto his length. He groaned again, forehead pressed against yours, skin feeling as if it were set ablaze. The hold you had on him already was rather ironclad.

He kissed you again, unusually intimate and full of desire, digits groping and kneading into your curves. Your skin felt velvety underneath his fingertips, and your scent invaded his senses, overwhelming him in the best way possible. His cock was throbbing, swallowed by your tight cunt as you whimpered his name.

“Not inside.” You cautioned, breathlessly clashing with him again — all tongue, teeth and want as Jesse nudged you back. With your newfound position, legs locked around his lanky musculature as he rutted into you, you felt like you were seeing stars. “Holy shit, Jesse!” You moaned.

Jesse wasn’t grotesquely well-endowed, but he knew exactly how to utilize what he had. He felt like he’d broken the barrier right then and there, bottomed out inside of you before he pulled out, cumming onto your stomach. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen as thin ropes of slick seed fell across your abdomen.

His chest heaved with recuperative breaths, perspiration glistening along his brow as he hovered over you. The two of you sighed in-tandem, both coming down from a blissful high. Those pretty, cerulean eyes of his consumed you over and over again, fluttering in rapid succession before he lowered himself to kiss you.

It was slow — too slow, almost, but Jesse savored you, instead. Your nails ghosted across his forearm, tracing around the intricate pattern of his tattoo before skimming toward his shoulders. You reciprocated the kiss with a familiar sweetness, unhooking one leg from his waist.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled, gesturing toward the sticky mess that was splattered all over your stomach. “You look so pretty like that.” His tone lowered, taking on some delicious pitch that itched a certain part of you, sending goosebumps trailing across your spine.

Before you could respond, Jesse slipped off of you, tugging on his boxers as he wandered toward your bathroom to grab a towel. It was the first one he could get his hands on, returning to you with a rather adoring look in his eyes.

As you cleaned yourself up, making sure to discard the towel into your laundry basket, Jesse reappeared with a glass of water. It was quite endearing, watching the way he took care of you afterwards without being asked to. He sat next to you, watching as you pulled your panties back on and your t-shirt.

“That was really nice.” Admittedly, you needed it — but it felt better than before, all due to Jesse. You curled up next to him, head resting against his collarbone as his palm moved to cradle your face.

“Yeah, it was.” Jesse murmured, wishing that he could stay with you. He needed to get back home — the house was likely ruined. He’d also briefly glanced at his phone and noticed four missed calls from Mr. White’s number. “I wanna do it again.”

You giggled, nose wrinkling in amusement. “Hanging out together or having sex?” You asked, and he scoffed, lips twitching in a brief flash of a smile. “You can be honest, Jesse. I can handle it.”

“Both,” He confessed, savoring the feeling of your hand delicately tracing over the tattoo on his collarbone. “What if I took you out somewhere, yeah? Like on a date.” Jesse couldn’t believe that he’d asked you, but it was out in the open, now — no going back.

“Okay.” You mused, gaze flickering toward his lips. You would never get tired of kissing him — the taste of spearmint and cigarettes had become borderline addictive. “You can take me out.” With that, you leaned forward, pressing your mouth against his.

Jesse exhaled, reciprocating your kiss with one of his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, pad of his thumb caressing over your jawline. “Shit,” He sighed, a forlorn look within his eyes. “I gotta get going. I don’t want to.” He didn’t want to leave, but he had a feeling he’d be seeing you again soon. His phone vibrated again.

You yearned for the contact when he’d rolled out of your bed, getting himself dressed again. Once he found his jacket and keys, you decided to walk him to the door, standing with him in the cool morning breeze. Sunlight glittered down, bathing the both of you in picturesque lighting.

“Jesse,” You murmured, hand poised along the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” You asked, watching him linger around on the front step as he glanced toward his car. After everything that happened, from last night to now, you were a little worried. He wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind — that much you knew.

Jesse hesitated — he didn’t have a viable answer to that. His house was a drug-laden pit, he was beginning to spiral, but you’d kicked him back onto a different path. It was an unpredictable road ahead. Even he had no idea how he’d feel by the end of the day, but one thing was for certain — he’d be okay for you.

He swallowed, and then nodded twice. “Yeah, I think so.” His chest tightened with a flurry of emotions, ones he hadn’t felt since Jane was around. Jesse was absolutely enthralled by you — and he wondered if that would lead to your doom.

With that, you nodded, beginning to turn around. Before you could, you felt a hand curling around your wrist, as if guiding you elsewhere.

“Hey,” Jesse muttered, reeling you back in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you later.” It was a promise to himself, more than it was to you. He was reluctant to pull away, but the buzzing in his pocket became rather urgent.

The kiss caught you off-guard, stealing every wisp of air right out of your lungs, warmth creeping across your skin until it burned something hot within your cheeks. You opened your mouth, unable to keep from smiling.

“See you later, Jesse.”

You really hoped that you would.

#jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman x you #breaking bad #jesse pinkman fanfiction #jesse pinkman #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad fanfic #better call saul #female reader #aaron paul #sunkendreams masterlist

[billskeis]

ᡣ𐭩 tom w georg's sister

it wasn’t really supposed to be like this. you were georg’s sister after all and if you kept this facade with tom ongoing it could potentially fuck up your friendship with tom but also georg’s friendship with tom.

then the whole group would fall apart, are you willing to make that risk?

it was a friday night where the twins decided to host a party. obviously you and georg were invited along with gustav to be clean-up crew and help prep everything so you guys were at their house super early.

putting up some decorations, tom slides and arm around you shoulder in attempts to distract you, “how’s it going princess?” tom asks, oh so you wanna play that game?

you shift your body to turn around facing him while sliding his arm off your shoulder and slink a streamer around his neck to pull him a little closer to you, “it’s going well. now can you please go help bill with the balloons? be useful, please.”

you hear gagging noises from the background, and both of you jump off each other, “ew, gross.. guys.. please spare me the scenery i wouldn’t want to see my sister and best friend on each other like that,” your brother georg is practically puking at the sight of seeing you two together.

it’s always been like this. the constant flirting with tom and the consequences you face are just georg reacting with total and utter disgust. it made you a little sad, you truly and really did like tom and you were hoping that he reciprocated the same feelings.

georg knew this, but knowingly behind his joking antiques you could tell he was serious about disliking the thought of you two together. he made it clear that the possibilities of losing his friends and losing his connection with you overrides the risk of tom and you finding happiness in one another.

why couldn’t the one person you love the most support you on this?

“catch you later?” tom questions you, body still connected by the party streamer, he winks at you. you scoff and roll your eyes, softly pushing his body away in the direction towards bill and gustav who are now joined together on the balloons, “we’ll see playboy..”

people are rolling in. more come by the second. music is blaring and bodies are swaying and dancing to the bass. drinks are poured and shots were downed, it danked of straight alcohol and weed. if it was one thing about the kaulitz twins, is that they knew how to throw a party!

you were a few shots in, ready to take more with your girlfriends that came in once once everybody started coming for the party. downing another, you feel the bitter liquid stream down to your stomach, burning on the way there.

you find yourself becoming self-aware, your dizzy and stumbling on your own two feet.

tom. where is tom?

you excuse yourself from the circle of friends you were just with to find the one person that you wanted to be with the most. not sure if it’s the alcohol or weed inside your system, for sure you were crossed. or is it because you wanted so badly to go against georg’s words and prove him wrong.

finally. he’s right there.

of course, tom was with bill, gustav and georg. all sitting around just observing the party, not really drinking or smoking like the rest of you were. bill was talking to tom and georg and gustav were conversing, until tom saw you.

“y/n!! i’m so glad to see you,” you sit down beside him and he immediately goes in to pull you into a hug. “well hello there to you too tom,” you giggle, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“i’m sorry y/n, he’s had a couple to drink..” bill exclaims, apologizing for his older brother and his behaviour. “oh no! don’t worry, we’ve seen him do worse,” you and bill laugh while talking to each other, “HEY! i’m right here y/nnn, talk to meee” his grip still tight on you. you nuzzle your head into his shoulder and lean to speak into his ear.

“i like you.”

his body shoots up. he is in shock, practically sober by now. or is he? he then slouches to prove that even after hearing those words he is piss drunk. “what?” he asks. he definitely heard you he just wants you to say it again.

“i’m not repeating myself,” you lean back onto the couch and cross your arms, “aw y/n pleasee? i like you tooo!” you’re in shock? he what now..!?

tom likes you back? you’re basically off the surface of the earth happy and cannot contain your happiness. so you quickly and swiftly peck tom on the cheek. he smiles and pats your head, then messing up your hair a little to which you jokingly smack his arm away to fix your hair that you oh-so perfectly did for tonight.

“tryna be my girlfriend?” “let’s talk when we’re sober,” “fine by me but i expect a yes.”

tom then swings an arm around your waist and you guys just sat on the couch like that, the two of you talking to bill who was going on about someone he saw at the party who was really attractive. he was asking you guys if he should make his move or not to which you obviously said yes.

little did you know georg saw all of this. and truth be told, he couldn’t be mad at you or tom. yeah it was a little weird that you, his sister, and tom, his best friend like each other, but it was something about how you two acted that dissipated the thoughts of it ruining the whole friendship.

it was despite the alcohol. despite being under the influence none of you guys made any hasty or bad decisions that any one of you would’ve regret by tomorrow morning.

he knew how the two of you got when drunk. both of you were lightweights, and despite the dizziness, the cloudiness that fogged your brain, no stupid decisions were made. it was just, a confession.

a confession takes a lot of courage and bravery, and if anything the alcohol was a big help.

so maybe he’ll give you two the chance to try it out. he’s gotta hand it to you, your balls are bigger than tom’s for confessing first.

feeling a little hungry, you stand up off the couch to go find some snacks, “where are you going schatz?” tom asks whilst holding your hand, he doesn’t intend to let go unless you tell him a good reason. “i’m just hungry, i’ll be right back okay?” you bend down to place another kiss this time on his lips.

you left him there sitting on the couch starstruck. he doesn’t know if his face is hot from the alcohol or the impact you had on him. he really did like you.

georg sits beside tom, tom immediately fixing his posture and straightening up his face. “ahem, georg i didn’t do anything i swea—“ “i know tom, chill out,” georg cuts tom off, leaving the dread-headed boy a little confused.

“so do you like her?” “i like her.” “but do you love her?” “since the beginning of time, georg.”

“what do you love about her?” “pshhh.. i don’t even know where to start, her smile? the way she laughs, she’s funny, humble, smart.” “you praise her too highly, she’s none of that,” “not true!!”

“so you’re not mad..?” “no, tom, i’m not.” tom tilts his head at georg and begins to frantically wave a hand in front of his face, “are you high?” georg smacks his hand away and scoffs at him, “no tom. jeez, i’m okay with you dating my sister it’s just—if you do anything fucking stupid i’ll make sure you wake up with no hair, oh! and say goodbye to your hats.”

georg was stern. suuper stern. he was the big brother who behind the scenes is just trying to protect you.

even though sometimes it doesn’t show clearly, he loves you more than anything in the world, maybe other than music.

tom salutes georg “yes sir!!” as they both laugh. to georg, tom is like another brother. out of all members in the band he finds himself the closest with tom. so he knew that if anyone were to be your boyfriend,

he could definitely entrust that to tom, gladly.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel fluff #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz #georg listing #2000s #fyp

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 8th: Rockstar | Times Like These - Foo Fighters | Confident a/n: rockstar!eddie & corroded coffin. steddie. suggestive themes but not explicit. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

When Eddie was a teenager, he pictured himself on stage, surrounded by pyrotechnics and aggressive bass riffs. His hair was long, his skin mottled in tattoos with maybe a love bruise or two, and his favorite ruby red guitar slung low to his hips as he belts his vocals into the microphone. 

All but the last part comes true. 

He does end up sweaty from the heat of the fire cannons on either side of their set. Freak shreds his bass every fucking show, his fingers undoubtedly calloused beyond repair. Eddie’s hair gets in his face as he plays his own guitar, his Sweetheart, but he doesn’t get to sing. 

That’s all Steve. 

Unassuming, surprisingly talented Steve Harrington who Eddie discovers can fucking sing when he’s home from a tour, driving around together through the empty streets of Hawkins, Indiana. The 90s bring a new landscape to heavy metal and rock and roll, and as cocky as Eddie might be, as confident as he is when it comes to his music, he can see when someone has one up on him. Steve’s rendition of The Foo Fighters’ Good Grief as he drums along on the steering wheel sets his heart aflame– and maybe another appendage that he’s tried to ignore for the better part of ten years. 

Steve agrees to join the band with a heavy bit of convincing, agreeing only when Eddie offers to retain his role as frontman.

I don’t wanna be a rockstar, Ed. That’s all you. 

The band truly takes off when Steve joins, his voice adding a different flavor and Eddie’s backing vocals rounding out their sound. Eddie tells Steve night after night, show after show, that he’s happy he’s there, because he is. Maybe being in love with his bandmate hadn’t part of the teenage fantasy, but it’s become his favorite part of the reality, even if it’s one-sided or unrequited. His skin remains unbruised, no groupies or flings to be found, but he’d prefer a blank canvas over meaningless artistry anyways. 

They end up touring again, exploring the country and parts of Canada together but always with different hotel rooms. Eddie never minds sharing with Gareth, or Jeff, or Freak but he also doesn’t make a habit of thinking about their dicks. 

After their show in Toronto, the end of this leg of their tour, Eddie and the rest of the band celebrate in Eddie’s room– it’s the biggest of their block and Eddie won rock-paper-scissors to claim the lone room this time around. 

Drinks flow, smoke from their joints curl out the window screen into the night, and before Eddie realizes it’s happened, he’s left alone with Steve.

Steve, who hasn’t had a thing to drink and only a few puffs of his joint, but is laying across the bed with his feet crossed at the ankles and his head resting in Eddie’s lap anyways. Steve, who Eddie listens to as he hums the melody of their encore and whose hair he can’t help but thread through his fingers. Steve, who Eddie has been watching night after night sing the words Eddie’s written himself, some of which are about Steve. 

It’s a dangerous position to be in. 

“Gettin’ tired yet, Harrington?” Eddie asks, grinning as Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, we’re back to Harrington now, Munson?” 

