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fates-theysband · 2 years

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let stars shine until the breaking day

this fucking fic is going to ruin my sleep schedule. i could post this on ao3 or something at this point but i'm super not baring my soul to the merciless court of a general fandom's public opinion, even one this small.

standard language warning, alcohol implied but not actually directly mentioned.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 (<- you are here)

The rest of the day, focusing on anything was close to fucking impossible. Literally the only thing on Charlie’s mind was This cannot be real. There’s no fucking way he was actually interested enough in me to come back to leave his number. They caught themself picking apart the message from him, trying to find some evidence of a catfish or a prank. Had someone else been in the shop without their knowledge, overheard, and gotten some kind of fucked up idea? No, not likely. The bells were too loud for anyone to pass unnoticed. They ran over in their head the list of everyone who could possibly know enough about the situation to try and pull something like this and came up with nothing–the extent of it had been the conversation with Mortimer and an offhanded mention to their roommate that there had been a cute customer at work.

The only explanation that made sense was the obvious one. But that one was too good to be true.

At closing time, they jumped at the chance to haul the empty boxes out to the dumpster. The walk back would probably be enough time to send another message, assuming the one they’d been drafting in their head for the past few hours didn’t immediately require a full edit and rewrite phase once they typed it in. Mortimer responded to Charlie’s rather enthused volunteering with a quirked brow and a knowing smile, but did not comment further.

They weren’t even halfway back across the strip mall parking lot before they’d sent the message.

That’s great!! Sorry for the late reply btw I kinda had to sneak in that message while I was working lol. How was your day?

No immediate read receipt like last time. They kept peeking the rest of the way back, though, hoping and fearing all at once that he’d get back to them that fast again. It wasn’t to be, unfortunately; they reached the back door of the Emporium and still no response. No read receipt either, though; maybe he just wasn’t near his phone. At least, they hoped that was the reason.

Still no response by the time they’d finished up their closing tasks, clocked out, and boarded the bus home. They spent most of the bus ride back to their apartment complex staring at the messaging app–he still hadn’t even read it yet. Or did he turn off read receipts so they couldn’t tell if he’d read it because he didn’t want to make it obvious that he was ghosting them because they’d weirded him out?

Wait, shit, was a “how was your day” text too forward for someone you just met two days ago? That didn’t seem right, but social interaction, especially stuff like flirting, had so many unspoken rules that you were supposed to just intuit. Maybe that was like, Level 2 talking stage or something.

They shook their head. Honestly, were they going to catastrophize over every little thing? They didn’t actually know this guy. He could be a huge asshole past the first impression and if he ghosted them it’d be no great loss.

They almost jumped out of their skin at the slight buzz in their palm. A text message. Not from Mr. Feight like they were hoping–there still wasn’t even a read receipt–but they’d missed the notification showing who it was from. Reluctantly, they paused their vigil on that particular message log and swiped back to their full text history to see a new message from one Rico Chatte.

Hey are you off work yet?

They shot back a quick Yeah.

Immediate response. Wanna go hit up the Den tonight?

Ugh. Between the anxiety and the whole thing with being glued to their phone waiting for a message that may never come, Charlie would not be any fun in a bar setting right now. On a Friday night? Idk if we’d even be able to get in.

Brief pause. Read receipt. Dots. Touche. Wanna go halvsies on a pizza and rent a weird movie on PPV then? I’m in a celebratory mood.

Okay. Interesting new wrinkle in this whole day. What’s the occasion?

I’ll tell you when you get home.

Which they did, a few stops later. In the meantime, they noticed that Douglas had read their message, and they’d even seen the typing indicator come up a few times. But it always disappeared after a few seconds, with no message to follow. Then it would reappear a minute or two later, and the cycle would repeat. Now they were more intrigued than anything. Sure, he could just be trying to think of the politest way to say he wasn’t interested and they misinterpreted his reasoning, but he seemed like an eloquent enough guy and (they hoped) the few words they’d exchanged had been free enough of expectations that letting them down easy shouldn’t be that difficult.

It was something, they decided as they stepped off the bus and headed up the stairs to their apartment, they’d have to discuss with someone who was better versed in this stuff.

They unlocked the apartment door and headed inside, announcing “Honey, I’m home!” in a half-hearted singsong to the slight figure lying sprawled across the couch, watching what sounded like vocoded meme videos on their phone.

The sound of an electronically enhanced voice reading out hilarious misspellings of the words “Ouija board” ceased abruptly as Rico locked their phone, tossed it aside, and scrambled to their feet. “Charlie,” they said to their roommate in a mock-dramatic voice, “it is with nothing but joy in my heart that I bring you this news.”

Charlie grinned. “You’re gonna stop taking the last bagel when you leave for interviews?”

Rico gasped in joking offense, then continued. “While I don’t appreciate your attacks on my character, I will forgive them because I can do you one better. Charlie Voss, I hereby relieve you of your duties as sole breadwinner of this household. Which, I mean, my savings were covering my share of the rent and all but now we won’t be stretched quite as thin.”

Charlie’s grin widened into a genuine smile. “You got hired? That’s awesome! What’s the job?”

“You know that admin assistant gig I went for a week ago?” Rico answered, moving past Charlie and opening the fridge.. “Turns out that guy actually did think a degree and three years experience was sufficient for filing papers and taking phone calls. Or at least that everyone else’s qualifications were worse.”

“Hey, doesn’t matter what’s going on in his head, as long as you end up getting paid,” Charlie replied. “When do you start?”

“Monday. You want anything while I’m in here?”

“Yeah, can you grab me a water?” They paused for a moment. “Did you ever tell me the name of that place?”

Rico rose back to their full height and handed Charlie a bottle of water. “I don’t think I did. I think it was called Feight Tax Services or something like that.”

Charlie, who had just taken a swig from the bottle immediately before they heard that, inhaled some of the water in such a way that they were pretty sure they could go on TV and call the resulting coughing fit a near-death experience. When they were finally able to stop coughing long enough to breathe, they wheezed out, “That’s. Uh. Familiar.”

“Holy shit, are you okay!?” Rico asked, whirling around from where they were walking back to the couch.

“Yeah, I just. Wasn’t expecting you to say that. I’ll explain later. Let’s, uh, let’s get that pizza order in before it gets too late.”

Rico stared at them with a raised eyebrow for what had to be a solid thirty seconds, then turned around and walked back to the couch. Charlie followed, relieved to have something to take their mind off this brand new sub-dilemma that had abruptly branched off of their main dilemma.

That hope for a distraction lasted about as long as the walk from the door to the living room couch. The moment Charlie sat down, their phone buzzed in their pocket. They pulled it out just enough to peek at the name on the notification.

The name read “Douglas Feight”.

Charlie stood back up, quicker than they intended. “Whoa, holy shit,” they told Rico in a tone they hoped was convincing. “My phone’s super low right now. I’m gonna go run to my room and grab my charger so it doesn’t die on me.”

Rico returned to the same raised-eyebrow stare they’d had a few moments ago. “Oooookay. Uh, I’ll get my half of the pizza built while you do that, I guess.”

“Great. Awesome. I’ll be back.” They hurried into the hallway leading to their bedroom. Now definitely did NOT feel like the time to reveal to their best friend, “Hey, you know that guy I told you about the other day? Yeah, the one I said was cute? Turns out that guy is YOUR FUCKING BOSS.”

But, all the same, they were not going to let this message wait. Not after how long they’d agonized over what it might say. They headed into their room, sat on their bed, and opened the text.

It read, No need to apologize, I understand. I wasn’t able to find the time to send you this until now, after all. I had a lovely day today, thank you for asking. How was yours?

Maybe that was why he seemed to have been typing and erasing his response repeatedly earlier–he’d just kept getting interrupted at work or something before he could finish it. That thought was…honestly kind of cute, that he’d been so doggedly trying to ask them about their day despite all the interruptions. They set the phone on their bed and reached down to grab the charger cord plugged into the wall by their bed, when they heard it buzz again. They sat back up so fast they whacked their head against the nightstand, but they were so laser focused they barely felt it.

Another message. Actually, if it isn’t too forward of me to ask, are you busy tonight? I’d like the chance to meet with you, perhaps make proper introductions in person.

They hesitated briefly, glancing in the direction of the living room despite the fact that the only thing actually visible in that direction from their current vantage point was a solid wall. This was going to be hard to explain. But on the other hand, Rico had initially wanted to go out tonight. Maybe they’d be so happy that Charlie changed their mind that they wouldn’t question it.

They sent back, I’m free. You have a place in mind?

Another immediate response. I’m not very familiar with the nightlife in Cosmopolis, I’m afraid. Where do you recommend?

Charlie refrained from telling him that he was probably about as familiar with the local nightlife as they were, it being that they only went to one bar with any degree of regularity and even then it was just as a tag-along to someone who was much more outgoing, and responded, Ever heard of this place called Cerberus’s Den?

A slightly longer pause before the response. I’ve heard the name, but I haven’t been there, no.

It looks like a dive on the outside but I promise it’s great. And also it would be crowded enough on a Friday night that they could probably sneak away from Rico without arousing too much suspicion.

I trust your judgment. How does 8:00 sound?

They glanced at the clock on their phone. It was 6:30 now, and their apartment was close enough to the Den that it was only a ten-minute walk to get there…hour and twenty minutes should be enough to get ready. They hoped. 8 sounds great. They paused, realized what they did, and sent another message. Haha, I’m a poet.

Indeed you are. I’ll see you there. :)

Charlie’s face felt like it was on fire. It wasn’t fair that someone could be so handsome and so adorable at the same time. They shot back, See you there! and then went to stand up, before a knock on the door gave them their second near-death experience in the past half hour.

“Are you dead in there or something? How long does it take to find a phone charger?” Rico called from the other side of the door. “Hurry up, at this rate the place is gonna close.”

“Sorry,” Charlie called back. “I, uh, got a call and I had to take it.” They rose to their feet and opened the door. “By the way, change of plans. I was in a weird mood earlier but I think I’m okay to go out now. You still down to hit the Den?”

Rico quirked a brow but appeared to shrug off the sudden change in demeanor. “Of course, there wasn’t anything that sounded decent on pay-per-view anyway. Are you okay though? You look like you pressed your entire face against a running toaster oven.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Charlie replied, leaning against the doorframe in a desperate attempt to look casual. “You wanna invite anyone else out with us?”

“It’s Friday night, anyone who I’d want to invite out is probably already there. Now let’s quit bullshitting and get ready. I’d hate for the crowd to get any worse.”

“You got it,” Charlie replied, closing the door to their room again as Rico turned and headed down the hall. Once it was fully closed, they slumped back against it and took a deep breath to process everything. This was really happening, they really did just have the most wildly attractive (and as it turns out, sweet and endearingly awkward as well) person they’d ever met ask to meet up, and they really did accept. With a level of mild deception that hopefully their best friend would forgive, but still.

They stood up fully again. Everything was in place, now all they had to do was not royally screw everything up. Not much to ask. Hopefully.

#self ship #self shipping #selfship #self ship fic #r: curses #p: cat in the morgue #questionable writing tag #this is longer than both previous chapters combined #just completely doubled my word count like a man possessed #which i think i kind of was near the end

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Looking for a Place to Happen 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Here’s chapter two. Think I’ll probably slow down writing. Appreciate y’all.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 2: I follow every little whiff

💀💀💀

You gave yourself a day off that week. Rather, the desolation of Birch allowed you an excuse to get away from your desk. An internet outage across the town had you up and wandering the main road just after noon. Your grandmother refused to join you so she was left to her true crime novel and the weekday droning of talk show hosts.

After a peek in the book shop where you picked out some used thrillers for your nan and a guilty splurge on one of Babs' pies to add to the surprise, you stopped by the diner and had some soup to warm up from the unrelenting cold. You played around on your phone as you blindly slurped from your spoon. With no available connection, you swapped candies to achieve a score high enough to get to the next round.

After another loss, you put your screen down and added some pepper to the tomato soup. You leaned your chin in your hand and peered across the road. The Asp was just diagonal from The Chipped Saucer and from your seat by the window you could see the comings and goings of the dingy bar.

You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the hundreds of comments on your video. You weren't entirely surprised that the internet cheered at the sight of a woman beating up a man in broad daylight, you'd seen much worse on the web. But many were curious and asked about how it started and about the small town alluded to in the caption.

You picked up your phone and flipped open the camera. You pointed it through the glass as one of the many bikers strutted out of the bar and down the street. You knew him, like most in town, he was the leader's right hand man. Steve Rogers. He had an odd gait, rigid with long strides, and you remember Kelly used to make fun of him when you walked home from school. That felt like forever ago.

You ended the video and dropped your phone again. You'd send it to Kelly when the outage was over. It would be a good laugh. Plus, you hadn't heard from her much since she moved to the city.

You finished your soup and paid. You went out into the street and cut around to the backstreets. You made your way back to your nans and found Pippin scratching at the front door. You stopped and scooped him up before you let yourself in.

"Don't like the snow, do ya?" You set him down and he whipped his tail before skittering off, "hey nan, I got you some stuff."

"You spend too much," she grumbled as you hung your coat and grabbed her treats.

"Only on you," you sang as you entered the front room, "sugarless blueberry pie, your fave, and some books about murder and all that freaky stuff you love."

"Hmm," she watched you put the pie and books down on the coffee table, "suppose the pie will go good with tea."

"Ah, and I suppose I'll be making that tea?" You returned.

"My arthritis…" she pouted but her grin came through.

"Yeah, yeah," you snickered as you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, "we going black today or something lighter?"

"Put on some of the pekoe," she called back, "make a whole pot."

"Will do, ma'am," you trilled and basked in her annoyed mutter.

💀

When the internet came back, you sent of an email to inform the agency of the interruption and promised to meet your deadlines. Then you puttered around and added a caption to the video before you sent it off to Kelly; 'why he walk like that tho'. She sent a series of crying emojis back and told you to post it.

'Nah, it's a dumb joke.' You typed back.

'Saw ur last vid, ppl will eat it up,' she insisted.

'Well, got nothing else to put up. The account’s dying since no one cares about my writing.'

'DO IT.' Her words sealed your resolve and you uploaded the video with some dramatic music in the background.

The response was almost instantaneous. Several comments saying they were happy to see more and others being for another video. 'We all wanna see inside this fucked up town' one added and several latched on. Ignoring the questions of where this was, you gave a thin promise of future small town thug content.

You turned back to your work email and opened up your draft for your next gig. You couldn't help but smile as you went over your work. You might have just found your niche.

💀

You knew your nan would lose it if she knew you were snooping around the club, so you didn’t tell her. You went down, made her breakfast, went back upstairs to do your work, then tiptoed out in the late afternoon to poke around town for something to upload. Birch was so dull when you lived there but to those outside, it was a novelty you were all too eager to provide.

You got more videos of the bikers; some revving their bikes, others arguing, but there was nothing overly usable. You were getting bored of it until the man himself walked out of the bar. You record the man’s glower expression as he marched down the sidewalk and turned off just down the way.

‘His name is Bucket… wtf?!’ you keyed in and snorted as you waited for it to load to your account.

Still, there was nothing special going on, like always in Birch, and your grandmother was bound to get suspicious if you kept sneaking around. You went back and hid your phone before she could bitch about it. You cooked her dinner and sat with her as your thoughts swung between work and your TikTok.

You went to bed but couldn’t sleep. You ended up watching YouTube on your phone as the windows shook with the night winds. It wasn’t until the darkness began to glow that you were roused from the cocoon of your comforter. You looked out and saw smoke coming from the main road.

You didn’t think before you pulled on your jeans and shoved your feet into your slipper, unconcerned about them soaking through as you barreled down the stairs, the sleeves of your hoodie only half on. The back door bounced behind you and you crunched down into the snow and clamored past the row of lifeless houses.

You were out of breath as you got to the end of the path and rounded the diner to gape over at the burning garage. You got closer as the line of bikers stood in their leather with breath puffing before them in the frigid night. You stepped back into the shadow of the brick façade of the realty office and swiped your camera open.

Your hands shook and you struggled to steady the image on the screen as the mechanic woman raged in only her tee shirt. You didn’t quite understand what was going on; only that her garage was up in smoke and then men were doing nothing to smother it. She swung at the dark haired man and spat at several others; “cowards”... “fuck all of you!”

You gulped and held your breath as she was dragged away by the large redheaded henchman of the slender outsider. She fought for a moment before she was flung over his shoulder and the biker followed their leader back to The Asp. You sidled in between the building and hid until the voices faded into the wind.

Well, that would be a hell of a video. It might even go viral.

💀

Your phone did not stop. You almost felt bad as you saw the screen limn the edges of your cell as you left it face down on the little table beside the couch. Your nan sat in her rocking chair talking away on her corded phone to Linette from down the road. You suspected that every other person in town was gossiping about the same thing; the fire.

You finished your coffee and rubbed your eyes as you checked the time and ignored the pulsing notifications. It was too much to keep up with.

Your grandmother hung up and sighed, “can’t believe it. You hear?”

“Hear what?” you pretended ignorance.

“That old garage burned down. The one with the lady,” she said, “pity. When I was a girl, that place was a salon. Ma used to take us there to get our hair cut. The barber would give us wrapped candies and pretend to cut himself with his scissors.”