Eddie just shrugs and continues playing with Steve’s hair. It’s soft, still damp from his shower, and Eddie’s surprised he hasn’t shoved him off yet with some comment about how he’s gonna fuck it up. But he doesn’t, and Eddie doesn’t know what to make of that. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve asks, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to Eddie’s eyes. “It’s weird.” 

“I contain multitudes, don’t try to make me some one-dimensional agent of chaos.” 

Steve laughs and it’s better than any song Eddie’s ever written. And he’s written some damn good songs, if he does say so himself. 

Eddie lets out a little oof as Steve sits up, bracing himself on Eddie’s stomach to turn and face him. There’s something in Steve’s expression that Eddie can’t place– searching eyes, furrowed brows, one corner of his lips quirked up. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You just did.” 

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?” 

“I do, actually. But yeah, go ahead.” Eddie bites his bottom lip and shrugs.

“How come you never wanna share a room with me?” 

Eddie just about chokes on nothing, inhaling oxygen into the wrong pipe or something. His ears turn red, a tell that no amount of shaking his hair out can hide, at least not from Steve. He feels the soft skin of Steve’s hand graze his cheek as he tucks hair back behind his right ear, exposing the bright red shade of embarrassment. 

“Is it me? I can’t imagine that I, Steve Harrington, make you, big ol’ Rockstar Eddie Munson, uncomfortable after all these years.” 

You motherfucker, Eddie thinks, his mouth a little behind the speed of his thoughts, effectively leaving him speechless. 

“Little bit, actually,” Eddie manages to admit. 

He shouldn’t admit anything, but he’s alone in this quiet room with the boy he’s loved for so many years, who’s touching him like he loves him, too. Who can blame him?

“How come?” Steve whispers, his lips suddenly closer, their noses nearly touching. Eddie may or may not be breathing, but he tries. Fainting would definitely kill whatever this energy is between them. 

“Ed, c’mon. Just, just tell me you want me, too. Please.” 

Too? He thinks.

“Too?” He asks.

Steve smiles and nods, running his thumb across Eddie’s chapped lower lip before resting his palm against his cheek. 

“Too.” 

—

The following morning, Eddie and Steve meet up with the rest of the band in the hotel restaurant for breakfast– or, well, brunch at best given the time they actually make it downstairs. 

“Notice you stayed in Eddie’s room last night,” Jeff asks, one eyebrow raised halfway up his forehead as his eyes flit back and forth from Steve to the very clear, purpling bruise on Eddie’s collarbone. 

“Astute observation,” Eddie grins and answers for him, digging into the stack of pancakes in front of him, ravenous. 

“Sure did,” Steve just grins, shrugging as he shifts in his seat. 

Gareth, Freak, and Jeff all exchange a look, the kind of look that comes with inside jokes and long-suffering waiting. 

“Wait–” Steve starts, pointing an accusing finger at Jeff. “You all left early on purpose, didn’t you?”

Gareth laughs the hardest, rivaled only by Eddie who watches them all with incredulity as Jeff parrots Steve with casual confidence. 

“Sure did.” 

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #corroded coffin #eddie month #eddie month prompts #myblurbs

[cherri-balms]

♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — PROLOGUE

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ ၊|• 0:00

↻ PREV ◁ || ▷ NEXT ↺

A/N﹕YAY I FINALLY FINISHED THE PROLOGUE FOR MY FIRST SERIES!

This is the first full fledged fanfic I have written in a long time, I hope anyone who finds this finds it enjoyable, I had a fun time writing this prologue chapter and I currently have around a 10-12 chapter vision for this series as it stands, but if this proves to be something you guys like I will be happy to extend the series! I do plan to create a tag list, if you would like to be added shoot me a DM and I will add you to the list! As always any replies will be made through our main acc @caravan-mad!

This prologue pretty much gives most if not all the information about the reader aside from important plot details. I wanted the reader's demon form and time period to be as ambiguous as possible and limit the use of Y/N, the reader in this story has allegories to butterflies.

Not all chapters will have warnings nor does this one, however the full fic will contain dark content and will be under the dead dove do not eat tag.

Some content will include but are not limited to: Unhealthy relationship dynamics, N.SFW, Unrequited love, Yandere themes, Dubcon, and pretty much any tag youd find listed in Hazbin Hotel tbh

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟐.𝟔𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bored at work performing repetitive choreography and pleasing faceless demons, you find yourself reminiscing on life, death, and limbo.

♫ envy baby ~ ♫

“Lights clear? Sounds clear?” 

“We’ve been fucking over this Steven! We’ll know it’s clear when they finally stop tuning our shit-” 

“Anne chill, we still have six minutes till airing. Don’t waste all your energy on the roadie.” 

“That crowd doesn’t seem to be getting any quieter does it…” The little imp’s observations were now only being met by eyerolls and silent treatment by the two drummer girls as the completed instruments silenced in countdown. 

Lights crew above, sounds crew from behind, and effects team surround. The way every single backstage member of your cast would run and scurry around you to get their various tasks done always made you think of little mice, rats even, so worked up making sure everything was in perfect position before those curtains had a chance to stop separating you, from them.

It was cute enough to make you laugh as though you were still a highschool girl.

“Broadcasting live in 60 seconds!” Dark blue scene lighting begins to fade your entire surrounding to a pitch black, and among doing so freezes your little mice into statues all around. Only the tiniest crack in the fabric ahead illuminated the space with a sharp vertical line down the curves of the figure that stands as the adorning center piece of this particular attraction. Roaring bass brings about a quake to the stage beneath your feet, queuing time for you to give your puppies a treat.

“Awwwe~ Did we leave you waiting long?” The volume of pure passionate devotion always rang to your ears louder than any electrical speaker could achieve. 

The wave of the new future adorned in electrical inventions was something you’ve always been prepared to face; why even in the faint blur of the overworld it was all the grown ups could ever yap enough of! No, that wasn’t where that bitter taste came from.

In the full truth of things, you just never knew you’d stick around long enough to bear full witness to its infection of mankind.

Oh come on. Who are we kidding right now?

“Hi. I wanna people save, all right? ”

You’ve never been more liberated.

“You’re in m-my way!!”

Your eyes have but a second to adjust to the flood of bright neon before life hits play once again. The choreography you, and and the other 4 devils fanned out beside you have programmed into your bodies for the past months flow across the stage with ease. among the camera men you can make out the mass of waving pen lights stirred ablaze after the long anticipation, oh how you love they always use the color dearest to your heart…

“The tightrope falls, broken by others”

Once you felt the rushing high of the stage the first time around tolerance for it subsided immediately after. You’ve seen the looks on those poor saps down in the front row, each one hyper fixated on every movement you make wishing they could be you, or be up here with you.

And of course, you all flash them bright smiles, longing gazes and praise them with verses of purity more fitting for the angelic souls looming up above. Customer service is the utmost desired, as they say!

“What a lady, she’s gonna jump

towards the light and shatter humiliatingly”

Actually, can you even remember when your first performance was? How old were you even? All of this came from a cheap shot of gaining a few quick pennies back in the day. Landing yourself a handsome and rich husband with the filth you wore on your back was the first childhood dream you found dead on arrival, but what you were cursed in status you were blessed with the cuteness that made kittens hiss in envy. To say you had “the voice of a goddess” would mayhaps be a bit too presumptuous, but who were you to refute the compliment when it came your way?

Well, maybe trying to parse through finding the day your career debuted or took off was a fool's errand, but the moment it ended certainly still remains as a burned film stuck to your mind. You stopped caring about the “Oh woes me~ what did I do to deserve this~” a long time ago. Still, the punishment you received in death far exceeded what you ever did to earn in your eyes, more so than your sentencing of eternal damnation.

“High and without care I’m lonely, lonely”

Right on que, as always every time you reach exactly 32 seconds into your first song the intrusive memory flashes the same images of the past over your current reality it almost feels as if you were stuck suffering that fate again each time.

You wish there was more to say on the matter of your demise, but there’s only a brief two second window between staring down some heckling loud mouth making a scene in the crowd and a bomb beneath the stage going off before your soul is falling down under the earth’s crust as a blazing comet onto the asphalt below.

And two days before your 21st birthday too are you serious?! UN-Fucking believable!

“From their idle words, the clown becomes a prisoner”

The only thing you wanted to do was scream in the immense burning agony you were suffering until the whole world knew the kind of pain you were in, but each time you cried not even a croak could get past your scorched throat

Even after the blazes subsided and your charred cocoon was all that was left behind, the inferno decided your vocal chords were going to be its payment.

…. That was it?

This was your payout…

And after all that work…

“It’s the same love as always, no way I’d have regrets”

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe what became of the following weeks, months, you haven’t a clue. The construct of night and day seemed to mean jack in the bizzare wonderland of maddness holding you, only so much telling what shade of putrid red in the sky was darker than the same shade of fucking red from two hours ago! What a productive way to spend your newfound endless time!

Every aspect of this place made you absolutely sick, enough so to have you still praying you just were drugged and having the worst trip of your fucking life, but the horror in maddness is the consistency that lies between the lines. You’re certain that damned illuminated “WELCOME TO HELL!” sign and the stranger you befriended in the mirror was that line that made you finally cave.

“Hey, it's a amazing.”

Honestly, you couldn’t say what specifically led you into the epiphany you had, all of a sudden one day you heard a sudden snapping sound in your conscience, and like that everything made sense to you. Why your life was snuffed before you could emerge from your cocoon, why your makers deemed this your new home, and why that bomb taking your life just wasn’t enough to deem your afterlife a hell.

There was a certain liberation that came with hell that you were never going to get being the glowing little diamond you were in human society, through terrorism, cannibalism and bloodshed one thing would remain a constant throughout devil society. No one would ever give a damn about anything.

Hell became your fucking playground by the time your first extermination came around, and keeping on the move while broke as shit was a cakewalk this time around, but your first encounter with an overlord after catching your foot in the grave in the casino humbled your inflating ego. Chaos for society did not necessarily mean chaos without hierarchy, and going without a voice to call your own put you at an extreme disadvantage.

“LA-LA-LA!”

The crescendo of the opener is right around the corner, for the leading front and center of your group your vocals and choreography had primarily remained reserved for backup. The primary color of lights among the crowd made the obvious clear with who the majority of these demons were here to see, your manager was aware of this more than anyone else.

Your fans tended to be aware of this for a majority of your shows, your parts in particular tended to stand out even as mere background vocals.

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand. 

Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

Sinners rejoice once the solo everyone was edging towards drops with the bass of the loudspeakers and the flares of the strobes above. The pitches your vocals were now capable of hitting and the frequency you were able to synthesize between notes wasn’t just inhuman, it was impossible for any singer whose notes carried on oxygen.

Your manager always made it a note in the writing room or when creating your setlists that overfeeding wolves with delicious treats would dull the taste over time, your solo singles often did well enough to prove this didn’t need to always be the case, but whenever it came to the business decisions you always put your full trust in him. Where you are standing right now is more than enough proof in your eyes that he knew exactly where and when to move his pawns, and in doing so he turned you into a valiant queen.

“Ah! I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two 

Lie-lie loving you, such words 

and doing such things, you’re in m-my way!”

Survival was of the least of your concerns after so much time had passed, but survival was all you could find yourself able to do in your forced retirement. Where you yearn for character in sound you were able to temporarily find when turning to radio, but living vicariously only quenches so much before greed starts cozying up within.

Plausible excuses for your laziness were wearing thinner by the day, even the last sane smolder of human morality trying to keep itself sparked wanted nothing more than to argue you weren’t supposed to be living to the fullest in hell, but the mute silence in your throat was beginning to phase your memory of the voice your inner conscience called its own too, and you'd sooner go mad trying than wither away again a fucking waste.

“Here comes the love maniac who never misses,

Stack up all the whining,

Fall in a high-fi love lie-ai-a!”

Overlords were still beings that had you nauseous upon first glance, your first meeting of one of these overlords had you vowing to never end up in the claws of one again, should you find yourself in a deal you can’t unbind yourself out of. Pride stuck thick to the roof of your mouth and there was nothing more you wanted to do than stick to your morals and prove use on your own, but reality had pelted you with stones throughout your entire afterlife.

You were going to need to write out a loan before you’d find yourself with any ounce of power to call your own, not like you didn’t have options for whom to choose! Even so, you needed to keep a steady head and an even sharper nose. In your ponderance you'd come to realize there was only really one option for you to go to this whole time. Maybe that gambling kitty taught you a valuable lesson on staking bets in the long run.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

A bet on the future was what you were going to stake it all on.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

Everything about how the world operated changed so rapidly from the days walking in the sunlight to your eternal party in the redlight, the wave of the future had finally hit with the promise for a solution to everyones problems. There couldn’t have been any better timing, if technology was going to be the way of the future, who's to say you couldn’t prove what was achievable? Like that, you had your sales pitch. The hardest part on your end was complete.

“Hey, it's a amazing.

LA-LA-LA!”

“So you were a singer in life and lost your voice in death, and just what the fuck made you think I was the man to go to for this?” Those were the magic words you were waiting for, with his composure shaken it wasn’t long before he was the one asking the questions and allowing the ball to move into your court. Your fingers dance on the illuminated tablet laying on the table once again before you flip it over toward his direction.

~Have your inventions not made it to that level of advancement yet?

Hook, line, and sinker. You had a hunch a passive aggressive challenge toward the ego would be what ultimately won you over with any overlord you chose, but the speed in which he stood from his desk and held out his hand, it felt almost too easy.

“If it’s a new voice you wish to invest in, consider your stocks opened, Monarch!” Finally…

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand.”

“Now for what you have to offer me,” You don’t care. “I hope you weren’t planning on extorting me out of a generous gift and then making the big bucks with it, hm?” These overlords just love to hear themselves go on.

“Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

“I suppose I could just issue a royalty for your voice, after all you wouldn’t be making a sound without my tech. Lucky for you, I’ve been having fleeting thoughts of entering the music industry. So why not invest in each other instead~”

“Ah I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two”

Being owned by an overlord in the end wasn’t so bad, or maybe this is the fated “stockholm syndrome” everyone seems to be crying about these days. Either way, the biggest price you had to pay in the end was just having someone else do all the “business” part in show business.

Naive maybe, but rosey eyed you weren't. For all that he’s done you still fail to see how your end of the deal has in any way repaid what’s given, which can only lead to one thing down the line. You were going to have to give him your everything.

… Yet, how could you find yourself ungrateful to someone who fulfilled your afterlife dream and still continued to provide for you?

“Lie-lie loving you, such words and even such things, they’re in m-my way!”

The audience went absolutely ballistic at the final group pose signifying the end of your opening set, some of the really hardcore fans in the front row you swore passed out the second eye contact was made.

Yet when you turn your chin upward to the VIP section after performing your tricks so well, all you’re met with is a turned back and a schmoozed up producer instead of a tasty bone.

“Thank each and every one of you for coming to see us tonight!!” No, you only wanted him to come out to see you.

Only you.

Hey, Vox?

Can you just turn your stupid flat head this way?

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x reader #Vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox smut #vox x reader smut #hazbin hotel vees #the vees #Hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #mdni #🍓My one and only! #🕊Dead dove do not eat! #💔I’ll leave you be… #next next!

[proqhetic]

I'm so happy you're back!! I missed your yj posts on my fyp :(

could you write lottie x reader where they're at a party and the reader is tipsy, begging lottie to give her kisses, and lottie is just trying to put her to bed, thank you <333

a/n: i’m gonna cry dani ilysm😭😭 i got a bit carried away with this so im sorry if it seems kind of choppy 😥

the loud bass blaring from the speakers across the house was starting to give you a headache. you were a couple drinks in and the booze was just catching up to your system, swirling all your thoughts into one big whirlpool.

it’s been a long night of talking to random people and singing along to chart toppers from about 5 years ago. right now, you just wanted to find your girlfriend, really badly. you lost lottie at some point earlier in the night when she was pulled away by one of the other yellowjackets to play a drinking game with the rest of the team, and you hung out with some other friends from school.

navigating the sweaty, rowdy crowd was just awful. you were pretty sure this was practically the entire student population from your school, crammed into jeff sadecki’s stupidly big house. after squeezing past a couple rooms, you finally set your eyes on a familiar head of brunette curls.

you stopped in the doorway and watched on as lottie was zoomed in on an intense game of beer bong. she made that face she does when she’s concentrating — eyebrows furrowed, biting her bottom lip, the slight squint of her eyes. you couldn’t help but smile from the sidelines as she aimed the winning shot, and of course, she made it. a mixture of groans and loud whooping filled the room, as lottie happily turned to her teammate, shauna, and gave her a solid high-ten.

despite not drinking anything else, you somehow feel giddier than you did 5 minutes ago. but connecting the dots would’ve required too much brain power. instead, you stumble over to lottie and wrap her in a warm hug from behind. “congrats, babe!” you wish her with a grin, speaking louder than you thought you were in your head.

lottie yelps but an immediate smile appears once she sees you. “hi baby!” she greets, pulling you in for a chaste kiss, before her face contorts into a grimace. “oh, god, you smell of booze. how much have you drunk?”

lottie wasn’t typically one to drink a lot at parties, she wasn’t a big fan of the taste of beer. chances were you’d catch her smoking something instead.

“uhhm, like, just a bit…” you slurred out with an airy giggle, to which lottie groaned (affectionately). “i think you’ve had enough, we should get going soon, okay?” she said, pulling you aside by the arm. you whined at that, not wanting to leave so early. “nnooo, lottieee…” “come on, let’s get you sobered up a bit.”

whilst the two of you were walking to the kitchen hand in hand, you tried tiptoeing to give lottie another kiss, only to trip on an armchair in front of you and lose your balance. thankfully, your girlfriend has an insane reaction time and managed to catch you. “are you okay?” she hurriedly asked, pulling you up. “wanna kiss youu…!” was all you said with a cheeky smile. “no kisses until you’re sobered up!” lottie spoke firmly and you pouted the rest of the way there.

she pours you a glass of water and tells you to drink up. “mm, kiss first?” lottie rolled her eyes at how persistent you’re being, but eventually caved and gave you a peck on your cheek. “that’s all you’re getting. now drink up and we can leave!” content with what you got, you obliged and drank everything.

a moment passes and both of you stay standing, leaned against the kitchen island. lottie reaches over to brush your hair with her hand, strands getting entangled between her fingers. you turn to look up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, begging her once again for a kiss. “pleaseee, i’m not drunk anymore…” however, she was strong-willed enough to shake her head. “let’s get you home baby, you gotta rest.”

the drive back to your house was a comfortable silence, until you started mumbling along to the song on the radio, extremely out of tune. eliciting a laugh out of lottie made you grin and filled you with a sense of pride, that same giddiness overwhelming you

“alrighty, we’re here.” she announced as she parked the car. she hurriedly got out and came to the other side of the car to open your door and help you out. (you’ve proven several times that night that walking in a straight line would be a challenge.)

reaching your doorstep, you realised lottie would have to leave soon, and she’s only properly kissed you once. “do you wanna, maybe stay the night? my parents aren’t home and… i could use the company,” you asked, your fingers tracing up and down her arm. lottie’s face grew warm at your request, “really? i-i mean, yeah, of course!”

lottie’s hand reached for the doorknob, but you stopped her. “wait!” she turned to look at you, her big eyes widening in confusion. “can i have my kiss now?” you asked one last time. “pleeasseee?”

the corners of lottie’s lips quirked upwards as she let out a soft giggle. “fine, since you’ve been so patient with me tonight,” she murmured as she cupped your cheeks and finally gave you that kiss you’ve been yearning for all night. you instantly melted into it and rested your hands on her shoulders, pulling her in even closer

“there.” lottie said breathlessly as you two pulled away for air. you felt lightheaded and just stared back at her, dazed. “now let’s get you to bed.”

#danisbrainrot #lottie things 💭 #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

[eggyrocks]

whats da band lore how did they do dat

okay if i’m going to answer this question it’s gonna be LONG (also cannon does not apply here yall im making this shit UP)

noya and yn are childhood friends who kinda discovered punk music together at a very young age

like they were seven listening to agent orange together

yn liked how angry and passionate it is and noya liked how high energy and badass it is

yn’s favorite bands/biggest influences were skinned teen, gitogito hustler, and melt-banana

noya’s were sicilian blood, social distortion, and minor threat

yn was obsessed with learning guitar. she would take books out from the library and imagine she was playing on a fake one & would ‘practice’ and memorize as much of the technical terms as she could & this was how she learned to read sheet music

noya’s grandfather got him a guitar as gift one day and he let yn actually practice on it in exchange for teaching her what she knew

so they were self taught guitar players together 🥹

and they always knew they wanted to start a band but they were both guitar players and two guitar players does not a band make

yn was willing to learn bass too but even if she did they would still need a drummer

enter: tanaka

(influences: fugazi. that’s it. that man loves fugazi)

they met in middle school and the day they met tanaka it was like they were life long friends

like that bond was instant

and one day they were hanging out at noya’s house and tanaka saw his guitar was he was like “oh you play”

“yeah we both play guitar we wanna start a band but we can’t find anyone who can drum”

“oh i can drum. does that help?”

“???? yes???”

and so tanaka became the drummer and that’s when they started having practices

at first they were so bad

like

so so bad

yn tried to play bass but was not the best at it and yn and noya kept arguing over who did vocals bc neither one of them wanted to do it

until one day yn said “you know if you’re the frontman and the vocalist you’ll get the most attention from girls” and that did it for him

only problem was tanaka wanted to be a vocalist after that too

they mostly just played covers at first but noya was writing his own songs too

he’d mostly write lyrics and yn would mostly write music but most of the time neither were very good until tanaka came in and edited what they were working on

their sound was extremely sloppy and unrefined but by the time they entered high school their technical skills had improved a lot

except for yn’s bass playing. she hated it and practiced as little as she could

so one day during their first year of high school the band made a ton of posters asking bass players to come try out

enter: yachi

(now yachi did NOT like punk music. her influences were more like: the strokes, pixies, elliot smith)

yachi plays A LOT of instruments

clarinet? she’s a pro. cello? of course. girl can even play the harp.

she’s an extremely technically gifted bass player

post-high school yachi has really come into herself and gained a ton of confidence but high school yachi was still timid as hell

she saw the flyer and though it would be a lot of fun to put her skills to use in a creative way

but then she showed up to their after school practice spot, flyer in hand and shaking like a leaf

two scary looking dudes and perhaps even a scarier looking girl? yeah no. she’s out

but she couldn’t get away. yn was so excited at not just the prospect of having a bass player finally join them but also another girl? she dragged yachi back there lmao

and even though yachi was so visibly anxious that all sort of melted away when she started playing and she became the coolest most confident person alive

they were actually sort of blown away the first time they heard her play. like the band was like !!! you might be too good for us to tell you the truth

yn was on her hands and knees begging her to join

so she did! and was very happy to feel so wanted and included

and then with the addition of yachi that’s when they really started to get good

while noya and yn were self taught and though still pretty knowledgeable, yachi had a lot of technical knowledge that really helped them grow

and they started practicing more and more

like too much maybe

their grades suffered

but they really improved a lot and halfway through their second year, they played their first show

it was a disaster

so extremely chaotic

they had nothing set up right and they kept having to stop their set to fix shit and they got heckled and yn threatened to skin the person and from there they were politely asked to stop the set early

it was bad

they realized they needed more help

enter: kiyoko

(she doesn’t play any instruments but her favorite musicians/bands are mazzy star, fiona apple, and the cardigans)

they had met kiyoko before

they were all hanging out together when tanaka tried to talk to her and yn got so embarrassed to be seen with him she hit the back of his head and apologized on his behalf

kiyoko kinda got attached to yn from there; she didn’t have a lot of super close friends & she appreciated her consideration of her feelings

and they started to grow closer and yn, yachi, and kiyoko started to hang out a lot more

it was really good for all of them

yn didn’t have a lot of friends and she was really grateful to be with people who didn’t judge her for her more alternative persona

yachi kept getting more and more confident and felt like she was discovering herself

kiyoko was always very timid and was not the best at initiating conversations or being part of a group but she felt no pressure hanging out with yn and yachi and talking to them was so easy for her

so they got really close

so naturally after the disaster performance yn and yachi were complaining to kiyoko

who said without really thinking much of it “i can help you guys out”

so she did

it was super overwhelming at first because there’s a lot of things to keep track of and a lot of technical things to learn

but kiyoko really loved helping them out

and the more she learned the more she started to offer input or take initiative

tanaka and noya of course loved this

their natural instinct was to act like freaks around her but yn kept that in check

with a lot of threats

and occasionally following through on the threats

and kiyoko started to feel like a member of their band

and they always practiced with her and listened to her critiques and followed her advice

her input and guidance are extremely valuable and half of the reason they’re still a band

tanaka was so in love with her from the start and the more dedicated she became to the band the worse it got

he was so in love with her he didn’t even notice that she eventually started to show signs that she might feel the same way

it only took 6 months for them to start dating and the only person who was surprised was tanaka

it took a LONG time for them to record their first album

it was a mess

a lot of arguing

a lot of clashing opinions

but after writing and rewriting and recording and rerecording

they finally put together a full length album

12 songs, 39 minutes

it’s a little rough and sloppy but hey

that’s punk

and they were all really proud of it

they’ve since put out one ep with 6 shorter tracks

they’re working on their second one now but hey. albums are a lot of effort to make

but tanaka keeps saying it’s going to be the greatest album of all time (it won’t be)

and that’s the freaking band lore

if you made it to the end. you’re a real one

#I TOLD YOU IT’D BE LONG #ask

[patchworkgargoyle]

🌿15 people, 15 questions

Tagged by @scarcrossdlvrs and @eriquin, thank you friends!! <3

1. Are you named after anyone?

My middle name is apparently a family friend's grandmother's name? It's extremely basic, but it was almost Maude, so.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Just a couple days ago.

3. Do you have kids?

No, and I will Not be having any myself. Could I be a step-parent? Maybe. Maybe, after, like, lots of talking and more therapy.

4. What sports do you play/have played?

I was in kickboxing in grade 9, and maybe my axe throwing counts? It's a whole league with points and stuff?? I think it counts.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Sometimes, but mostly just with people I'm really comfortable around or as a very poor attempt at flirting. I'm usually too worried about coming off as mean or it being taken the wrong way, though, so I tend not to.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Probably body language and tone of voice. It's the hypervigilance and people-pleasing, babeyyy ✌

7. What's your eye colour?

Green. And funny story, a few days ago a woman stopped to ask me a question and literally got distracted by my eye colour 😅😅😅 she even pulled her partner over to look at my eyes. It was very embarrassing and flattering xD

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Currently deep in a scary movie phase.

9. Any talents?

I'm very good at remembering where someone's parked their car, and I can fold a fitted sheet.

10. Where were you born?

In the very same city I live in now, on the west coast of so-called Canada.

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing, trying to get back into reading, singing in the shower, bass guitar badly, walking, making art of some kind, D&D, video games.

12. Do you have any pets?

Two! Jam, a black cat, and Toast, a leopard gecko.

13. How tall are you?

5'5" and some change.

14. Favourite subject in school?

Art, English, Biology.

15. Dream job?

Man, I dunno. I just wanna make shit.

The Tags (but no pressure, and apologies for some double-tags): @steves-strapcollection @t-boyeddie @hellion-child @kkpwnall @spectrum-spectre @moss-woods @alwaysanagelneveragod @starryeyedjanai @patriciavetinari @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly @cuoredimuschio @theheadlessphilosopher @vecnuthy @auryborealis @sentient-trash

#tag game

[ultralightpoe]

Casper - Robert Floyd

Authors Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Word Count: 675

Warnings: none, just a tiny blurb

Description: Small halloween blurb.

This is apart of my Halloween event, stay tuned for a new story every hour! - ADDING A NEW CHARACTER TO MY LISTS, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?????-

Happy Halloween!

“Do you think I look silly?” You ask, coming around the corner where your boyfriend of 3 years is trying to fix his glasses for the costumes. A blush crosses his cheeks when he sees you, and your heart does the same flutter it always does when he smiles. 

“Why would you look silly?”

“Well, I don’t know. I never actually hang out with your friends so I don’t know if they are like the ‘all out’ types. You know?”