“Oh? It burned down?” you weren’t sure you were very convincing but you also could just say you saw it happen.

“Yep, no one really can say. You know, maybe she was welding or some rag caught, but I bet my money on those bikers,” she sneered.

“Good thing you’re poor,” you kidded, “and why the bikers?”

“Oh, well, you know Kimmy, Linette’s girl, works down at the diner and she saw that mechanic arguing with one of those strangers, the ones dealing with the club men. Well, it’s no coincidence that trouble follows those leather jackets around,” she rocked as she nodded knowingly, “oh, one of the boys I knew back in the day, he was found burnt up with his bike. They said the tank blew… well, I saw it and that tank was pristine.”

“Nan,” you gasped, “you… Jesus.”

“Well, things don’t change in Birch, we just get older,” she continued, “when you’re young, everything seems new but then you age and it’s all just the same.”

“Wow, how… inspiring,” you said dryly.

“Girlie, you gotta be careful,” she intoned, “that fire, that’s a lesson to all the women in this town. To everyone. You don’t cross the Commandos.”

“I don’t think anyone--”

“That’s another thing, there has never been a shortage of stupid people, not now not then,” she girded, “those women who get tied up in that club, their lives are already done.”

You frowned and hid your phone in your pocket as you stood. You rubbed your neck and picked up your empty mug, “I should get started.”

“Mmm,” she said as she dialed the phone again, “I wonder if Fran knows yet.”

💀

You were being really fucking stupid but peer pressure was not a logical thing. Even through a screen, you found it hard to resist the goads. So there you were, your phone in your hand as you live-streamed your walk down to The Asp. The data costs alone would make you regret it but you were caught up in the hype of you fifteen second of internet fame.

“Alright,” you stopped across the street and gave a view of the moniker with Cleopatra sultrily looking down at you, “this is it… I just gotta play it cool…” you turned the lens towards you and smiled nervously, “hopefully that dude at the front doesn’t stop me.”

Comments flicked up the bottom of the screen so fast and smilies and hearts floated up the side around your face. You crossed the screen as you turned your phone against your coat and approached the bar door. The large biker butted out his smoke and you bared your teeth nervously. He didn’t stop you as he rolled his shoulders and coughed.

You entered to the noise of classic rock and low voices, the clink of glasses and tap of chalk on marble. You glanced around and quickly swept your phone around to give a view of the patrons. You hurried over to the bar and climbed up on a stool.

“You need a drink?” the woman behind the bar scowled. She looked worn out even with her lips painted bright pink and her eyes clouded with blue shadow.

“Uh, sure, can I… can I get one pint of everything you have on tap?” you asked as you set your phone down and shrugged out of your coat. You draped it over the next stool and reposition your phone as you flipped the cam and used the built in stand on the case to angle yourself onto the screen.

“Sure,” she narrowed her eyes and glanced past you.

You swung your feet as you waited for her to pour the five pints; some with too much foam and the others with no head at all. You took the first and held it up for the camera.

“A classic, BudLight,” you held it up to the light, “no head and…” you sipped, “flat.” You plunked it down and coughed as you grabbed the next, “this is a raddler?” you looked at the tap for confirmation, “grapefruit… smells like piss…” you had a sip, “tastes like it too.”

You chuckled to yourself and asked for a water. You made a show of swishing it around in your mouth before you moved onto the third beer.

“Had to cleanse the palate,” you joked, “now… lots of foam on this one, dark. You know, I’m pretty surprised they have Guinness here but let’s see…” you tasted it and crinkled your nose, “that’s it. Exactly like toilet water!”

You read some of the comments telling you to check the bottles for bugs and laughed. Suddenly you were yanked off the stool by the back of your shirt and your phone was swiped up by another man as the first restrained you. You struggled against his thick arm as it hooked around your neck and the leader of their crew stared at the screen of your cell.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he hit the screen with his thumb but the stream kept going. He dropped the phone to the floor and stomped it instead.

“This is the bitch posting about us online,” the man at your back growled. It was Steve, the one with the weird walk.

“I doubt either of you know how to use a computer,” you scoffed, “hey, let me go.”

“And why would we do that when you’re snitching to the whole world, sweetheart?” Bucky kicked your phone away as he crossed his arms.

“Actually, I’m--” you grasped Steve’s arm as it threatened to get tighter, “--promoting your trash business. I was just having a tasting, if you had just asked--”

“Shut up!” Bucky stepped closer and brought your legs up and stopped him as you planted your feet against his stomach.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice came from behind the bar as the waitress shoved aside her empty tray, “hey, she’s just a kid.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky huffed, “she looks full-grown to me.”

“So what are you gonna do?” she said, “she’s young. You can’t--”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he snapped.

“She’s right,” another voice intoned and that man, Sam, came up beside them with a pool cue in hand, “she’s just goofing around.”

“She’s a rat,” Steve insisted.

“You’re being dramatic. It’s called a meme and you do walk a little strange,” he chuckled, “no one’s gonna follow her breadcrumbs back to this shithole anyway.”

Bucky considered Sam and then looked at Steve. He poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth.

“So… you vouching for her?” Bucky asked.

“She won’t cause any more trouble, promise,” Sam said, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better,” Bucky snapped his fingers and you were released, “get her out of here.”

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suchdan-veryphil · 3 years

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A Whole Ass Baby? - Jack Barakat Imagine

Anonymous said:

How about a Jack Barakat headcannon/whatever you wanna write about you two finding out that you’re gonna have a kid? I need more Jack content tbh

Word Count: 2,367

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, getting sick, sex mention, menstruation mentioned, doctors

A/N:

This is the second time I put something back in my drafts instead of posting it when I was done. And this is now the second time I was sad that a post wasn’t getting notes when it was never posted. I will do better. This took forever, but here it is. I love Jack Bassam Barakat. I love writing Jack Barakat. I am HERE FOR THIS

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It had been three weeks since I started feeling nauseous. I would just be sitting down and be hit with a sudden wave of nausea, like I was on a boat for too long. I could still eat, I could still drink, I could still shake my ass to Mr. Brightside but if I sat for too long I would just be hit with the feeling that it was time to vom.

Then two weeks ago, I was fine. The nausea was gone, the world was bright again.

Then about two days ago, it hit me again. I couldn’t eat anything that wasn’t toast, crackers, a banana, or water (although the water was a hit or miss). Too much of anything caused me to be violently sick, and unfortunately for me, “too much” of most things meant one bite. Otherwise, I felt fine. No aches and pains, no headache, no fever. I wasn’t thinking too much about it, though, mostly for those reasons.

Meanwhile, Jack was pounding back cake, pizza, ribs, wings, margs, and everything in between four or five times a day without a second thought. I was honestly jealous.

We were sitting on our sofa, watching The Office. I was laying on two of the cushions and he was sitting on the third, resting his elbow on my knees. I watched as he popped three pizza rolls into his mouth at once and started chewing rather loudly. In response, I groaned and pushed his shoulder with the pad of my foot.

“Do you have to enjoy the good food in the house when I’m sick?”

He started to reply, but I couldn’t understand him with all of that food in his mouth. It was a low grumble, and he was starting to drool a pizza stained slobber the more he attempted to speak.

“What?! I can’t understand you,” I chuckled a little and sat up before wiping his nasty spit out of his beard. He chewed the food and quickly swallowed before answering.

“I said, if I don’t eat it then nobody will and that’s a shame. Besides, I still think you should go to the doctor.” He popped another roll in his mouth and looked over at me.

“I disagree. My stomach has just been off. I have literally zero other symptoms.”

“You haven’t eaten in like a week. You need to go to the doctor.” Jack raised his eyebrows at me and stared intently. He was probably right, but I hated the doctors and he knew this.

“If I don’t feel better by Sunday, I’ll go to the doctor. Okay? Just two days.”

We just stared at each other, both of us begging the other to give in silently. I leaned in and did my best to pout my lip without it being obvious.

I could tell the second that he went to inhale deeply through his nose that I had won.

“Thank you,” I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to.” I kissed his cheek once more, getting a whif of his greasy lunch. It hit my stomach instantly, bringing me to my feet and to the bathroom to empty whatever small contents that were left.

That was definitely the universe giving me some sort of karma.

I could feel his hands rubbing my back as I leaned over the toilet and waited to see if anything else was going to invite itself up.

With a deep breath, I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped my mouth before flushing and sitting on the cold tile.

“Do you feel better?” Jack continued to rub my back. I took a second to listen to my body, and also to get reoriented. After a moment, I nodded my head and pressed my palms against the floor to push myself off of the ground. I was only a few inches off the ground when I started to feel dizzy and fell back into Jack’s arms. I closed my eyes and put my hand up to my forehead.

“Ok, let’s go to the doctor.” I leaned against the sink counter and collected myself before I began to brush my teeth.

I could see Jack’s face become instantly relieved through the mirror as I spoke.

“I’ll get the keys.”

Within the minute, we were getting into the car and buckling up. Jack reached over as we stopped at a light and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.

“Well you don’t have a fever.” His hands dropped to hold mine, fingers interlaced.

“I know, that’s why I really didn’t want to go anywhere. I’ve had stomach aches before,” I sighed and rubbed circles along his hand with my thumb.

Jack nodded and focused on driving. “I know. I know,”

It wasn’t long before we were in the waiting room of my doctor’s office. I was busy concentrating on not getting sick in front of the other patients waiting to be seen and Jack took out his phone to play a game.

I stared at his phone screen as he made switched pieces of candy to watch them pop. I concentrated so hard on the screen that I didn’t hear when they called my name.

“Hey, that’s you.” Jack locked his phone and elbowed my arm as I came to.

“Oh. Oh, I’m coming. Sorry.” I turned and handed Jack my bag. “Can you hold this?” He just nodded and slung it over his shoulder casually and continued to scroll through his phone.

I followed the RN into the examination room and sat on the chair with the noisy white paper on it. “So, Y/N, what brings you in today?”

I sighed and sat back on the chair, making the paper rustle. “Well, I haven’t been feeling well for the last couple of weeks. I have bad nausea, I can’t keep anything down. Today, my boyfriend was eating a pizza roll and just the smell made me sick. I got really light headed in the bathroom after getting sick. I don’t have a fever or anything, but Jack, my partner, is set on me getting seen so... here we are.”

I let out a breath and watched as the nurse processed everything. “Are you on any medication? Any change in your diet or exercise routine?”

“Nope, I’m still not on anything and I still don’t diet or exercise.” We both chuckled at my little joke before she nodded and started to take my temp and my blood pressure.

“Sexually active?” She asked, releasing the air from my arm band.

I nodded my head and watched as she removed the band. “Yes indeed.”

“Do you use contraceptives?”

“We do.”

“When was your last menstrual cycle?”

“Um,” I paused and thought back to when the last time I got my period was. I couldn’t remember, which was probably not the best sign.

“I’d like to give you a pregnancy test to rule it out before the doctor goes and prescribes you something, if that’s alright.” She opened a cabinet and began to reach for whatever she was grabbing as I answered.

“Yea, that’s fine.” I could feel my palms begin to get sweaty as I thought of the possibility that I was pregnant. Me? A mom? I couldn’t imagine it. I slept until almost noon most days and ate mac and cheese for most meals. There was no way I could be a mom.

Jack as a dad, though, that was something I could see. He was always ready to take care of others and make someone laugh. Jack was someone who had a lot of patience, was goal-driven, and just made everyone happy. I tried to imagine what it would be like if he had a tiny baby to love and care for, but I was pulled back by the nurse who handed me a cup.

“Here you go, just pee in this and leave it on the shelf over the sink with your birthday written on it. You can come back in here when you’re done and we’ll let you know what we get and take it from there.”

I took the small plastic container in my hands and sighed as I looked at it. Getting up from the seat, I couldn’t help but notice my cheeks started to hurt. I could not stop smiling, just imagining that Jack and I could possibly be having a baby.

Once I reached the bathroom, I followed the nurse’s instructions step-by-step and washed my hands thoroughly. All I could think was “I should have drank more water today” and “Jack and I might be parents”.

Sitting back on the seat, I bit my lip and rested my head back in the headrest. Jack had no idea what was going on in this room. He was just sitting in the waiting room with my purse over his shoulder, playing Candy Crush or scrolling through TikTok.

I could feel another wave of nausea hit and I silently prayed to whatever higher power would listen that I would not throw up in this office. All of my energy went into holding in whatever it was that was threatening its way up. To my demise, I was quickly pulled to my feet and hunched over a garbage can to hurl. Between heaves, I heard the door open and close before being met with the voice of my nurse.

“Well, I think we know why you’re getting so sick.” The water turned on and I soon saw a cup of water in my line of vision along with a tissue. I took both gratefully once I knew I was done before wiping my mouth and drinking the water. I threw the cup and tissue in the trash before sitting and apologizing.

“I can take that out with me, I’m so sorry. Thank you.” I was rambling at this point, feeling just embarrassed that she had walked in on that.

“Don’t worry about that. Grosser things have happened here, trust me. We’ll get it taken out once you leave. Now, I have news that could be either really good or really bad depending on how you take it but know that there are options from here.”

Somehow, this only confused me so I just nodded in hopes that she would get to it.

“You’re pregnant. This would explain the sickness, the lack of appetite, the lack of fever, and the lack of a period.”

My heart started to race and I could hear it pumping in my ears. “Wow.”

It was all I could muster before I looked at her and smiled a little. “Can... can we go get Jack?”

“Of course! I’ll go get him, I just didn’t want to tell you in front of him just in case.” She smiled back at me and left the room for a minute before returning with Jack, who was still holding my purse over his shoulder. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I saw him looking so non-chalant with it.

“Hey you. Is everything okay?” He reached out his hand to grab mine before squeezing gently and looking at the nurse and then back at me.

“Yea, everything’s fine.” I smiled widely at him and bit my lip before looking at the nurse.

“Well we figured out why Y/N has been getting so sick.” The nurse started before she looked at me. I nodded and held back my tears as she continued. “She’s pregnant.”

Jack was silent for a second before he looked down at me. “Wait. What?” He smiled widely and dropped my bag to the ground before taking my other hand and squeezing them tightly.

All I could do was nod.

“A baby?” He asked and tilted his head, much like a dog would when confused.

I chuckled and nodded my head. “A baby, Jack.”

I was barely finished with my sentence before he leaned down and wrapped me up in his arms tightly.

“Oh my god. A whole ass baby. A kid. A child.” he rubbed my back over a few times before leaning back and holding my face in his hands.

“So you’re happy?” I asked and smiled widely, reflecting his. Jack let out a quick, “ha” before leaning in and kissing me deeply.

Once we separated, he bit his lower lip and glanced down at my stomach. “How far along are you?”

I shrugged, and the nurse chimed in momentarily. “By the looks of your period chart, it would look like you’re about 7 weeks along. I’ll give you guys a few minutes, but when you’re ready you can go to the front and make an appointment with us for within the next few weeks and we can follow up.”

“Thank you.” was all Jack or I could muster as she excused herself. He looked down at me and dropped his jaw.

“A whole baby!”

I laughed and nodded. “Yes! A whole ass baby! Growing in here!” I poked my stomach and chuckled before I bit my lower lip to contain the smile.

“So you bothered me and pestered me about condom usage and we ended up getting knocked up anyways.” Jack commented. I gently and playfully pushed his shoulder and shook my head.

“Oh shut up, Barakat. Looks like that wine room is getting turned into a nursery.”

“Says you. I was thinking your office would be comfier.”

I laughed a little and shook my head. “Yes, because we need a wine clubhouse AND a wine closet. Sorry, how dare I?”

With a smile, Jack helped me up to my feet and held my hand. With his free hand, he picked up my bag and handed it to me.

“I’m carrying a child and you want me to carry my bag too?” I teased as I reached for it. Quickly, he pulled it back and slung it over his shoulder again.

“Fine, I look better with it anyways. It’s definitely not your color,” he said and lead the way to the front reception area.

The way my heart swelled with love and joy told me that I was on a very eventful and joyous journey with my boyfriend and our growing family.

#Jack Barakat #jack barakat oneshot #jack barakat imagine #jack barakat fic #jack barakat blurb #all time low #all time low fic #bandfic #jack barakat x reader #jack barakatxreader #dad!jack barakat #jack barakat fluff

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delirious-and-slightly-murderous · 3 years

Note

you reblogged this from me, so 1, 4, 10 for the writing asks please 🤗

Thanks for asking♥️. Honestly didn't think anyone would😊. So here's my incoherent rambling:

So I'm in a Berlermo phase now. Currently I'm working on a football (and when I say football I mean soccer) AU. It mostly came about because of Copa America, so I'm hoping to finish today so I can post tomorrow after the final. Apart from that I've got a Romancing the Stone AU, chap two will be done soon but Uni is killing me so I don't know. And then what I'm focusing on more since forever is a Supernatural Creatures AU, based on South American folklore. See how that works out.