“.....No?” He looks confused, moving closer to you in easy shuffles. 

“I just don’t want to be the only one all dressed up.” You sigh, fixing the hair of your costume. “And end up embarrassing myself.”

“You will be just fine.” He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m nervous too.”

Bob always had tons of anxiety, even if he hung out with these guys every day, and as silly as it is it does make you feel better that you’re not alone in your anxiety. So you move closer, fixing the collar of his costume and smiling at him. 

“Are you ready?”

“Only if you are.”

- 

Bradley’s house was completely decked out in decorations, fog coming out of the front door and loud music blasting from the speakers. Your hand is holding onto Bobs tightly as he leads you up the path, looking back at you once to make sure you are okay before entering the house. 

The music surrounds you, the bass rattling through your shoes as Bob nods his head to people passing by. 

“HAPPY HALLOWEEN!” Someone to your right shouts, making you jump a bit as Bradley comes into view, dancing in his cheap tourist outfit. There was face paint on his nose to make it look like he had sunscreen on and a crap ton of blush to make it look like the rest of his face is burnt. 

A smile crawls across your lips as he does a funny dance, and you see Bob do his own in return. 

“Alright, who do we have?” Bradley asks, Natasha and Jake coming up beside him. “You are obviously Priscilla Presley. And Bob over here is…”

“Oh! The dad from caspar.” He smiles, fixing the glasses. “Played by Bill Pullman.” 

“That���s freaking awesome-” Bradley smiles, handing you both a bottle of cider beer ,before someone calls him over from the otherside of the room.  

The rest of the night follows the same pattern, people recognizing your costume but asking about his, and you knew he was beginning to overthink his choices. So you tried not to let him do that, dragging him to dance and to take shots, by the end of the night you are walking while leaning into each other to keep balance. 

“Do you think my costume was silly?”

“No, why?”

“Well, no one knew who I was.” He blushes. “It just feels kind of lame now.”

“I loved your costume, and you look A LOT like Bill Pullman so it works really well.” You smile, stopping him softly and looking at him. “I love your costume and I love that you had the idea in the first place.”

“I just…. Sometimes I feel like you are this iconic person and I’m just…. Like you are too good for me.” He mumbles. “I mean you have this natural cool to you, and I love that but don’t you ever worry I am slowing you down?”

“I feel the same most the time, you know?”

“Oh come on-”

“Seriously! I just spent the night with my professional aviator boyfriend and his professional aviator friends who are actually apart of a top secret program and I spend my night reading smutty romance books.” You explain, moving to wrap your arms around him. “You are not slowing me down.”

“You sure?” He blushes, smiling when you smile. Instead of answering you lean up to kiss him, starting slowly before it deepens. When you finally pull back for air he is panting. “Wanna go watch Caspar now?”

“Thought you would never ask.”

#to gun #top gun #top gun cast #top gun imagine #top gun smut #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun movie #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd smut #robert floyd fludd #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd angst #robert floyd x you #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x y/n #bob imagine #bob top gun #halloween #top gun bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd smut #bob floyd angst #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fluff

[starlight-strider]

This is the best cut content I’ve ever heard of.

I’m really sad this minigame was cut. Having a kind of rhythm game (I guess?) would have been really neat, and been… y’know, more than just three games, even though Checkerboard Chase is pretty fun.

I don’t care that this was cut from the final game, I’m considering it canon. Imagining these four in a little band trying to play is hysterical, especially because of the instruments they all have.

I’m gonna ramble about that now so if you don’t wanna read all that, here’s the cutoff for just my initial thoughts. If you wanna read more, here’s my insanity over this one image.

The instruments they have is just great. Dedede on drums is very fitting, and did end up returning later. Dedede’s Drum Dash exists after all, so obviously he loves his drums. Waddle Dee just having a tambourine and not something like a bass guitar is so funny. They look like a rock band or something because of the other three, but he just brought tambourines and they ran with it. Kirby, being the main character, of course has that leading instrument, the electric guitar. And Adeleine can play the keyboard so she isn’t just skilled in the traditional art, like drawing and painting, because apparently she can play piano too.

How is Kirby playing the guitar. He doesn’t have fingers. He doesn’t even really have arms, he just has nubs. What kind of guitar is that? How is he doing that?

Waddle Dee looks so happy to be there, like he’s glad that his friends aren’t mad that he forgot the bass and now they have to make do with tambourines.

Dedede looks mad for some reason? Like “I hate these drums I can’t jump on them what’s the point”.

That is a very large keyboard because Adeleine is standing on her tiptoes to reach it. And she’s one of the tallest characters in the whole series. She’s also more to the side where Kirby, Waddle Dee, and Dedede are all closer together. Are keyboard players usually off to the side? Does Adeleine just need space when she’s preforming? Does she feel like an outcast because she’s human?

The logo on Dedede’s drums looks like “K4” and I mean… the Kirby 4? Because there’s four of them? Or maybe 4 because 64?

Adeleine looks more like her design in Dream Land 3 in this. Her hair looks like it’s more in her face, but in Crystal Shards (and in all her later appearances) her entire forehead is bare, except a small strand of hair in her updated Star Allies design.

Kirby is so happy. He’s just smiling. Granted, he’s almost always smiling in Crystal Shards, since he smiles the whole way through all the levels when you’re just walking. But he looks especially happy here.

I wonder what songs they’d be playing? Maybe just some simple music, or music from the game or other Kirby games? A semi-rock remix of the Pop Star theme would be pretty awesome. Kirby just does an insane riff in the middle of it while his friends are still playing the theme normally. He would do that, and then look at them, and they’d all be stunned and he’d be smiling like that’s just how the song goes. Or they’d do Dedede’s normal theme and he’d be going all in on those drums the whole time while everyone else tries to play louder to balance it out.

Since I feel like this is still canon despite being cut, sometimes they’ll all get out their instruments (Adeleine just painting a keyboard) and play stuff for everyone. All the other Dream Friends are around in the castle making requests, and maybe Bandee remembers to grab a bass this time.

They play some songs suggested by everyone else, and then randomly throw in something to catch them off guard and either freak them out or delight them. Marx getting too annoying? Just start playing Kirby’s Triumphant Return! Meta Knight looking unimpressed? Time to play Sword of the Surviving Guardian! Want to remind Taranza that his girlfriend is dead? Moonstruck Blossom time!

Yeah I really like this cut minigame.

#Renu Says Stuff #kirby #kirby 64 #kirby 64 the crystal shards #kirby headcanons #waddle dee #adeleine #kirby adeleine #king dedede

[verosvault]

🚨SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 7🚨

Dimension20 "Fantasy High Junior Year"

Episode 7 "Stress Tested"

Timestamp: 00:42:47

Video Length: 4min. & 20sec.

Gorgug's NAT20s in Artificer Class!!!

Brennan: "Who else is rolling?"

Zac: "I think I know that I would be doing Academics."

Brennan: "Cool. I think we're gonna burn through all four of your academic tracks all at once right now."

Zac: "Now, help me out with the math of like, does it help me to do the easiest Artificer class at the five or should I?"

Brennan: "You're gonna do all three Artificers in a row."

Zac: "Okay."

Brennan: "It's basically do you wanna do all three Artificers first and Barbarian last or do you wanna do Barbarian first and then all three Artificers?"

Zac: "I think I'll do Artificers first."

Murph: "Yeah, you probably want lower DC for Artificer, right?"

Zac: "Yeah."

Brennan: "Great. You can do Arcana, Tinker's Tools or Investigation."

Zac: "I'll do Tinker's Tools. It's much better than the others."

Brennan: "Hell yeah. Go for it."

Zac: "Okay, so first Artificer class." *rolls* "Okay, that's a 21."

Brennan: "21. As the weeks go along, you dive in. Henry is here, all the other Artificer students. You're surrounded by robots and weird mists, in encounter suits and stuff like that."

Zac: "I'm giddy."

Brennan: "The freshman stuff, you get an A+. You put a ****ing satellite in the sky. You are an accomplished Artificer. And if you think about, how many Artificer levels does Gorgug have? You have like five, right?"

Zac: "Now five. Yeah."

Brennan: "Think about the fact that you ended freshman year at level eight. You get it. So, A+ in freshman Artificing."

Lou: "All right. All right."

Zac: "Okay."

Brennan: "Let's go round two. DC jumps up by five. Same check."

Zac: "Okay. Okay." *rolls* "That is a 13."

Brennan: "Will allow you to pass sophomore Artificer with a C."

Zac: "Okay."

Murph: "You have a bardic, right?"

Zac: "Oh. Oh!"

Lou: "You also have two more levels of class you need to just pass."

Zac: "I might take a stress token."

Brennan: "Take a little stress token." *evilly smiling 😭😭✋✋*

Zac: "Do another."

Ally: "Is a C okay though?"

Siobhan: "C is okay. C's get degrees."

Zac: "Is C okay?"

Brennan: 😬🫤

Lou: "It's not a D. It could have been a D."

Siobhan: "You could re-roll and get worse."

Murph: "Yeah, that's true."

Zac: "Oh gosh. My roll is six. I'll take one stress token."

Lou: "Ooh"

Ally: *claps*

The awesome caption team: (tense bass)

Brennan: "Gorgug takes our first stress token. I'm so happy." *evilly smiling 😭*

The awesome caption team: (Zac groaning)

Ally: "We gotta get you the MCAT, Gorgug."

Brennan: "We'll resolve what the stress...like we're all gonna meet all of you when we come outta downtime to see how ****ing fried you all are. So we'll resolve what happens with those at the end. Go ahead and re-roll."

Zac: *rolls*

Emily: *sighs*

Ally: "Worse?"

Zac: "It's a Nat 1."

Brennan: "Nat 1. Okay."

Zac: "Now, so what happens if I take a second stress token?"

Brennan: "That would be the final one you can take for this roll."

Zac: "Okay, I'll do that."

Brennan: "Cool, stress. Here you go." *evilly smiling*

Lou: "So when you take a stress token, it obliterates?"

Brennan: "It obliterates the previous roll."

Lou: *gasps* "Oh boy."

Ally: "Ohhh. It's not advantage."

Zac: "Okay." *Rolls* "Nat20!"

Siobhan: *gasps*

Brennan: "Yes! OMG!"

Gorgug: "I'm getting it!"

Zac: "Oh!"

Brennan: "You unlock a ****ing... we'll have to deal with that. We'll talk at the break. But that is ****ing huge."

Ally: "Wow!"

Brennan: "A+, nat20. Also, Gorgug, you unlock an academic resource which will come into play..." *shrugs* "later this season. I'll also talk to you about that secretly."

Siobhan: "Whoa!"

Brennan: "And it's up to you whether you would tell your classmates or not."

Lou: "All right."

Brennan: "Holy 💩. Okay, two stress tokens. You got it. A+."

Ally: "Wow. Yeah, worth it, honestly."

Brennan: "Gorgug is gonna be ****ing fried at the end of this." *laughs 😭* "Now You're gonna do your Junior Year Artifice."

Zac: "Okay."

Brennan: "The DC has jumped up by 10. So just passing, a D is a 15. Right?"

Zac: "Okay."

Brennan: "And then an A would be a 27."

Zac: "And I don't get anything from the nat20 in terms of my roll, right?"

Brennan: "I'll say with a nat20, I'll give you advantage on this roll. You roll this with advantage."

Zac: "It doesn't hurt to ask, you know?"

Brennan: "It doesn't hurt to ask."

Emily: "Just gotta ask."

Brennan: "Go for it."

Zac: "All right. Hello, fellow Juniors." *rolls* "Another Nat 20."

Brennan: "Nat20?!?!?!"

Everyone going wild with cheers and claps

Brennan: "What the ****?!"

Lou: "He's an Artificer."

Siobhan: "He's the greatest wizard ever born!" (The caption team missed this amazing line Siobhan said! 😭✋)

Ally: "Gorgug! Gorgug! You're listening to 'The Beats to Study To.'"

Lou: "Yes."

Ally: "That girl with her cat. You're just like, 'Yeah.'"

Zac: "I'm so chilled."

Lou: "I pay her to come by."

Brennan: "Oh my ****ing ***."

Lou: "She sits in the window."

Emily: "Yeah!"

Zac: "School's easy."

Ally: "Dude, you're killing it! You're killing it!"

#dimension 20 #dimension20 #blog #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #stress tested #fantasy high stress tested #fantasy high junior year episode 7 #fhjy ep 7 #fantasy high scene #fantasy high junior year scene #dimension20 scene #queue #brennan lee mulligan #gorgug #gorgug thistlespring #zac oyama

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

(hi thank you for being understanding about my question and being cool with doing this!) can I ask for headcanons for somethin like movie night with the 501st? Gender neutral reader is fine

Of course babes. 🩷 We can do movie night any night with the 501st!

Warnings and Information: There’s nothing to do in the barracks tonight, and it’s been a long time since anyone’s seen a good movie. So, throw in like fifteen packets of popcorn in the microwave (one at a time, Hardcase) to get this popcorn poppin’, because the 501st + one good friend is having a movie night! (Once mostly everyone agrees on what to watch, of course…) Blankets, pillows, snacks, and cozy Clone cuddle-piles galore~ Who’s falling asleep first? 😴 2nd person POV with an undescribed reader who has a gender neutral nickname. Bullet point format. We’ll use a little Mando’a, as a treat. Fluff and good feelings all around. Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s safe. 💙

Word count: 1,652

The previews

There’s no paperwork to do, there’s no assignment they need to ship out for in the morning, and they’ve gone ahead and tidied up the bed racks for good measure. They could play some Sabbac to kill the time, but they’ve either lost or misplaced more than half the deck, and they don’t feel like the lights and thumping bass of the local drinking hole tonight. (It’s just not quite the same as 79’s…) Nobody really has the energy to do much of anything, but given their purpose and training as soldiers, they don’t often have nights like this where they simply do… nothing. Being idle leaves a gnawing feeling of discomfort for many in the 501st, so they’re trying to come up with a plan.

“Uh-oh. Hardcase has his thinking face on.” someone mumbles, growing slightly uneasy. 

“I got it. I’m gonna call someone.” Hardcase declares, punching in one of his favorite contacts on the comlink. This makes the ARC troopers slightly nervous. “Not the Captain, I hope-” Fives chimes in warningly. “With any luck he’s just gone to the mess.”

Hardcase shakes his head, grinning broadly before he punches ENTER on the device. “Nah, I’m not calling the Captain right now, I’m callin’ Ember!”

You’re a favorite of the 501st. At least, that’s your theory. 

And through one series of events after the other, you've become well acquainted with them and their antics.

Why else would you possibly need to be commed in the middle of a meal? “Don’t answer that.” Captain Rex advises you. You both barely started eating. It’s not an emergency tone. It can wait. But… maybe you should see who it is, first? “Umm… Hardcase is calling me.” you reply. That means one of two likely scenarios.

Boredom, or trouble.

Specifically future trouble.

(Or he’s in trouble.)

You’re at least going to see how urgently you need to scarf down your meal so the Captain has time to enjoy his for once in three blue moons. “Hello? What's going on Hardcase?” 

“Hey little flame, you wanna do something tonight? We’re bored!”

“Define bored…” You’re gonna regret asking that, you’re sure. “And who’s “we” exactly, Hardcase? How many others are listening?” The jumbled cacophony of names and voices tells you it’s mostly Torrent Company, which you pretty much expected. “... hi Echo and Fives… hello Dogma … hey there Tup, I’m doing okay, thanks… yup, just trying to eat a little dinner, Kix…” 

So why exactly did he call you, you ask Hardcase, exchanging wary glances with the cobalt captain. What's going on? "Do you know where we can find a lot of popcorn for a movie night? You and the Captain are invited too of course, little flame!"

Grab your snacks…

The bunkroom has been torn apart by the time you and Captain Rex make your way in from the mess hall, and it smells better than you imagined for military sleeping quarters. Lots of beds are missing mattresses, bedding, and pillows. Except for Dogma's. His is untouched, saved for a slight rumple in the sheets. "Boys, we're here! … Where'd all the stuff go?" You step further into the room, and find all the missing mattresses laid side-by-side on the floor near one end of the room, where everyone's either currently wrangling with the holo-projector, or taking down a few posters from the wall to clear the space that will serve as your "screen". Tup spots the pair of you first. "Oh, good. Captain and Ember are here!" 

Hardcase is grateful that you found some popcorn for movie night, and that you could come join in for the fun. "There ya are, burc'ya! Just in time to start deciding on a movie!" He offers to get a jump on getting all the popcorn bags popped too, with the promise it's not going to be like last time. Trying to pop more than one bag resulted in a small fire, last time, evidently. 

Jesse and Kix are scouring over the descent film selection together, sorting them by type or genre. Action. Horror. Family-oriented. There's- how'd this kids movie end up in here? Eh, no thanks on the war films, we see enough of that. "What about a comedy?" you suggest, rifling through the stack to see what your pickings are there. There's a couple you do and don't recognize, and some that are tied to fond memories from before the war. "This is a good one, I think most of you guys will like it. I used to watch this a lot whenever I needed a good laugh, or some cheering up." 

Everyone agrees to give it a shot at least if that's what you recommend. In any case, it'll be difficult to get everyone to agree on one holo, and more than half of men squeezed around you on this giant raft of mattresses, blankets and pillows will probably fall asleep partway through it anyhow. 

… and enjoy the show!

"C'mon Dogma, come join us!" you urge with a friendly smile, seeing him return to his neatly-made bunk. "There's plenty of room, I'm sure." Tup and Hardcase, slightly sprawled next to you on your left, would need to move a bit to make it happen. Echo and Fives are sitting nearest the projector, their shoulders brushing against one another with every little movement. Jesse has positioned himself nearest the Captain, who is also beside you on your right. "It's okay if you don't, either. Nobody's gonna force you." you add pointedly, just as you feel someone start to pull his legs under him to go drag his brother into the tangle of limbs and bedding. Maybe he's more comfortable on his bunk. Or perhaps he's not interested in a film right now.

The lights are dimmed, the snacks are passed around, and the film begins. 

You only make it fifteen minutes into the film before there's a casualty: Kix, diligent man that he is to make sure all his brothers are taken care of, falls asleep behind you. "Psst! Kix, can you pass me the- oh nevermind. Ember, could you grab the candy under his arm before it melts?" You carefully wiggle it free and pass it up to Jesse before tucking a loose blanket kicking around over Kix. Generally, once Kix is out, he's out, so the group doesn't have to worry about waking him for a while. 

Hardcase stays surprisingly still through most of the movie so long as he keeps his hands mostly occupied in some capacity, or has one of his brothers leaning on him in some way. He's a very tactile person, so it's no surprise that he's slowly migrating around the raft of mattresses as each of his brothers either allow Hardcase to fiddle around with stuff he finds in their pockets, or just hold him close in a brotherly embrace for a bit if he's getting too disruptive. (He eventually settles down around the midpoint of the movie, and is one of the few who stays awake through the whole thing.)

Tup pays attention to most of the comedy film, occasionally conversing in whispers with Fives and Echo about their opinions on the jokes until Echo nods off for a bit, and the hushed conversation continues back up again when he wakes up before movie's end. It's Jesse who's not paying much attention to the film, but he's not too disruptive. Jesse almost makes it to the end of the movie before he falls asleep in the middle of scrolling through something on a datapad that's made its way into the nest of pillows and blankets and limbs, his head resting on Captain Rex's knee. 

Dogma does eventually join everyone on the floor. You suspect he was starting to feel a little left out, or maybe he changed his mind about the offer you made earlier, growing bored of whatever he'd been reading on his datapad, or deciding he'd give the movie a try. He tentatively makes his way over, and asks if he can still sit by you. "Of course, Dogma. Here, I saved some popcorn for you!" You give him the rest of the bowl you'd set aside for him, unable to get up and give it to him yourself since you've got multiple people surrounding you. (You didn't want Dogma to miss out on the snacks just because he wasn't initially watching the movie with everyone.) "Thanks for saving me some, Ember." Captain Rex reaches behind you and gives Dogma a warm pat on the shoulder. "Glad you joined us, brother." There's an unspoken finally in his words, but he's just glad to see that Dogma didn't end up isolating himself for long. 

You and Captain Rex, being firmly in the middle of the mattress pile, end up being the ones who become the human pillows of the group. It's nice to see all your friends having fun tonight, and be a part of enjoying a movie together. No stiff, uncomfortable armor; everyone's either in their fatigues or their blacks, and draped over and across their friends and brothers. Everyone is content and full of maybe a little too much popcorn and other snacks. You'll have a heck of a mess on your hands to clean up, either in the morning, or when everyone returns their respective mattresses to their bunks tonight, too.

Nights like this are how it should be. Everyone's happy and there are signs of trust everywhere you look. Brothers let their sleeping siblings rest on their shoulders, against their backs, their legs, or under their arms without complaint. There are sleepy smiles and shared blankets. Those who stayed awake until the end are now joking happily with one another and their Captain, and you too. 

And for a moment, in this night that will become a cherished memory no matter which way this war winds up, everyone you care about is safe. 

And what could be better than that?

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

#frostfics #star wars #anon ask #request fic #x reader #501st x reader #gender neutral reader #star wars headcanons #star wars the clone wars #star wars tcw #tcw fanfic #tcw #tcw captain rex #tcw rex #tcw fives #tcw echo #tcw tup #tcw jesse #tcw hardcase #tcw dogma #tcw kix #501st #501st fluff #star wars au

[yellowflowerbub]

bathtime (together)

♡ Feb. 10th ♡

♡ Day 1 of 5 ♡

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. you decide to prepare a surprise for Aki when he comes back from work on valentines day

wordcount. 1.3k+

pairing(s). aki hayakawa x reader

tag(s). fluff, teasing, bathing together, pet names (my love, dear), gender neutral, cheesy

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Water is pushed into the tub’s side, it dramatically thrashes against itself before leveling out into miniature waves as the stray droplets that were flung into the air mush together with the rest. Bubbles begin to float over top of the water as the sweetly scented solution is progressively poured. They greedily stack upon each other, building from the water level and up, consuming the surrounding until where the bubbles began and water ended seemed nebulous. They shimmer by the reflection of soft candle light and a tablet positioned on the tub’s wide rim.

A music streaming application is open, pop-ups of different playlists invade the screen before being absentmindedly closed as your shaky fingers feverishly scour your account for the ‘Bathtime with Aki’ playlist. It seems as though it was purposefully hidden, concealed by a multitude of advertisements and song suggestions you never paid more than a second thought to.

“Dear?” You hear. The distant call is muffled by the rushing, running water and a closed bathroom door. You scramble to turn the water off so as to not alert him. He’s on time of course, but per usual you failed to be ready.

Even more anxious, your eyes can barely keep up with how quickly the many playlists whizz past. “What was that? Was the water running?”  

You curse his good ears and continue to search, “Yes, I was just,” you pause, “...washing something off.”

“Alright.”

At taxing times like these you’re thankful of how much of his trust he confides in you. 

You gasp as you spot his name and click it, rapidly turning up the volume while it loads. Through a small speaker on top of the bathroom counter plays the melody of the first song, the funky bass filled with emotions you’ve only touched upon with Aki echo throughout every inch of the bathroom. The sound sneaks under the crack between the bathroom’s door and the cold tile to the silence of the rest of the apartment. The hum of the first few chords of what you believe to be a piano makes a smile creep up your lips. You’re sure he’s heard the song.

By the time the artist begins singing the lyrics to the first verse a soft knock is heard on the door’s wood, you can barely hear it over how loud the speaker plays. “Yes? Who’s there?”

“Who else would it be?” 

“I dunno? Maybe my boyfriend?” 

“Really? And here I am thinkin’ you’re single.”

You giggle, “Wanna come in?”

As the door knob twists and the bathroom door is opened by a crack, the incoming chorus you felt approaching hit. Every little note incorporated into the production from tic to tune fuse within each other to create a symphony your ears are happy to hear. You sing under your breath and let the bubbles in the bath come over your shoulders as you melt into the almost hot water, your arms float by your sides, your feet by one another, and your back pressed to the side of your bathtub.

“Come in, don’t be shy.”

He hesitantly slides into the bathroom, the full suit he wore feeling a bit uncomfortable now that he was surrounded by a warmer air and steam with the door shut behind him. 

“What’s all this?”

You smile, “Have you checked what day it is?”

His brows furrow, he actually has not. He pulls back his cuffed sleeve to reveal a chunky metal watch worn around his wrist. You’d got him that watch for his birthday the year prior as a surprise and he had put it on immediately after he tore it from its packaging. Since then, you’ve never seen him without it. 

“It’s Tuesday?” Still bewildered by the scenery, he thinks to himself for a quick moment before it comes to him.

“Valentine's Day?”

“Ding ding ding!” 

He swears to himself it’s from the scented candles but his face burns, “You’re so corny.”

“You love it.”

For a moment, he seems to remember how naked you were. He’s seen you naked more times than he could probably recall but it never failed to restart his heart as if it were his first moment he laid his pretty sapphire eyes on you. 

“If you get in I might let you touch instead of just stare.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He wastes no time riding his suit coat from his torso, his nimble fingers spend no more than a second undoing each obsidian button. He shrugs the thing off his shoulders, half heartedly folding it to toss on the floor. His suspenders and pearl white button up are next, meeting the same fate as the overcoat. 

“You think I can even fit in there with you?”

You fan him, “I’m sure you can.”

 “I’m 6’2, my love.” He chuckles, you can see his bare shoulders jump when he laughs and catch a glimpse of the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes before he turns away from you to continue to strip.

“Why’re you turning around? I’ve seen everything you’ve got.”

“You whistle at me like a piece of meat when I take my pants off.”

Fair enough.

Aki, now fully naked, dips his foot into the water to test its temperature. Chills crawl up his calf from the stark difference and each hair stands on end. He shudders through his teeth as both of his legs slide on either side of your hips.

You’re faintly frightened of the bath overflowing, its edge rising as steadily as Aki let his body sink into the water. The bath looks to be on the brink of spilling over onto the tile by the time he's waist deep.

His body melts into yours just as well as the water, the damp skin over his chest molds with your back like wax on top of a burning candle seeping from its edge. He’s as warm as the water surrounding your bodies, his ribs press hard into you and his heart beats through it, it rests at the closest it can to you. The rhythm of his pumping heart beats stridently in not only his ears, but yours as well. 

“Your heart’s beating really quick. You ok?” You inquire.

He’s quick to answer, “Of course I am. I’m just.. amazed on how nice this is. You did a outstanding job with all of it.” 

“Thank you,” you stifle a laugh, “I didn’t get all of what I wanted in here. Like, I thought rose petals would fit the mood I’ve got going but I didn’t get the chance to place them. They're actually still in our room.”

“I love it either way.” His voice is low, whisper volume as his chin rests on your open shoulder, his nose dipped in the side of your neck. Always so thoughtful. For the most part.

You do laugh this time, “You’d say that no matter what I do.”

He felt his smile lift, “Think of this whole thing as a ballroom. You’ve prepared every piece but forgot some food courses, and some appetizers, and some chairs but there is still a dancefloor and a chandelier overhead everyone adores.”

“Your point here?”

“A hall wouldn’t be complete without its chandelier. And that’s what you are, my love. My gorgeous chandelier.” His lips come down to softly kiss your shoulder, “So no matter what you prepared for me, I will be completely overjoyed because you prepared it and you are here to do whatever it is with me.”

The song, you'd completely forgotten you turned on in the first place, comes to a slow conclusion. The symphony of instruments fade into the silence and splashes of water and the last thing heard before it completely makes it's exits is the lead singer's high note, blending with it all.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: i'm so proud of that last piece of dialogue that i’m ending the fic here  the song was "out of touch" if you were wondering

Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!!

#chainsaw man x reader #aki x reader #aki x y/n #aki x you #aki x gender neutral reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x y/n #aki hayakawa x reader #poc friendly

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 4th: Rejection | Arsonist’s Lullaby - Hozier | Lost a/n: pre-steddie post-s4, angst with soft, happy ending because I'm a marshmallow. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

All Eddie Munson has ever wanted to do is play music. 

That’s it. There are other hobbies, of course, other things that bring him joy– D&D, fantasy novels, art– but ever since he was a kid, whenever a teacher would ask what he wants to be when he grows up, it’s always the same answer. 