As for something I'm proud of. Well I got this thing that just came to me out of nowhere and without context. I'm trying (and failing) to make it into a story. In any case I like it a lot because of the mood it gets me in:

The sun coming in through the dirty and broken blinds isn't enough to disturb the stilted calmness of the room. The bed, if it can be called that seeing as it's just some scraps of metal welded together along with a springless mattress and moth-eaten sheets; remains empty. To the side lies a lone figure, strewn all over the floor, discarded and forgotten like an old and dirty rag. The few rays of sunlight that manage to sneak in through the window play with dark brown locks the color of an oak and softly caress the hard angles of a masculine face. Even then the figure just lies there, unperturbed, almost lifeless. The only movement signaling any bit of life is the slight rise and fall of a naked chest.

Everything is peace and tranquility.

Suddenly the all consuming silence is broken, sucked out of existence by the jarring squeaks of rusted hinges and wood frotting against wood. The heavy, old wooden door opens to reveal a second figure leaning against the doorway. It's an imposing form, muscled and sturdy from years of labor, imperceptibly hunched over with an unfathomable tiredness. The man is dressed in dirty and torn jeans along with a sweaty and threadbare shirt. It is a figure and an ensemble that has seen better days and it shows. A cigarette dangles from a pair of thin lips.

"Martín." The voice is hoarse and worn down, proof of a life of smoke and cigarettes. The lifeless doll discarded on the ground doesn't even flinch while the sun continues to glide into the room.

"Martín, get up." Repeats the voice, this time louder. Violating balance and bringing change. The body on the ground growls, an upset and throbbing sound that emanates from deep within it's chest and then rolls til it smacks against the hard bedposts.

"It's too early." Is choked against the floor planks.

"No, it's not. Sun came up an hour ago. Daylight is precious and time is money. I don't care if you are too drunk to stand. I'll wait for you downstairs." The door closes with a dry thud and a cloud of dust rises to dance playfully in the sunbeams coming through.

The figure, or Martín to be more precise, rolls onto it's back to stare unblinking at the old ceiling. It used to be white but time and dirtiness and the occasional leakage have made it a dull yellow. Martín takes a deep breath that tastes of age and mold and gets ready to face a new day. A new day of boredom and the same monotonous movement of going forward, not because he wants to or because of a burning desire to live; but simply because he has no other option.

Outside, in the fields, the corn sways with the breeze.

(I've written like a few more pages of it. And it's great but it's currently going nowhere.)

Finally my writing process is simply put a mess. I decide I wanna write something. I start doing it on my phone, maybe finish it maybe not. If I like what I'm doing I force myself to finish, if not it's simply left to die in my google docs. I never make any drafts or time lines or character sheets. I have tried and I just can't seem to work that way. Any time I get a new idea I write it down on a post it and stick it to my bedroom walls. They are covered in them and they haunt me when I can't sleep and am itching to write.

#ask game #Berlermo #fanfics #what i do #and how I do it #I'm a mess #have been my whole life #so I've mostly just accepted it #and made the most of it #that little ficlet #i'm really proud of it #would like to make something of it #cause what i've got i really like #but for now i've been unable to #it is what it is 🤷‍♀️#story of my life

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thegalleonsnest · 3 years

Text

Wiggle’s Muse - Short Excerpt turned into a FanFic

Yo, so, I wanted to share a small snippet of a future project I’m working on (while also delaying my current art projects). What I’ve written out here in this post was originally in a format not meant for professional writing purposes, but I said “eh, why the hell not,” and written it out in sort of a short fanfic format for you guys to read. This project btw, is not a fanfic (had to make that clear). What I am working on is a very large scale project for myself and is still in the blocking out/rough draft phases. This right here is probably my most fleshed out scene I’ve written out, and feels pretty complete as it’s own thing. Honestly, I’d appreciate the feedback if any of ya’ll found this interesting!

Also I’m putting this in a tumblr post because I don’t have an AO3 or fanfiction account, and this is already too short for it anyway. Read the excerpt below

In front of the camera lenses, multiple grumpuses walk back and forth discussing a matter of topics but most importantly, where was Wiggle?

"Has anyone gotten ahold of Wiggle yet? She was supposed to be here hours ago,” a gruff voice coming from out of frame says. “We’ve tried calling her for over an hour, but we got nothing,” says another off camera, “do you think we should reschedule-” before they could finish, the studio doors bust open with a loud thud echoing the studio room. A tall, short armed grumpus with a boa stumbles along the room carrying an oddly shaped banjo.

“There she is,” said the gruff voiced grump, “Wiggle, whatever you got going on, you better do it now cause we got a meeting with investors in half an hour!” From the blurry view of a slightly out of frame Wiggle, she barely registered what the grump said. In a stumble, she walks to the center of the camera’s view & shakes her head, almost slurring her words, “Doooon’t worry, Darling, we’ll get you a new vest later.” “What, no, wait, that’s not what I-” before another word could be said, Wiggle readies her banjo and strikes a quick pose before strumming the strings like her life depended on it.

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds before the crew sprung into action, setting the proper lightning, mics and cameras around her. Her rhythm and measures became a lot more stable, catchy even, and then she broke into song. The next set of lyrics would become an instant, regrettable classic.

It’s not long before the VHS tape stutters and stops, showing mostly static. A magenta furred Grumpus with some hair covering a part of eye, hits the eject button, takes out the tape and turns off the tv. “Girl, you were a right mess there!” She said with a giggle. “Tell me about it, Vrittany...” Wiggle said frustratingly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And you’re telling me you can’t come up with anything better than that? Come on now!” “I wish I was lying, but I’m not. No matter what I come up with, nothing is topping whatever the heck my walking coma came up with instead!” Wiggle grabs her mug of coffee and takes a longing sip.

The two sit across from one another at the coffee bar. The aroma of that day’s set of cocoa beans waft through the cafe as most of the outside lamps fill out the darker spots inside. The place is nearly empty besides them, and a single muted green furred occupant sitting at a booth at the opposite end of the cafe, drawing away in his sketchpad.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Vrittany asked sarcastically, “Stay awake for another week? Get inspired again? Hehe.” Wiggle sets her mug down, and answers, “I did try that again, but in style I fell asleep comfortably on a couch in the lobby”. Vrittany looked a bit stunned. “You’re kidding?! You’re crazy!” “Not crazy, Vrittany,” she takes another sip of her coffee before striking a pose in her high stool seat, bellowing out her voice. “Just creatiiiivly driveeeen~” “Whatever you say, darling,” Vrittany says before turning around to her bar’s sink. She cleans several mugs and glasses with gusto while preparing one last pot of coffee, enough for a single cup for later.

Vrittany takes off her apron and hangs it on the wayside of the counter as she walks around to take a seat next to Wiggle. After situating herself, she puts a paw on Wiggle’s shoulder. “Listen, pretty sure this is just a rut you’re stuck in right now,” she says. “Doesn’t every artist go through that every now and then?” Wiggle turns her head toward Vrittany, “Well..yeah, but this is different,” she desperately says. “I can’t let a song I made in my sleep be the best thing I’ve ever made! I know I can make something that’ll shake the world more than whatever ‘Do The Wiggle’ was.”

Vrittany pulls back her paw from Wiggle to put on her best thinking cap. As deeply in thought as she was, her face immediately relaxes into a deadpan expression, “Have ya tried singing from the heart?” Wiggle cracks a smile, “HA, if only that’s how it works! It takes a musical genius to write a hit song in show biz, not just some field day with my feelings.” “Eh, worth a shot. Got any other plans?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I need some kind of inspiration...almost like a-”

Before she could finish her thought, they both caught a glance at the muted green furred grump who walked up to them. He mustered up the words and said, “E-excuse me, you’re Miss Wiggle, right?” Wiggle turned in her seat to get a better look at the young Grumpus. She could tell he was nervous, clutching his sketchbook in his arms rather tightly. She quickly put on a more relaxed front to help calm things down, while also still showing off a bit of her excited side. “Why yes I am, Darling,” she said enthusiastically. “And I can tell you must be a fan of mine.” “Y-yeah...!” The green grump looked a little more relaxed, but still stiff in the shoulders. “Hey now, no need to be so nervous. I always got time for my fans.” “Thank you, Miss Wiggle. Um…” “No need to finish that thought, Darling, I know what you’re about to ask and I’m happy to oblige!”

Before the young man could stop to say something, Wiggle pulls out one of her many professional hand out photos that she has, and quickly signs with her autograph before handing it to him. “O-Oh, thank you, Miss, but that’s not what I was going to s-say.” he sheepishly says. “Really? Not an autograph,” Wiggle says surprisingly. “It’s usually the first thing fans ask of me.” “Sorry, I just...I wanted to show you this sketch I made…”

The nervous grumpus slowly turns his sketchbook around to reveal a fully sketched art piece depicting a stylized Wiggle singing her heart out at the bar with Vrittany hanging out in the background cheering her on. He hands it to Wiggle to give them a closer look. It was still somewhat messy, showing a few guidelines and early roughed out shapes, but for what it was, it was still impressive to the two girls.

“Woah, that’s pretty rad!” Vrittany yelled out, leaning out from her seat trying to get a closer look. Wiggle was pretty stun, gasping at the sight of such a piece of artwork. “Darling, you drew this?! Just now,” Wiggle asked in awe. “Yeah! I was listening to some of your music and then you came in and sat down. It made me wanna draw you as fast as I could,” the green grumps says excitedly before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry if it’s still a little messy looking though…” “Don’t be, because it is beeeaautifuuul~” “T-thank you so much, Miss Wiggle! T-that means a lot to m-me!” the grumpus says while his face lights up red from the praise. “You’re like an inspiration to me.” “Really now? Like a muse? All I do is sing the night away, Darling. You draw little masterpieces like this from me?”

As Wiggle continues to be enthralled by the young man and his work, Vrittany notices the coffee pot had finished brewing. She gets up from her seat and go back behind the counter to finish her last cup for the night. Wiggle and the green grump continue their conversation.

“W-well kind of,” says the grump, “it’s a bunch of music that inspires me when I draw. A lot of your stuff is so upbeat and fun, it gives me lots of different ideas to pump out!” Wiggle looks back, almost flabbergasted. “I’m...honestly a bit stunned that I had that kind of impact on you, Darling,” she says, almost with a melancholy tone, “...heh, kind of forget sometimes I do make some kind of impression on grumps like you.” She looks back down at the sketchbook, entranced by the creativity that sparked in the moment. That dazzling moment where it all clicked...where could she find that, when someone else can find it in her?

After an awkward minute of silence, the young grump spoke up and said, “If you like, you can keep the sketch page, Miss Wiggle?” Wiggle snapped her head back up from the sketchbook to the green fuzzball. “W-wait really? Are you sure you wanna give up this piece of art?” said Wiggle worryingly. “It’s no problem at all,” said the green grump proudly. “I already took a picture of it to save for later. I’m gonna make a painted version of it online later! Besides, it’ll make me happy if you kept it, since I was going to give it to you anyway.” “Oh Darling, you’re nothing more than a sweet one now, aren’t you? I’ll gladly keep it!” “Thank you so much, Miss Wiggle!”

Wiggle hands the sketchbook back to the green grumpus and he tears out the sketch. “No, Darling, thank you,” Wiggle says ecstatically. Vrittany returns from behind the bar with a to-go cup in hand, saying “Here’s your order, kid.” “Oh, thank you, Vrittany. How much was it again,” the green grump asked. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel like counting change. It’s on the house.” “O-oh you sure?” “You wanna change my mind?” “Don’t think I can, so thank you!” The green grump turns back to Wiggle and says “It was so nice meeting you in person, Miss Wiggle!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dar-,” Wiggle catches herself before she realizes something. “Actually, what was your name?” “It’s Grite, Grite Tillsland!” Wiggle lets a genuine soft smile grow on her face. She felt a lot more at ease and happier knowing her new friend was much more relax and happy overall. She reached out her paw for a handshake, and Grite reciprocated.

“The pleasure’s mine, Grite, Darling.”

#Bugsnax #Wiggle Wigglebottom #TheGalleonsNest Writing #Fic #wip excerpt #Bugsnax Fanfic #Hope you guys enjoy a taste of what's to come #even when there's very little context #I've got multiple large scale projects lined up #this is just one of them #I hope to officially start it this year #but there is still a lot of backend work to be done #and also I got tons of art to make too before then

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julessworldd · 4 years

Text

Cheerleader and the future rockstar

Warnings: cussing, there’s a jock being an ass talking about the Oc in a gross, sexual way. arguing a little.

A/N: I don’t know much about Izzy’s family life, like his mom and brothers name. I think the one I had is right for his younger brother. And what year he finished high school, bare with me. Oc’s home life is sorta sucky even though she’s the rich cheerleader. she’s not snobby at all like the sterotype everyone has about cheerleaders. I will make a part 2!

@slashscowboyboots @roger-taylors-car @reigns420 @awildkaitlynhasappeared @ginny-rose-sixx @izzysguitar since you liked the post last night about the upcoming fic :)

High school Au of Izzy.. Izzy falls for the cheer captain after, she offers her help on an essay in English. Here's the thing the cheerleader has loved Izzy since he grabbed her from falling down the stairs, sophomore year.

Many know Jeff Isbelle or now Izzy for lots of things. He was the cool, stoner, who was planning on being a rockstar with his buddy, Bill Bailey. To some teachers he was hell on wheels, "The badboy" even though he barely talked. Jocks: Izzy was a creep, just another shadow, stupid stoner who needs to have better life plans. To Judith Channing Izzy was: her crush of two years, wanted to spark a conversation, but her red and black cheer uniform stopped her. Izzy hated the cheer squad because their "Loyalty" to the jocks, they were too happy for his liking at 10 am. Judith remembers when Tommy Lockeler tried to push her down the 3rd floor stairway after, she told him she thought he was nothing but a whore and didn't want to go on a date. Felt like it was yesterday..

I stared at Tommy as he was putting his claim about him being a manwhore. His face got redder and redder by the minute..

"Keith told me you had such a tight pussy, Channing. Wanna let me test his theory out? Probably won't you're just a bitch", Tommy spat back.

"Fuck you, Tommy. You just proved my point right there! God, you're so stup-", I felt the air out of my chest leave as I tumbled backwards into someone's arms. "Whatever", I heard Tommy stomp away. "Hey, hey. You okay?", I heard a soft but gravely voice ask. I opened my eyes to see a tallish boy with medium brown hair, hazel eyes holding me, face with concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for not letting me bust my head open, uh?", I said, holding my hands flat on his chest, one hand clutching his Rolling Stones' shirt. "Jeff, but I go by Izzy. Aren't you that Channing girl?", Izzy said, pulling me up, pushing a hair out of my face. "Yeah, I'm Judith. Nice to know my hero's name, Izzy", I blushed. Izzy grinned, "What made Tommy try to commit murder after lunch anyways?" I smoothed out my uniform skirt, "Just the guy I lost my-", I realized what I was about to say to the new guy. "My hat, this summer. Tommy wanted to- '', I said, but Izzy nodded and seemed to understand what my 'hat' actually was.

"Well, Keith needed to keep his mouth shut. Tommy is just an asshole, he's a jock they're all the same'', Izzy grumpled. "Yeah, you're right", I said. "Judith! We're gonna be late to practice, come on!", Erin yelled down the hall. "Thanks again, I appreciate it a lot. See ya around, Izzy", I smiled. "No problem. Have a good practice, Jude", Izzy said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his Malobros. I watched Izzy smirk and skip down each stair, his cute ass bouncing as he went down. "Judith!", Erin yelled again, taking me away from my hero.

Crazy how that's been two years ago, Izzy doesn't recognize me or chose to at least. After that day, I had a big secret crush on the Johnny Thunders of Lafayette. No guy gets me like Izzy does, Izzy barely knows me but he has such a big affect on me. I walked into Mr. Allan's senior english class, there was a seat by the window, behind this dark headed boy. I sat down behind him, judging if I liked this seat. It was close enough to board, not in the very very front, nice view outside. "Oh Mike?", the kid turned around. "Oh, you're not Mike. Hi", I looked up and it was Jeff Isbelle. "No, sorry. Is this seat taken?", I asked as my heartrate rose. "No, he came in for a minute, guess he left before I noticed", Izzy said. "Okay class, let's get started!", Mr. Allan clasped his hands together. Allan was going over what we would be doing in the class before we graduated in June. Same bullshit honestly. Read Shakeperse, write essays, read other dead guys' writings.

Two weeks later, Izzy was still seated in front of me. Making 3rd period class time hell, if you call getting to see his beautiful self plop down everyday. "Alright guys, we finished McBeth and now I'm wanting you to write about how you took the play. I'm asking if you liked the ending, if not write how you would have ended instead. You can use the books, notes we took, even chapter tests I gave back. Due in two weeks", Mr. Allan stated before sitting back at his desk. It was getting close to 4th period, meaning I could leave for the day, no cheer practice today too.

"Hey Judith?", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what's up?", I asked from writing my draft. "Did you keep anything from this unit? I lost my binder", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what do you want?", I smiled. "Notes, I guess. I'm not sure how I wanna write this shitty essay", Izzy grinned. Damn what a beautiful smile. I handed him every note I took on the play, side notes, everything. "Pretty smart for a cheerleader", Izzy said, grabbing my notes. "I liked the play really well, okay?", I fought back. "If you say so, Judith", Izzy turned back around.

I walked in the empty room, well thought it was empty. Izzy was sitting in a desk next to Mr.Allan's desk, "Oh sorry, sir", I started to turn around. "It's okay, Judith. Actually, I need you for something", Mr. Allan smiled. I stood next to Izzy. "With what?", I asked. "Mr. Isbelle said you gave him his notes, the first day I assigned this essay. I'm just wanting to make sure he's not lying is all", Mr. Allan said. "Jeff is telling you the truth, sir. He asked if I still had anything about the play and wanted my notes for a starting point, I guess. You said we could use anything we did for the play", I said, starting to get offended he would assume Izzy stole my notes and wanted to cheat.

"Okay, Judith. Well, since you're here go sit down.", Mr. Allan breathed out, probably embarrassed and a 17 year old girl started him out. The ball rang making Mr.Allan go out for hall duty and talk to other teachers.

"Hey", Izzy said, standing in front of me. "Hi, Jeff", I smiled. "Thanks for backing me up with dickhead. If I tell you this, will you promise me you won't go to practice and gossip about me?", Izzy said clenching his jaw, he looked really hot. "Of course, Jeff. What's up?", I asked, rubbing my thumb over my other hand. "Your notes helped some, but I'm still stuck. Maybe, it's writer's block I need you to help me crap out this dumb essay. Please?", Izzy said. "Yeah, no problem, Jeffrey. I have cheer until 4:45, but I can meet you somewhere after.", I smiled. Izzy stared at me for a second, "Sure, that's cool. I can give you my address, mom's working late."

I pulled up to Izzy's place, couple cars were parked outside. I decided to stay on the side of his street and yard, leaving a place for his mother. Izzy stepped out for a smoke as I got out, pulling my brother's t-shirt down. "Boyfriend's shirt?", Izzy blew out smoke from his lips. "No, brother's actually", I said, slinging my bag on my shoulder more. "Oh. Didn't know you had siblings, you gave me the spoiled only kid vibe", Izzy deadpanned. "No, three older brothers and two younger sisters.", I said, feeling small and embarrassed by Izzy. "My brother is here, just ignore him the best you can. He brought home some hamburgers, if you're hungry.", Izzy said, holding the door open. It was an average, but comfortable home. Pictures of Izzy and his brothers, with their mother lined the walls and a few tables. Tv by the wall, couple couches, chairs. Something wet touch my shein, "Sadie! Down. I'm sorry I thought Kevin set her out.", Izzy started to pull Sadie away by her collar. "She's okay. I have two dogs myself, I'm in her house, she's just checking me out. Yeah, you're a pretty girl", I said, bending down to pet her. "What kind of dogs?", Izzy said, sitting on a chair next to Sadie. "German shepherd, named Phoenix, Golden Retriever, Jagger. Jagger is new she's my baby like Phoenix", I said giggling as Sadie licked my hand. "Cool", Izzy mumbled. "Do you wanna start your essay or let me see what you have? Might not have to even start over", I got up and stood by his chair. "Damn, you're really about that essay", Izzy got up, going where I amused his room.

"Boys, I'm home!", A woman's voice entered the room. "Oh hi, dear. I didn't know Jeff had a girl over.", She smiled. "Yeah, I'm helping him on an english essay. I'm Judith Channing", I got up and grinned. "Channing? Channing? Is your father's name Frank?", She asked. "Yes, that's him", I said. "I went to high school with him, how is he?" "That's nice, uh he's good. Still in Chicago", I said. "Chicago?" "Yeah, business trip", I said, hoping Izzy would dash in or holler for me to come to see his room. "Does Jeff know you're here?", She asked with a worried look. "Yeah, we met outside. He went to his room for his english stuff, guess he fell to China '', I giggled. "Tell me about it, damn boy takes forever. Jeff! Did you forget about Judith? Jeffery Dean!", His mother yelled.

"Mom, hey. Though I told you to come with me, Judith?", Izzy said standing beside me. "How was work, Momma?", Izzy hugged her. "Hi, I'm Kevin and you are?", Kevin, Izzy's younger brother checked me out. "Kev, let her alone she's with me", Izzy said, standing beside me protectively. "You're way way out of my brother's leguage. Hey Mom", Kevin said. "Come on. Holler if you need anything", Izzy grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. He grabbed my bag on the way. "Crack your door, Jeff. I mean it!", his mother yelled. Izzy's room was nice, typical posters, navy blue bed set, desk with papers and pens, small nightstand with a picture of his family, set of records by his recorder player. I slid my shoes off by his desk and sat on the chair. Izzy flopped on his bed, unamused.

"So what did you think about McBeth?", I asked. Izzy shrugged. "Izzy, your perspective is gonna help write this essay. Tell me", I scoffed. "Just a crazy dude that got killed for letting his power go to his side over what a couple hags had to say. I liked when he got ambushed by the people", Izzy sighed, rubbing his hair around. "Okay, see that helps. So,you liked the ending and we can stretch your thought out into five paragraphs", I said, looking for a pencil. "Listen, Judith I'm not in the mood for a stupid play from a dead guy from 400 years ago. Mr.Allan can go fuck himself", Izzy scoffed out. "If you didn't want me over why did you ask for my help. I do have other shit to do, Izzy", I pinched the bridge of my nose. This fucker made me drive half way cross town for this essay. "Then why did accept to come over and help?", Izzy spat back. "I don't know? Probably because I always help people who need help. It's what nice people do anyways", I rolled my eyes.

“Why did I have to ask a smart cheer captain for help?”, Izzy groaned.

“Sorry to break your little stereotype of cheerleaders being dumb and only want to fuck. You know what, Iz? I’m leaving, who cares if you finish the damn essay. Not like you care if you fail or pass, L.A won’t care either way”, I stood by his bed at his nightstand. Izzy stared up at me with confusion. “How do you know wanna go to L.A? I’ve never had a conversation with you before english”, Izzy raised up. “Bill told me you were thinking about if after graduation, he asked my help for math. We have talked before, Izzy. Sophomore year, you caught me from falling to my death after Tommy Lockeler, pushed me down the stairs. You had a Rolling stones shirt on, your hair a little shorter, guess I landed in your arms on a good day.”, I said, with tears in my eyes. “That’s you? No wonder you look familiar besides being a cheerleader. I’m sorry for being a dick, you did come out of your way for me.”, Izzy stood up from his bed. “It’s fine, Izzy. Why don’t you just bullshit it? I’m not feeling too great”, I sighed, walking to his desk for my bag. “Wait. Please don’t leave, I really need your help. I really liked the book and I’m sorta stuck.”, Izzy grabbed my wrist.

“Okay. If I see you slacking I’m out, Isbelle”, I said. “Sit”, Izzy said, pushing his office chair to me. “Thanks”, I smiled. Izzy pushed a hair out of my face, “Sorry, it was bothering me” I blushed, before looking away from him. Izzy chuckled, “Something you hiding from me, Judith?” “Tell you what, if you finish the essay, I’ll tell you what I’m hiding, deal?”, I bit my lip. “Deal”, Izzy smirked. Izzy’s brain was flowing and his hand was scribbling on the paper like he didn’t need me over. “Anndd done”, Izzy said, throwing his pencil in the cup he had on his desk. “Let me read it first”, I grabbed the two pages. “You lied”, Izzy whined. I scanned his paper looking for details of the play, if he had the right grammar, punctuation. “Looks good, Izzy. I’m proud”, I laid the paper down. “Thanks, now tell me why you were blushing?”, Izzy laid his hand on my jean clad thigh. “Do I have to?”, I whined. “I did my part, so it’s your turn, Channing”, Izzy said, not breaking his poker face. “Okay, don’t get mad. I have had a crush on since you caught me that day, at times I’m happy Tommy attempted to murder me that day. You happy?”, I stood from his chair and paced besides his bed. “Judith”, Izzy said.

“Hey, Judith, calm down. I have to tell you something too”, Izzy said, grabbing my hand. “What?”, I asked, scared to death he was gonna kick me out. “I like-”, “Hey dinner is ready”, Kevin opened his door, looking down at our hands. “I better get home, mom’s probably worried.”, I lied, she didn’t give a damn about me and my whereabouts. “Okay, I’ll walk you out”, Izzy said. We reached my car, “Well,thanks for the help. Guess I needed to be forced to write”, Izzy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No problem, I liked hanging out with you”, I smiled. Izzy nodded, “Be safe” “Sure thing. Night Izzy”, I said, unlocking my car door. Izzy stood until I turned at the stop sign from his house. I tried to skip school, to avoid the awkwardness between me and Izzy. He got really quiet after his brother barged in yesterday, at least he was nice enough to walk me to the car and waited for me to get on the main road again.

I was headed to lunch but was really wanting to sneak out to my car and drive around for a while. Looking through the glass doors that lead to the front parking lot, I could hear my car whine for me to leave. “Fuck it”, I thought grasping the door and pushed it open. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?”, A deep male voice startled me. I turned around to see Izzy grinning. “Oh it’s just you. Come on, let’s ditch”, I smirked. Izzy nodded and opened the door. We ran down the stairs, to my car, laughing. “Why did you wanna skip? You have a good attendance record?”, Izzy asked, plopping into the passenger seat. “Just ready to leave, school was boring. I don’t have cheer practice today. You?”, I asked, starting the car. ‘Shattered’ The Rolling Stones played quietly. “Same reason as you, just fuck it. Didn’t take you as a Stones fan?”, Izzy smirked as I pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards town. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Izzy. My dog is named after Mick Jagger, remember?”, I smirked. Izzy nodded his head to the beat of the song, going through my cassette tape collection.

We got out of my car and went to a pair of swings, Izzy groaned. “What’s the matter, afraid one of the stoners will catch you with the cheerleader?”, I smirked. “No, princess. Just haven’t swung since I was 9”, Izzy grumbled. “Suit yourself, Jeff”, I pushed my legs to swing. “You like cheerleading?”, Izzy asked. “It’s alright”, I said. Izzy lit a cigarette and watched me swing my legs back and forth. Izzy caught me as I slowed down, holding the chain, pulling me close to him. I looked in his hazel eyes, cigarette creeped on his breath. “After, I killed Kevin for bargin in on us last night. I got to thinking, we’re getting closer to graduation. I’m bailing this hoosier state, you’re probably going on to join a sorority at Purdue. I wanna tell you something”, Izzy said, breath fanning my neck. “What is it?”, I whispered. “I like you and wanna know if you’ll be my girl?”, Izzy nipped my bottom earlobe. I pulled him into a kiss, holding his shoulders, “Thought you would never ask, Jeff” Izzy smiled down at me. “And I’m not going to college, Iz. I don’t have to pay to have friends, just so you know. Thinking about going to New York actually”, I whispered. “Wanna join me out west? Don’t go to New York, just cold as Indiana, baby”, Izzy held my waist. “I can do that”, I grinned, kissing his cheek.

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfic #highschool au #Oc!reader #Judith Channing

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jaegerboob · 3 years

Text

WIP ROUNDUP!!

i was tagged by @trashpocket (hey bae ;)) and since im lonely here on tumblr and have no one but the void to yell at, i won’t be tagging anyone :((

okay let’s start off with my published WIPS lol i have quite a collection and boy do i regret posting most of these, but anyway that’s here’s my hot girl shit

"i’ll figure it out with a little more time” - (if u knew me at my thai BL phase no u didn’t :)) anyways this was a supposed to be a pretty short fic that features an oblivious Sarawat not knowing how to navigate his feelings towards Tine and Tine being an equally giant dumbass. their school is hosting a school dance and Sarawat’s emotionally constipated ass doesn’t know how to SPEAK and just ASK Tine to go w/ him. i swear i might be the author of this story but i also get mad at these fuckers

“we’re boyfriends?” - ah yes another Thai BL fic, i will admit. i have NO idea where to take this story lmao. i still wanna finish it tho cuz i hate disappointing ppl. the fic starts with Ae and Pond making a dumb bet so Pond will stop jerking off in their shared room and promises that he won’t do that as long Ae dates someone random and based off of Pond’s choosing. sweet bby Pete wanders into their campus accidentally and gets picked. Ae does the deed and tells Pete they’re dating. Ae thinks that Pete and Pond are scheming to make his life a living hell but lo and behold Pete has actually fallen in love with him (heheheh)

“i wanna ruin our friendship” - hello lgbtq+ community :). we all know where this fuckin title is from don’t be sneaky. so here’s my KilluGon college fic. I initially wrote this like two years ago and uploaded it on wattpad lmaooo then i edited it and posted on ao3 and once again i have no idea where to take this (ive forgotten what my original idea for this was lol) so basically Killua and Gon are really close friends and Gon is sortof a player in this AU idk why khdkadha but anywayz all of Gon’s exes have left him bc they’re jealous of Killua but Gon would never pick his current S/O over him so HAAA. it all goes to shit tho when Retz decides to trick Gon to taking her back for the school dance and idk what path to go for T_T

AIGHT now for my UNPUBLISHED WIPS buckle up yall this is a LOT. all the titles are WIPS so that’s why theyre iffy lol

“pussy talented”- (don’t mind the title lmao i just wanted a cat pun in there somewhere) basically, Bokuto is a firefighter and Akaashi an editor. They work near each other and Bokuto often visits Kuroo, who works with Akaashi. Ofc Akaashi falls in love at first sight but then he overhears that he has a "Kenma" waiting for him at home. Akaashi assumes that he's probably Bo's boyfriend and then leaves him alone, making Bo confused as hell. Little that he knows that Kenma is actually a grumpy calico cat.

“killugon flower shop AU” - Wing owns a flower shop and Killua helps out with Zushi along with Alluka out of boredom and one day Alluka asks Killua to help out with her client then he meets Gon and is immediately smitten until Gon says that he's looking for something that he can give to a girlfriend (it was actually Ging's request lol), lots of misunderstanding, Killua being too shy to ask the handsome stranger out and Alluka and Zushi being done with his shit

“rice isn’t the only thing getting crushed here” - Osamu falls in love with one of his most loyal costumers—Akaashi and he thinks he might just have a shot at it until one day while Akaashi is ordering a bunch of riceballs, Bokuto Koutaro of Japan's National Volleyball team enters the restaurant and sweeps Akaashi of his feet, unexpected angst and a generous helping of unrequited pining :)) dw this fic can go two ways: Bokuto is just Akaashi's best friend who he hasn't seen in months or b. Bokuto is actually Akaashi's fiance maybe i’ll write both endings heehee

“killua is sad and gets lovebombed” - while staying in Whale Island, Killua thinks he that he doesn't deserve Gon and tries to leave him while he's asleep but his plan is stopped when Gon wakes up and they both end up revealing their true feelings for each other

“excuse to write charles getting fucked by two delicious men” - Erik and Charles have been in a relationship for years now and basically fell out of love so when Erik gets promoted and has to move, Charles agrees and so they break up. Charles turns to Logan (who harbors a giant crush on Charles) for companionship and sleep together once. Logan says it was an accident but Charles wants more and they establish a FWB situation of sorts since Charles isn't ready yet. But then Charles gets into an accident and can't remember what happened the past year and a half so he still thinks he's with Erik. Meanwhile, Erik is living a luxurious yet empty life and when he gets the call from Raven about Charles' situation, he immediately goes back running.

“killua in whale island” - KilluGon are like 20-ish and Killua visits Whale Island and Ging just happens to be there as well. Killua thinks about how even though Gon and Ging are near identical, Gon just looks so much more handsome. (probs just a oneshot)

“another horny cherik fic” - Charles is a demon who was accidentally summoned when Raven, Hank and Ororo uses Erik's blood to perform a demon summoning ritual (as a joke) they didn't know it would actually work so now Charles is stuck with Erik because the human absolutely refuses to sell his soul

“IwaOi overboard AU” - Oikawa is a rich pretty boy and Iwa a college dropout who works at his uncle's repair shop with his younger brother Tobio and cousin Kyoutani ( both 5 yrs old). One day he gets called over to fix one of Oikawa's cars and after a failed and disastrous encounter with a drunk Oikawa, Iwa leaves the mansion fuming. Later in the day, it's discovered that Oikawa got in a car crash that took away his memories and since Oikawa apparently lives alone, he has no one to get him. not until Iwa comes ofc and with a malicious and vengeful intent, he tells Oikawa that they're dating and live together in his crappy apartment

“dancer Akaashi” - Akaashi is a dancer, Osamu is a bartender at the bar he works at and has also been in love with Akaashi for the past two years. He doesn't confess since he knows Akaashi doesn't like romance but then enters a bright eyed cheery Bokuto who sweeps the unreachable Midnight Moon off of his feet, bokuaka but im leaning towards bokuosaaka since akaashi deserves two boyfriends

“watch me be poetically horny for Akaashi Keiji” - Akaashi is a vampire and Osamu, a skilled artist. Akaashi posing nude and delighted at how beautifully Osamu portrays him. Osamu says otherwise.