I wanna play music. 

As a kid, it seems less daunting. He just has to practice, he just has to play, he just has to have the passion to make it big. To be the next Kirk Hammett, or Eddie Van Halen, or Ozzy Osbourne if he can teach himself to carry a tune. 

Making friends is hard, but he manages to find a few in middle school who can play the instruments he can’t– drums, bass. Eddie takes the role of frontman, not exactly a singer still but he’s charismatic enough to get away with it at their school talent show.

High school comes, and Corroded Coffin is revamped. New vibe, new members. He’s older now, a little more jaded with each rejection. 

No one wants their EP, recorded by hand in Gareth’s garage onto cheap cassette tapes. 

No venue will let them play, and Eddie knows that it’s probably because they’re in high school but hadn’t The Cure started in high school? 

No one believes in them, trying to push them– especially Eddie– to consider more successful careers, safer paths. 

But eventually, they book a regular gig at The Hideout and Eddie’s certain this is it. This is their big break. Until they play week after week, staring at the same five plastered faces every Tuesday. If they can prove themselves though, the owner will have to let them play on a Friday or Saturday.

He never does. 

The final nail in the proverbial coffin comes after Eddie’s final senior year. Being accused of murder should have beefed up his credibility if nothing else– he’s already been traumatized, terrorized, and hunted like a goddamn dog, nevermind almost killed via hoard of angry mutant bats. Surely, he’ll catch at least one break. 

And then the owner at The Hideout tells him he can’t play there anymore. 

The hoards of people who still blame him for Chrissy Cunningham’s death are too much for him to manage himself and, in his words, Eddie’s driving away good business. His heart shatters, his breath catches, and Eddie leaves without a word because if he were to try to speak, all that would come out is either an enraged scream or a choked sob and Eddie doesn’t want to risk either. 

He drives around aimlessly for an unknown amount of time, just circles around the outskirts of Hawkins. Maybe I’ll just leave, he thinks. Indianapolis might be far enough. Maybe Chicago. Fuck it, maybe Argyle and Jonathan can put me up for awhile in California. Eddie wants to go somewhere that makes him forget just how lost he is, how unwanted and forgotten he’s become. Being the social pariah is only fun when he’s making speeches on cafeteria tables, not when it boots him out of his one and only career path. 

Somehow, he ends up in Loch Nora. He can’t face Wayne right now, he doesn’t want to bother Robin or Nancy, he’s already let Jeff, Gareth, and Freak down in the worst way imaginable, and if he goes to his mom’s or Chrissy’s tombstones with one more sob story, he’s afraid they’ll start haunting him. Steve’s become a friend over the last year or so it makes sense. Process of elimination and all of that. 

He doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to realize that he’d started driving that way before he ruled everyone else out. 

Steve welcomes him like he always does and offers him a beer, sitting with him in companionable silence on the couch as they watch Monty Python and The Holy Grail and laugh at the same parts. Eddie knows Steve can see that he’s upset but instead of asking questions Eddie isn’t ready to answer, he just sits a little closer with their thighs touching and one arm strewn over the back of the couch, just barely grazing Eddie’s shoulder. 

The movie ends and Steve moves to switch the tape when Eddie finally speaks up. 

“The Hideout kicked us out. Can’t play there anymore.” 

Eddie sees Steve freeze from behind before turning, his eyebrows knitted together above his nose. “Are you fucking serious?” 

He nods and sighs, lifting one hand to chew on this thumbnail as he looks at the wall beyond Steve. 

“That’s bullshit, dude. Why? Because of the protestors or whatever?” 

He nods again. 

“Want me to go down there? I’ve still got my bat around here somewhere. It might be nice to swing at something that’s not trying to like, eat me.” 

Eddie huffs a small laugh through his nose and meets Steve’s eyes, their righteous anger blending with his own as he sees Steve cross his arms over his chest. It’s hard not to stare. 

 “Well, then at least I wouldn’t be the only guy in this town wanted for murder.” 

Steve shakes his head and just chooses another movie, Howard the Duck this time, before returning to his spot on the couch. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite movies but he can’t focus to save his life because Steve is even closer now, his arm draped fully across Eddie’s shoulders and creating a space for Eddie to easily just… rest. So he does. 

The title sequence starts and Eddie’s head drops to the side, resting on Steve’s shoulder. It’s one of his favorites but he can’t follow the plot to save his life. All he can focus on is the way Steve’s fingers trace symptoms and shapes against the cotton of his tee shirt, and the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the feeling of Steve’s head leaning against the top of his. 

“I had a new song and everything,” Eddie whispers, surprising both himself and Steve. 

Steve hums and tightens his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, a ghost of a hug. “Play it for me sometime?”

All Eddie Munson has ever wanted to do is play music. And maybe he still can.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie month #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #and then eddie and corroded coffin start playing other small venues outside of hawkins #steve helping however he can and then recruiting everyone else who's available to come cheer #eventually they play the right gig at the right time and bing bang boom eddie's dreams come true <3333 #he's just a little guy and he deserves happiness #duffer bros i'm in your walls

[buckyismybicycle]

Title: “I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master” [AO3 Link]   Originally written as part of: Bucky Barnes As… a Rockstar  SERIES MASTERLIST  Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Mature Summary/Notes: This is, pretty much, exactly what it looks like. Rockstar Bucky, Flirting, etc. EDIT: Now! I’m happy to announce that this is now IT’S OWN SERIES that I have the honour of writing with @rookthorne! More rockstar!Bucky for everyone! 

“𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐝” Series Masterlist | Part 2 »

The crowd is already worked up from the band on stage and Bucky is grinning maniacally behind the stage. Nat, his bassist, looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“You good, Buck?”

“Fucking fantastic, Natalia. I’m fucking fantastic. You see ‘em? It’s packed out there.”

“Your shows have been sold out all week,” Sharon reminds him while fixing Scott’s guitar strap.

“Iunno, Shar, it’s just different. Somethin’ about this place.” His blood is pumping from the heavy bass, the Cap Quartet rocking out on stage. He’s played shows with them before - Sam, Steve, Joaquin and Riley are all cool dudes. They’d become friends pretty easily, so it was a no-brainer that they were the first band Bucky asked to co-headline his tour.

—

“Thank you, you beautiful bastards!” Riley’s voice booms, followed by a loud screeching of the crowd. “Hang onto your panties if you still got ‘em, because the final act is gonna knock you dead. Yeah, you know who I’m talking about, the band you’ve all been waiting for — let me hear you fuckers!”

Bucky closes his eyes and lets the thrum of the audience's cheer work its way all the way into his bones. Fuck, he almost has a boner.

“Where’s Clint?” He asks, eager to get on stage. Natasha jerks a finger behind her where Clint is downing a bag of Cheerios between sips of Mountain Dew. Bucky grins, because it means Clint will be amped. Bucky can’t help but strum his own guitar a few times, the calluses on his fingers a permanent fixture by now.

Natasha hauls both Scott and Clint over practically by the ear, her studded combat boots thumping with each step.

“Ready?” Bucky asks with a wicked smile.

“Ready,” the three return in their usual manner, with grins and lazy salutes. Then it’s blinding lights and deafening roars.

Bucky wastes no time in getting the crowd amped.

“C’mon, are we asleep out here?! Let’s gooooo bay-beeeeeeeee!” While Bucky is loud, the crowd is louder and they are on their feet from the first strum of his guitar, and Bucky feels high as a kite.

It’s not your first show at the Kathedral, but it’s certainly the loudest. You’d never heard of this particular band, but Misty’s best friends make up the Cap Quartet, so you had to support them, of course. And they were good, you actually liked when they popped up on your shuffle.

Originally, you thought you’d maybe dip after they were done - sitting for two opening acts and the Cap Quartet’s set already had your feet aching. But the moment the next band stepped out, and Misty starts jumping up and down beside you, you have no choice but to stay. The energy was infectious and you kind of missed just letting go. You may not be a rebellious teenager anymore, but the atmosphere of being at a rock concert makes you feel young and reckless again. Even the smell of spilled beer and sweat brings back a bit of nostalgia, back to when you were sixteen and had ‘X’s drawn on your hands just to get in the venue.

“C’mon, are we asleep out here?!” You hear the singer shout, and you can’t help but think how beautiful the whole band is.

There’s a redhead rocking heeled boots that look like they could kill a man, her bass guitar plastered with stickers. The drummer is wearing a sleeveless muscle tank that does wonders for his arms and the other guitarist has a dazzling smile when he looks out into the crowd.

But the lead singer - he’s rocking black leather pants that bunch above his combat boots like he’d haphazardly stuck his feet in, but they’re tight across his thighs. You can see every flex in his muscles as he jumps around on stage. His hair whips around his face as he throws his whole body into his performance. It’s a small miracle he even manages to hit any notes on his guitar. His black t-shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest, hugging his biceps, which makes your mouth water, but what really hits you is his voice.

The opening notes of his song are the epitome of zero to one hundred. Your throat almost hurts just from watching him, but he’s nothing but smiles, clearly lost in what he loves.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

He gets a moment of reprieve when the next part comes up, before he ramps up again, the veins in his neck prominent, making you wanna lick them. A glint of metal flashes in his mouth when he sings — a tongue piercing, probably.

One at a time I know this bridge we built won't last But it'll hold for at least a while Even when the life leaves your bones Your soul will follow me wherever I go It's in the way I feel your fire even when I sleep at night I stay inside your glow

He hits the chorus again, just as hard as he did at the beginning and you swear the floor shakes as everyone jumps.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

Then he faces the audience and hops on the speaker in front, leaning forward with his microphone, his other hand waving for the crowd to sing it back to him. You’re captivated by his crystal-like eyes as the lights bounce off them.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

You even find yourself shouting along, the song is so catchy that you’re into it from the moment it started. As you shout the last line, he looks right at you and it’s like an electrifying bolt through your body as he holds the look for the next line before he bounds off to the sides of the stage that he’s been neglecting.

You’re in awe as his voice changes to something smooth and soft, the instruments that were near deafening slowing down with him. He sways in the middle of the stage, face turned up as though in prayer, the bassist even hitting a few notes on the keyboard to her side as she backs him up, vocally.

I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the)

And in perfect sync, the band picks up, hard again, all of them (except the drummer) jumping as well and the crowd goes wild. You narrowly miss getting kicked in the head by a crowdsurfer, who gets a fistbump from the singer over the side of the stage.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife Lost a vital part of me Lost a vital part of me Now there's nothing left I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

You’re in a trance when he ends the song, holding the note so long you’re sure his lungs should burst. Maybe it’s the heat, or the adrenaline, or just your heart pumping out of your chest as you bounce for the rest of the set, but you could swear that the lead singer kept catching your eye.

You feel like you’re flying, on cloud nine, so maybe it’s all in your head, but goddamn if you didn’t twitch with want every time you met his eyes. How this crowd still had energy was beyond you, you knew that you were dead on your feet, hair plastered to your neck with sweat but grinning wildly.

“Alright you hellions, this is the last one.” When the crowd starts chanting ‘encore, encore’ he just laughs into the mic, his voice a little raspy from his performance.

“If we could, we’d play all fuckin’ night, you know that! But some of us gotta get to Indiana by tomorrow night. So we gotta make this last one count. Let’s get sexy, folks.”

His husky voice makes it absolutely devastating as he starts off by smirking at you.

I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master I wanna make your heart beat Run like rollercoasters I wanna be a good boy I wanna be a gangster 'Cause you can be the beauty And I could be the monster

It’s as though each line sent a new wave of desire through you. You picture calling him a good boy, wonder if he’d flush just as beautifully as he did now under the heat of the lights.

I love you since this morning Not just for aesthetic I wanna touch your body So fucking electric

The crowd loses its collective mind as he starts to ruck up his shirt, as each line gets progressively more seductive, and his shirt rides further and further up. You can’t help but ogle his washboard abs glistening with sweat since he was right there.

I know you scared of me You said that I'm too eccentric I'm crying all my tears And that's fucking pathetic I wanna make you hungry Then I wanna feed ya I wanna paint your face Like you're my Mona Lisa

Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest image you’d had all night. His shirt comes off over his head and he twirls it, throwing behind him.

I wanna be a champion I wanna be a loser I'll even be a clown Cause I just wanna amuse ya I wanna be your sex toy I wanna be your teacher I wanna be your sin I wanna be a preacher

You lick your lips just as he turns to you and if possible, his smile grows even bigger, feral, as he sings right at you. The lyrics made your head spin with want.

I wanna make you love me Then I wanna leave ya 'Cause baby I'm your David And you're my Goliath

He winks before strutting off, his muscles tight and taunting. The sway of his hips, intentional or not, entices you, and you’d give anything to bite down on them. The stupid pants are just taunting you at this point.

Ah-ha… Mhm, ah-ha\ Because I'm the devil Who's searching for redemption And I'm a lawyer Who's searching for redemption And I'm a killer Who's searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption

He sinks to his knees on the stage as steam hisses in the back in billow pillars. The lights change, flashing reds and oranges, yellows and pinks. They dance magically across his skin.

And I'm a bad guy Who's searching for redemption And I'm a blonde girl Who's searching for redemption I'm a freak that Is searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master

You’re going to die - straight to heaven or hell, it doesn’t matter at this point, because he’s honest-to-god crawling across the stage on his arms and knees, his mic still in one hand.

I wanna make your heart beat Run like rollercoasters I wanna be a good boy I wanna be a gangster Cause you can be the beauty And I could be the monster I wanna make you quiet I wanna make you nervous I wanna set you free But I'm too fucking jealous I wanna pull your strings Like you're my telecaster And if you want to use me I could be your puppet 'Cause I'm the devil Who's searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption

He ends at the edge of the stage, his torturous crawl making your throat go dry from more than just your screaming. Then, he flips on his back, lets his head hang over the side of the stage.

I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master

The last line is but a whisper, and then he finally lets the mic drop, his arms stretched like he’s going for a backwards dive and his chest is heaving. He’s a sweaty mess, body on display and licks his lips while staring a hole into your soul.

—

The venue slowly begins to empty, stragglers buying merch or finishing their drinks. You feel dizzy when Misty drags you outside, saying that her friends want to hang out for a bit before they leave for the next town. You stumble along because, yeah, alright, her friends are cool.