Cherik College AU - drift by great gable.... late teens cherik... Erik being a misanthropic horny bastard and Charles a snarky piece of shit.... they get paired up for 7 minutes in heaven... turns out Charles has been ogling him for a while now.. hmmmm,,,.,. ( i wrote this when i was drunk and my og draft is too long so take this instead lolz)

“ BokuAka (NSFW) ” - Bokuto pushing off a guy who tried to hit on Akaashi while they're at a club. Akaashi gets so turned on he immediately drags Bokuto to the bathroom where he gets his facefucked in one of the bathroom stalls or Akaashi getting his face fucked in a dirty alley at the back of a bar after Bokuto gets into a fistfight.

“KuroKen (NSFW) ” -Kenma does top during sex but but he's just really lazy to put in the effort

aight that’s it oh damn i just now realize how much i have T-T bruhhhhhhh and this isn’t even all of them damnnn

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mopeytropey · 4 years

Photo

a beer buds series: chapter 6

Timeline: takes place during chapter 5 of ‘apu’ just before Lexa and Clarke get a little too drunk while watching movies (oops!) in which they fall asleep on Clarke's couch together (oops again!), subsequently commencing what I like to call The Separation

Beer: Free Rise (MOSAIC) DRY-HOPPED SAISON

This edition of Free Rise highlights locally sourced Danko Rye from Valley Malt and Mosaic in the dry hop. A nuanced fruity hop profile is balanced with subtle, crisp malt character and expressive notes of pepper and clove. Light in body, with a clean, bone-dry finish.

ABV 7.3%

Posted on AO3 here or below the cut :)

Free Rise: Trillium Brewing Co (Fenway/Boston, MA) :::

“This newer location is great, but you really need to experience their beer garden next summer on the green. Clarke is obsessed with it—chances are she’ll probably drag you there at some point.”

Lincoln says it so casually, and the image that Lexa begins to paint comes effortlessly.

She and Clarke on a day trip to Boston in mid June, sharing sips of beer and sampling local food trucks in the afternoon sun. Clarke’s rasping laughter drifting through the park as Lexa is further charmed, relaxing in the warm sun and nearby ocean breezes.

She would allow Clarke to drag her any number of places, Lexa thinks. Given the opportunity.

“I’m excited to see both locations,” she says to Lincoln, as if her mind hadn’t drifted into an idyllic landscape of some potential future.

It’s what she’s begun to sense as of late: possibility.

A recent glimmer of hope has been sparking at the periphery of Lexa’s consciousness. There’s the exhilaration of what might be possible for her and Clarke, even in its uncertainty. Even if she doesn’t have any control over it. She can feel the potential of things to come buzzing through her even now, as she and Lincoln walk under the looming, green shadows of Fenway Park.

“Have you been?” Lincoln asks, nodding towards the infamous baseball park that sits in the heart of the city, surrounded by bars and businesses and gawking tourists.

“Not yet.”

“We should go—I haven’t had anyone to hate watch the Red Sox with in years.”

Lexa smiles up at him. “A cherished pastime.”

They swap baseball stats and playoff predictions while walking down the stretch of Brookline Ave between historic Fenway and Trillium. The city air is crisp and cool, and Lexa almost wishes for a jacket, but the chill invigorates her already vibrant mood. Upcoming plans with Clarke have filled her with an unchecked buoyancy.

Costia had left that morning for her weekend away with a parting kiss to Lexa’s temple, a warm hand cupped around the back of her neck.

Safe, perfunctory. Everything that Lexa has begun to associate with Costia.

“Can we try to talk about this again when I get back?”

For once, Lexa hadn’t flinched at the mention of Costia’s research grant and its implications for their relationship. “Sure.”

The extent of their goodbye at the door of their apartment had been Costia’s soft look and Lexa’s small smile as she briefly squeezed Costia’s fingers.

There had been a time when impending distance felt torturous—longing would spring up after only hours apart, and Lexa would ache to see her again.

Those moments for them, like so many others, are gone now.

And, if they have lost their weight, if they are no more than performative interactions between them, Lexa has begun to wonder: what’s left?

What is it that has kept her clinging to Costia so willfully?

Lexa has always excelled at making sense of her life and maintaining control, even amidst the chaos and unpredictability that has so often plagued her. She considers herself a rational person with a reasonable sense of the world, particularly the mechanics of her interpersonal relationships.

Being with Costia had been no different. From the very start, they just made sense. Lexa has always found comfort in the expected, seeking logic and practicality in her daily life.

At least, historically.

Ever since Clarke (clumsily) breezed into her life, Lexa hasn’t felt entirely reasonable about much of anything. Clarke is still unfamiliar in many ways. Her entire friendship has been fortuitous, unprecedented. It’s the first time in Lexa’s entire life that she has been irrevocably drawn towards such palpable uncertainty.

“This weather is perfect—I love it up here at this time of year,” Lincoln says.

Lexa breathes in deeply, anchoring herself to this moment and quieting the thoughts of her indeterminate future. “It’s great,” she smiles and continues in stride with Lincoln’s comforting shadow cast over her.

:::

The taproom is stunning: polished wood in every direction, exposed light bulbs hanging from an open ceiling, and thirty-foot glass doors stretching along an entire wall. In the warmer months, Lexa imagines the doors opening to a cluttered patio. In the early autumn temperatures, the patio is empty and half of the room inside is bathed in natural light while the other remains dim and cozy.

Lincoln heads straight for the bar counter. While a handful of other patrons have favored the couches near the windows, the bar sits empty.

“Hey guys.” A woman around their age approaches from behind the bar. She slides two menus in front of them as Lexa takes her seat beside Lincoln. “Here’s what we’re currently pouring on tap. Cans are listed at the bottom. You need a minute?”

“That’d be great. Thanks,” Lincoln answers.

The woman walks away with a smile that Lexa catches only as she looks up from her menu.

Lincoln drums his hands against the counter top. “Oh shit, I know what I’m getting.”

“That was quick,” Lexa says, returning her attention to the draft pours.

“Their gose is ridiculously good.”

“I think I’m going to do the farmhouse.”

“Did you two decide?” The bartender is already approaching as Lexa glances up from her menu. “Sorry—I wasn’t trying to hover, but it’s pretty dead in here today.”

“No worries.” Lexa offers a brief smile and watches the woman’s face transform, brightening as she stops directly in front of her and braces her arms against the edge of the counter.

“I’m gonna do the gose,” Lincoln says.

“And, I’ll do the Free Rise,” Lexa adds.

“That one is my favorite,” the bartender responds, grinning at Lexa as she retrieves their menus. “Be right back with those for you.”

“Thank you,” Lexa says while reaching for her phone that has buzzed twice from the front pocket of her jeans.

She’s fighting a grin at the messages she finds, simultaneously typing her response as Clarke continues her barrage of nonsense, and doesn’t catch the odd look Lincoln is giving her until she slides her phone onto the bar top.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, still looking too pleased for Lexa’s comfort. “So, what else are you up to this weekend? You wanna come check out the new poke bowl spot with me and O tomorrow?”

“I’m supposed to watch movies with Clarke tomorrow night—what time were you thinking of going?”

“No idea. I’ll let you know though. Or, you know, bring her with you. We can make it a foursome.”

His suggestion has her ridiculously flustered for what could be no more than an invitation to hang out with three of her friends. But, it’s Lincoln, and Lexa knows better than to underestimate his scheming.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll, um, I’ll ask her,” Lexa answers, almost immediately distracted again by the vibration of her phone.

She’s still rolling her eyes at Clarke’s entirely ridiculous diatribe about the validity of poorly written screenplays of the early 90s when the woman behind the bar returns with their drinks.

“Here we go. Should I start a tab for you?”

“Um, sure,” Lincoln responds. He fishes out his debit card from his wallet and slides it across the bar counter.

“I really love your sweater, by the way.”

There’s a brief, weighted pause following the sound of the woman’s voice, and Lexa looks up from her phone when she realizes the compliment was meant for her.

“Oh. Thanks.” She flashes another momentary smile before reaching for her beer and sending off her scathing rebuke for Clarke’s lack of cinematic prowess.

The absolute ire that it will produce and the irritated messages that will follow almost make Lexa giggle in public. Pushing Clarke’s buttons has become an accidentally honed skill.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you not the same person who told me—not two weeks ago—that having beautiful women flirting with you typically grabs your attention?”

Lexa closes her phone instantly, replacing it to her jeans pocket where she hopes it will be safe from Lincoln’s insightful observations. Like getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she attempts to clear her face of any guilt as she looks over at Lincoln because Clarke had not been flirting with her in the first place. They have merely been discussing preferences in film through a medium of quick wit and lightly antagonistic banter.

“What are you talking about?”

Lincoln’s voice drops to an even lower volume as he leans towards her. “That bartender has been chatting you up since we walked in, and you seem to be on another planet right now.”

“She was not—”

“Oh-ho-ho,” Lincoln laughs. “Believe me. She definitely was.”

Lexa chances a quick glance down the length of the bar towards the woman polishing glassware. She looks up before Lexa can avert her gaze, and that same smile is back. Lexa’s stomach drops regretfully.

She hadn’t registered the blatant interest from their bartender nor her physical features, which are, objectionably, quite attractive.

Damn it, Lincoln.

“How is it?” the woman calls out, and Lexa raises her glass with a forced smile.

She takes a sip, pretending it isn’t her first, and can actually feel Lincoln fighting a smile to her left. “It’s great. Thanks.”

“Maybe having multiple beautiful woman flirting with you simultaneously is throwing you off,” Lincoln stage whispers, gleefully watching Lexa’s discomfort until she kicks his leg with the toe of her sneaker.

“I’m ignoring you now.”

“Oh good,” Lincoln laughs, “this should be a fun hang then.”

Lexa’s phone continues to alert her of Clarke’s persistence, or so she assumes by the rapidity at which it vibrates. Clarke never sends one, moderate length text when she could send 12 fragmented messages in quick succession. She reaches into her pocket to silence her notifications when Lincoln gently pokes a finger into her tricep.

“I’m just giving you a hard time. You know I don’t give a shit if you text Clarke while we hang out. She’s my buddy.”

“Why are you assuming I was texting with Clarke?” Lexa can hear the edge to her voice and reaches for a drink of her saison to lessen her defenses.

“Wild guess.”

Even Lexa is relatively powerless to Lincoln’s smirking charm and fights a smile of her own when their eyes meet.

“We’re debating movie selections for tomorrow,” she shares. “Her taste in film is generally abhorrent.”

“You two are always fighting about something.”

“Not intentionally. But, Clarke can be very … frustrating,” Lexa admits with a soft scowl into her beer. Lincoln laughs in response and she exhales. “We’re extremely different people.”

“Yeah, but differences are good. At least she keeps things interesting.”

Lexa barely manages not to choke on her beer, swallowing inelegantly. “That is one way to put it.”

“So, Costia is gone until Monday?”

Lexa tries not to let the abrupt change in conversation jar her. “Yeah.”

“Where’s the conference again?”

“D.C.” Lexa clears her throat, tracing a ring of condensation with her index finger against the bar. “Johns Hopkins.”

“How have things been? Any better?”

“Define better.”

Lincoln grimaces sympathetically at Lexa’s unmasked cynicism, and she exhales a cleansing breath. She’s determined not to make this yet another installment of airing her grievances of a stalled relationship, like so many times before. Lincoln is too kind and too selfless—she doesn’t want to take advantage of his friendship by making everything about herself all the time.

“Sorry,” she says softly. “I guess I don’t know how to determine if things are improving or not. But, we’re trying to be more realistic about our relationship at the very least. Talking a bit more. She’s been pursuing this research grant, which would mean almost a full year apart as she works abroad.”

“Damn.”

“I know. I took the news spectacularly well, as you might imagine.”

“Lost your shit a little bit?”

Lexa huffs a laugh and pulls on the sleeve of her sweater. “I think you accused me of being particularly homicidal that morning?”

Lincoln tips back in his stool with a laugh. “Ah, yes—I knew it.”

“Thank you for gloating at my expense,” Lexa responds drolly.

“Sorry.” Lincoln clears the laughter from his voice and attempts composure. “So, what’s the plan? Wait and see if her proposal is accepted?”

Lexa swallows down a mouthful of beer and runs a hand through her hair. “I think we have plenty to talk about even if she doesn’t get the grant, but yeah. We’re supposed to talk when she gets back.”

“That’s really good, Lex.” Lincoln’s gentle timbre is warm and reassuring, all prodding humor gone from his tone. “I mean, it’s tough, but avoidance is also generally unhelpful.”

“Yes, I’ve realized.” Lexa smiles over at him, feeling better already.

Lincoln then asks, “What about Clarke?” and her momentary sense of relief vanishes.

She’s either gone extremely pale or is blushing fiercely because she feels both an icy chill and too hot all at once. She barely manages to respond without her voice shaking awkwardly. “What about Clarke?”

Lincoln is unfazed, lightly flicking his finger against her forehead as if they’re still thirteen and riding a noisy subway car. “She’s supposed to be your best friend, dummy. You should talk to her about this stuff.”

She’s never considered mentioning anything of significance about Costia to Clarke. It’s always seemed to Lexa, unsurprisingly, like a conflict of interest. Clarke will often inquire about Costia’s schooling, graciously concerned for her well-being within a demanding graduate program. In turn, Lexa offers her standard replies, never wanting to delve too far into their dynamic for fear it would reveal too much and ruin everything. Her life for the past several months has relied entirely on a delicate balance. Saying too much too soon could be perilous.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Hey guys, are we ready for another round?”

The unexpected sound of the bartender’s voice startles Lexa out of her thoughts, and she looks up to see that her beer is, in fact, empty.

“I’d like to try what he was drinking, actually,” Lexa tells her.

“You know what? I’m going to do the farmhouse,” Lincoln announces and slides their glasses closer to the woman standing in front of them.

She laughs easily while reaching for their empty glassware. It’s a nice laugh, ringing pleasantly in the quiet taproom. Even still, Lexa can’t help but register how much it pales in comparison to the addicting notes of Clarke’s distinctive laughter.

“Okay so two more of the same but in reverse,” the woman confirms. “Got it.”

As she leaves them, Lexa spins in her stool, determined to shift gears away from her indecisiveness. “Things with you and Octavia are going well?”

“Yeah,” Lincoln smiles. “Really great. She’s probably way too good for me, but I’m going to keep my mouth shut and hope she never figures it out.”

Lexa arches an eyebrow. “Do we need to sort through your abandonment trauma now? Because I thought we promised each other years ago that we would stop belittling our own self-worth.”

“No, no,” Lincoln laughs. “I’m good, I swear.” He shrugs a moment later and scratches his head. “Old habits.”

“There is no one too good for you, but if there were ever a perfect match out there, it’s Octavia.”

The bartender returns with their drinks before Lincoln can respond, but he looks at her as if Lexa has just gifted him the cosmos and reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. Their next beer turns to idle chatter, old memories, sports, and shop talk. Lexa checks her messages while Lincoln is in the bathroom and finds that Clarke has not conceded any of her poorly formed arguments by even a fraction. The fiery retorts on her screen breed a smile so wide that she doesn’t manage to temper it by the time Lincoln returns.

If she were at liberty to be more honest, she would tell Clarke that it doesn’t matter what movies they watch. She’s just happy to be spending more time together. Instead, she slides her phone back into her pocket and stands beside her stool, stretching the stiff muscles of her back.

“You ready to go?”

Lexa smiles in response and nods.

They thank their bartender and exit the taproom into a setting sun. The foot traffic down Brookline Avenue is busier at the 5:00 hour as city workers rush towards their staggering commutes home. Lexa is lost in thought, still pondering her evening with Clarke the following day, when Lincoln abruptly pulls her down a side street with his hand wrapped around her elbow.

“Oh wait—this way.”

“Um, where the hell are we going?” Lexa asks when their course has been rerouted away from Lincoln’s car.

“I just decided I’m gonna take you for the best burger of your life. Storrow Drive is a parking lot right now anyway—it could take us hours to get home if we leave now. Let’s eat first and then drive back.”

In no rush to return to her empty apartment, Lexa shrugs easily. “Yeah, sure.” Being in Lincoln’s company is almost always preferable to anything else anyway.

After a moment’s pause, he nudges her with his elbow as they walk and is grinning stupidly when Lexa looks up at him. “If you really want to make Clarke mad, tell her we’re about to walk into Tasty Burger.”

Lexa has spent the better part of the year feeling unmoored by a lack of purpose. She has been draped in uncertainty and self-doubt after abandoning her life in New York. And while she still feels plagued by indecision, she’s also grateful for the choices she’s made that have brought her here, walking in stride with an old friend.

She returns Lincoln’s smile and reaches for her phone.

:::

#a beer bud series #a pleasant undoing #apu #brewkru!#clexa fic

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dokifluffs · 3 years

Text

Lullaby | Semi Eita

Pairing: Y/N isn’t mentioned so dw about this part

Genre: soft rainy day domestic Eita fluff

Author’s Note: I’m torturing @makeusfreefromthisfandom because this final draft was made February 13 and now is when I’m finally posting this

I highly recommend listening to this at 0.75 speed at the mark where it says “click play” in the imagine (so click on the gear or the ... in the top right or bottom right of your device and adjust playback speed)

timeskip Semi but no spoilers to the haikyuu main story

gif from @rivaillerose

The wind howled viciously, making leaves fly all through the wind, blowing all the trees and branches sway harshly, making it look like they were leaning to the side

All the pale underside of the leaves were visible as the skies only got darker and darker despite it only being around noon

Power all throughout the neighborhood and nearby city was blown out about an hour ago with no signs of it coming back on anytime soon

The apartment was dimly lit and still, the only movement coming from Eita as he was leaned back on the velvety couch that sat two people just enough, a baggy light blue pullover basically draped over his body with black sweatpants that hugged his waist comfortably

A faint scent of a candle lit on the table as it’s aura flickered in the dim room yet the small flame was able to impact the ambiance of the room entirely with its presence

A messy stack of blank music sheets sat on the corner of the little coffee table beside him

His fingers strummed over the various chords, mixing them up to find just the right set

But for once, his mind was blank

He couldn’t think of any new lyrics, new chords

All he could think of was blank — a clean, empty slate in his mind

He sighed, stretching himself out as he stared at the ceiling, wishing inspiration could just come but it felt like he was anchored down to a block that prevented him from moving

A heavy boom rumbled all throughout the sky, followed by a big flash of lightning as

But thats when he heard her

Sad cries began to sound through the baby monitor on the coffee table

He sat himself up, leaning his guitar against the side of the couch as he walked down the hall toward the small nursery room the apartment could offer, his steps creaking just the slightest with every step

The small room was dimly lit, a star projector light casting the exquisite colors as the stars moved slowly across the ceilings and walls

“Hey, honeybun,” Semi’s voice was gentle as his heart melted into a puddle seeing his five month old baby girl

Her face squished and eyes squeezed shut

her little feet and fists curled up as she let her cries out

Her damp and wet chubby cheeks he was obsessed with

“What’s gotten you so upset?” He coped as leaned over the edge of the crib, carefully scooping her up into his embrace

Her minuscule hands wrapped around the loose fabric of the pullover to the best of her abilities

She cried resting her head on his shoulder, her small body shaking she cried

“Papa’s here~ no need to cry,” he sing song whispered as he swayed side to side, lightly patting her bad

“Papa’s here to dry those eyes, not letting the little stars disappear from them~” he gunned to a tune he made up

He continued his hums as he left the small room, bringing her to the living room where it was even darker now that a storm was being unleashed outside as the wind’s strength picked up

The little girl’s distressful cries turned into little coughs and sniffily whimpers as they died down now that she was being held, the low silky voice of her papa soothing her

Little hiccups sounded from her as he slipped onto the couch, leaning down comfortably into the position he was in, laying her down on his chest

“Aw, my little bun, it’s okay, shhh…”

He held her close like she was glass but in Rita’s eyes, he was holding such a precious star no universe could be blessed to have

She was his little star and he never wanted her shine to ever cease for a single moment

Not for anyone or anything

“Nap time, hon bun,” he whispered as he carefully reached to the side, picking up his guitar

He laid the instrument on his lap with his legs propped up on the other arm of the chair as he began to let his fingers strum

“Wise men say... only fools rush in...” his voice fit the song so perfectly as his fingers slowly waltzed on the strings of his guitar just enough so it could be heard in this little space

“But I can’t help, falling in love... with.. you..” the softest smile pulled at his lips as he adored his little girl laid still on him, her back slowly rising and falling

She laid still on

“Shall I stay.. would it be a sin... for I can’t help.. falling in love with you...”

he melted his lips to the top of her head as she finally rested for her nap to the music of her papa’s lullaby

He continued his music at a low volume as she slept on him soundly, his little girl had set him free, letting his inspiration soar as all he could think of was how much she meant to him

“For I... can’t help... falling in love... with.. you.”

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @makeusfreefromthisfandom @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan @turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @kattykurr @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @kuroosbixh @lavearchives @sweet-sour-devil-ish @daichis-kitty @creepyproxies @itsmarziapei @skyh20 @yehetstudies @that-chick212 @proherotheflamehashira @celestair @katiea03 @omg-haikyuu @chesirekittycat @ilovecheese08

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

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #semi #semi eita #semi x reader #semi headcanons #semi imagines #semi scenarios #semi eita imagines #semi eita headcanons #semi eita x reader #semi eita scenarios #dokifluffs #haikyuu dads #haikyuu domestic

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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 4 years

Text

Bioshock Rebirth Playlist

I made this edit 4 days ago(That I recall. I tried to make it as professional or fitting as possible.) and it’s in a different draft. Being inspired by seeing some people make playlists. While I don’t have Spotify and I don’t know how to link songs showcasing the songs and titles. The only person I’ve told about this idea is @feckinatlas who I am grateful to discuss a lot of Bioshock with and other things.

While I do think this playlist may be a bit too serious. Yet you will get the feel for this AU or you ever wanna check it out. Hopefully you don’t mind some of these choices. Including I listen to a lot of stuff .But I wanna chose the ones I feel that are fitting here. Including some ones I looked for while making this.

I took a break from this once and it’s 5:29 am....a bit nervous to post this. I’m gonna add the keep reading thing. Be warned it’s long. I even looked to see how long Feckinatlas’s Atlas playlist was before then. Hope you folks enjoy this if you wanna check this out.

1. Beyond The Sea by Bobby Darlin. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8OlDPqYBLw

2. Something In The Way by Nirvana. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXFiaJr9los

3. I Am by Digital Sons. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5SF4mt-xmU

4. I Am Machine by Three Days Grace. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flq30E6LI9E

5. The Dark Of You by Breaking Benjamin. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fc_S9jqXb5Q

6. Papercut by Linkin Park. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Y-RmfB4hY4 Archie’s theme for part 2 in this AU.

7. Tourniquet by Breaking Benjamin. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wahmfx54lhU

8. Torn In Two by Breaking Benjamin. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyTIT0Bt-0Q

9. Gravity Lies by Red. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJ6nUKNpJfg

10. Wasting Time by Red. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_rE2Z1gw64

11. Who We Are by Red. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxPX3dOEHo4 Delta and Archie’s theme for part 2 in this AU.

12. Not Alone by Red. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXwTCG6zAqI Delta and Eleanor’s theme for part 2 in this AU.

13. I’m Alive by Disturbed. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gqlbDMLBArs Johnny Topside/Subject Delta’s theme.

14. Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysho2xTWUYo Despite whatever my plans are for Booker. Let’s just make this his theme.

15. And Your World Will Burn by Cliff Lin. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyF2XTAgqos

16. Bong Squad by Blues Saraceno. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLVyTR6ckQU

Instrumental songs.

17. The Ocean On His Shoulders by Garry Schyman. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wp6QpMWaKpE

18. Welcome To Rapture by Garry Schyman. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEFIZh_Zscc

19. Elizabeth by Garry Schyman. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JO8MqT4cCE

20. The Songbird by Garry Schyman. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wojIYpwUpmM The theme of Bluto, the Proto-Daddy.

21. Big Daddy Level 3 Super from PlayStation All Stars Battle Royale. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koMyj3TX9ZU

22. Lost Soul by Garry Schyman. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJ0-aIt_DrM A Man Chooses. A Slave Obeys. A broken slave has no purpose.

23. Coup De Grace by Lorne Balfe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_5-Y2B7E-Y Atla’s betrayal and true identity.

24. Revelations by Sean Murray. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TkgNEYtwVU Nearly dying because of the Code Yellow command. Archie’s life flashes before his eyes, hallucinating and seeing things. While Tenenbaum, Elizabeth, and others try to save his life. Archie starts remembering EVERYTHING and EVERYONE that changed the course of his life forever. Along with remembering certain characters he met along the way. But also remembering the man who was responsible for him being what Ryan called him, “A broken slave.” That man was Johnny Topside.

Bonus. “I Need To Know” by Hans Zimmer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8CNAc8GW-4 And, “Beautiful Lie” by Hans Zimmer and Junkie XL. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9BL59uiAz8 I feel these tracks are better to capture the emotion of Archie discovering the truth of what happened to him. Especially finding out who Johnny Topside was and how he changed his Jack’s fate.

25. Sandman Confesses by Christopher Young. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwp1SYeghs8 Enraged by Tenenbaum lying to him and taking part in ruining his life. Finding out he’s Jack Ryan. He wants to kill the woman. With Elizabeth desperately trying to stop him. Despite Brigid telling him his gun was empty because she thought this would happen. Brigid tells the truth about Johnny Topside. That all he wanted was for Jack to live a normal life. Because he saw Jack as a human being. Including Brigid admitting she was involved in Jack’s rebirth. Despite not asking for forgiveness, Archie forgives Brigid. Because throughout his life, she was the closest thing he had for as a mother. Afterwards with Brigid and Elizabeth embracing him as he breaks down. Because they see him as a human being as well.

Bonus. “The Rest Of My Life” by Hans Zimmer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdEoP7swYdU Another fitting yet emotional track to highlight the feeling of Johnny risking his life for Jack to some how have normal life. And that Jack had lost the one person that was basically a REAL father to him. Especially since some of Johnny’s personality traits passed on to Jack during his, “rebirth”. With the two women comforting him. This shit makes me tear up.

26. Retreat And Reveille by Lorne Balfe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKZRl32PAJk On a mission to kill Frank Fontaine AKA Atlas and save Elizabeth. End the Rapture Civil War. Showcase to Fontaine his greatest mistake was his, “Ace In The Hole” going against him.

27. Protocol by Lorne Balfe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMNov4oWNHs Archie vs Fontaine. The Ace In The Hole vs Rapture’s Boogeyman. The brutal fight between a super soldier and a con man who is half transformed by injecting himself with lots of ADAM. Granting Frank powers to stand a chance against Archie. Fontaine fights and tries to kill the one man that was the closest he can get to having a son. But also hating him because Archie represents everything he despises. The fact Jack had become similar to Johnny Topside. Including Archie admitting that Johnny was more of a father than Frank of Ryan ever were which angers Fontaine. The fate of Rapture and it’s citizens is decided by whoever wins.

28. End Fight by Lorne Balfe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDM5WnHxcMU The death of Frank Fontaine. The end of the Rapture Civil War.

29. Pairbond by Garry Schyman. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DV9kg-M1RJw The theme of Delta and Eleanor. But also the overall theme of Johnny/Delta himself. The sadness and outcome of Johnny’s life in Rapture.

30. Two Worlds from King Kong the 2005 video game. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjEMedxfvUQ The tragedy of Johnny Topside. Leading into his eventual transformation into Subject Delta.

31. Eleanor’s Lullaby by Garry Schyman. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8rmU0PDS2o The end of the conflict between The Rapture Family and the Vox. With Eleanor freed and Delta saved. But also Sofia being allowed to live, and Archie winning over his internal battle with the Atlas hallucination with the help of his family.

32. Victory Big Daddy A from PlayStation All Stars Battle Royale. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYYtC1yJqCw

Bonus Tracks.

33. Afterlife by Magnum Opus. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6Iytor-qbk

34. Rise Of A Hero by Sonic Symphony. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWlwRiDTbOE

35. Rapture Rising Reimagined by JT Music. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvI9JmC7TkU

36. Daddy’s Home by JT Music. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gq5PMJ-pn48

#bioshock rebirth

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gwoongi · 4 years

Text

(abandoned) i don’t want it at all

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: sugar baby au, sugar-babies-scamming-the-same-daddy-au rating: mature themes words: 2.3k warnings: sugar babies a/n: i would have liked 2 finish this one and maybe i will one day but for now here is the incomplete first draft that makes me laugh still

His dorm for first year had been a prison-cell-box with a broken window and bunk beds, the stale smell of farts from his roommate who insisted on top-bunk and made his evenings and early mornings absolute hell- but hey, he’s getting a fancy degree at the end, so it’s worth it, right? Jeongguk’s not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

(1)

Jeongguk was broke.

It was his own fault - that’s the price you pay for enrolling in University, studying something he probably doesn’t actually need but loves. It’s all fine and dandy studying Music until he realises that famous musicians don’t become famous because they got a degree. Ask any musician how they made it big and they’ll reply with good luck and hard work, not some fancy degree that means nothing unless you’ve got the talent to be successful. Well shit, now it’s in perspective, Jeongguk’s spending all this money on a degree that’s probably not going to make a difference when the time comes.

Now he has a part-time job at a random pizza takeaway that makes no money because Dominoes opened up across the street a few weeks ago, and he’s barely making enough to buy him more than two packets of instant noodles at a time. His dorm for first year had been a prison-cell-box with a broken window and bunk beds, the stale smell of farts from his roommate who insisted on top-bunk and made his evenings and early mornings absolute hell- but hey, he’s getting a fancy degree at the end, so it’s worth it, right? Jeongguk’s not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

This evening, the library is fairly quiet. Across the stacks are small candles inside black lanterns, a Harry Potter-esque vibe filling the room as the clock rolls into ten. Jeongguk loves when the school year ends, because for the past week, it’s only been the sad and broke music kids doing exams, meaning the library is virtually empty now that everybody else has finished up. Jeongguk’s last exam was yesterday. Huffing out a sigh that turns one of the only other heads in the library in his direction, he stretches his arms up over his head and arches his head backwards.

“Where’re you going over summer?”

Yoongi is another sad and broke music student, a third-going-fourth year who met Jeongguk in the music society during Jeongguk’s first weekend at University. Leaning his chair back on two legs, he throws a paper ball into the air and catches it, not even looking at Jeongguk as he talks to him.

Jeongguk shrugs in reply, tapping his nails against his laptop. “Dunno. Home, I guess.”

“Any plans?” Yoongi asks. “Wanna go to Lollapalooza?”

“Can’t afford it,” Jeongguk sighs, as Yoongi forces out a, “me neither” in between a chortled laugh. “And I don’t know. Probably going to have to get another job.”

“Good,” replies Yoongi, yawning loudly. “You can’t keep working at that shithole. I’m your only friend, and even I go to Dominoes instead of where you work.” As an afterthought, he looks at Jeongguk with a small frown, “sorry.”

Shaking his head in reply, Jeongguk slumps in his chair and sighs once again. Yoongi’s just suddenly put it all into perspective for him; Yoongi’s his only friend, he works a job that barely puts a meal onto his plate, and it’s not going to get any easier.

The ball in Yoongi’s hand begins to bounce again and Jeongguk glances over at the student librarian, who buries her head into the crook of her elbow and sleeps her way through her night-shift. It’s only Jeongguk, Yoongi and four others in the library right now; none of them are reading, none of them are doing anything particularly productive. Two students are tucked into an alcove pouring wine quite openly into small glasses with a board of chess unfolded out on the table, the others on computers, wishing the night away. Jeongguk just doesn’t want to go back to his dorm, to where his roommate and his loaded to the brim stomach of Chinese food and unhealthy diets is waiting for him.

“You planning on staying here all night again?” questions Yoongi. He probs his feet up onto the partitioner under the table, accidentally kicking Jeongguk’s ankle in the process. “Sorry,” he adds.

“Yep,” Jeongguk replies, popping the ‘p’. “I’d literally rather sleep on the boys changing room floors than go back to my dorm.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That’s disgusting, don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m being deadass,” Jeongguk insists, his eyes blown wide. “Want to swap dorms for the night? Ten dollars and you’ll be dry heaving in the hallway before midnight.”

“I’ll pass. Either way, you know my apartment is always open for you,” Yoongi reminds him. “You’ve got a key. Come by once you’ve finished whatever it is you’re doing. My wifi’s out.”

Another sigh. Jeongguk’s not defeated his boredom yet, the twitch in his fingers to do something still there. If he goes to Yoongi’s apartment now, he’ll just annoy him with the need to do something energetic, and Jeongguk knows best that Yoongi values his quiet time on an evening.

“Okay. Well, I’ll stay here for a little bit, and come by when I’m done,” Jeongguk says, stifling a yawn that would otherwise expose the fact that he’s absolutely knackered. “I won’t make a sound.”

“You will, you always do, I just pretend not to notice because I love you.” Yoongi says I love you with a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out with a fake gag that Jeongguk knows just proves how much he cares. Yoongi’s good like that, the more subtle type of loving older brother that Jeongguk’s been deprived of all his life. “Don’t stay out too late.”

“Won’t.”

Yoongi picks himself up and irons the aches out of his shoulders. “Cool. Stay safe and smart, Guk.”

“I can’t do both,” he sighs sadly, and Yoongi collects his bag and affectionately throws the paper ball at Jeongguk’s head. It bounces off and lands near one of the bookshelves. Neither picks it up, and Yoongi leaves the library. It dawns on Jeongguk three minutes after Yoongi leaves him that he’s actually really fucking lonely. Add that to the big long list of things Jeongguk is this year: friendless, broke, sad and lonely. God, he needs a hobby.

He also needs money. Very badly. After opening his phone and banking app and realising that he’s so close to slipping into the red, Jeongguk refrains from spending what he has left on something fried and takeaway and opens Google. One click, a few types: How to make money fast. Google will know what to do.

Jeongguk scrolls. Take online surveys and get paid NOW! No. Review apps and earn money! Not enough phone memory to download an app to review it, he scrolls down. Lonely AND Horny? Get yourself a Sugar Daddy TODAY! Oh? He’s listening.