They’re by their tour bus, all of them outside with drinks in their hands and they wave you both over.

“Excellent show, boys,” you greet as everyone takes turns hugging both you and Misty.

“Yeah, you guys killed it!” Misty agrees enthusiastically.

“What’d you think of the other bands?” Sam asks. “Parasite Fears has never been on the road like this.”

“That was the first band, right? They were really good! And the set was fun,” you say honestly. Now that you’re outside and it’s getting late, the sweat on your body is cooling, causing you to shiver a bit. Riley hands you a cup and when you ask what it is, he just smiles. You drink it anyway, because why not. They spend a few minutes chatting before a warm arm wraps around your shoulders, and your breath catches at the sight of bright crystal-like eyes beside you. His other arm is thrown over Joaquin as he stands between you.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he smiles blindingly at you.

“Hi,” you say back, still a little stunned at how at ease he seemed to be, even as he retracts his arm. He’s changed into basketball shorts of all things, which makes you even chillier just looking at him. This close, you can see the intricate lines of his tattoos - metal plates from shoulder to fingers on his left arm, swirls of black script along his other.

“You look cold, sweetheart,” he observes. “Couldn’t you guys have taken this party into the tour bus?”

“They’re fixing the bus,” Steve says. “Told us to stay outta the way.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright to head out?” Bucky asks, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Should be,” Steve shrugs. “Tones said we’d be fine, or else he’d find another way. We’ll know in about two hours or so.”

“Ehhh, tell Tones to relax for once. If anything, you can divvy yourselves up and the rest of us could shuttle you the rest o’ the way.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve claps him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, can’t have you ruining the tour, punk.”

Something about their easy camaraderie makes you smile. But you’re still cold, and Bucky still notices.

“If I had a jacket, I’d offer it to you,” he looks back at you. “Next best thing, I can offer our unbroken tour bus?” He jerks his head behind and you see the redheaded bassist leaning against the side smoking a cigarette, chatting with the drummer who appears to be double-fisting drinks.

You look at Misty who is being introduced around to the other bands by Sam and Riley and there’s no way she’s going to be anytime soon.

“Um. You don’t have to,” you say, because he’s a stranger. He cocks his head to study you. It looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t push.

“Offer’s open, doll,” he shrugs. Some other members come up to him, Steve, and Joaquin and congratulate them on their set so you quietly slip away.

You don’t know anyone else here, and it’s kind of awkward to be by yourself so you start wandering around. When you round a bus, you nearly smack into the drummer from Bucky’s band and you yelp as you both jump back.

“Sorry!” you both say at the same time before the sandy-haired man smiles and waves before walking past you. You notice that he’d dropped something - though it was small and black making it hard to tell what it was.

“Hey!” you shout at him, but he doesn’t turn around, instead heading back to his bus. You pick up the item, a transmitter of some sort, and try to catch up to him. You can’t seem to find him and the bassist had also left her spot so you approach the bus. The door is completely open but you knock on the frame anyway.

“Hello?” There’s no sound inside so you think about leaving it where he can find it easily.

“Takin’ me up on my offer?” You startle at the sudden voice behind you.

“Actually, your dummer dropped this,” you explain, thankful to at least hand it back to someone. “I tried to get his attention but I don’t think he could hear me, and then I kinda lost him in the crowd.”

“Don’t be offended, he probably took his hearing aids out,” Bucky tells you easily. “Thanks for bringing this back though, Sharon woulda fuckin’ killed him.”

“Hearing aids?” You can’t help but blurt out. “Wow.”

Bucky beams proudly as he tells you about his friend, Clint, how gifted of a drummer he is and how even losing most of his hearing never stopped him.

“That’s amazing,” you say, a genuine smile for his story and how much he was beaming just talking about Clint. Just then a gust of wind blows, and your jean shorts and t-shirt aren’t cutting it.

“C’mon, before you freeze,” Bucky jerks his head toward the tour bus and fuck it. You hop aboard, Bucky following you. He places the transmitter on the kitchenette table, looking hilariously giant in the cramped space.

“You come here often?”

“Did you just use the oldest pick up line of all time?” You scrunch your nose at him, liking the sound of his laugh.

“Is it working?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I’m just asking out of genuine curiosity,” he bats his eyelashes. They’re so pretty, you think to yourself.

“I used to. Less often now, but when I hear someone good is playing, I show up.”

He arches an eyebrow at you.

“Cap Quartet, I mean. Obviously. They don’t scream as much as you do,” you add, and you find yourself relaxing with Bucky as he takes all your jokes and jabs in stride as he tickles you for the slight.

“You hurt my feelings, doll,” he says, all smiles and sharp teeth.

“How ever could I make it up to you?” You find yourself flirting with him.

“Maybe you could scream for me this time,” he suggests, leaning in closer with a tilt of his head, eyes searching yours for a sign.

“Yeah?” You ask a little breathlessly, forgetting how to breathe as you two inch into each other’s spaces now.

“Yeah,” his lips just grazing against your neck. “Didn’t you enjoy that last song I sang for you?”

“For me?” You ask incredulously, making Bucky grin at you.

“Ya heard me, doll. For you,” he repeats. “It seemed like you enjoyed it..”

Whatever thought you’d had about him flirting with you was more or less solidified now, and it was making your body rebel against you. You lick your lips subconsciously before you answer. “Maybe.”

“Especially that bit… about wanting to be your master.”

You involuntarily hold your breath, legs squeezing together. It’s impossible not to imagine Bucky over you, pinning you down as he commands you to do as he wants.

“Or… maybe it was that bit about wanting to be your slave?”

The breath you let out is shaky, matching your trembling hands that are balled into fists across your lap.

Bucky’s eyes darken, and you’re not really sure who made the first move, but you’re suddenly kissing furiously, hands tangled in each other’s hair and clothes.

“Christ, I’ve wanted this since I first fuckin’ saw you,” Bucky tells you, pulling you into his lap, where you can feel his dick hardening through his shorts. It’s embarrassing how fast you get on board, your pussy quivering at the thought of being touched for the first time in too long.

“Tell me what you need, pretty little thing,” he nibbles at your bottom lip. “God, I wanna take you apart, wanna do anythin’ you want.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “That. Want that, too. Want you to fuck me.”

His lips curl into a smile against yours as he lifts you easily to tumble into a bottom bunk. “Yes, master.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes as... #my works #bucky barnes fanfic #rockstar bucky #feat hold absence and maneskin lol #music taste

[assortedseaglass]

Come Back To Me - Chapter Six

Billy Washington x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, Trigger Point (TV) Spoilers

Author’s Note: Thank you for being patient with me while I write this chapter. So folks, here we go…

Word Count: 3.5K

Late afternoon faded into early evening, and London was once again coming alive. School kids, their uniforms disheveled, ambled home. Restaurants were setting tables and chairs outside their premises, a few punters already drinking Aperol Spritz and Bellinis. Cyclists sped past the unmoving cars, desperate to be out of the heat. Billy watched as a tourist stepped into the road, only to be shouted at by a man clad in lycra on a racing bike. He rubbed his face and felt a trickle of sweat run down his back.

Billy’d never known a hotter July. Usually, his birthday week was spent away from the city. Away from the noise of a crowded London, with heat emanating from every building and body. As a child his birthday coincided with the summer holidays, and his parents always took him and Lana away to the south-coast seaside for a week. Looking back on his childhood, Billy could measure birthdays in ice creams, sandcastles and beach barbecues. Last year, he had been moping over Becky, who had initiated the first of their many breaks. Ida drove him down to Dungeness, where an old boat house full of friends waited for him. There was Sofia and Faisal, Joe from school, she’d even managed to get a few of the lads from football to come down. They had fires on the shingle beach, cooking fish the boys had caught that morning. They drank until only embers were left in the fire. Talked until their voices were hoarse. Spent the mornings swimming in the cold sea and afternoons reclining on the hot pebbles. Looking back, Billy thought that was the last time he belonged anywhere; at the edge of the world with a few people that had chosen to love him. Now, he was alone. Sweating in London traffic as he drove to pick up friends he imagined didn’t even know his surname.

PING. A text from Lana.

Billy, where the hell are you? It’s not funny now. Police called saying you missed a meeting with them!? Mum and dad are going spare.

He ignored it. They’d called him yesterday, singing happy birthday down the phone before launching into a tirade about where he was. I’ve gone away with friends for a few days. Birthday bender. That’s what he’d told them, anyway. Somehow, he wanted the truth; that he’d spent the morning at Gwen’s before getting drunk and sleeping on a pub floor, to stay hidden.

PING

“Christ, Lana.” Billy was about to silence the phone when he saw the name on the screen. Ida.

Hey, I know you don’t wanna talk, but just give me a message to let me know you’re alright. Hope you had a good birthday, I.

Two things happened simultaneously. Billy’s heart fell to somewhere around his stomach, and his thumb reached out to press the call button by Ida’s name. He stopped. An image of her tear-streaked face looking up at him as he pressed his body against hers flashed in his mind. Instead, he called his voicemail.

You have no new messages, and one saved message. Saved messages:

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Billy, happy birthday to you. I hope you’re ok, Bill, wherever you are, and having a good birthday. Don’t get too drunk.

They laughed sadly.

I left your birthday present at the flat, I hope you like it. It’s Ida, by the way.

To play this message again, press one. To save it -

He pressed one and listened to her sing him happy birthday again. Listened to her sad little laugh. Listened to her clarify who it was, as though he didn’t know every inflection of her voice by heart.

On and on he drove, wending his way through thoroughfares and back alleys. With each turn in the road that took him closer to his destination, he tried not to think about Ida. Or his arrest. Or the disappointed looks of his family. He cranked up the radio, the bass thumping and causing the old car to quiver. Popping some gum in his mouth, he nodded his head to the music. He couldn’t let the lads see him being his usual pathetic self. This was a chance to reinvent. To leave the past behind him –

PING

Mate. Can you call me? I’m with Becky

Fuck. It was Lana again. Truth be told, he had had too much to drink yesterday, and by his 7th or 8th pint had made some questionable calls to his ex at the prompting of his new mates. Sure, Becky had treated him horribly and kicked him to the curb, but no-one needs voicemails of drunken shouting left on their phone. Billy rang Lana immediately.

“Billy!”

“Can you put Becky on?” God, he needed to apologise.

“Where are you? Sounds like you’re driving?”

 “I’m driving to meet my mates. Let me speak to Becky.”

“What mates?” Thanks, Lana. “Anyone I know?”

Billy huffed in annoyance. “Just mates, Lana. Why? What’s going on?” He leant his arm against the window and rested his head on his hand. The traffic was slowing again, but no matter, he was almost there. A large group of people was up ahead, blocking the road.

“Listen, Billy, I’m not with Becky. I just needed you to call me.”

“You’re not with Becky?” He didn’t understand. “What do you mean? Why?”

“I need to talk to you. You’ve not been answering my calls, you’ve not been about,” Billy could hear panic in her voice and it only made him bristle more. Did they not think he could look after himself for one day? “Where are you driving to? Billy? Billy!?”

“Fucking arsehole!” A man shouted through Billy’s car window as he drove slowly through the crowd. Billy stuck up his middle finger and carried on. His mates were around here somewhere and if these tossers wanted to block the road then it was their problem, not his. A few people banged on the windows.

“Billy, where exactly are you?”

“Farringdon Tube Station,”

“Sounds busy, what’s going on? Billy, why are you there?”

He looked around at the signs they were holding. Antifa. Against the Far Right. All Are Welcome Here. Realisation was slowly dawning on him. Lana was still shouting at the other end of the line. “Billy! Listen to me. It’s important. What are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

“I was meant to meet the lads here. ‘Outside the tube’, he said, but I can’t see him. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

Lana sighed. “Billy, why did you drive? Was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mate asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.” The crowd were moving away from the car now, and Billy couldn’t see his mates anywhere. His voice grew quiet. “Yeah, he’s set me up, hasn’t he? They’re having a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads.” He smiled faintly, if only to stop himself from screaming. Abandoned, again.

“Billy,” Lana’s voice was hurried now. “These new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

“Lana, what are you on about?” He leant against the window once more.

“Nic. Nic Roberts!” Billy’s mind remembered the large man Warren had introduced him to. “He’s…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

The world stopped for a moment. The heat of the day disappeared and the roar of London died. He thought back to when Warren introduced him to Nic. His opinions were a little extreme for Billy but he had been kind, welcoming, taken him under his wing. Everything came back into focus.

“You’re winding me up,”

“Do I sound like I’m fucking winding you up!?” Lana screeched, though she sounded panicked, not annoyed. “Have any of them been near your car?”

When he’d told the lads about his car, Warren said he knew a guy, Tommy, that could fix it up. All the men had chipped in and called it an early birthday present. It was him who Billy had been driving to meet. When he gave no answer to his sister, she continued. “Look around. Is there anything different about it?”

“Eh?”

“For fuck’s sake, Billy! Listen to me! I need you to check the car for me, ok? Have a look under the steering wheel, or under the footwell, anything that you can see that might be unusual.”

Billy’s voice was small and distant when he replied. “Right, yeah,” His hands followed Lana’s instruction. He grazed them along and under the steering wheel. Nothing. Around the mirrors. Nothing. Under the radio, knocking over some rubbish as he did. Nothing. Under the passenger seat. Nothing. He lifted the foot mat…

“Lana, there’s some masking tape underneath the foot mat,” His breath shuddered as he heard Lana sigh.

“Alright, ok. Can you really carefully lift up the masking tape?”

Billy hummed nervously in assent, slowly peeling back the mat. “There’s…there’s a wire, Lana.”

“Can you see where it’s leading to?” Her voice was urgent.

“Erm, th-th-the glovebox.” Billy hands were shaking and his breathing ragged. He held the catch of the glovebox a while, preparing himself for whatever was to come next. Ida flashed into his mind, and he pulled the handle. “Fucking hell,” he shouted, edging away. “Shit, shit, shit. It’s hooked up to summat. Looks like a bomb.” Panic flooded him. “I’ve got to get out of the car.” He fumbled for the door but Lana shouted.

“No, Billy! Do not get out of the car!”