The blog that opens up as he clicks the link is somebody’s personal blog, the title in a gross and thick font that Jeongguk almost can’t read. They talk a while about why you shouldn’t become a sugar-baby, but Jeongguk remembers that one time Tana Mongeau did a storytime on how she had a Daddy and got a lot of money, and Jeongguk’s got assets. He’s smart, has abs on a good day, and his dick isn’t half bad looking. That’s what Yooa had said to him, anyway. Finally, there’s a hyperlink to Seeking Arrangements, and Jeongguk feels kind of overwhelmed.

At least once in their lives, everybody’s thought about being a Sugar Baby. Jeongguk definitely has, all the damn time when he’s sitting around at work doing nothing because they’re about as busy as one can expect for a pizza place with two stars and a rival Dominoes parallel from the front. He’s even read about experiences, where people meet their daddies or mommies on the streets or through apps- and there was even that one crazy story about somebody’s Principal becoming their sugar Daddy, or something, he can’t quite remember. Regardless, Jeongguk’s entertained this thought before.

He looks down at himself. If he really tried his best, he could be kind of good at it. Without sounding conceited, Jeongguk’s good looking. What lets him down at school is the fact that he always dresses lazily and ignores people, rejects requests to go out and then complains to Yoongi about not having friends who hang out with him. All he needs is to fix his appearance, upload his best photographs, and he could secure the bag quite easily.

Jeongguk fills in the boxes and makes an account. petkoo is what he decides to name himself, and he picks his best selfie off Instagram as an icon. He leans back, as if a look from far away will change the way it looks. It’ll do. Luckily for him, he’s into men and women, and it just so happens that American men are both the dumbest and easiest to please. Suddenly, he’s excited, his leg bouncing under the table until he hits his knee and stops. The student librarian raises her head quickly, afraid that a member of staff’s come in to supervise. They haven’t, and so she drops her head again. Ten fifty three, ish. Jeongguk blinks sleepily.

All that’s left to do is get his account verified, and life will be forever changed.

(He hopes).

(2)

Yoongi’s apartment is off campus, about fifteen minutes away if he’s walking. It’s small, but significantly bigger than Jeongguk’s dorm on campus, and decorated with whites and creams, big and open windows letting in golden light, when the time’s right. It’s the type of apartment you saw online, on Tumblr posts or in movies, looking like a perfect backdrop - sometimes, Jeongguk can’t believe that Yoongi lives here, and wakes up every morning to the view of the city below his window, power lines like train tracks connecting houses, dangling fairy-lights on the trelacing of his across-the-street-neighbour’s rooftop.

That being said, Jeongguk technically lives here, too. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s actually stepped foot in his dorm at the same time as his roommate; he only goes in there to collect things one at a time. Today, for example, he had dropped by to empty out his small and pathetic wardrobe and put it inside one suitcase, wheeling it right up to Yoongi’s front door with a bright smile that Yoongi couldn’t say no to. His couch in the living room was Jeongguk’s comfortable bed when it wasn’t cold and when it was, Yoongi would huff and offer an invite into his bed, because he loves Jeongguk like he’s his baby brother, and it would suck if he died from pneumonia, or something. He said that to Jeongguk once. Jeongguk smiled for ten minutes afterwards.

Harry Potter plays on TV, the fourth movie because it’s Jeongguk’s favourite and Yoongi’s a sick man who can’t say no. It’s around five, and Jeongguk’s literally been holed up in Yoongi’s apartment the entire day. The most sunlight that he got was when he walked out of Yoongi’s house to take the trash out, and even then, the bin was in the shadows and the sun never touched his skin once. He can see the sunlight through the window, which technically counts. Yoongi cringes and takes away a plate from the coffee table.

“You’re allowed to stay at my place, as long as you clean up after yourself,” he says with a huff. His nose upturns with a scrunch, “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“By choice!” Jeongguk adds, pulling a thread out from his sock. “They’re too much hard work.”

“You’re just fucking lazy,” Yoongi points out. He dumps the plate in the sink and comes back to Jeongguk. “You know that, don’t you?”

There’s a silence. Then a sigh, “Yeah.”

Jeongguk loves staying at Yoongi’s place, especially when Yoongi is feeling particularly soft and lets Jeongguk do whatever he wants, given he’s not going to get Yoongi a noise complaint in the morning. The movie continues to play undisturbed, the sight of Beauxbatons’ carriage swooping over towards the runway leaving Jeongguk with an open-mouthed smile on his face and Yoongi folds his arms, burying himself further into the sofa. On the coffee table, Yoongi’s laid out some snacks, both his phone and Jeongguk’s laying down flat because it’s supposed to keep Jeongguk distraction free, even though he’s the type of friend to never be on his phone around his friends unless he absolutely needs to be.

Another huff is in Yoongi’s mouth, begging to be huffed out. Over on the coffee table, Jeongguk’s phone lights up with his lock screen of Sansa Stark blurred out by a notification, the ringer on loud. Attention is pulled from Dumbledore to the light, Jeongguk’s brows lifting with interest but his eyes immediately back on the TV.

“Yoongi,” he calls out, and Yoongi glances over, “can you see who it’s from?” Could be his Mom, it could be important.

The huff is released. “Come into my house and boss me around…” Yoongi mutters under his breath and reaches for Jeongguk’s phone, pressing the home button to read the notification. He’s silent for a long moment, and Jeongguk’s so enthralled in the movie that he doesn’t notice, not until Yoongi looks at Jeongguk with a confused and funny look, his top lip curled to his nostrils as he blurts: “Why the hell are Seeking Arrangements telling you you’re profile’s ready?”

Jeongguk looks away so fast from the television that Yoongi’s almost frightened. His eyes are wide and twinkling, “They’ve finished it?”

“What the fuck.”

“Gimme!” Jeongguk splutters, his hand diving towards his phone urgently. “Bro...it’s been like, five days.”

Yoongi is bewildered. “Why do you have an account? What-why-when…?”

“I don’t know, I need money and I thought it would be funny,” Jeongguk shrugs. His thumb moves quickly across his phone screen. “I can’t believe they’re done. I’m gonna be rich, Yoongi.”

“Do you know how sketchy half the people on that site are?” Yoongi questions. “Plus they’re all old and perverted men.”

“Rich men.”

“Rich, old and perverted,” Yoongi nods. “Guk, I know I said you needed another job...but this doesn’t qualify. I’d rather you flip paper thin pizzas.”

#me posting all my abandoned wips for attention and something to do #bts #bangtan #jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #sugar baby au #bts imagine #bts scenario #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jjk #gwoongi #abandoned

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kittybellestark · 4 years

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Okay I think Time Can Heal All, But Maybe Not This has been out long enough that I can actually talk about it

If you haven’t read TCHABMNT yet there’s gonna be some spoilers but you can find it here

EDIT: I forgot to talk about May bc I did this at night when I was really tired and my brain just wanted to talk about Peter ig, that is my absolute bad so I added that in everything else is the same tho

So obvs y’all know I had troubles with getting it published here and there’s still been some struggles but I wanna actually talk about the story.

So I started writing it a few months ago but only got 7 paragraphs in before not knowing where to bring the story. Originally the line “And Peter is terrified” was supposed to end that paragraph.

After that the fic was going to be all fluff and Harley and Tony trying to reassure Peter that his insecurities aren’t going to come to fruition.

But then I had a bad day. And the story had been sitting in my drafts forever. So I figured out how to continue the story.

Make Peter feel alone.

I had to keep the snap canon because otherwise there’s be no other plausible way for all of Peter’s family to just ditch him and for Flash and Peter to become friends.

I had to make it so that everyone in Peter’s life moved on without him.

So May moved to Italy and has a boyfriend who Peter assumes will be her husband by the time he’s 20, she has her dream job and is doing what she loves.

She moved out to Italy to forget Peter. It was for selfish reasons, she lost everything in her life, her husband, his family (Peter’s parents), her parents had died years prior and now Peter is also dead. She’s left alone and she doesn’t know what to do. So May moves to Italy to forget Peter and forget the pain and grief she feels. She doesn’t want to remember him.

By trying to forget she finds a new life. She’s a version of who Peter could have become. May is alone with no one, left behind in a world that lost everything. She has a new family and she can’t give it all up to move half way across the world. May would be uprooting her whole family. She moved on from Peter. Tried her hardest to forget him.

May wants to have a relationship with Peter, she just mentally cannot handle having him back in her life because then that opens up the possibility of Ben being back in her life, or her parents, or Peter’s parents even. By acknowledging that Peter is back for more than a phone call or a FaceTime it’ll send her spiraling. May has crafted this reality for herself and it is safe and she cannot give it up.

She loves Peter, of course she does, but having him back will only hurt her more.

I still think it’s canon, in this story, that Tony reversed what Thanos did for Peter. And I couldn’t just kill Tony off either because that wouldn’t really be as painful as Peter just not having contact with him after everything.

It’s not because Tony just forgot Peter existed that they don’t really talk at the beginning. Obviously the affect of snapping left Tony seriously injuries and I referenced that in the story, “…Tony needed a lot more attention after the snap due to his injuries…” so Peter doesn’t really have the full idea of what his injuries are like, but I imagine pretty horrible, which would mean that Pepper wouldn’t be able to move him very soon.

Not to mention Morgan, who is born post snap and now the world had doubled in population and suddenly her father is so badly injuries he can’t be moved. That’s traumatizing on a child of her age, and then try and move her into the city?? That’s going to cause lasting affects on her mental health so of course the Starks are going to do what they can for Peter, but they have some really big things they need to deal with too.

But the Starks did move back into the city for him, it’s just a little late, because Peter is now going away for school. It’s not that they didn’t put an effort in to be with him, it’s just that they were spread thin between the Tony’s recovery, having Morgan cope, the company, what’s left of the avengers, trying and get themselves back to the city and being in the midst of what is probably an economic crisis.

When Peter turns 22 there’s a line “Just some empty seats and empty promises,” which isn’t much to go on, but a little bit later when Peter is thirty I wrote that Tony also has an 8 year old son. So Tony and Pepper were supposed to go to Peter’s MIT graduation, but she went into labour and they couldn’t go. It’s such a small little thing that’d be easily missed, but I wanted to sprinkle in that Tony and Pepper were trying to make an effort with Peter at least. But then they have another kid and being parents is hard enough, but now two kids? That’s hard, they’re going to forgot to prioritize Peter, especially when he hasn’t been a priority yet.

I felt it was important to give Peter someone though. Which is why Peter and Flash are friends through the story. It’s unlikely, and it wouldn’t have happened had they not been left behind. In the beginning I had wanted to have Flash and Peter get together romantically at some point, but that felt like a cop out, and too predictable. Which is why Flash ended up with Peter’s P.A, Gwen (yes Gwen Stacy). Having Flash move on with his life could either give Peter the idea that he could have what Flash has, because they’ve been in the same boat forever, or it could lead him to think that he’s incapable of having a life like that.

I had originally written that Peter tells Flash about Spider-Man, about how he can’t put on his suit without getting really bad flashbacks and panic attacks about what happened. But I didn’t want to turn this story to be about Spider-Man, because it’s not. This isn’t about Spider-Man’s struggles to get the suit back on and save people, this is about Peter’s struggles with mental health and his addiction. In my head Peter told Flash when they were still in high school, sitting on the bleachers in the evening, drinking a bottle of whiskey that Flash stole from his Dad’s liquor cabinet, which would also be the beginning to Peter’s alcoholism. But I ultimately didn’t feel like it was necessary to add to the story. It is something I’m willing to write out in the future though.

It felt really important for me to make everything in the story connect with each other. Peter goes to school at MIT, which is in Boston, where Ned lived when he was an adult (and we know that’s also where Tony went to school), and Peter is in California when he meets Harley again, where MJ went to school (Tony also previously lived in Cali). Everything needed to be connected to the life Peter lost. Which is also why there are so many similarities in Peter’s life now and Tony’s life before he settled down.

Tony went to MIT, well now so does Peter. Tony is an alcoholic with preference for whiskey? Yeah, Peter too. Tony is pretty much alone except for Rhodey? Peter is also alone, but he has Flash. Tony had suicidal and self-destructive tendencies? Peter has only tried killing himself multiple times. By making Peter into a version of Tony, it brings a reference to SM:HC, where Peter says after the ferry boat accident, “I just wanted to be like you” and Tony responds “And I wanted you to be better.” Peter is Tony, he’s just found fame and fortune at a different time, runs his own company and makes ground-breaking research that will help the world.

It’s why Peter is so hurt when he’s called (look a SM:FFH reference) “The Next Tony Stark.” He already is Tony Stark, except he doesn’t have the happiness or the family Tony currently has. Peter just has Flash and his assistant Gwen (just like young Tony only had Rhodey and Pepper). Peter being a version of Tony Stark, he can’t really see an escape. He is so horribly hurt and the only way he can see there being peace in his life is if he isn’t alive. Which is why he continues to try and kill himself.

I didn’t want Peter to die though, I wanted him to find something that would make life tolerable. Which is why I reintroduced Harley. Peter tries to ignore Harley, pretend he doesn’t recognize him, because Peter doesn’t want to remember his past and who he was and what he lost anymore. Harley being there is such a big reminder of who he used to be and who he wants to be, that Peter wants Harley to go away. He doesn’t acknowledge that he knows Harley, even when Harley all but says ‘I’m Harley Keener’ to Peter. At this point in the story Peter made up his mind that he is going to die. There was no other option, but then this beacon of hope shows up and Peter doesn’t want it anymore.

I think by reintroducing Harley it was important to never say that Peter and Harley end up together or that they’re still in contact. I left that pretty open ended because Harley just swooped in at the last second and stopped Peter from killing himself. Peter’s recovery is clearly not an easy one because that was when Peter is 30 and it’s only when Peter turns 32 that he’s one month sober. It was important that you don’t know who is Peter’s family. Because maybe it’s not the Starks or MJ and Ned or Harley or May. Maybe Peter moved on from his past they way they all had and has finally made peace with life, or maybe Peter’s past is now in his life again and he’s happy because he has what he always missed.

Everything in this story was so deliberate and there’s so much that I did that’s just these small little things and I love it so much. I think it was important to see Peter struggle with life and death and his mental illnesses.

So yeah, I’m completely in love with this story and if you guys have any questions about it please send me some asks and I’ll totally answer them, I’m just not over this story yet and I really want to talk about it some more !!

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peteywillproceed · 4 years

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Photobooths

Author’s Note: Hi guys! Thank you so so much for all the support on Kiss Me! That was my first post on here and I was so nervous :) I’ve had this idea stuck in my head since Youth by Troye Sivan came out, but I never actually finished it (yay for drafts!) Still don’t really know what it is, but anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy it x

Summary: “When the lights start flashing like a photobooth, and the stars exploding, we’ll be fireproof” - You and Tom have been friends for years, even if you have been keeping your feelings a secret. Sometimes all it takes is being drunk off your ass to finally get the answers you didn’t know you needed...

Word Count: 3,150

The camera clicked and you were blinded, the silly moustache Tom had stuck on your upper lip falling half-way across your mouth as the heat from the lights made you sweat. It was cramped in there, the faded black seat cracked and peeling and the touch screen photo selector taking ages to register your choice. You hadn’t been in a photobooth in years, too smelly, too dirty, too boring. But the alcohol coursing through your body had made short work of any reservations you may have had, too intoxicated by the boy tugging you towards it to care.

“I want the beer goggles too, Y/n,” Tom whined beside you, reaching up to tug them from your eyes. You glanced sideways, swaying in your seat and steadying yourself against his shoulder.

“Take ‘em them,” you mumbled, smiling as he practically snatched them from your head and shoved them over his eyes.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

You giggled, too drunk on alcohol and his presence to care. “It’s your party, dipshit.”

You’d known Tom since year 10, and you’d lived with him whilst you were at Uni, grateful for the rent-free place whilst you were broke. You didn’t know when your feelings for Tom had changed, all you knew was you’d woken up one day and wandered into the kitchen, following the smell of pancakes and bacon. And bam, there he was, shirtless over the oven, towel flipped over his shoulder and sending you a slow grin like he’d planned it all. You were pretty sure that was the day everything had changed, but honestly it could’ve been years ago.

You giggled as the screen slowly counted backwards from three, feeling like you were floating far up in the sky. Tom might have asked you to pull a stupid face, but you were so concentrated on the way his lips were moving that you barely registered it. His hands slid into your hair, threading through the strands and made a peace sign behind the back of your head. You scrunched your nose up and dragged the bright pink feather boa over your mouth, pouting in a drunken attempt to look sexy.

“What are you doing?” Tom laughed as the camera clicked and you were dazzled by the lights again.

“Lookin’ sexayyyyyy,” you threw your hands in the air, frowning at the screen “We only have one more picture left!”

Tom licked his lips, trying to meet your eyes. “Guess we’d better make it special one, then.”

If you’d been sober enough to catch the double meaning, maybe you would have been prepared for what came next. But as the camera started counting down for its final shot, Tom grabbed your chin and turned you towards him, pressing his lips gently against yours just as the click rang in your ears.

For a second, you thought about nothing but the way his lips were moving on yours, the sheer fire that snapped you out of your drunkenness and spread over your skin. You shivered as he cupped your cheek, sure the photo had been taken, but the noise of the party outside had faded and it was just the two of you, your lips moving in time to whatever music was blaring through the speakers.

A strange sensation came over you, the photobooth and Tom’s face beginning to spin, and you jerked backwards at the feeling.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I um…I don’t know where that came from,” Tom stammered, wiping his palms against his jeans.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t him, but blackness was appearing at the corner of your eyes, begging you to fall into the void that awaited. You could see Tom’s mouth moving, desperation crawling into his face, and you tried so hard to make your own form the words you wanted to say. But the tiredness was overwhelming, and soon you were falling into nothing, barely noticing when your head hit the floor of the booth, and Tom crouched over you in panic.

***

The next morning, your eyes opened to a dim room and the scent of caffeine wafting up your nose. Groaning, you tried to sit up, grabbing your head as it began to throb. Dribble ran down one side of your cheek and your hair stood on ends, but as you rubbed your eyes and allowed them to focus, the steaming mug of coffee and two advil tablets placed carefully on the side table drew a smile from you.

You leaned over and choked back the tablets, taking a gulp of the black liquid and savouring it on your tongue. You tried to think back through the mist and fog of last night, remembering basically everything up until you’d gone in that stupid photobooth with Tom. God, you didn’t know why you’d done that, but he’d seemed so excited and it was a chance for you two to be alone, something you hadn’t had in months. You’d have been lying if you’d said you didn’t enjoy the proximity.

“Morning sleepy head,” a familiar, velvety voice whispered.

Looking up, your eyes found Tom’s, and you groaned at the noise. “What time is it?”

“One in the afternoon,” he looked over his shoulder and laughed as he strode towards the curtains and threw them open. “Time to get up.”

“Ugh, Satan,” you mumbled, crashing back into the soft duvet.

“Y’know, I took the day off to keep an eye on you, the least you could do is not compare me to the King of Hell.”

“Sorry, your majesty.”

“Better.”

“Wait you took the day off today?” You frowned, running your fingers through your hair.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? You were drunk off your arse and I didn’t want you to choke on your own vomit.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime,” he grinned, scratching the back of his head. Bizarrely, he kept shifting from foot to foot, like he was trying to decide whether or not to sit down.

“The bed’s not made of lava, y’know,” you blinked, patting the space next to you “you can sit down.”

He nodded, still not moving, rubbing the side of his face as your confusion grew. “Y/n, I think we should talk about last night.”

“Last night? I don’t remember most of it,” you brought the coffee cup to your lips and took another gulp, eyes never leaving Tom’s. “Why? Did something happen?”

Tom’s eyes widened as he moved to sit next to you, a frown appearing on his face. “You really don’t remember anything?”

“Nope, sorry,” you shook your head and shrugged your shoulders as you ran a fingertip around the rim of the mug. “Is there something I should remember?”

You started racking your brain, wondering if he’d told you something you should have remembered or pointed someone out to you. If you were being honest, the most you remembered of the night was drowning in his eyes and paying no attention to any of the songs the rather terrible DJ was playing. You tried not to think about how he’d looked in that suit, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, and the burgundy jacket that showed off his arms. Right now, he was in his pyjamas, slung loosely at the hips and barely concealing what you knew was there – you couldn’t decide which look you preferred.

Tom looked at you for a long moment, something that looked like pain dancing behind his eyes. You bit your lip and cocked your head, wondering whether someone had said something to him and you’d forgotten. “Shit, Tom, was something said?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he blurted, sighing audibly. “It doesn’t matter, just forget it.”

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow, convinced you were missing something. “Something’s not right.”

“Nah, I’m cool, don’t worry about it,” Tom shrugged, and started to walk towards the door.

“Do you wanna get dressed and go catch a movie? You never have a day off, you shouldn’t have to spend it looking after me.” Maybe you were trying too hard, but the little pinch at the top of his brow made your heart hurt, and all you wanted to do was reach out and smooth it over. And preferably punch whoever had been there in the first place.

He shook his head. “No, I think I’m just gonna go to work.”

“But you took the day off!”

“There’s always something to do,” he laughed, the sound hollow and sad.

“Okay…” you nodded, the coffee cup shaking in your hand. “If you’re…if you’re sure.”

With a final nod, he turned and disappeared from your room, leaving you staring after his retreating back. Whatever had happened there, you wished you could have made it better. Maybe if you could remember what he meant, you’d be able to put the pieces back together and stitch up his clearly broken heart. Seeing Tom upset was like losing a piece of yourself, and until he was fixed you’d be constantly searching for a way to cheer him up.

Half an hour later, you heard the front door slam and the distant sound of his feet ringing on the steps as he left. For some reason, you felt empty, like when he left he took a piece of you with him. All you wanted to do was curl back up in the bed and fall asleep, but it was no use staying cooped up here if there was nothing to do. Sighing, you got to your feet and grabbed your hairbrush, shrieking when you saw the state it was in.

No wonder Tom had practically run away, you had a bird’s nest on your head.

***

Three Months Later

“Tom?” you called out, kicking the front door shut with your foot. “Can you help me?” Grocery bags were piled high in your hands, oranges spilling on the floor as you struggled into the kitchen.

“Here love, let me,” he swept in and gathered the three heaviest ones into his arms. “Harry’s here by the way.”

“Hi Harry,” you yelled “are you the one eating all my chocolate digestives?”

“nrgrnej,” Harry mumbled, stepping into the kitchen with half a biscuit hanging out of his mouth.

“Typical!”

“Can’t help it they’re so delicious,” he shrugged, looking at you with his hands raised.

Laughing, you shook your head and waved your hand in the direction of the bags. “As payment, you can pack those away.”

“Yes, sir!”

You walked into the living room, expecting the bomb that followed Harry everywhere to have crash landed in there too. Sure enough, pillows and blankets were strewn everywhere, the telly was blaring and biscuit crumbs were scattered everywhere, crunching beneath your feet as you stepped into the room.

You couldn’t help the eyeroll that followed, starting the clean up job that would otherwise have taken hours later on. Every so often, you’d come across one of Tom’s socks or a pen he had chewed on whilst making notes on a script, and you smiled at how tidy he was. As you started to finish up and the boys packed away the final can of peas, you noticed Tom’s script thrown on the floor, the bookmark he’d been using turned face up against the grey carpet.

Gingerly, you picked the script up and tucked your finger in the page he’d been reading, then flipped the bookmark over. You smiled as you realised these were the pictures you’d taken in that photobooth all those months ago, probably too drunk to remember to pick them up. But Tom had remembered, like he always did, and a slow grin crept across your face as your eyes trailed across the photos, tracing memories you didn’t know you had.

Until the last one.

The last one you couldn’t remember, but it was clearly there, in black and white, staring you in the face. Your lips on Tom’s. Tom’s lips on yours. And suddenly everything he’d said the morning after, how he’d wanted to talk to you and the hurt look on his face when you said you couldn’t remember anything, came shooting back all at once. You took in a deep breath, hearing noises at the door, and looked up with tears in your eyes.

“Y/n?” Tom said, panic lacing his voice “What’s wrong?”

He ran his eyes over you, freezing as he finally saw what you were holding. You held it out in a trembling hand, lips shaking as you asked him what it was.

“I think I better go,” Harry mumbled, turning for the door. “I’ll call you later mate.”

Tom didn’t reply, still not breaking your gaze and for the first time in the entire time you’d known him, you didn’t have a fucking clue what was going through his mind.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” he stammered.

“Why not?” Your voice was barely a whisper, the image of what you had wanted so desperately for years still seared into your mind. How could you have forgotten something like that? Something so cataclysmic and beautiful? You’d kissed Tom – and you had forgotten.

“You said you couldn’t remember…I figured you didn’t like it.”

“I was drunk, you idiot!” You hissed, waving the piece of paper in his face “I definitely wanted to know this happened.”

“But why?” he asked, and you stared at him like he was insane until he clarified. “You didn’t remember it, and you passed out before we could talk about what it meant. And in the morning, when you couldn’t remember, I figured maybe you’d just supressed it, and you didn’t want to think about it.”

Your mouth dropped open, thinking about how all this time the man you were in love with had thought you didn’t want to remember your kiss. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

“You really thought I wanted to forget that?”

“Didn’t you?”

“NO! Oh my God, you are blind!” you groaned, dropping the strip of photos. It fluttered to the floor between you, the chasm of space feeling miles across yet only centimetres deep. “I’m freaking in love with you Tom, I’ve been in love with you for years, I didn’t want to forget that!”

His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth kept moving like he wanted to say something. But you were done with wondering whether he felt the same; you’d kissed and now you felt like you could finally let it all out, what you’d bottled up since that day with the pancakes. What only his mum had heard when she’d found you crying on the kitchen floor the day Tom announced he was seeing someone new. What you’d scribbled about ferociously in diary upon diary, convinced you were stupid and he would never see you the same way.

You were done with the pretending, had been for years, and now was your chance to finally say what you’d only thought about in your dreams.

“I fall asleep at night and I think about you, I wake up and you’re the first person I want to see. When you go away filming I sneak into your room and fall asleep there because it’s the only place that smells like you. I’ve spent hours crying over you, sounding pathetic because I was too scared to tell you how I felt. And then this happens, and you don’t tell me about the one thing that could have changed everything! I had to find out through some stupid photo that you didn’t even mean for me to see!”

By the time you were finished, tears were streaming down your cheeks and you were panting with exhaustion, relief washing over you as you finally let go of the deepest secret you’d ever had. Tom said nothing, his mouth parted in shock, and you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, wishing you could just fall through the floor and never come back.

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around you, gently pulling you into a hug so tight you could hardly breathe. His breathing stuttered against you, and you pulled away so that you were looking him in the eye, your faces only inches from touching. Exactly like that night in the photobooth, only now you could remember every part of this. And you would for years to come.

“I didn’t know that,” Tom’s voice cracked, and your heart broke at the desperation slipping through his lips. “I didn’t know you felt like I did.”

“Like you did?” Your breathing stopped, and you didn’t dare believe you’d heard him right.

Taking a deep breath, Tom gripped your shoulders and looked you dead in the eye, all the bravado stripped back until he was just Tom. Your Tom. “Y/n L/n, I have loved you since the day I met you. Since the day you walked into that classroom, and I haven’t looked back. I never thought you felt the same, and I kept it bottled up for years. For a while, I thought I was over you, but my mum reminded me that love isn’t something that can fade just because you have a replacement.”

“If I could have anyone, I’d still choose you. I’d still choose your stinky morning breath and bed head, the way you can’t cook and the way you can’t stand tomatoes on your sandwich but you love ketchup. I’d choose your body and your mind, you heart and your soul, because you have meant everything to me since the day you first sat next to me in class, and I haven’t seen anything as beautiful since.”

You blinked, barely able to absorb the words let alone process them. You’d dreamed of him saying these words for years, and yet now that you were finally hearing them, it felt less romantic than it was sad.

“You’ve loved me too? All this time?” you choked, letting the realisation wash over you.

“All this time, and more too,” Tom replied, his voice low and thick with emotion.

“And that night in the photobooth?”

You held your breath, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer. For once, your future was out of your hands, and it lay in the balance of a boy you had loved in private for years. You were quite literally on a knife’s edge, and whichever way you fell you had to hope there was someone to catch you.

“That night in the photobooth was the greatest decision I ever made,” Tom replied. “You’re the greatest decision I ever made.”

Maybe you would’ve heard what he was going to say next, but you no longer cared as you flung yourself towards him and let your lips collide. As electricity sparked against your skin, you found yourself slipping once more into the dark abyss, but this time you were ready. This time the only thing you were drunk on was the scent of Tom – and this time, you were never letting go.

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #fluff #angst #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfic #peter parker fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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fantasyjoon · 4 years

Text

milkshakes ; jeon jungkook

sometimes all you need is him, milkshakes, and a late night catch up

↬ pairing ┇ pretty much platonic bestfriend!kook and gender neutral reader bc best friend jk just gives me this VIBE ↬ genre + rating ┇ pure fluff, g, not really romance? ↬ warnings ┇ some talk about reader’s weight so if that’s a sensitive topic for you please refrain from reading! ↬ avalyn’s notes ┇ there are now a hundred lil babies!! i knew i wanted to post something as a thank you for the support ( i hoped it was going to be a larger fic i’ve been working on more recently ) but instead i present to you this cute little drabble that’s been sat in my drafts collecting cobwebs since who knows when. thank you again !!xx ↬ word count ┇ around 1k

[ masterlist ]

It's an uneventful and lazy evening in your hotel room. You're draped across one of the comfortable chairs in the corner, scrolling through your uninteresting Instagram feed as your Spotify playlist quietly fills the room in hopes to feel less alone.

You check your notifications for the umpteenth time, sighing as the tray stares back at you blankly, taunting you: what, you think you have friends?

Though you knew for sure you had at least one; your trusty yet mischievous best friend since eighth grade, Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook was what you could describe as a handful and a half. His messy, overgrown hair and lopsided smile never failed to make your day just a little bit better. He’d poke your side and teasingly call you various names, and you’d grumble at him, telling him to respect his elders, even if you were only a few days older. You loved every moment you spent with him, and he was completely convinced you were platonic soulmates (he made sure to remind you of this every time he gave you a hug, whispering it into your ear and refusing to let go until you agreed with him).

Eventually, life run its course and had you taking extra classes at college before kick-starting your career, whilst your best friend was already working his way up the ranks of a growing law firm in the next town over. Even still, you came back to one another, seeing each other more often than not.

Currently you were angry at said best friend who had not been opening your Snapchat messages or answering your calls for the best part of the evening.

(11:44pm) you: kook you: hello you: are you serious you: i drive half an hour and cut two classes to see you you: and you just dont wanna show up you: i see how it is you: thats fine you: i’ll be on my way you: you absolute hOE you: 👋

(11:47pm) kook🥴: hey im at mcdonalds wht do u wnt?

(11:48pm) you: omg hes alive ?!?!?!? you: bring milkshakes pls you: also fries you: thx love you 💘💕💕💖💗💕 💘 💗

(11:51pm) kook🥴: luv u 2

It was now a little past midnight, though you weren’t tired in the slightest.

You open the door to reveal Jungkook, a grin spread across his lips and his face contorted into a derpy scrunch similar to the ones he'd snap you when he was bored. You let out a snort at the sight.

"Hi. I brought milkshakes."

You tug him in by his sleeve, "And chips?" He places the paper bag of food and the crate of cups on your desk before face planting onto the bed.

"Extra large." he mumbles into the comforter, and you grin, running to flatten yourself onto him. He groans at the weight when you press him further into the mattress, "Just like you."

You whack him with a pillow and he laughs, shoving you off the bed with ease and your body lands with a thud, "Seriously, you got so heavy."

Scrambling off the floor, you follow the deliciously enticing smell of old cooking oil to approach the food Jungkook brought, "Mm, it's because you keep feeding me all this crap."

"You ask, I deliver," he says, walking behind you and tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He peers down as you separate the chips from the bag, feeding one into his mouth and stuffing a few into yours. "Hey, I want more too."

Rolling your eyes at his whines, you elbow him in the chest and he bellows, retracing away from you to flop on the bed in fake pain. "Dying..... need... fries..."

Your music still plays in the background whilst you pass him a bag of fries, sitting across from him with your milkshake. Jungkook slumps on the headboard, wiggling his eyebrows at you and periodically shoving fries into his mouth.

Strawberry milkshake has never tasted so good you think, sipping at the drink and making faces of bliss at him.

“I’ll say it again; strawberry milkshakes are gross and you are scum!” The jarring thought that leaves his mouth abruptly shakes away your delight.

You hide your scowl and simply offer him a shrug, “Only one of those statements is true.” You watch Jungkook’s face as he contemplates a retort, giving him a smug glance when he comes up empty handed and results in a solemn nod. He licks the remnants of his banana milkshake off his lips before tipping the last of his fries into his mouth straight from the bag.

His doe eyes widen like they normally do before he begins a big story, “So do you remember when we egged Yoongi hyung at Jimin’s party in tenth grade?”

You giggle at the memory, “Yeah, from the stairs, and he thought Taehyung did it.” You vividly remember Yoongi scolding the pouty younger boy, “His mint green hair had yellow patches from the yolk and he had to redye it.”

Jungkook nods with a glimmer of childish trouble in his look, “Well, Namjoon hyung told him it was us yesterday and he was not happy.”

Your lips part and a moment of fear washes over the both of you before it’s replaced with laughter, the two of you doubling over the bed, “As if Yoongi would hurt a fly!”

It’s nearing 2am when the conversation dies down and the two of you take the first glance at the time. “Oh, shit,” Jungkook mumbles, “I have work tomorrow.” Both of your backs are now against the headboard, your figure slumped next to his. Your playlist had ended long ago and now only the late night silence engulfed the pair of you.

“Stay,” you mutter softly, fatigue swiping away your consciousness with every passing second, “Just leave early.”

Jungkook’s too tired to complain, so he obeys, tossing all your trash off the bed into the nearby bin and shuffling you both under the comforter, rubbing your arm and whispering a soft goodnight in your ear before falling asleep in tandem.

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