“If it explodes I’m done for, I’m gonna die,”

“Do not get out of the car! You just need to stay calm and listen to me, alright. Here’s the plan. You need to drive away from the Tube. The police are looking for a safe location.”

A horn beeping behind him made Billy jump, and slowly, he pulled away.

“Right, we’re gonna go to Cranstead Fields, Billy. You know the way, yeah?” Billy almost laughed at the irony. Of course he knew the way. Of course that was where he was going to die, he’d spent so much timing living there.

“Yeah, I know it.” He could see the lads from football that he had grown up with. His favourite tree to climb, and the best one to shelter under. The view from the opposite end of the field, back to his house. Ida on the swings with a can of cider in her hand.

“I’ll meet you there. It’s gonna be ok, Billy!” He rubbed his eyes to push back tears. Would it be alright? Did Lana really know? “When you get there, keep the engine running, alright? Don’t press anything, don’t open the door, don’t touch anything. Stay still, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

The first real waves of fear were beginning to wash over him now. “You’ve gotta tell mum and dad I’m sorry, yeah? And Ida,” His voice cracked.

“Billy, tell them yourself. You’re gonna be fine. I’m about five minutes away. Just stay calm, stay focused. I’m nearly there, alright?”

He nodded to himself, trying to brush images of his family from his mind, when a small beep sounded from the glovebox. Billy leant forward. “Shit, Lana!”

“What? What’s happened?”

“There’s a timer, Lana. There’s a fucking timer.” Eight minutes, counting down in red digits. “Shit. SHIT!”

“Listen, Billy,” Lana could hear his panic, hear him pounding the steering wheel.

“Fuck!”

“I’m gonna help you, I swear, but you need to focus, ok? I just need you to concentrate on getting to the park. You’re only a few minutes away. When you get there, drive straight onto the field and it’ll be fine, I promise. You’re gonna be safe.”

Billy’s phone vibrated. “Fucking hell, Lana, my phone’s gonna die.”

“Billy? BILLY!?” The line dropped and Lana swore. Somewhere not far away, her little brother was speeding towards Cranstead, heart full of terror and all alone.

*

Ida spent the rest of Billy’s birthday at her grandma’s house, helping her in the garden. When the Washingtons pulled into their driveway, she hurried indoors. Only hours before, Ida had told them they were a useless family, screamed in their faces and run away. She hadn’t mentioned this to her grandma, but when Gwen caught Val’s stony gaze following Ida’s retreating form, she surmised that the Washingtons had felt her granddaughter’s fiery wrath. It was no secret, that neither Ida, Billy, or even Gwen, liked the way the Washingtons treated their youngest.

Today, the pair were tackling the vegetable plot at the end of the garden, which backed onto Cranstead Fields. Her bare feet enjoying the warm dirt beneath her, Ida was busying herself with the sweet peas that stood next to rows and rows of green beans. She was tying them into small posies so that more could grow, while Gwen harvested a few of the courgettes and their flowers. Ida felt most content outdoors, working with her hands. She often imagined a life for herself, working as a researcher or teacher then coming home at the end of the day to a smallholding far away from the city. Chickens, a couple of dogs, flowers in the front garden, a sandy-haired man waiting in the doorway…

“Ida, tea!” Gwen called, placing a pot and two teacups on the garden table. They sat in silence a while, sipping their tea as Tiggy purred in the evening sunlight. The ringing of Ida’s phone broke the peace. Lana’s name appeared on the screen. Ida was in no mood to talk to Lana after yesterday; she needed some time to be by herself, to be selfish and put herself first. She cancelled the call. Immediately, it rang again. She turned the screen to her grandma, who read the name then raised her eyebrows. Ida gave her a look that clearly meant here goes, and answered.

“Lana.”

Lana spoke in one, quick breath. “Ida, Billy’s in trouble. These new friends of his, well, I don’t want to scare you, but they’ve planted a bomb in his car and he’s on his way to Cranstead-”

Ida’s scream was near silent. Horror was etched into every pore of her face. “A bomb?” she whispered.

“He’s freaking out. He might be there before me. Can you get there?”

A switch flipped in Ida, and the steely resolve that Billy loved so much about her leapt into action. “I’m at gran’s. I’ll be there.”

She sprinted away from her grandma and down the narrow path by her house. “Billy needs me,” she called back, and that was the only explanation Gwen needed. Barefoot, Ida sprinted towards the park, her cheeks burning, tears fighting to burst free and her breath roaring in her ears. Billy needs me, Billy needs me, Billy needs me, Billy needs me.

She saw him. That ridiculous old Vauxhall came speeding around the corner and disappeared through the park gates, closely followed by multiple police vehicles. Ida sped up, not caring about her feet which were bloody and battered from the pavement. Police tape was already up by the time Ida entered Cranstead Fields, but she carried on running until a policeman grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back.

“Step away from the scene, miss,” he said, trying to restrain her as she kicked her feet.

“He’s my friend! Please!” She fought against the man with all her might. “Lana asked me to come, please!” Ida screamed until she was hoarse.

“Ida?” She looked up to see a stout man with dark skin and shorn hair. He was completely kitted out in dark uniform, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow.

“Has?” Before he could reply, the roar of an engine filled their ears. Lana’s car skidded to a halt, and she exited almost before it had stopped. She made a beeline for Has. Ida, still restrained by the policeman, listened to them speak in hushed tones.

“I’m worried he’s gonna bolt,” Has said.

“Get everyone back, I’ll speak to him.” Lana ran towards Billy as Has approached Ida and the police.

“Billy, I’m here.”

“Lana,” Billy’s voice was desperate. Weak. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, from heat or fear, Lana couldn’t say.

“Alright? It’s gonna be fine.” Lana tried to sound as reassuring as she could. Her heart was hammering in her chest, fighting the urge to open the door and pull her little brother into her arms. “Stay really still for me, yeah? I’m gonna look around the car.”

“You’ve gotta do something. Lana!” His gaze followed her as she walked around the car. He didn’t want to be alone. Not now. He muttered under his breath, phrases between stay calm and I’m gonna die. He looked to the timer. 3.26.

“I’m gonna get out-”

“Stay still! Don’t touch anything, I’m gonna check the car ok?”

“Just hurry!” He sounded like a child and Lana tried to recall her training. Focus. “How bad is it?” Billy asked as she came back to the driver’s window.

“It’s fine.” Lana’s voice was focussed.

“I can tell when you’re lying, man! How bad is it!?”

“It’s fine,” she tried to sound convincing.

“Lana!”

“It’s fine!”

“Lana,” he was starting to cry. Hot tears fell from his wide, blue eyes.

*

Ida watched as Lana prowled around the car and the other officers talked in hurried whispers. A man, clad head to toe in grey combat uniform, a gun strapped to his back with only his eyes visible, was speaking into a comms device.

“EXPO is at the device. Cordon secure, sniper’s in position.” Ida gasped and ran forward once more, only to be caught by the same policeman.

“Miss, I will not hesitate to arrest you if you do not stay behind this cordon!” An ugly sob rent itself from her lips. She watched Lana hurry back towards Has, and she stilled to listen to them speak.

“The timer, it makes no sense.” Lana said.

“Why?”

“How would the bombers know where he’s gonna be when the device goes off? I don’t get it.”

“A decoy?” Lana nodded and returned to Billy. Ida could hear her screaming to him through the window.

“Billy listen to me. Listen to me! Billy look at me, yeah!? The timer means nothing. They put it there as a trick so that you’d open the door. Can you hear me? Don’t touch it. Stay still. It’s gonna be fine. Listen to me. I’m your sister, ok? You need to trust me! I’m gonna go and get some stuff. You’ve gotta trust me, it’s gonna be fine!”

Ida watched as she ran back to Has and they resumed their discussion. Every now and then, Ida glanced to Billy in the car. He was rocking back and forth, anguish painted across his face. “Lana!” she called out, but Lana ignored her.

“What’s happening?” said Has.

“Billy’s freaked out by the timer, but I’m sure it’s a trap. I need to get him out but the driver’s side might be rigged.”

“Passenger side?”

“That’s where the device is. I don’t wanna risk it, they could have done all the doors.”

As Lana and Has continue to speak, Ida turned to watch Billy once more. He was screaming for his sister, the words indistinguishable but the fear evident.

“Let’s extract him through the rear window,” Has said, laying a hand on Lana’s shoulder.

“LANA!” Ida screamed for her to hear. Both she and Has turned to look at her. “He needs you! He’s freaking out. He doesn’t understand what your saying. Let me go!” She shouted at the policeman. “He needs you there.”

“Ida, we haven’t got the time-”

“He needs someone! Send me! I can calm him down.”

Has interrupted. “That’s impossible, love, I’m sorry. We can’t have civilians at the scene.”

Ida ignored him. “He doesn’t trust you, Lana. Send me!”

Lana stared at her for a moment. Ida was right. Before she could act, the solider in grey spoke.

“Trojan Five Four, suspect is unlocking the door.”

“BILLY!” Lana screamed. Without thinking, Ida broke through the cordon. Billy needs me. She sprinted towards the car. Billy needs me. She watched as Billy struggled inside. Billy needs me. In her periphery, she saw a sniper’s gun raise in her direction. Billy needs me. Lana’s voice drifted towards her on the summer breeze, barely discernible to her now.

“DON’T SHOOT!”

Note: Thanks for all your well wishes! I’m off work and drugged up, but writing this is getting me through. Not too long until the next chapter <3

Tags: @jessssica1234 @anditsmywholeheart @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @aemonds-wifey @slytherincursebreaker @valerie977 @i-killed-ramsey @greenowlfactif @yentroucnagol @schniiipsel @arcielee

#ewan mitchell #billy washington #billy washington x oc #trigger point series #aemond x reader #ewan mitchell x reader

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

“but my Hot Take is it totally was worthy of Album of the Year BEFORE John got killed.” Yes! As far as the songs are concerned it does kind of feel like an incomplete play because how do you go from I’m Moving On to Yes I’m Your Angel?? (I started out ironically liking this one now tralalala is the default ringtone in my brain). How would you rate the songs? :)

Just listened to the whole thing again to give a better answer. Fun birthday morning activity before I go brunching B)))))

(Just Like) Starting Over: Gorgeous. Fun. Beautiful. Immediately became one of my top John songs. The chords on this are gorgeous; masterful use of an augmented. Also the "but when I see you, darling" melody is perfect. This song just makes me incredibly happy. Also the bass is good :) 10/10

Kiss Kiss Kiss: I LOOOOOVE how much this messes with the previous vibe. It works so well. The opening guitars are v cool. Yoko's side 1 sound is so varied and does such cool blending of genres. Like there's a ska thing going on here? I am also lowkey um. kind of into her noises. 9/10

Cleanup-Time: this is definitely a silly-goofy song but it is suuuuuuuch a banger. I love the moments of high tension. "Now it begins" and the "well, well, well." bits. It adds a darkness to the song. The horn section went offffff. 9/10

Give Me Something: Absolutely Insane. the best use of Yoko's vocals and style imaginable. The production is immaculate. 10/10

I'm Losing You: Absolutely Insane Pt. II. The bridge bit "Now in the valley of indecision" is sooooo devastating (+ it's an obscure biblical reference! literary beatle At It Again). This song builds so well, I love how genuinely upset he sounds towards the end, breaking down on "Don't wanna hear about it!!!!" and generally how his voice gets nasty at certain moments. The song feels like slowly and extremely painfully discovering irreconcilable differences. The guitars in each verses breakdown moment sound like alarm bells. It's an immaculate breakup-or-almost song. The sound is so good, the harmonies are great. The guitar solo is crazy!!!!!! (it actually reminds me of George's work on How Do You Sleep? but without the cringe!!) THE PRODUCTION IS CRAZY OKAY?????? 10/10

I'm Moving On: the most insane follow-up to the previous song. He laid his deepest fears bear and she said "And What Of It???" The lyric "When you were angry you had love in your voice" keeps me up at night. But BANGER of a bassline and funky fresh nonetheless. Most effective song transition on the album and most of them are good to great! 9.5/10

Beautiful Boy: Absolute devastation aside, I must confess I find this song a little more boring musically. Though I do appreciate the adventurousness of the vocoder and the bridge is gorgeous. The outro is nice and really relaxing. 7/10

Watching The Wheels: I love John Lennon and I want him to be okay :( also the way the song slows down at the end of the chorus is soooooooo much to me. Like it hurts my heart. I like his talk-singing here, it really works for the vibe. The lyrics are kind of depressing despite the fact they're on the surface positive. But I think the question of what constitutes a happy life is interesting and deep at its core. 8/10

Yes, I'm Your Angel: I love that John is sharing an album with a granny song again. Nature is healing. I vibe with this and it suits Yoko surprisingly well. Tralala, as you say. But it's insane of Yoko to call John her fairy. Girl. STOP. 7/10

Woman: It's distinctly more boring than anything else John wrote for this album but I do enjoy it and find it sweet for the most part (aside from the horrors). The production reminds me a lot of Here, There and Everywhere. 6/10

Beautiful Boys: this is the least good one. It is just musically pretty uninteresting and the lyrics are kind of clunky. But the intro and instrumental bits sound cool tbh and I like how the production builds. "You've got all you can carry / And still feel somehow empty." OKAY???? 5/10

Dear Yoko: cute!! The sounds are very fun. "Even when I watch TV / There's a hole where you're supposed to be / There's no body lying next to me" is soooooooo much. I like the silly voice he puts on and I LOOOOVE the spoken bit at the end :((( 7/10

Every Man Has A Woman Who Loves Her: The production is good I just wish the song itself was better and it's too long. I like John providing backing vocals because it makes sense given the content. I feel like if this was just FASTER it would be great. The solo reminds me of ABBA. 6/10

Hard Times Are Over: I like this song!! It's sweet. The melodies are good, very cool playing between minor and major. I also like how the "over" ties back in with Starting Over. It works well as an album closer. Though Of Course, one begins to wonder what these hard times were exactly when the album cut off mid-conflict. Makes You Think. (This album gives me brainrot!!!!) Anyway I like Yoko's vocal here a lot and I like John joining on the refrains in the background :) 7.5/10

In conclusion: Double Fantasy good

#ask #anon #df #music talk